Je n'aime pas:
Snogging. Ick. Just... ick. A kiss is something *nice*. Snog rhymes with not-so-nice words like fog, bog, and Balrog. [A Balrog of Morgoth... what did he say?!]
Messy. People at school said it when they were going to have a "great night out". This means vomit, tears, stolen boyfriends, girlfriends crumpled in corners with alcohol-induced grief, and a very light purse at the end of the night.
Rejoice. It's the juh sound right in the middle. That, and there's this hymn I sang as a kid involving saying rejoice so many times that you forget what it means, and saying it seems weird.
J'aime:
Awkward. Because it is a little clumsy, all consonants and corners, and it's so nice to say.
Ponies. I'm not really sure why. It's my Word of the Moment, and I just like to say it randomly, as an ice-breaker, silence filler, etc etc. I also like pwnies, whatever they are. I imagine them to be some kind of mythological intertube creature, hiding on blank pages and pwning them before they load, for they are fearless beasts that know no master but the Firefox.
Astute. This word is like... a pillar, when I think about it. A clean, tall, marble pillar in the centre of some ancient city, where the learned would gather and discuss the issues of the day, and wonder how the Powers That Be could screw things up more. Someone told me once that I made an astute comment. I was very pleased.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Put the lights on the tree...
... and call your Grandma on the phone, if she's all alone.
I am rediscovering Sufjan Stevens' Christmas collections.
He recorded them over a period of a few years, making a CD each Christmas to send to family and friends as presents. After people told him they were AWESOME, he decided to make them all into one big box set, and send them out into the world.
I remember when I bought it; I'd never spent £15 on CDs before, so I was pretty hesitant. I'd only heard "Put The Lights On The Tree" and I did love it, so I decided to give it a go.
I am SO GLAD I did.
It's a mix of carols, with and/or without the words, and original compositions. He does the classics, "O Come All Ye Faithful", "Silent Night", et al, but he also includes some I'd not heard of before including "Lo! How A Rose E'er Blooming", which is German and beautiful.
One of my favourites was "That Was The Worst Christmas Ever!". I adore it. I could listen to it all year, and imagine that it's winter and chilled and the sky is piercingly blue and the single wisp of cloud that dares to float lies there, and looks down.
So pretty. :)
I am rediscovering Sufjan Stevens' Christmas collections.
He recorded them over a period of a few years, making a CD each Christmas to send to family and friends as presents. After people told him they were AWESOME, he decided to make them all into one big box set, and send them out into the world.
I remember when I bought it; I'd never spent £15 on CDs before, so I was pretty hesitant. I'd only heard "Put The Lights On The Tree" and I did love it, so I decided to give it a go.
I am SO GLAD I did.
It's a mix of carols, with and/or without the words, and original compositions. He does the classics, "O Come All Ye Faithful", "Silent Night", et al, but he also includes some I'd not heard of before including "Lo! How A Rose E'er Blooming", which is German and beautiful.
One of my favourites was "That Was The Worst Christmas Ever!". I adore it. I could listen to it all year, and imagine that it's winter and chilled and the sky is piercingly blue and the single wisp of cloud that dares to float lies there, and looks down.
So pretty. :)
Saturday, September 27, 2008
What's new, pussycat?
Quite a lot, and nothing at all.
I live in a house with my parents, and now I think I might have found a home, in Canley of all places! My best friend and lover sleeps upstairs. Sometimes I like to go upstairs while he sleeps, and touch his hair, his face, his arms, and remind myself of how lucky I am to have managed to keep this one.
Things are so mundane sometimes. Those times are usually in the mornings, just before D wakes up.
I do some laundry and watch the machine rock back and forth; I open the curtains to let in the light of day, and see the garden through net curtains; I listen to Elliott Smith and knit a few rows; I update my To-Do list on my whiteboard; I sing, I dance; I discover surprise cuts and scars on my fingers and arms; I lie cuddled up in dinosaur bedsheets alone, feeling the colours surround me but noticing that my feet are still quite cold.
Our other two housemates like to play music; I can hear the N. Irish one playing the Smiths, the bassline is so nice.
Last night, D and I watched Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Extended edition. The whole of it, in one evening. Then, we made my bed and tidied my room. We snuggled in my dinosaur bed, and I drifted inexorably to sleep. He tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.
It's quite hard for me to describe how I felt right then. It was like when you drink a really good cup of hot chocolate, and it just warms you, from fingers to toes, and you can't help but forget everything that's not quite right, or things you wished for that never happened, because the moment you have right now is something pretty special.
Term starts on Monday. This last week has been good. It's been really good. I hope I don't get too busy. I'd hate for me to go a whole term without having the time to chill out, and relax.
TL;DR - I feel like this: Colon, Closing Bracket.
I live in a house with my parents, and now I think I might have found a home, in Canley of all places! My best friend and lover sleeps upstairs. Sometimes I like to go upstairs while he sleeps, and touch his hair, his face, his arms, and remind myself of how lucky I am to have managed to keep this one.
Things are so mundane sometimes. Those times are usually in the mornings, just before D wakes up.
I do some laundry and watch the machine rock back and forth; I open the curtains to let in the light of day, and see the garden through net curtains; I listen to Elliott Smith and knit a few rows; I update my To-Do list on my whiteboard; I sing, I dance; I discover surprise cuts and scars on my fingers and arms; I lie cuddled up in dinosaur bedsheets alone, feeling the colours surround me but noticing that my feet are still quite cold.
Our other two housemates like to play music; I can hear the N. Irish one playing the Smiths, the bassline is so nice.
Last night, D and I watched Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Extended edition. The whole of it, in one evening. Then, we made my bed and tidied my room. We snuggled in my dinosaur bed, and I drifted inexorably to sleep. He tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.
It's quite hard for me to describe how I felt right then. It was like when you drink a really good cup of hot chocolate, and it just warms you, from fingers to toes, and you can't help but forget everything that's not quite right, or things you wished for that never happened, because the moment you have right now is something pretty special.
Term starts on Monday. This last week has been good. It's been really good. I hope I don't get too busy. I'd hate for me to go a whole term without having the time to chill out, and relax.
TL;DR - I feel like this: Colon, Closing Bracket.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Another installment of family-related fail.
So, my mother has taken this girl, noticed her laissez-faire attitude when it comes to ironing and bedmaking, seen the boxers and the manshirts and found out she's chosen male housemates. She has come to this decision.
I either am a man, or want to be one.
She then said that "my Kelly" is the only girl she knows that dresses like I do. But she actually dresses *like a guy*. I just wear clothes... in a kinda girlish fashion, I'd say! I wear boxers in bed mostly, or just to wander around the house, so that Dad doesn't freak out and tell me to put clothes on. I wore men's tshirts cos I hated how I looked in fitted stuff because of the body image issues I've had since FOREVER. It's not fair to blame my parents entirely, but I think I'll blame the male half of Team Parental just a little. Sometimes, it is cool to play it androgynous - I do like guyshirts, and keeping things a little sharp - but with my Features, it makes it difficult. But, sometimes it's nice to just go out, not dress to kill, slob around, and let guys treat you as a non-threatening equal. I don't mind being "one of the guys" in a social sense - but not in a literal "Woo! We all have cocks... except Sarah, who really would quite like one."
I'm not a big fan of cock. [There are a few exceptions. Don't worry!]
I... where did this come from? I thought that I was really quite girly in my own way. I don't wear jewellery all the time, but I do sometimes. I love skirts, and feeling pretty. I've worn dresses voluntarily. I brush my hair. If she'd been paying ANY attention to me while I've been at home, she'll have noticed that I love my fitted jeans and the new red skirt I bought. Not really a stereotypical item of clothing for a "man" to wear: a cute, pleated, red skirt.
Why do I feel like I have to justify myself so much?
And does this mean that that my parents have actually realised that Kelly likes girls? I mean, my gaydar is totally malfunctioning - it only seems to work on guys. But, with her, I'm just like "ding ding ding!" BUT it could be because I know she's into me.
My mother wished I was more feminine. She said that she really would like me to be.
Why can't I just be me? Why can't that be good enough...?
I either am a man, or want to be one.
