This journal is dead.

It's been a wild ride. See some of you somewhere else. Those of you who want can still contact me through my email, kaneta_gouri3333_at_gmail_._com, minus the underscores and numbers.

'Bye.

1. You can only say YES or NO.
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone comments and asks!

( Read more... )

Been Christmas shopping. Bought presents for Zara and Julian and Soren and maybe Nicole, and some of my sibs.
And me, of course. Yay, books!

Went to Soren's birthday thing a bit back. Was a lot of fun, and with luck I may be going ice-skating soon with one of his other friends who was there, a lovely lass by the name of Selena.
(Soren has many lovely interesting friends. It's a strange, strange feeling to be the most normal person in a crowd, but that's how it is, sitting in his living room. I find myself counting my weirdnesses.)

Julian's father has gone insane. He believes now that he is 'never wrong, and can see the future.' I didn't exactly see that coming. A bit of a creepiness.

Bought Julian boots, in exchange for his having bought me boots. Works.

Been reading. What have I read? Lots...
*spaces out*
but this is also the second day off this week that I've given up to go in and be grred at and fondled and called 'hon' by unpleasant customers, so I can't remember. Instead, food. Something that once bled, I believe.
Yes.

'Night.

--Gen

So Thanksgiving was okay.
Got all ready to go to Julian's Grandma's, and since we still have no car his father was going to pick us up. And two hours before he was to come, he called and gave Julian a list of ultimatums. If he was going to go take Julian to see his family(not his and Julian's family, his family) then Julian was to look as straight as possible--no manly flowered hairband, no funny hair, no clever T-shirts, no nailpolish, on and on and on.
So Julian wished him a happy Thanksgiving and said we'd see him some other time, and hung up. I am increasingly proud of his ability to not say yes, sir.
And then he called his Auntie, and she gave us a ride. We were in the kitchen by the time his Dad showed up, and had been for about an hour.

And when Julian, at lunch with his folks yesterday(whilst I was bussing my way home sick from work, poor me poor me)said that he wasn't going to pretend so that his dad wouldn't be embarassed, his father just got up and left the table.

Other than that, it's been nice. Thanksgiving dinner was quick but fun, and I really like Julian's cousin Diana. Getting ready for Christmas shopping(worked Black Friday, that was fun)and such, trying to balance between my urge to spend every penny I gain on various presents for various people, and my desire to save money.

Last night I spent about an hour on the phone with Dan, and Julian about twenty minutes. The check from the car insurance has come in, and Julian and I are struggling with the temptation to say, screw this! and light off for England like there ain't no tomorrow. Patience is hard.
(we could get nice long visas, if we went a day apart. Agh, it's tough.)

*sneeze*
Tired of being sick. Keep getting a fever at about six PM, very strange indeed.

Whatelse?
Not much.

Went and saw the new Potter flick. Voldemort has pretty feet. And I approve of how much they made Krum look like Beckham. And how much the magic wasn't in-your-face but very commonplace--we don't really notice cars, after all.
Barty Crouch, however, sucked lots. Pathetic squirming character, they made him into. He was hardly crazy, he was patient. And his craziness, in the movie, was never explained well enough.

And now--away, methinks. Back home, for some more .hack, or out for Pride and Prejudice, but either way it is time for a bus.
(or maybe food?)

Ja ne.
--Gen

So, probably Potter today! And steak! Yay, steak!

Been reading. Um.
It's all out of my brain, though, but some good things and some bad things. More on that later, I guess.
Been playing FFVIII and GTA: Vice City and .hack, volume one.
.hack has pretty pathetic graphics, a lousy camera, slow plot, but I'm really enjoying it nonetheless, GTA is a great timewaster(I have figured out how to make myself into a Latina hooker-type character who still speaks in a man's voice.
And I'm stuck, dying over and over again, at the Rajin/Fujin battle in FFVIII. I've never played the game through myself before.

