Aeryn-sama

You know your class is going to be amazing when you don't have to buy one of your textbooks because it is already on your pleasure reading shelf.

Incidentally, here's a list of the stuff I'm reading right now that's NOT for class:

Sex with Kings: 500 Years of Adultery, Power, Rivalry, and Revenge by Eleanor Herman
- About royal mistresses and their impact on history. Fascinating.
Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue: The Untold History of English by John McWhorter
- A surprisingly humorously written argument about the influence of Celtic and Welsh on English
Digital Fortress by Dan Brown
- For the lulz, and there are lots of lulz
Needful Things by Stephen King
- Which I may or may not finish, since the last chapter I read completely turned me off to it

Plus ones I'm about to start:
My Zombie Valentine by K. MacAlister, A. Fox, M. Mancusi, and L. Cach
- Four romance novellas involving zombies. How could this be anything but awesome?
Vampire Stories from the American South compiled by L. Schimel and M. H. Greenberg
- Paid $6.66 for this at B&N.
Evil: A Primer: A History of a Bad Idea from Beezlebub to Bin Laden by William Hart
- Why do nonfiction books always have long subtitles?

I have to be up for class in six hours, and rather than going to bed four hours ago like I should have, I have been up for hours reading FML, MLIA, and Johnny the Homicidal Maniac books of dubious legality.

I'm one week into the spring semester, and even though I dropped down to twelve hours, things honestly aren't looking good. We'll see if I can deal with it, but if not, I'm dropping. I can't afford to have another bad semester. Intro to Folk Studies is going to be my least favorite class- not to mention that it's largely pointless to take the intro class in a department I've had three 300-level+ courses in- but it's one of the last classes I have to have for my Folklore minor.

I'm also jobless, as business didn't pick back up after the holidays and I got let go with the seasonal workers. I saw it coming, really, and it's a good time to have one fewer stressor, but I could have used the money toward paying my fairly high (for here) rent. I'm pondering reading tarot for spare cash, but I have ethical concerns about using readings for financial gain. There's also the option of moonlighting (again) as an erotica writer, though doing it previously completely removed my desire to read, write, or roleplay smut. The third option is to try to get my old job as a copy editor back. The pay wasn't much and I'd have a couple of super late nights, but it would help, and I honestly kind-of miss attacking the campus newspaper with a red pen.

Regardless, this was supposed to be a pulse check and it turned into a ramble. Hope you're all doing well and feeling happy.

You know, a lot of things have happened over the years between me and my father, a perpetual ebb and flow of distance and closeness. And in that time, he has done a lot of bad things. But this one just might be unforgivable.

See, we were playing a board game tonight. He landed on a trivia space and the following occurred.

Mom: "Name one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."
Daddy: "Aristotle."

The holiday greeting voice post will probably come tomorrow instead, because I'm twelve kinds of tired. But I had an awesome Christmas with the family. I got a bunch of things for my new apartment (shelves, utensils, iced tea maker, decorative odds and ends), and four new board games. The gift highlights, however, were a 90-year-old ouija board (the first one linked to on that page, with the swastika) and my old French horn from middle school band.

I had a fantastic Christmas. Even my grandmother was tolerable 75% of the day. How was yours?

I was not originally supposed to work on Christmas Eve. I agreed to work from 8 AM to 2:30 PM because they desperately needed someone. Then, I got a phone call last night telling me that another mishap had occurred and wanting to know if I could stay until close- 6 PM plus however long it took to clean the store. I accepted, figuring that working a ten-hour shift on Christmas Eve when not originally scheduled to do so might just save me if I ended up on thin ice somehow later.

Work was great. I was in a good mood, I helped a lot of customers, I made people laugh, etc. Then closing time comes, and my drawer is $30 short. I go from brownie points to write-up. FML.

The only way I can think of that this possibly happened is that I gave a customer a $50 bill instead of a $20 when counting out change, which could plausibly happen since we keep our twenties under the drawer with the fifties and hundreds. But I was so upset that I was shaking. I kept dropping the broom while I was trying to sweep and had a great deal of difficulty putting an errant earring back on its hook because I couldn't stab the little hole.