She then said that "my Kelly" is the only girl she knows that dresses like I do. But she actually dresses *like a guy*. I just wear clothes... in a kinda girlish fashion, I'd say! I wear boxers in bed mostly, or just to wander around the house, so that Dad doesn't freak out and tell me to put clothes on. I wore men's tshirts cos I hated how I looked in fitted stuff because of the body image issues I've had since FOREVER. It's not fair to blame my parents entirely, but I think I'll blame the male half of Team Parental just a little. Sometimes, it is cool to play it androgynous - I do like guyshirts, and keeping things a little sharp - but with my Features, it makes it difficult. But, sometimes it's nice to just go out, not dress to kill, slob around, and let guys treat you as a non-threatening equal. I don't mind being "one of the guys" in a social sense - but not in a literal "Woo! We all have cocks... except Sarah, who really would quite like one."
I'm not a big fan of cock. [There are a few exceptions. Don't worry!]
I... where did this come from? I thought that I was really quite girly in my own way. I don't wear jewellery all the time, but I do sometimes. I love skirts, and feeling pretty. I've worn dresses voluntarily. I brush my hair. If she'd been paying ANY attention to me while I've been at home, she'll have noticed that I love my fitted jeans and the new red skirt I bought. Not really a stereotypical item of clothing for a "man" to wear: a cute, pleated, red skirt.
Why do I feel like I have to justify myself so much?
And does this mean that that my parents have actually realised that Kelly likes girls? I mean, my gaydar is totally malfunctioning - it only seems to work on guys. But, with her, I'm just like "ding ding ding!" BUT it could be because I know she's into me.
My mother wished I was more feminine. She said that she really would like me to be.
Why can't I just be me? Why can't that be good enough...?
Friday, September 19, 2008
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus!
But, more than you'll ever know.
Everyone has songs in relationships that remind them of your other half. In my case, there's usually several, but sometimes, just one where all of that emotion and pain and bliss and anger and fear just... collide, into a set of notes and chords and vocal chords.
With my first ex, Doormat Ex, the Main Song was Beautiful by Athlete. Pretty easy to avoid when I couldn't stand the thought of being his any more; it's an album track, so no radio time, and Athlete wasn't very big back then, so no danger of just being shocked with it while being out.
Decimating Ex, Ben, had Wonderwall. That was horrible. He took my heart, tried really hard to shatter it, and left me with a whole lot of sadness whenever I heard Oasis' most popular song [that's debateable, whether it's THE most popular, but it's right up there.] Oasis was off limits for MONTHS. We broke up on Chrimble '05, I think. It's approaching Chrimble '08, and I can now listen to it without crying. Three f*cking years it took. He has no idea.
Matt... was weird. He meant the most, but I don't think I had any songs that are painful or weird for me to listen to. There's Tyrant, by the Bravery, and Teardrop, the Massive Attack song. "Words of wisdom, from your tyrant's mouth". I remember being in the Study Centre, writing him emails on Gmail because Hotmail and Yahoo! were blocked, and we would chat, and I wouldn't study, and he worked shitty hours, and I played that song nonstop because it was just so cool. I'm playing it now. I don't feel sad. I grew so much with him, I couldn't possibly feel too sad thinking back.
And, then... there's Ash. Fail Ex. There's a lot of songs that remind me of times we had together.
There's kinda Kelly too. Sort of.
Ash and Kelly share a song. But, it's more Ash than Kelly. It's "When You Were Young" by the Killers. It's on Guitar Hero 3, and I've played it with both of them. I remember one time with Ash when we'd been... spending some time together... and we were both quite exhausted, and we played Guitar Hero. Well, I distracted him, and I failed Easy mode because he was distracting me.
"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman - like you imagined when you were young..."
A few nights ago, that song made me immeasurably sad. F*ck knows why. Maybe it was just the realisation that I'm changing and letting go, and it's all very good and for the best, but still, I'm fond of the failpast. Nobody really likes change, everyone likes the status quo, because it's so comfortable. You make it your home, no matter how bad it is, and you accept it. But... not anymore, I guess.
Today, I played that song, felt really good and danced until I couldn't breathe. It was good to be able to associate his song with something positive again.
*crazy guitar solo*
Everyone has songs in relationships that remind them of your other half. In my case, there's usually several, but sometimes, just one where all of that emotion and pain and bliss and anger and fear just... collide, into a set of notes and chords and vocal chords.
With my first ex, Doormat Ex, the Main Song was Beautiful by Athlete. Pretty easy to avoid when I couldn't stand the thought of being his any more; it's an album track, so no radio time, and Athlete wasn't very big back then, so no danger of just being shocked with it while being out.
Decimating Ex, Ben, had Wonderwall. That was horrible. He took my heart, tried really hard to shatter it, and left me with a whole lot of sadness whenever I heard Oasis' most popular song [that's debateable, whether it's THE most popular, but it's right up there.] Oasis was off limits for MONTHS. We broke up on Chrimble '05, I think. It's approaching Chrimble '08, and I can now listen to it without crying. Three f*cking years it took. He has no idea.
Matt... was weird. He meant the most, but I don't think I had any songs that are painful or weird for me to listen to. There's Tyrant, by the Bravery, and Teardrop, the Massive Attack song. "Words of wisdom, from your tyrant's mouth". I remember being in the Study Centre, writing him emails on Gmail because Hotmail and Yahoo! were blocked, and we would chat, and I wouldn't study, and he worked shitty hours, and I played that song nonstop because it was just so cool. I'm playing it now. I don't feel sad. I grew so much with him, I couldn't possibly feel too sad thinking back.
And, then... there's Ash. Fail Ex. There's a lot of songs that remind me of times we had together.
There's kinda Kelly too. Sort of.
Ash and Kelly share a song. But, it's more Ash than Kelly. It's "When You Were Young" by the Killers. It's on Guitar Hero 3, and I've played it with both of them. I remember one time with Ash when we'd been... spending some time together... and we were both quite exhausted, and we played Guitar Hero. Well, I distracted him, and I failed Easy mode because he was distracting me.
"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman - like you imagined when you were young..."
A few nights ago, that song made me immeasurably sad. F*ck knows why. Maybe it was just the realisation that I'm changing and letting go, and it's all very good and for the best, but still, I'm fond of the failpast. Nobody really likes change, everyone likes the status quo, because it's so comfortable. You make it your home, no matter how bad it is, and you accept it. But... not anymore, I guess.
Today, I played that song, felt really good and danced until I couldn't breathe. It was good to be able to associate his song with something positive again.
*crazy guitar solo*
Wasting time, going blind...
Actually, no. I'm wasting time, but not in a certain way that apparently makes you go blind and gives you hairy palms. Ha.
What have I been up to?
Weeeelll... I bought a bag. Not a girly one! A nice, practical man-bag that is ideal for lectures and debating. Large enough to fit everything I want, and not a stupid oversize women's bag that scrumples up paper.
My head hurts. It might be my glasses, or my hair, or both.
I haven't very much money at all, and I still have that niggling feeling that I've still not got some essentials. Today, I bought fitted bed sheets because I realised that the duvet sets I bought didn't include them. I also turned down the chance to have dinosaur bedsheets, which I now regret. I will buy some tomorrow with Mother, if I remember. Or, look in the Argos catalogue and treat myself to kiddie bedclothes. Yay! [I hope D doesn't mind too much...]
At least I have my HC1/5 off. So, hopefully, I might not have to spend so much money on medicine and sight tests. Woohoo!
Well, as of today, no more non-essential purchases. Essential does include societies, of course. I'd DIE without my loveable debating freaks. I've missed em in a weird way.
I guess I might start to pack clothes later, or tomorrow. I might do books and check kitchen supplies now. Clothes are totally dependent on storage space. I have to wait for D to be scout [not scalped. He's SO CUTE.] and... yesh. All will be well.
What have I been up to?
Weeeelll... I bought a bag. Not a girly one! A nice, practical man-bag that is ideal for lectures and debating. Large enough to fit everything I want, and not a stupid oversize women's bag that scrumples up paper.
My head hurts. It might be my glasses, or my hair, or both.