Weather is weird.
Oh-oh-oh! Julian bought me boots! Warm boots! That was the most horrible thing about last winter, the miserably cold feet that I lost sensation in within moments of stepping outside. And we were leaving the mall(the BN where we work is just outside it, we have to pass through it to get to the bus)and Payless had a sale and now I have Thinsulate boots.
I've never had happier winter-feet.

:)

What else? Work is going well enough. Had to be in at SEVEN AM on my DAY OFF yesterday, though, for the Holiday Meeting. I love BN, but the corporate crap gets to be a bit much sometimes. Had to talk with a profoundly fake woman sent over from another store about selling membership cards. I sort of stared at her and offered no comment for about twenty minutes as she talked to my group and condescended and was generally rude, and then I got to go home.
And now--Avalon Exchange!
And then Potter!

Ja ne!

So yesterday it was in the sixties, easy, and today there is rumour of snow. I really do love this city.

Tomorrow I am doing the storytime at work--reading the books, cheering on the tots, etcetera. With my real face on. Saturday, I will don the huge Maisie the Mouse costume and be pummled, hugged, potentially vomited on. I don't honestly mind, though.

The car was finally towed off yesterday. Poor, sweet car. We sent the title to the insurance company, got our junk out of the beastie, and headed off for work--and when we returned, it had escaped.

Julian's been knitting these incredibly weird scarves. He made me a nice one, rust orange and wide, tapering down to a black point at one end, so that from a distance as it hangs down my back I look foxlike. Most of the scarves he's making are not easily or instantly recognizable as such.

I'm trying to find some small software for animating LJ-icons. Any ideas?

Wow, already almost one in the afternoon...and looking bitter cold outside. Last night it was summer. I guess I'll update this and go back to hunting pictures for icons.
(why? When my paid account ran out and I can only have three at a time and I like the ones I have? The world may never know.)

--Gen

Met Julian's friend Jenn and her friend...um...sweet blonde girl last night, had homemade tacos(the Mexican food out here blows!)and things were good. Been working stupid hours, though, what with no car, so I cut out early and went and read some more stories in the Art of Seduction(I like the book best for the sideline stuff on seducers and seductresses through the years, and the poetry)and then slept the sleep of a tortured thing. Woke up screaming or weeping on three seperate occasions, though I can't remember why.

The Kate Bush CD is a lot of fun, but will take a few more listens before I can decide what I think about it. I wish it was more dense lyrically--it's no Hounds of Love or The Dreaming--but she's done some interesting things, and I approve entirely of the birds.

Tired. Just worked a seven-and-a half hour shift, which would not be unpleasant if it weren't actually an eleven-and-a-half hour shift if you count the bus rides in each direction. Blah.

Car is being towed away from us tomorrow morning. Poor car. I shall kiss it goodbye.

Hungry, too, and either beef and broccoli at the Bangcok Balcony or something meaty elsewhere sounds entirely good. Something just past bleeding, please.

Shoulder throbbing terribly. I need a footrub, Tom.

And with that--away, into the dark and windy night.

"Thin voices called from the rain-wet brake
And the child you cradled upon your breast
Is out in the night on the black wind's crest
For only the wild can bring me rest..."

--Gen

Insurance adjustors have come, taken photos, discussed options, and gone.
It's evidently at least, visible at first glance, fourteen hundred dollars of damage.
To a '94 Nissan Maxima.

...

With like 300,000 miles on it.

...

Right! So fixing it is just kinda out of the question, since I can't imagine someone paying us that much for it two weeks ago before the accident, even with the brakes and tires just replaced.
So, alas. Poor dark-grey car, beautiful little sanctuary from cold and rain and snow and long waits at the bus stop in same, I shall miss that noise you made when we didn't turn left, I shall miss the expressions on Julian's face as your gearshift slipped a little on the highway, I shall miss the mysterious wet spot that came and went in the back seat and the rampant uncheckable growth of mildew in the trunk. I shall miss the way that you would randomly mist the windshield when we hit twenty miles an hour, unless the windows were down or the heater was blowing waves of cold air all over my shivery knees. I shall miss how the seat sagged. I shall miss the way that sometimes the seatbelt would spring out as I was slamming the door, tangle in the closing mechanism, and rebound the door right into me.
But really...for all of that, I loved you dear, you sweet little thing.
And that old woman?
The one in the Buick, with the single popped-out headlamp? The one who screamed we'd ruined her car, and wouldn't get out to assess the damage, and tried to get Julian to not chase after the pedestrians who'd seen her go sailing into the opposite lane and then come around and smack into us? The old woman who lied to her insurance people? The old woman who kept closing her door every time Julian tried to get her insurance information?