This is the first job I've had that could/would fire me, and I am terrified of being fired. I used to have nightmares about high school. Now I have nightmares about Spencer's. (They are occasionally in text. That is odd. 'Kihndall frowns at you. You have been FIRED from Spencer's.')

Anyway, I promise a proper and merry Christmas post (and loot list) tomorrow. I'm actually planning on voice-posting.

EDIT: It's a weird feeling when your high school crush announces their engagement on Facebook. I mean, it's not like there are residual feelings there after seven years of non-contact, but still, you spent a lot of time in your teenage years angsting over the fact that you and X weren't going to be 2getha 4eva omg11!!! You wrote bad poetry. You IM'd your collective friends and swore them to secrecy. That was a significant part of your life for two years. And yet all you can do is hit the 'Like' button.

Trolling IRL, Lesson 4 (Christmas Trolling):

Go to Wal-Mart two days before Christmas. Grin at everyone you see and hum Christmas carols. If possible, skip.

Success rate: 14 hate glares, 3 WTF? looks, 1 "I'll have what you're having."

This is the new source of joy in my life.

Familiarity with The Rocky Horror Picture Show is necessary to fully enjoy it. But it's probably the best thing I have ever seen. (Also a plus if you know the song- "I Can't Decide" by the Scissor Sisters, made familiar to many nerds when it was sung by the Master on Doctor Who.)

I take back what I said a couple of days ago about nothing rhyming with "penisnipple," as, while intently pondering my elbow this evening, I came up with "wenisripple," which does indeed rhyme.

Finals week is upon me. I'll live, but ugh. I'm pondering taking a semester off after next semester. And yes, only a semester. I refuse to be one of those people who "takes a semester off" and then never goes back. But I'm definitely completely burnt out and can't be made to give a shit about anything, so I think a nice dose of the harsh realities of the real world without meal plans and refund checks will remind me what I'm doing in school in the first place. (Read: Putting off growing up. Also, getting an education or some shit.)

I'm completely broke at the moment because I've spent all my money on Christmas presents, and I still have some left to get. I got a bit overzealous with the having an actual job that sends me regular paychecks thing. I still find it baffling that I go to the mall for five hours, fold some shirts, talk to some people, count some money, and then receive a check in the mail in two weeks in recognition of me doing these things. It's a whole other realm from my previous experience doing contract labor and freelance stuff... namely in that I don't have to wonder when my next paycheck is coming or how much it will be. I see now why the routine appeals to people.

Oh well. This is largely a boring waste of electrons. So if the previous bit was tl;dr, I'll leave you with this. It made me rofl.

Things I Have Learned This Week:

1) When you are on the bottom rung of corporate hierarchy, do not tell the truth about anything ever. It does not end well.

2) It is difficult to keep your alts secret when you answer to 'Admiral' on the kingdom channel out of habit.

3) The Chai Tea Lattes at Panera are like being snuggled by Jesus.

4) Some people will continue not to talk to you even if you offer them cookies and/or presents. These people are commonly referred to as idiots for passing up cookies and/or presents. I mean, I gave Justin my address for the sake of getting presents. And I am so much lower on the creepy stalker scale than he is.

5) Not many things rhyme with 'penisnipple.'

So, there are these guys who often park outside the mall. They all drive pick-up trucks, and they park them together and generally cause a ruckus until mall security comes to run them off. So today, security got a call about a bunch of pick-up trucks parked together behind Dunham's Sports, and, knowing that the group usually disperses as soon as they see the security vehicle's lights, sent a guy out there in the Jeep.

The security guy radios back to the command center a few minutes later that the group didn't disperse when they saw him, and that it probably wasn't the usuals and he would have to approach. The next comment on the radio is that they have some kind of animal in one of the trucks. Lo and behold, what he finds is a group of guys cleaning a deer in the mall parking lot.

Welcome to Redneckia.