I haven't very much money at all, and I still have that niggling feeling that I've still not got some essentials. Today, I bought fitted bed sheets because I realised that the duvet sets I bought didn't include them. I also turned down the chance to have dinosaur bedsheets, which I now regret. I will buy some tomorrow with Mother, if I remember. Or, look in the Argos catalogue and treat myself to kiddie bedclothes. Yay! [I hope D doesn't mind too much...]
At least I have my HC1/5 off. So, hopefully, I might not have to spend so much money on medicine and sight tests. Woohoo!
Well, as of today, no more non-essential purchases. Essential does include societies, of course. I'd DIE without my loveable debating freaks. I've missed em in a weird way.
I guess I might start to pack clothes later, or tomorrow. I might do books and check kitchen supplies now. Clothes are totally dependent on storage space. I have to wait for D to be scout [not scalped. He's SO CUTE.] and... yesh. All will be well.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Blag blag, blag sheep, have you any wool?
[disjointed_post]
Yes, sir; an entire bag full of it.
I was tidying my room, and decided to make my mother's pink sports bag my knitting bag. [She doesn't use it anyway - if she did, she'd have asked for it back 4 months ago.] So, along with a few stray needles, I have more than 10 balls of wool; some small, some large, etc etc.
I threw away at least 10 that I knew I would never use. Heartbreaking, but necessary.
In other news, the dinner was fine! Didn't talk to her. Instead, played with the mind of my ex. We talked after about how he had no chance with me, ever. Full stop. And, he was a bit put out, but I told him the truth, so I did good. :p
I went to the hairdressers today. Meh. :)
I went shopping! Bought lots! There was a 20% discount in Peacocks for students, which pleased me greatly. And, I'm going to get my guitar strings changed for the first time in 25 years; it was my mom's guitar, she just abandoned it at her parents' place when she got married.
I got attacked by a fold out laundry basket. I wish that was a lie.
I beat my brother at chess, but it took far too long because he stole my rook when I was too focused on my queen, and I had to wait for ages to promote a pawn and avoid his plucky little rook. It was going to be my victory halfway through, but I was just really slow in actually getting on with it. I'm going to have to work on that.
I'm ending this post here; due to several things, I just feel quite low right now.
[/disjointed_post]
Yes, sir; an entire bag full of it.
I was tidying my room, and decided to make my mother's pink sports bag my knitting bag. [She doesn't use it anyway - if she did, she'd have asked for it back 4 months ago.] So, along with a few stray needles, I have more than 10 balls of wool; some small, some large, etc etc.
I threw away at least 10 that I knew I would never use. Heartbreaking, but necessary.
In other news, the dinner was fine! Didn't talk to her. Instead, played with the mind of my ex. We talked after about how he had no chance with me, ever. Full stop. And, he was a bit put out, but I told him the truth, so I did good. :p
I went to the hairdressers today. Meh. :)
I went shopping! Bought lots! There was a 20% discount in Peacocks for students, which pleased me greatly. And, I'm going to get my guitar strings changed for the first time in 25 years; it was my mom's guitar, she just abandoned it at her parents' place when she got married.
I got attacked by a fold out laundry basket. I wish that was a lie.
I beat my brother at chess, but it took far too long because he stole my rook when I was too focused on my queen, and I had to wait for ages to promote a pawn and avoid his plucky little rook. It was going to be my victory halfway through, but I was just really slow in actually getting on with it. I'm going to have to work on that.
I'm ending this post here; due to several things, I just feel quite low right now.
[/disjointed_post]
Monday, September 15, 2008
Bitterness. [warning! Emo post is a tad emo]
Jimmy Eat World did a song called Sweetness. A group of girls covered it for House music competition before I'd heard the original. Once I heard how they'd butchered a fairly decent slab of... pop rock/punk/emo-kid-fodder, I laughed.
The lead of this group of girls did a cover of Mr Brightside on piano; I found it on her Myspazz music page. She murdered it. I nearly cried.
I'm thinking of covering Jimmy Mack, but instead of some guy chatting her up while Jimmy's gone, it'll be a girl. It's almost so Katy Perry, except I'm genuinely gay. So there!
~~~
Facing people who I used to crush on is weird. I'm going to a birthday meal for a girl who I *really liked* when I was 16 ish. She'll probably have her boyfriend with her. It's going to be weird. I'm pretty sure I don't feel that way about her any more. I'm still a little nervous. I'm still spending a little too long deciding what to wear, or whether to add a tiny bit of jewellery, in the hope that she'll tell me I look good, or whatever.
Being 16 was quite awful.
I can't go to the party of another old flame. As much as I have put the Us thing behind us, I think it'll be too weird. And... it's not like I want us to get back together, or I want things to be different. I think I'm going to feel this way forever.
I'm just glad he's not in my "frequent IRL contact" friendship group.
~~~
I just want Monday to come quickly. I fear that I'm slipping back into being the girl I was last summer. I hated that girl.
I want my life back! :p
[EDIT: I just softened it a little. I'm not a crazy mad stalker girl. Just crazy mad.]
The lead of this group of girls did a cover of Mr Brightside on piano; I found it on her Myspazz music page. She murdered it. I nearly cried.
I'm thinking of covering Jimmy Mack, but instead of some guy chatting her up while Jimmy's gone, it'll be a girl. It's almost so Katy Perry, except I'm genuinely gay. So there!
~~~
Facing people who I used to crush on is weird. I'm going to a birthday meal for a girl who I *really liked* when I was 16 ish. She'll probably have her boyfriend with her. It's going to be weird. I'm pretty sure I don't feel that way about her any more. I'm still a little nervous. I'm still spending a little too long deciding what to wear, or whether to add a tiny bit of jewellery, in the hope that she'll tell me I look good, or whatever.
Being 16 was quite awful.
I can't go to the party of another old flame. As much as I have put the Us thing behind us, I think it'll be too weird. And... it's not like I want us to get back together, or I want things to be different. I think I'm going to feel this way forever.
I'm just glad he's not in my "frequent IRL contact" friendship group.
~~~
I just want Monday to come quickly. I fear that I'm slipping back into being the girl I was last summer. I hated that girl.
I want my life back! :p
[EDIT: I just softened it a little. I'm not a crazy mad stalker girl. Just crazy mad.]
Sigh.
There's a few words that people at school used so much that I wanted to faux-Columbine them. But, I didn't. Instead, I blogged about them, got suspended, and they ignored me. Success. However, the words lingered on.
One was "banter".
I was just thinking about this while talking to one of the guys I talk to. This is not a guy who is one of my Friends. The guys who are my Friends are the ones I can't imagine sexually, even if I've been with them before, and I just trust them to give me advice, and I don't mind them seeing me crumple.
There are quite a few guys I talk to who are mates, buddies, acquaintances, people I'll talk to, ask how their day is, debate something, talk about women and beer, whatever. Old flames, guys who I dated and it ended "mutually", "it's for the best". Guys who are probably still attracted to me, but I am not interested in them more than good chat. Banter, to use the word.
So, I'm talking to one of these guys. I'm talking about how women are so pretty and yet so freakin' complicated, and I ask if guys get jealous if their girl is checking out someone else, a guy or a girl. And he says: Well, I do, but that's me, isn't it?
I'm talking about women again. How a pretty girl captures my attention and it takes a little while to shake it off - he says he manages to not let girls like that get to him. [Pack of lies, of course.]
I start to say something else.
He's going "Yeah, but..." and I'm like "but whut?" and we do this for a minute.
Then he blurts out that he wants me. And he gets jealous when I'm talking about women and D. After my silence, he announces he's logging off in a way that clearly indicates it's because of what he's said.
So, behind my Audrey's screen, I'm thinking. Well, how can I be friends with a guy who keeps wanting to keep crossing that line? The line is RIGHT THERE. "Past the line" territory includes telling me you want me, or anything you might tell a girl you're interested in, hoping she's interested too.
I am a bit of a flirt, and I love to play around a bit. But, I never let it get too serious on my end. They know I'm playing. So, why can't they just play too, and leave the serious at the door? I've got someone else. The boys had their chances, when I was single and bitter and alone. They let it fall away, they left me, or couldn't handle me.
Now I'm happy and taken, all the sudden, they just come back, they've changed, they're getting it together.
I would say "Sorry, I'm taken," but I'm not sorry at all. Not in the slightest. :)
One was "banter".