One night, while she is sleeping. Justice.


In other news, there is no other news. Things are actually proceeding apace, though--looks as though Julian and I will be flying to England early next year, packing Dan up and moving him here. Joy! 'twill be a complicated move, but still. Having a timeframe for it is a beauteous thing.

Novel is also proceeding apace, and it feels GOOD to be writing the damnable thing at last, after plotting for the last ten months. There are still plot problems, but hopefully a lot of those will work themselves out as it's written.

Also, there is some amusing talk about getting some folks together to road-trip to Utah when my biological father gets married. Everyone should visit Utah once, like prison. It'd be me, and Dan, and Julian, and Soren, and maybe a couple other people who theoretically should spontaneously combust upon passing the state line into the Holy Land.

(Holy Land...hee. Did you know that in that bit of Jesus-drek that Anne Rice has just put out, Jesus' relatives refer to their homeland as the Holy Land? And here, stupid me, all this time I thought it was called that as reference to it being the birthplace of Christianity?)

And. What else have I been reading? Paged through some teen novels--"Teach Me" looks vicious(sleep with those teachers, kids!)and "Wizards at War" was wonderful. Not that ALL the "So You Want to be a Wizard" series aren't wonderful. Beautiful antidote to Potter's silliness. I enjoy those books, but I like the fandom more. And the Potter books will never make you a better person.
Read Pirates! In An Adventure with Whaling! Did I mention this? Funny.
Read "Anvil of the World," by Kage Baker. Am now reading that one aloud before sleeping. Wonderful Lord Ermenwyr.
Read "Identity Crisis," even though I've never been hugely into superhero comics. They generally seem too shallow, and compared to the rest of the stuff I tend to read they really are, but that one was an awful lot of fun regardless.
Read "Glass Dragons" and "Voyage of the Shadowmoon." Damn, but those were really dumb. A step up from Dragonlance; A step down from "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell." Or possibly two steps down. Or a flight of steps. Interesting ideas here and there, but on the whole the characters were all abominable, and why the hell was the vampire-zombie-boy French? On a world that had nothing to do with Earth? Too much in too small a space.

Read. Um. I tend to pick up a lot, so I forget--Oh, I know! Last night I was working a closing shift, and cashiering, so there were hours with nothing at all to do. I read "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," through in about half an hour, and was surprised at its brevity--the last time I read it was probably ten years ago and I read slower then. I'm looking forward to the movie, but only for Tilda Swinton, who is the Queen of Love and Beauty, or possibly the King.
(I really think that there should be filmed a biopic of David Bowie, with her playing him. She could do it easily.)
Anyway, I'm really only rereading the Narnia books so I can tear them to pieces. I am looking for understanding. I never forgave Lewis for his horrible treatment of Susan--women in general, really, but Susan in particular--and his intimation that you have to live in a dreamworld to find Heaven. Susan tried to find peace and happiness in the world that she was born to, and for that, she lost everything she loved? Stupid! Painful. Not teaching good lessons to the little ones who read the books. Irritating.
(and Aslan's sacrifice always seemed terribly self-serving. He didn't warn the poor children, but he knew exactly what was going to happen after he died for a little bit. He did not tell them to take heart, just let them think that he would be totally destroyed. But then, he seems to like to see things cry.)

Anyway, it is growing dark, and cold, and the rain has stopped for some little while. I am going to bus into work, and get my Kate Bush CD. (Yay, Kate Bush! Let us see just how evocative a reading of the digits of Pi can actually be, shall we?)
I was working last night, but the Strict-On-Sale date was today, so even though it was sitting there with my name on it, I wasn't allowed to purchase it. Alas!