Stolen from hagane_no. Proof that I spent too much time in the house in my teens.

( Rules and List Under Here )

A final parting thought for the night/morning.

It's a very weird feeling to go back and read your own fanfic when you haven't written fic in years. It's all the more unsettling to be surprised and pleased by your own cleverness, and subsequently to realize that none of the "real, legitimate" writing you've done since then compares.

Sometimes, I miss fandom. I miss shamelessly writing unauthorized stories about other people's characters. I miss the uplifting and encouraging comments. People are so grateful for good fanfic. They enjoy it, and they tell you so. It's a much more heartwarming response than anything you ever get posting entirely original work.

I'm not sure if I got too busy for fandom, or if I grew out of it, or if I just got snobby and started believing that writing fanfic was an inferior craft that no intelligent person took seriously. And if the latter was the case, I've never taken anything seriously in my life. Why did I have to start then?

I guess that this is my confession that I miss it. I miss making new friends. I owe most of my online friendships- many of which have now existed for an excess of five years, some of them as long as eight- to fandom, and I wouldn't trade those people for anything. I also miss the ego boosts. I miss being told that I was good at something. I miss having a reputation for good characterization or witty prose or being able to make people like subject matter they usually hated. I miss the mental exercise of fic-writing, of creating new scenarios and blending them as flawlessly as possible with a canon world.

Maybe I should get back into it. But do I have the time? Do I have the energy? Do I still have the skillset of a fic-writer? Or should I just let it lie in my past, alongside memories of a possibly misspent youth that I don't regret in the least?

Is what I really miss just the attention? Do I just miss having other people tell me I was good at something? I know this whole post probably seems like ego-stroking... "I used to be popular," "People loved my portrayal of X," etc. But I don't mean it that way. I guess I long for a time when I was validated. When I poured my heart into something and was rewarded for it. Being a grown-up doesn't have those moments. Nobody in your classes tells you you're smart. Nobody at work tells you you work hard and are an asset to the company. Nobody in your friend group tells you they like your cooking, your singing, your writing, or anything else you might have once considered a talent.

I was having a conversation with bexhet about how I kind-of wish I'd come across a meme to spread that had a question on it to the effect of "recommend to me a band/artist I've (probably) never heard of."

Obviously, there will be at least one of you who has heard of all of these, since somebody who has me on LJ introduced me to all of these, and some of them might be more popular than I know. Anyway, I'll list my top ten and link each one to a YouTube video of my favorite song of theirs. Maybe you'll encounter something new! And, given my eclectic taste, this is going to be a smattering of genres.

In no particular order:
1. Blackmore's Night
2. The Ditty Bops
3. Jump Little Children
4. Captain Dan and the Scurvy Crew ("Broadside" is my actual favorite song, but it doesn't appear to be on YouTube.)
5. Alana Davis (singing an Ani DiFranco cover)
6. The Hush Sound
7. Celtic Woman (I've seen them live. Their music is beautiful.)
8. Lorene Drive (Screamo in their early days, more alt rock/punk now.)
9. Petra Haden
10. The Lemonheads

This.

I want to do the lyrics one again, but this seemed fun, less time consuming, and likely to spark some text for my NaNoWriMo project.

Go to the Wikipedia home page and click random article. That is your band's name.
Click random article again; that is your album name.
Click random article 15 more times; those are the tracks on your album.

Band Name: Paula Green
Album Name: Margaret of Brabant

Album Tracks:
1) Harlow Council election, 2006
2) Craig Lewis (cyclist)
3) Theodor Curtius
4) Allodecta
5) Joseph S. McCallum
6) Bastø Fosen
7) The River (Breed 77 song)
8) Randall J. LeVeque
9) Oakington railway station
10) Bristol, Connecticut
11) Brad J. Lamb
12) Long-term Predicted Excitation Coding
13) All Saints Catholic School, West Wickham
14) St. Lucie Mets
15) Mungo Lake remains

I'm going to imagine that this album is a progressive trance/techno concept album about a politician who goes on an acid trip where a dead German queen serves as his Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future.