I was just thinking about this while talking to one of the guys I talk to. This is not a guy who is one of my Friends. The guys who are my Friends are the ones I can't imagine sexually, even if I've been with them before, and I just trust them to give me advice, and I don't mind them seeing me crumple.
There are quite a few guys I talk to who are mates, buddies, acquaintances, people I'll talk to, ask how their day is, debate something, talk about women and beer, whatever. Old flames, guys who I dated and it ended "mutually", "it's for the best". Guys who are probably still attracted to me, but I am not interested in them more than good chat. Banter, to use the word.
So, I'm talking to one of these guys. I'm talking about how women are so pretty and yet so freakin' complicated, and I ask if guys get jealous if their girl is checking out someone else, a guy or a girl. And he says: Well, I do, but that's me, isn't it?
I'm talking about women again. How a pretty girl captures my attention and it takes a little while to shake it off - he says he manages to not let girls like that get to him. [Pack of lies, of course.]
I start to say something else.
He's going "Yeah, but..." and I'm like "but whut?" and we do this for a minute.
Then he blurts out that he wants me. And he gets jealous when I'm talking about women and D. After my silence, he announces he's logging off in a way that clearly indicates it's because of what he's said.
So, behind my Audrey's screen, I'm thinking. Well, how can I be friends with a guy who keeps wanting to keep crossing that line? The line is RIGHT THERE. "Past the line" territory includes telling me you want me, or anything you might tell a girl you're interested in, hoping she's interested too.
I am a bit of a flirt, and I love to play around a bit. But, I never let it get too serious on my end. They know I'm playing. So, why can't they just play too, and leave the serious at the door? I've got someone else. The boys had their chances, when I was single and bitter and alone. They let it fall away, they left me, or couldn't handle me.
Now I'm happy and taken, all the sudden, they just come back, they've changed, they're getting it together.
I would say "Sorry, I'm taken," but I'm not sorry at all. Not in the slightest. :)
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Meh.
Well, with my cousin on Facebook, I guess it was a matter of time until she noticed I had a guy in my picture, and that I'm In A Relationship with said guy.
Maybe I shouldn't freak out so much about keeping things away from my family. It's not illegal to date, after all.
She seemed happy enough with him.
I have a feeling my dad might know, deep down, that the Boy In A Suit that's visited all the way from Up North might not just be his daughter's friend.
We'll see, we'll see.
Maybe I shouldn't freak out so much about keeping things away from my family. It's not illegal to date, after all.
She seemed happy enough with him.
I have a feeling my dad might know, deep down, that the Boy In A Suit that's visited all the way from Up North might not just be his daughter's friend.
We'll see, we'll see.
Sunday, Sunday, so good to me... Sort of.
Last day at work! It's the start of the dreaded Christmas Pick though. I have mentioned it being hard work earlier, but... let me elaborate.
[I don't really have much else to do until the shopping is brought home. I found a pretty little blue dot on my toast last night, and had to chuck a half-loaf into the bin - and there's no NutriGrain bars left. Sucks to be me!]
The Christmas Pick is basically the regular picking [alcohol, soft drinks, food, toiletries, cleaning products] and then... you have the stuff they only sell at Chrimble time. We're talking huge boxes of chocolates and advent calendars for now, I think, but it'll get crazier at the time gets closer.
I'm glad today is my last day.
Lucy [my iPod] was acting really weird last week, skipping tracks and refusing to play. After learning how to reset her, she seems to be okay, although I haven't really tested her properly.
8 days. 8 days. The more I think about it, the longer it seems.
Zomg, on Hollyoaks, one guy might have given HIV to his brother via the tramp they both slept with, lol.
I feel funny, I'm going to go and attempt food.
[I don't really have much else to do until the shopping is brought home. I found a pretty little blue dot on my toast last night, and had to chuck a half-loaf into the bin - and there's no NutriGrain bars left. Sucks to be me!]
The Christmas Pick is basically the regular picking [alcohol, soft drinks, food, toiletries, cleaning products] and then... you have the stuff they only sell at Chrimble time. We're talking huge boxes of chocolates and advent calendars for now, I think, but it'll get crazier at the time gets closer.
I'm glad today is my last day.
Lucy [my iPod] was acting really weird last week, skipping tracks and refusing to play. After learning how to reset her, she seems to be okay, although I haven't really tested her properly.
8 days. 8 days. The more I think about it, the longer it seems.
Zomg, on Hollyoaks, one guy might have given HIV to his brother via the tramp they both slept with, lol.
I feel funny, I'm going to go and attempt food.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Mother's eating and cooking philosophy... sort of.
I took a nap today at 4:30pm. I was SHATTERED. My scout'n'buy play with Tom, added with the cheesecake, really wiped me out. That, and I slept for 6.5 hours last night.
So, I wake up at about 6pm, and I smell that eggy chips were made while I slept. I don't mind - I have beef to cook for my dinner a little later. I casually mention this to mom, who says "We cooked a lot time ago" pointedly, as if taking a nap is a crime. Which, it clearly is.
Mom asks me why I am waiting to cook; why don't I cook now, or why didn't I cook earlier? I told her I wasn't hungry earlier. She then implied that my wanting to cook and eat straight afterwards was odd - she used the example of Sunday dinner to show how you cook and then you just do whatever you like before eating. I pointed out that with a large quantity of different foodstuffs, like you would have in a Sunday meal, it makes sense to give yourself time in between the cooking and the consumption, in case something happens, or you mistime. It's not exactly going to be a problem with pasta and bolognese.
She just shrugs me off, which irritates the debater in me. Don't back away from the debate, challenge me!
Then, I ask her why she thinks it's so weird to want to eat food freshly cooked.
She says, "It's not weird exactly, it's just the students' way of doing it."
Whut? O_o
So, I wake up at about 6pm, and I smell that eggy chips were made while I slept. I don't mind - I have beef to cook for my dinner a little later. I casually mention this to mom, who says "We cooked a lot time ago" pointedly, as if taking a nap is a crime. Which, it clearly is.
Mom asks me why I am waiting to cook; why don't I cook now, or why didn't I cook earlier? I told her I wasn't hungry earlier. She then implied that my wanting to cook and eat straight afterwards was odd - she used the example of Sunday dinner to show how you cook and then you just do whatever you like before eating. I pointed out that with a large quantity of different foodstuffs, like you would have in a Sunday meal, it makes sense to give yourself time in between the cooking and the consumption, in case something happens, or you mistime. It's not exactly going to be a problem with pasta and bolognese.
She just shrugs me off, which irritates the debater in me. Don't back away from the debate, challenge me!
Then, I ask her why she thinks it's so weird to want to eat food freshly cooked.
She says, "It's not weird exactly, it's just the students' way of doing it."
Whut? O_o
Friday, September 12, 2008
Facebook win! I kid you not.
So, after ODing on Elliott Smith, I found myself crying. I just realised I was. Then, I realised I felt really sad.
I F5 Facebook, out of habit. Three people have mentioned how they hate New Facebook.
I admit, I wasn't a fan at first. However, after giving it a chance, and disabling my "Hate The Change" default settings, I realised there were a few features I quite liked.
My sadness turned to irritation. Some invisible smart person whispered in my ear what to do.
This is what I did. I edited my status:
"Sarah wants everyone to shut up about new Facebook and get worked up about international politics, the impenetrable glass ceiling, or something that MATTERS."
I got comments from people who liked it! My supersmart debating friend, Jim from York, said it was the wisest status he's ever seen. Now, he knows A LOT OF SMART PEOPLE, so I feel so chuffed right now.
Sad has been cancelled out. I am so close to being happy, it's as if I was happy. Except, I'm just a tad numb instead. However, numb > sad. So, I'm cool with that.
I F5 Facebook, out of habit. Three people have mentioned how they hate New Facebook.
I admit, I wasn't a fan at first. However, after giving it a chance, and disabling my "Hate The Change" default settings, I realised there were a few features I quite liked.
My sadness turned to irritation. Some invisible smart person whispered in my ear what to do.
This is what I did. I edited my status:
"Sarah wants everyone to shut up about new Facebook and get worked up about international politics, the impenetrable glass ceiling, or something that MATTERS."