Later.

So Halloween was fun. On the 29th we had a party, and had over sorenlundi, and our friend Nicole, and silverdragon262 and Emily the Once-Librarian, and Erica, and die_graumensch. Played GTA Vice City, and some Silent Hill, and ate a lot of sugary things. Read Jack Chick tracts and mused about hell, and had some startling tarot readings as well.
Halloween itself, we played Final Fantasy VII, and then Julian and I sat on the steps at the end of our lawn and handed out candy to folks, and went into Squirrel Hill proper and looked at all the costumed little ones. It was good and peaceful and happy--for my birthday I got a crocheted bracelet from Erina at work, and a rose-quartz necklace from Julian, as well as the book "The Art of Seduction" which is quite nasty, and a nifty CD by Laura Viers which I'm quite enjoying.

Today our car was destroyed.

Balance in all things, one supposes.

Shit.
Home...

I mean--I don't like London. The pigeons limp, and there's so much in such a little space. Like any other city, barring this one, that I've ever been to. But...it's so alive! All those people!
Dammit, that's too close to home!

And to all you folks saying "Wall, at least it ain't no 9/11!"
...
Yeah.
STFU.

So life is interesting. Interesting enough to provide me with a quiet little yelling match in a fancy Chinese restaurant with Julian's Mom telling me to "stop it stop it stop it, you have no idea what you're talking about, you're only twenty-two!" when I pointed out that no, Julian was not 'smirking,' he was weeping. What kind of a fucktard can't see the difference on her own child?

Infuriating woman.

But then, she started out the conversation accusing Julian of making the last 25 years of her life a lie--he's 21, by the way--and demanding to know why, why, did he tell her he was gay when he hadn't actually committed any 'gay acts' yet and he obviously wasn't about to? Why bother telling her? Was he TRYING to hurt her? Why had he turned into this polite stranger every time she tried to talk to him? She was still his Mom, and she would never, never approve, but why hate himself when he hadn't actually sinned yet, and God OBVIOUSLY loved him all this time! Why had he fallen away from the Church when he HADN'T SINNED? I mean, homosexuality is a genetic weakness that you overcome and ignore, like alcoholism!
("It's NOT an addiction, Mom.")
Well, then, like nearsightedness!
("God is going to send me to hell for giving in to my nearsightedness and wearing glasses?")
You're not going to hell! YOU HAVEN'T SINNED!
("Do you just want me to be alone and miserable for the rest of my life?")

And then she honestly didn't understand why he started crying. Stupid, selfish bitch. Ranting, suddenly, about "why didn't you ever tell me before? Why did you lie to me all this time?" when moments before she'd been furious that he told her. She's just trying to be hurt. And then she started yelling at him when he made an awful huffy little sobbing noise, saying "Stop being so rude!" and I jumped in, instead of staring at my rice, and told her to stop being so cruel, stop savaging him. And she just about screamed at me. Gave me Momma Eyes, and was STUNNED when I didn't wilt.
(bitch, my Mom's Momma Eyes are like LASERS in comparison to that ridiculous glance. What, you expect your piddling little underused power is going to be able to go up against that? Fool.)
She told me to shut up, and I said no, and she said why, and I said, because I'm the one who is going to have to rock him to sleep while he cries tonight, and she just about jumped across the table, snarling "I should be the one holding him when he cries! Why don't you care when I'm crying, Julian?" not seeming to see that he's hardly going to run into her arms when she's turned on him like some rabid animal.

And he's crying, and gripping my hand under the table, and his Mom is shouting at him to stop and ranting and raving about how she took all the photos off the walls at home because her entire married life has been a lie, Julian has made it a lie by being so distant, by not talking to her, by not being what she thought he was, WHY CAN'T HE BE WHAT SHE THOUGHT HE WAS, and of COURSE she didn't approach him to ask why he was distant when he was still a teen, teenagers don't WANT to talk, and if he'd needed to talk, he should have come to her!

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, hurtful woman.