Just saw 2012 with my mom. Despite some scientific and cultural WTF moments, it was actually a really good movie and I liked it, largely because it met many of my requirements for good movies.

[x] Death and Destruction
[x] Family WAFF
[x] Unnecessary but Noble Sacrifices
[x] Positive View of Human Nature
[x] References to Things I Am Familiar With to Make Me Feel Smart and/or "In the Know"
[_] Alan Rickman

Though, to be fair, some of John Cusack's facial expressions are decidedly Rickman-esque.

Also, managed to have a night out with my mom with no fighting. This is good. (Dad is pissed that I got a tattoo, though.)

Today, at the age of twenty-two years, six months, twenty-nine days, and not-quite-four-hours, I got my first tattoo. It is a rose, and it is on my foot.

See it here. The photo was taken less than an hour after it was done, so the skin around it is still pink. I may take a new photo tomorrow and add it to this post. Also, pardon my hairy ankles.

Occasionally, Texts from Last Night has texts that seem eerily like I am gazing into my own future. The following is one such text:

(416): you came home covered in oatmeal wearing a tutu holding a stolen wrotting pumpkin and "its a girl" balloons tied around your neck.you were whispering the lyrics to aaron carters 'aarons party'. i think the real question was what DIDNT you drink last night

So. Was talking to shokora_kukki and had a random idea. A lot of the people on my flist are RPers, current or present, in some form of another, and I miss RPing with a lot of you. So... let's do a small-scale mutliverse, anything goes, pseudo-dressing room right here. You don't have to use your puppet accounts (though of course you're welcome to). Play any character you want. Do anything you want. Make up anything you want.

For the sake of this experiment, my headspace is now a bar. Not super seedy, but not exactly the bar at the country club either. There's a stage with a band playing, some high-top tables designed for big groups of people, some smaller tables clustered in front of the stage, shadowed booths along the back wall, and a door leading to what is probably the infamous "back room."

The people here don't look like the kind of people who would normally even be in the same bar, and they are distinctly segregated into groups as follows:

At a high-top table near the stage, three women are sitting, laughing and having a good time. One of them is dressed all in pink with perfect golden ringlets. An array of glasses in front of her reveals that she has probably had one of everything tonight. The woman to her left has auburn hair neatly braided and hanging down her back and is swathed in long green robes, though the circlet of leaves on her head is easily her most noticeable trait. In front of her are two bottles that look from a distance to be beer bottles, one empty, and one halfway there. The third woman wears a bright red trenchcoat and a wide-brimmed hat of the same color. She doesn't appear to be drinking, but she does seem to be having a good time.

At one of the low tables, though it is the one farthest from the stage by obvious intention, a man and a woman are seated. Both of them look out of place because of the way they are dressed- he in a magenta suit and her in a long-sleeved shirt and miniskirt, both he and she with an excess of ruffles. They are speaking to each other in low tones in what sounds like German, and neither seems to care much for the location.

In the dimmest of the back corners at a booth, two women and a man are seated. One of the women has her back to the room, but even seated, it is clear that she is tiny, with slight shoulders and petite stature. Her hair is pulled up in a bun and she wears a black robe with a red collar. A broken, but still deadly-looking black sword occupies the booth beside her. Across from her is a woman who appears to be in her early thirties, yet has long silver hair. She is dressed in purple, and a silver dagger with a purple opal in the hilt lies in front of her on the table. Next to the silver-haired woman is a man with messy auburn hair. He is seated on the edge of the booth, as far away from the woman beside him as it is possible to get without sitting elsewhere. His clothing is black with purple trim, and a sword is sheathed on his hip, the tip of the scabbard dusting the wooden floor. The table is littered with empty shot glasses, though their arrangement makes it impossible to tell who has had how many shots of what.

A few booths away is a man who looks identical to the man sitting with the women, at least in the face and hair. His clothing, though, is white, and he carries no weapon. He watches the door as though waiting for someone.

WHAT DO YOU DO?