I got comments from people who liked it! My supersmart debating friend, Jim from York, said it was the wisest status he's ever seen. Now, he knows A LOT OF SMART PEOPLE, so I feel so chuffed right now.
Sad has been cancelled out. I am so close to being happy, it's as if I was happy. Except, I'm just a tad numb instead. However, numb > sad. So, I'm cool with that.
ARGH >_<
So, I found myself humming/singing fragments of some songs I just discovered in my head. That's the way I write songs, and poems. I just think and then I find a piece of something worth using, nestled in my mind. It's weird for me, because I never feel like my poems are mine, because they feel like they were put in my head by someone else, even though, on reflection, it's clearly my pain in there. I even wrote a poem about how I feel about my own word a while back. [Together with two others, I won the school poetry competition with it, hellz yeah!]
I didn't have any manuscript paper to note down a melody, or chords, and I was quite busy working [or looking like I was working, so that Manager Man wouldn't swoop down on me] so I couldn't even write lyrics down. But, lyrics tend to stay; melodies don't, on the whole.
I get back home. I remember a few of the words, but not which song they belong to, none of the melodies.
Creativity fail.
It's a little bit irritating for me because it's the first time I've felt inspired by D enough to find myself with a fragment of something I can use. He makes me too happy to write, cos I find that I've written my best material in that beautiful little intersection of "feeling pretty down", "on the verge of tears" and "I can't do any of this any more, I just can't". And, I just don't go there much anymore, because I think of D, and I just bounce right back up to "almost happy", which is a damn sight better than what I felt for most of last year.
I think I'll persevere with it. I might be in The Zone. My wrists are pretty weak right now, I can hardly hold up Elvis for long, but I might be able to pen some lyrics and get a few chords out before I have wrist fail again.
Or, I could rest a bit. Damn ibuprofen fail. It's supposed to STOP THE PAIN. Dammit. Only one day of work left. Start of the Christmas pick. Which means more work, harder work, and increased wrist fail, no doubt. Only one day left. I'll tough it out; no choice.
This juxtaposition of fail and win is kinda sucky.
I didn't have any manuscript paper to note down a melody, or chords, and I was quite busy working [or looking like I was working, so that Manager Man wouldn't swoop down on me] so I couldn't even write lyrics down. But, lyrics tend to stay; melodies don't, on the whole.
I get back home. I remember a few of the words, but not which song they belong to, none of the melodies.
Creativity fail.
It's a little bit irritating for me because it's the first time I've felt inspired by D enough to find myself with a fragment of something I can use. He makes me too happy to write, cos I find that I've written my best material in that beautiful little intersection of "feeling pretty down", "on the verge of tears" and "I can't do any of this any more, I just can't". And, I just don't go there much anymore, because I think of D, and I just bounce right back up to "almost happy", which is a damn sight better than what I felt for most of last year.
I think I'll persevere with it. I might be in The Zone. My wrists are pretty weak right now, I can hardly hold up Elvis for long, but I might be able to pen some lyrics and get a few chords out before I have wrist fail again.
Or, I could rest a bit. Damn ibuprofen fail. It's supposed to STOP THE PAIN. Dammit. Only one day of work left. Start of the Christmas pick. Which means more work, harder work, and increased wrist fail, no doubt. Only one day left. I'll tough it out; no choice.
This juxtaposition of fail and win is kinda sucky.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
My gosh.
My last post was very long. I'm really sorry.
I just get quite heated about things, and I have to express my opinion.
I often find myself questioning whether I really am a debater, after all, I'm so meek and timid sometimes, and I find myself shying away rather than biting the proverbial bullet and going for it, but when I find myself writing like I did tonight about something I feel somewhat passionate about, I feel like maybe I'm more of a debater than I think.
I'm quite tired from blagging. I shall sign off the intertubes and return tomorrow with VIGOUR AND PIZZAZZ.
I just get quite heated about things, and I have to express my opinion.
I often find myself questioning whether I really am a debater, after all, I'm so meek and timid sometimes, and I find myself shying away rather than biting the proverbial bullet and going for it, but when I find myself writing like I did tonight about something I feel somewhat passionate about, I feel like maybe I'm more of a debater than I think.
I'm quite tired from blagging. I shall sign off the intertubes and return tomorrow with VIGOUR AND PIZZAZZ.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Football, soccer, soccer, football. Money.
I'm not a football fan. Mom and Brother support Liverpool to a certain extent, but the family sport is cricket, definitely. When the West Indies are playing, every television, except mine and the guest room's, is showing the game, full volume. I am indifferent to sport, mostly. I do have a fondness for diving, gymnastics, ice skating and latin/ballroom dance competitions, and will seek them out on the TV if I know they're on. Cricket, football, rugby, the rest of the sporting world... Indifferent. I can watch them absent-mindedly while knitting or reading.
I am a fan of passion though. I can get caught up in a match. I don't know which team is which, or the vital stats of the goalie, but when a potential equalising shot hits the crossbar, and half the stadium feels their hearts breaking a little, I can feel that. I can understand that.
English football has irritated me. It's about money. I'm going to address two branches of irritation: The Setanta Thing, and the whole Money In Sport thing.
First issue: pay-per-view football games with the English team. I am not against pay-per-view sport; I think it's good that you can clear the general sports television for stuff the majority of viewers want to see, and for the ones who want to see two relatively obscure nations battle it out on a sports pitch of some sort, it's available. But, England is not "relatively obscure" for those living in England. Football is not just "some sport". It's the national sport. It's the national team playing the national sport. It's one of those times where people can put differences aside and feel the heartbreak and the rushes of joy together. And, for some very rich people to decide that making a few more million is more important than giving people a chance to support their team irritates me. What is even more irritating is that the BBC thought it was worth shelling out £250m to broadcast Formula 1, but couldn't find the [relatively] measly million Setanta was looking for.
Second issue: the way that money has taken over the football game as a whole. Take a look at transfer window time. Players are being swapped around, MILLIONS are being transferred. I know, it's all numbers and figures, and selling a footballer for a few million doesn't seem like a big deal, but think of what you can do with a million pounds. You can do a hell of a lot in Africa, I know that. Feed and educate so many. Change lives. And, in the UK, you can buy a good sized house, and live a pretty good life for a while, just with the amount that one footballer is worth. Then, of course, the wages. Absolutely ridiculous. It cripples clubs further down the league tables, and you end up with footballers with far more money than sense, who decide to parade their wealth and lack of taste with the media machines. A high weekly wage for a footballer is what a family might have to live off for a year. That is wrong, no matter how you look at it. No way is a footballer worth that much. If someone can convince me, I would be willing to reconsider. I'd love to see you try.
Since we're on the subject, when did the Very Wealthy family from Abu Dhabi care about English football, Manchester City, or football as a sport? They don't - they see buying a club as a financial investment. They pump their money in, they get good player, they win stuff, the club's worth more, they sell. Everyone is happy [and the girls and boys get new Ferraris and/or ponies]. Is it a good thing to remove the sporting element further from the game, and introduce even more of this "buy your way to the top of the table, take your profits, kthnx" attitude?
Both of these points lead me on to a small point about English sport in general. The grassroots game is dying. Playing fields are sold off in schools; they play on the internet, not outside. It's not safe outside anyway, says Modern Paranoid Mother. And, if the current trend of "highest bidder wins" continues with sport, it's not going to make it accessible for people to see sport. And with clubs constantly raising the prices of tickets, it's not likely they'll see the game live if they can't afford PPV.
Hopefully, the 2012 Olympics will boost sport everywhere. Hopefully, people higher up will realise something is wrong here. I don't even like sport! I die walking too fast. But... I think that my kids deserve the chance to be able to look at sport, and see sport, and not have to wade through the bull and the red tape and lies and media hype shrouding everything.
I wish I could see things improving, but I can't.
I am a fan of passion though. I can get caught up in a match. I don't know which team is which, or the vital stats of the goalie, but when a potential equalising shot hits the crossbar, and half the stadium feels their hearts breaking a little, I can feel that. I can understand that.
English football has irritated me. It's about money. I'm going to address two branches of irritation: The Setanta Thing, and the whole Money In Sport thing.
First issue: pay-per-view football games with the English team. I am not against pay-per-view sport; I think it's good that you can clear the general sports television for stuff the majority of viewers want to see, and for the ones who want to see two relatively obscure nations battle it out on a sports pitch of some sort, it's available. But, England is not "relatively obscure" for those living in England. Football is not just "some sport". It's the national sport. It's the national team playing the national sport. It's one of those times where people can put differences aside and feel the heartbreak and the rushes of joy together. And, for some very rich people to decide that making a few more million is more important than giving people a chance to support their team irritates me. What is even more irritating is that the BBC thought it was worth shelling out £250m to broadcast Formula 1, but couldn't find the [relatively] measly million Setanta was looking for.
Second issue: the way that money has taken over the football game as a whole. Take a look at transfer window time. Players are being swapped around, MILLIONS are being transferred. I know, it's all numbers and figures, and selling a footballer for a few million doesn't seem like a big deal, but think of what you can do with a million pounds. You can do a hell of a lot in Africa, I know that. Feed and educate so many. Change lives. And, in the UK, you can buy a good sized house, and live a pretty good life for a while, just with the amount that one footballer is worth. Then, of course, the wages. Absolutely ridiculous. It cripples clubs further down the league tables, and you end up with footballers with far more money than sense, who decide to parade their wealth and lack of taste with the media machines. A high weekly wage for a footballer is what a family might have to live off for a year. That is wrong, no matter how you look at it. No way is a footballer worth that much. If someone can convince me, I would be willing to reconsider. I'd love to see you try.
Since we're on the subject, when did the Very Wealthy family from Abu Dhabi care about English football, Manchester City, or football as a sport? They don't - they see buying a club as a financial investment. They pump their money in, they get good player, they win stuff, the club's worth more, they sell. Everyone is happy [and the girls and boys get new Ferraris and/or ponies]. Is it a good thing to remove the sporting element further from the game, and introduce even more of this "buy your way to the top of the table, take your profits, kthnx" attitude?
Both of these points lead me on to a small point about English sport in general. The grassroots game is dying. Playing fields are sold off in schools; they play on the internet, not outside. It's not safe outside anyway, says Modern Paranoid Mother. And, if the current trend of "highest bidder wins" continues with sport, it's not going to make it accessible for people to see sport. And with clubs constantly raising the prices of tickets, it's not likely they'll see the game live if they can't afford PPV.
Hopefully, the 2012 Olympics will boost sport everywhere. Hopefully, people higher up will realise something is wrong here. I don't even like sport! I die walking too fast. But... I think that my kids deserve the chance to be able to look at sport, and see sport, and not have to wade through the bull and the red tape and lies and media hype shrouding everything.
I wish I could see things improving, but I can't.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
What's in the bag, daddyo?
The bag situation was sorted painlessly. My brother told my parents, and they were just like "That's totally fine. The bag sucked, because zips don't normally break that way." Sorted.
Ooh, today was so nice. Lunch and the Holy Grail with D :) It was so nice to be off work too, and awesome to see him again. I made him a little present as well: a picture frame I decorated with 2^3 gems, and I put a picture of the two of us together, from the weekend where I visited and we went to Knaresborough and its Castle, and it was drizzly, but it was so awesome anyway. I also Crayola'd a little note for him, and covered the box in random paper. I was a little worried he wouldn't like it, but I don't think he hated it. His text seemed rather positive :)
I've not got much more to say about today; a lot of it has just been put into a letter. And it was just so cool to see D. I didn't want to leave him at the train station, I really didn't.
*mushy mushy mushy* Bleh. I sound so girlfriendy and smitten. What happened to the sharp, bitter, lonely, angsty girl who got depressed and wrote poetry about stuff? Ah, I guess she found a man. :p
Ooh, today was so nice. Lunch and the Holy Grail with D :) It was so nice to be off work too, and awesome to see him again. I made him a little present as well: a picture frame I decorated with 2^3 gems, and I put a picture of the two of us together, from the weekend where I visited and we went to Knaresborough and its Castle, and it was drizzly, but it was so awesome anyway. I also Crayola'd a little note for him, and covered the box in random paper. I was a little worried he wouldn't like it, but I don't think he hated it. His text seemed rather positive :)
I've not got much more to say about today; a lot of it has just been put into a letter. And it was just so cool to see D. I didn't want to leave him at the train station, I really didn't.
*mushy mushy mushy* Bleh. I sound so girlfriendy and smitten. What happened to the sharp, bitter, lonely, angsty girl who got depressed and wrote poetry about stuff? Ah, I guess she found a man. :p
Shower, bed, bag! What's the connection?
All broken over the course of the past two weeks. I shall tell the tales. You might not care, but you're reading my blog. Clearly you do a little bit. :D
My bed broke one night after coming home from work. I atit in the corner of the bed I always sit in, and it made the most awful snap/creak sound, and I felt myself sinking by inches. Not the best feeling. I told my Mom/Dad, and I had to sleep on the wrong side of the bed *twitch* for a day or two. I came home from work one night, and it was fixed. Yay!
The shower's been in various states of fail for months. First, the water was never more than lukewarm because when Dad fixed it last time, he did something with the temperature knob. Then, the pressure failed. It was like showering under a drizzle. Then, one day, it just didn't want to wake up. So, after a random guy came into my room and sorted out some pipes in my wardrobe, we got a new shiny shower! Yaay!
The third tale of break and fail is not as resolved, and is a little less upbeat. My brother, having spent a week back at school, broke the zips on his sports bag. Both zips. The bag is basically just flappin' open, bar the carry straps. I happened to notice this, and I have made an ultimatum. Either he tells Mom/Dad by 8pm tonight - or I do. It seems like we both know how our parents work, it's just he's still in denial about it. He'd rather hide the bag than admit to breaking it, but I did tell him there's a possibility of refund/exchange. So... it could be fine. And, I think that they'd be more mad just finding out than being told. Although, being shouted at still sucks.
Sigh. Only two more weeks left here. And, four more working days! Hellz yeah.
My bed broke one night after coming home from work. I atit in the corner of the bed I always sit in, and it made the most awful snap/creak sound, and I felt myself sinking by inches. Not the best feeling. I told my Mom/Dad, and I had to sleep on the wrong side of the bed *twitch* for a day or two. I came home from work one night, and it was fixed. Yay!
The shower's been in various states of fail for months. First, the water was never more than lukewarm because when Dad fixed it last time, he did something with the temperature knob. Then, the pressure failed. It was like showering under a drizzle. Then, one day, it just didn't want to wake up. So, after a random guy came into my room and sorted out some pipes in my wardrobe, we got a new shiny shower! Yaay!
The third tale of break and fail is not as resolved, and is a little less upbeat. My brother, having spent a week back at school, broke the zips on his sports bag. Both zips. The bag is basically just flappin' open, bar the carry straps. I happened to notice this, and I have made an ultimatum. Either he tells Mom/Dad by 8pm tonight - or I do. It seems like we both know how our parents work, it's just he's still in denial about it. He'd rather hide the bag than admit to breaking it, but I did tell him there's a possibility of refund/exchange. So... it could be fine. And, I think that they'd be more mad just finding out than being told. Although, being shouted at still sucks.
Sigh. Only two more weeks left here. And, four more working days! Hellz yeah.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Sadness, sort of.
I was supposed to try to sleep an hour ago.
I really miss D a lot. I have a double bed at home, and I always sleep on the right hand side. I'll turn on my side, and see the expanse of empty cold bed by my side, and realise that someone, 150 miles away, could be filling the gap, and keeping my feet warm in bed. I have cold feet.
But, it's not really the footwarming I'm after. It's not a particularly cold night.
I just want a cuddle. Working on Sundays is tough. I do exactly the same job I do in the week, but the warehouse screams "It's Sunday! Go back home!" at me, silently, and I just feel like every hour drags on so much more.
And, my arms/wrists/hands ache nearly all the time, which is just annoying. Turns out that it makes writing, baking, knitting, typing and everything else I do just that bit more difficult.
I think that having a bed cuddle might make it a little easier to deal with, is all.
Not that it really matters. I can't have one.
Tuesday. <3
I really miss D a lot. I have a double bed at home, and I always sleep on the right hand side. I'll turn on my side, and see the expanse of empty cold bed by my side, and realise that someone, 150 miles away, could be filling the gap, and keeping my feet warm in bed. I have cold feet.
But, it's not really the footwarming I'm after. It's not a particularly cold night.
I just want a cuddle. Working on Sundays is tough. I do exactly the same job I do in the week, but the warehouse screams "It's Sunday! Go back home!" at me, silently, and I just feel like every hour drags on so much more.
And, my arms/wrists/hands ache nearly all the time, which is just annoying. Turns out that it makes writing, baking, knitting, typing and everything else I do just that bit more difficult.
I think that having a bed cuddle might make it a little easier to deal with, is all.
Not that it really matters. I can't have one.
Tuesday. <3
Saturday, September 06, 2008
America's Next Top Model: bring it on, bitches!
Cycle 11 aired its first two episodes together on Wednesday night over the pond, and due to the magic of Youtube, I was able to watch them on Thursday morning, before I went to work.
Cycle 10 sucked, to be blunt. There were a couple girls I liked, but there seemed to be much more footage of "bitcheh bitcheh bitcheh" than usual; maybe time just dragged a lot more! I think that the girls just had less talent, really. A lot of them just *wanted* to be a model, and hadn't really learnt anything about it beforehand. There was one girl, Anya. Stunning, but as empty as an egg cup. I mean, we're talking about stereotypical model-blonde dumb. She was just so... it was incredible how dumb she sounded sometimes. And, she shares my birthday! She was born on the same day in the same year as I was. She's a nascent model; I'm a nascent mathematician [and wannabe model. Ha!] It's really weird to think about where other people born on my birthday have managed to reach with the time we've had.
[Aside: I just spend a little while looking at a blog of hot Russian girls who are famous somehow: models, actresses, etc. If I had a collar, I'd be so hot under it!]
So, what do I think of Cycle 11 so far?
I'm already starting to have a couple favourites. I love this cute French girl, Marjorie. She's just... so nervous and quiet and cute on screen. Sadly, they're not qualities that will make A Top Model, as Tyra would say.
Isis is probably the most talked about girl in the house. Isis is a transwoman, pre-op, who was discovered after being a homeless person / set prop last cycle in a photoshoot. Man, she was fiiiieeeerce! The judges thought There's Something About Isis, but didn't know until Tyra said. She takes a great picture, and seems to be less vacuous than some of the other girls. Of course, some girls don't care about Isis' presence in the all-female competition, others do.
Best quote from the show so far: "It's not a closeminded view, it's just traditional." [It's worth blogging about on its own later, methinks.]
The overall theme of the episode was.... hilarious. It was like cheap Star Trek, 6os and 70s visions of the future, complete with silver rooms, panels with lots and lots of buttons and awful CGI effects. And TyraBot.
*sigh*
I'm hoping that it doesn't stay this naff. My addiction to Top Model ensures that I will be a loyal viewer till the very end. So, if it's interesting to watch, it'll be more fun.
On the plus side, hot girls! Yay. I can always just turn down the sound and watch.
Cycle 10 sucked, to be blunt. There were a couple girls I liked, but there seemed to be much more footage of "bitcheh bitcheh bitcheh" than usual; maybe time just dragged a lot more! I think that the girls just had less talent, really. A lot of them just *wanted* to be a model, and hadn't really learnt anything about it beforehand. There was one girl, Anya. Stunning, but as empty as an egg cup. I mean, we're talking about stereotypical model-blonde dumb. She was just so... it was incredible how dumb she sounded sometimes. And, she shares my birthday! She was born on the same day in the same year as I was. She's a nascent model; I'm a nascent mathematician [and wannabe model. Ha!] It's really weird to think about where other people born on my birthday have managed to reach with the time we've had.
[Aside: I just spend a little while looking at a blog of hot Russian girls who are famous somehow: models, actresses, etc. If I had a collar, I'd be so hot under it!]
So, what do I think of Cycle 11 so far?
I'm already starting to have a couple favourites. I love this cute French girl, Marjorie. She's just... so nervous and quiet and cute on screen. Sadly, they're not qualities that will make A Top Model, as Tyra would say.
Isis is probably the most talked about girl in the house. Isis is a transwoman, pre-op, who was discovered after being a homeless person / set prop last cycle in a photoshoot. Man, she was fiiiieeeerce! The judges thought There's Something About Isis, but didn't know until Tyra said. She takes a great picture, and seems to be less vacuous than some of the other girls. Of course, some girls don't care about Isis' presence in the all-female competition, others do.
Best quote from the show so far: "It's not a closeminded view, it's just traditional." [It's worth blogging about on its own later, methinks.]
The overall theme of the episode was.... hilarious. It was like cheap Star Trek, 6os and 70s visions of the future, complete with silver rooms, panels with lots and lots of buttons and awful CGI effects. And TyraBot.
*sigh*
I'm hoping that it doesn't stay this naff. My addiction to Top Model ensures that I will be a loyal viewer till the very end. So, if it's interesting to watch, it'll be more fun.
On the plus side, hot girls! Yay. I can always just turn down the sound and watch.
{Family interactions} intersection {Pleasant experiences} is not the empty set.
I'm wandering around at about 1am, thinking about eating toast and drinking some OJ, when mom calls, asks me what I'm doing, she reminds me to turn off the bathroom light when I come up again. She comes downstairs to make herself some green tea.
She tells me about the egg-free mayo she's trying out, and how she wants to be vegan.
I ask her what she's planning to do this weekend, and we implicitly agree to go clothes shopping.
She takes some Hobnobs, and I mention that I'm planning on baking cookies. We start to talk about desserts, she tells me about the apple crumble cake they served at work, and how she was thinking of baking scones.
I tell her which days I'm planning on working, and that I'm taking Sunday and Tuesday off. She tells me she didn't think I'd make it through the job at all, and fully expected me to quit. I suggest she makes chocolate brioche pudding [which is essentially bread and butter pudding, made with brioche instead of bread, and melted chocolate and butter instead of raisins in the middle]. She agrees it is definitely a cause for some celebration.
We sit at the breakfast table while she's waiting for her green tea to brew. We pull out a couple cookery books and thumb through them, talking about ideas of what to bake. She tells me about her failed attempt at an egg-free coconut cake, and how when she was younger she made a coconut variation on rock cake, and she might try that again.
We start to talk about my moving into the house for university. I mention that I might move in installments - move in with minimal things on Monday, and come back for whatever else I can over the weekend. She thinks it's a very good idea.
I tell her I'm thinking of buying things from Ikea, like clothes storage. She immediately says no, grabs the Argos catalogue and flicks to the furniture page, pointing out a couple things that look like they might be useful.
Her tea has brewed and is cooling. She takes it upstairs, and I say goodnight.
~~~
I would be rather ^_^, but sadly I am just far too tired to do this. I had a very exhausting set of MSN conversations involving Fail Ex, the friend of Fail Ex whose clothes I still have, and a set of brutal honesties that hopefully have pushed Fail Ex into the right direction. If not, I'll probably punch him. And I wouldn't be the only one...
She tells me about the egg-free mayo she's trying out, and how she wants to be vegan.
I ask her what she's planning to do this weekend, and we implicitly agree to go clothes shopping.
She takes some Hobnobs, and I mention that I'm planning on baking cookies. We start to talk about desserts, she tells me about the apple crumble cake they served at work, and how she was thinking of baking scones.
I tell her which days I'm planning on working, and that I'm taking Sunday and Tuesday off. She tells me she didn't think I'd make it through the job at all, and fully expected me to quit. I suggest she makes chocolate brioche pudding [which is essentially bread and butter pudding, made with brioche instead of bread, and melted chocolate and butter instead of raisins in the middle]. She agrees it is definitely a cause for some celebration.
We sit at the breakfast table while she's waiting for her green tea to brew. We pull out a couple cookery books and thumb through them, talking about ideas of what to bake. She tells me about her failed attempt at an egg-free coconut cake, and how when she was younger she made a coconut variation on rock cake, and she might try that again.
We start to talk about my moving into the house for university. I mention that I might move in installments - move in with minimal things on Monday, and come back for whatever else I can over the weekend. She thinks it's a very good idea.
I tell her I'm thinking of buying things from Ikea, like clothes storage. She immediately says no, grabs the Argos catalogue and flicks to the furniture page, pointing out a couple things that look like they might be useful.
Her tea has brewed and is cooling. She takes it upstairs, and I say goodnight.
~~~
I would be rather ^_^, but sadly I am just far too tired to do this. I had a very exhausting set of MSN conversations involving Fail Ex, the friend of Fail Ex whose clothes I still have, and a set of brutal honesties that hopefully have pushed Fail Ex into the right direction. If not, I'll probably punch him. And I wouldn't be the only one...
Friday, September 05, 2008
10 brain cells or fewer?
The Plain English Campaign have been working very hard lately. Finally, after years of a glaring error in our supermarkets, Tesco have bowed to the will of the Campaign... and changed their checkout signs saying "Ten Items Or Less" to "Up To Ten Items".
[Let's ignore the fact that this introduces the ambiguity of whether ten items are permitted, or if you're allowed nine or fewer. Sometimes, I try to bring eleven items to those queues if I can. They never notice until it it's too late. Mwahaha!]
English fail is widespread it seems. One of D's favourite places to go on the interweb is the English Fail Blog, a place where you can either say "LOL, ESL/EFL speakers got it wrong", or "LOL, native English speakers fail at basic grammar, sentence structure, and apostrophe placement." Really, we should be looking at native English speakers, people who grew up learning English in school as a first language and wondering where it went wrong with a sense of ZOMG, O_o and sadness, not LOL.
I think what you notice the most going around town is the complete lack of awareness of the correct location of apostrophes. Even the Apprentice candidates couldn't work out where the apostrophe in "National Singles' Day" should go. [Mind you, they managed to make a spaghetti bolognese that tasted bad. That is pretty impressive.] The local Italian restaurant [which is never anything but empty or closed] serves the following: pasta's, risotto's, pizza's, and lasagne's. According to Wikipedia, Tesco is guilty of more SPAG fail, with such classics as "mens magazines", "girls toys", "kids books" and "womens shoes". Note the lack of apostrophe.
Whut!?
I just... it's such an easy rule. Apostrophes get involved when you're possessing something. Or abbreviating. But, mostly possession.
Then there's text speak. Of course, I love to use LOL and woot! and ZOMG as much as the next intertube dweller, but I don't use u or ur or 2day or anything that's just an unnecessary abbreviation. Yes, it saves you half a second. It also makes you look illiterate.
The Plain English campaign have said: "Well, gosh. Isn't English tricky? People can't spell. Maybe we should make it easier for them, and just... let poor spelling slide in exams, you know?"
I don't understand. I can't really speak for the generations before, but I don't think it was as much of a problem as it is today. Schooling was different back then. More learning by rote than "let's explore the world of learning, Jimmy". But, it got results, right? Admittedly, some kids fell through the system. Those labelled as dyslexic, etc today would have been labelled stupid, lazy, whatever. There's some good things that happen with education today... but, it can't be that good if university students come out not being able to use apostrophes consistently.
*shakes fist angrily*
~~~
Am I being an intellectual snob here, by writing this? I went to a good school, was in the top sets, with good teachers, and the right mindset. All of these are so important to getting the most out of education. I can't work out if it's reasonable to feel this way about English, or if I should just accept that some people just can't do as well with language as others, to the point of basic English fail.
And, I apologise for my own SPAG errors. I may be a writer/poet type, but above all, I do maths, okay? We're not supposed to be any good at English!
[Let's ignore the fact that this introduces the ambiguity of whether ten items are permitted, or if you're allowed nine or fewer. Sometimes, I try to bring eleven items to those queues if I can. They never notice until it it's too late. Mwahaha!]
English fail is widespread it seems. One of D's favourite places to go on the interweb is the English Fail Blog, a place where you can either say "LOL, ESL/EFL speakers got it wrong", or "LOL, native English speakers fail at basic grammar, sentence structure, and apostrophe placement." Really, we should be looking at native English speakers, people who grew up learning English in school as a first language and wondering where it went wrong with a sense of ZOMG, O_o and sadness, not LOL.
I think what you notice the most going around town is the complete lack of awareness of the correct location of apostrophes. Even the Apprentice candidates couldn't work out where the apostrophe in "National Singles' Day" should go. [Mind you, they managed to make a spaghetti bolognese that tasted bad. That is pretty impressive.] The local Italian restaurant [which is never anything but empty or closed] serves the following: pasta's, risotto's, pizza's, and lasagne's. According to Wikipedia, Tesco is guilty of more SPAG fail, with such classics as "mens magazines", "girls toys", "kids books" and "womens shoes". Note the lack of apostrophe.
Whut!?
I just... it's such an easy rule. Apostrophes get involved when you're possessing something. Or abbreviating. But, mostly possession.
Then there's text speak. Of course, I love to use LOL and woot! and ZOMG as much as the next intertube dweller, but I don't use u or ur or 2day or anything that's just an unnecessary abbreviation. Yes, it saves you half a second. It also makes you look illiterate.
The Plain English campaign have said: "Well, gosh. Isn't English tricky? People can't spell. Maybe we should make it easier for them, and just... let poor spelling slide in exams, you know?"
I don't understand. I can't really speak for the generations before, but I don't think it was as much of a problem as it is today. Schooling was different back then. More learning by rote than "let's explore the world of learning, Jimmy". But, it got results, right? Admittedly, some kids fell through the system. Those labelled as dyslexic, etc today would have been labelled stupid, lazy, whatever. There's some good things that happen with education today... but, it can't be that good if university students come out not being able to use apostrophes consistently.
*shakes fist angrily*
~~~
Am I being an intellectual snob here, by writing this? I went to a good school, was in the top sets, with good teachers, and the right mindset. All of these are so important to getting the most out of education. I can't work out if it's reasonable to feel this way about English, or if I should just accept that some people just can't do as well with language as others, to the point of basic English fail.
And, I apologise for my own SPAG errors. I may be a writer/poet type, but above all, I do maths, okay? We're not supposed to be any good at English!
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Shallowness, and health.
I was watching Maury again; no babydaddy drama this time, it was about Opposite Couples. There were a few short-tall couples, young-old ones [we're talking, college-geriatric here]...
There were a few men who were dating morbidly obese women, and they were both just talking about how sexy their women were, and how Big IS Beautiful.
When you get that big, it's unhealthy. I don't think it's always beautiful.
I am shallow, I admit that. I've dated people and just wished they were a *little bit* cuter, or taller. I've never actually really thought that I was dating someone that was too heavy. I kinda like a little cuddliness when it comes to potential partners. Too skinny, and it's just like hugging bones.
But... still, healthy is beautiful. I know, it must be difficult to be obese, and being told by society that they are second-class citizen that caused their own problems. I wouldn't look down on someone because they're overweight. But... to see a morbidly obese woman in lingerie on national [US] television, letting everyone know... It's not sexy, or beautiful to me. To be fair, ANYONE doing that on Maury, hot or not, isn't going to rate highly in my books.
I'll just stick to watching the babydaddy episodes. Nothing better than a bunch of people being a million percent sure that X or Y is the father, and then realising that it's neither.
There were a few men who were dating morbidly obese women, and they were both just talking about how sexy their women were, and how Big IS Beautiful.
When you get that big, it's unhealthy. I don't think it's always beautiful.
I am shallow, I admit that. I've dated people and just wished they were a *little bit* cuter, or taller. I've never actually really thought that I was dating someone that was too heavy. I kinda like a little cuddliness when it comes to potential partners. Too skinny, and it's just like hugging bones.
But... still, healthy is beautiful. I know, it must be difficult to be obese, and being told by society that they are second-class citizen that caused their own problems. I wouldn't look down on someone because they're overweight. But... to see a morbidly obese woman in lingerie on national [US] television, letting everyone know... It's not sexy, or beautiful to me. To be fair, ANYONE doing that on Maury, hot or not, isn't going to rate highly in my books.
I'll just stick to watching the babydaddy episodes. Nothing better than a bunch of people being a million percent sure that X or Y is the father, and then realising that it's neither.
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