She doesn't love his dad. That's not Julian's fault.
He's TWENTY-ONE. It can HARDLY be his fault that TWENTY-FIVE years of life are suddenly a lie. She doesn't have the brassies to get a divorce--not her SON'S problem. And the fact that she thinks her approval should matter in his sexuality FLOORS me. Because she's his MOM, she said, when he asked why.

I'm shaking a little again just THINKING about it. She'd so much rather that she be comfortable with the thought of him than he be happy with his own life. She was furious that I DARED to talk at all "You're only a child, your word isn't gospel! HOW DARE YOU accuse me of hurting him? I WOULD NEVER HURT MY CHILD! I LOVE Julian!"
"Not on purpose, and I can see that you love him, but--"
"Not even subconsciously! It's CRUEL that you'd even suggest it!"
And Julian was hurting so badly. I wanted to say, let's just leave, and your ridiculous mother can WALK home. But I didn't. It wasn't my fight(which is another thing she shouted at me, and I calmly said "It is when you're savaging someone I love." Julian is fully capable of taking his own battles, but that doesn't mean I can't be backup for a sentence or three.)and Julian acquitted himself MARVELOUSLY under the circumstances.

She calmed down, started crying about how she was his mother, wasn't he still her son? Did he WANT her to disown him?
And then we all went to Borders and she bought him a coffee and I sniggered over a magazine of Forteana, and then we went to her house and Julian played the piano, and then Julian and I went home.
And then out, because neither of us felt like sleeping.

And then I found out that Dan's grandfather died, suddenly. I'd never even said hello to him, all the times I'd been down on the farm--I'd waved, but we'd never been introduced, and now I can't ever be, and I'm not there to hold Dan like he so terribly needs, and he sent me a long and hurting email that at least gives me hope he'll be okay. I wish I was there. I wish I could give him a backrub and run him a bath and make him lasagna and find some ridiculous funny anime to drive all of it out of his head for a while.

And five minutes ago I found out that my oldest friend, who I have not spoken to in about six years, Melinda Farrell, has cancer.

What a day.

FINALLY well again. More than a week of being really, really sick, and two days of 102 degree fever and slight delirium.
I really hate my pillowcases now.

Kittenfishy!
What do you think? I love the litle thing.

So last night I was in Julian's dorm, in my PJs as we were intending to crash there, online happily buzzing through the dailies at Fark, Julian sitting reading Folk of the Air on his bed, and there was a noise.
It went "whooOOOOOOP!"
Just once. Julian dropped the book and I reached for my dayclothes, 'cause it was the fire alarm.
Into warm clothing and down seven flights of stairs in about two minutes, baby. The fire alarm didn't properly come on until we were at the door of his room, dressed warm and moving toward the stairs.

Wasn't anything major. Third time the alarms have gone off in as many months, and people are beginning to not give a damn. So as the first two were evidently little arson-laid fires(last night's was some chick cooking microwave popcorn too long, silly mite got all fourteen floors evacuated)I worry a bit. People were slow, and a hundred or two didn't even bother leaving their rooms. So if someone really wanted to hurt people, all they'd need to do is wait two weeks and light a proper fire. Julian and I were quick even knowing that it was most likely nothing at all(we slept at mine nonetheless)but there were still stragglers coming out several minutes after we'd made the bottom landing. Next time, if it's serious, someone is going to die.

Lothrop is weird. It's connected to the hospital, and the hallways are kept pressurized to keep the fire from spreading(I always get dizzy at Julian's door)but someone who knew what they were doing could get around that easily. Open the windows in the stairwells, for instance, and prop the doors open as you go. Ten minutes of work, maybe, and no one would notice. Lay the fire in the bottom of the building, the basement maybe, where it'll short things out the fastest and make it hardest for folks to get out. Something like that. And people would think it was just another burning Pop-Tart and not bother leaving their rooms until they could smell the smoke. It's a creepy thought, particularly for the girls on the 14th floor.
Last time there was a fire, the elevators didn't run for more than a week, due to water-damage. They had fans on them all the while, and every time I came to visit Julian I had to climb all the way. The buttons in two of the elevators still don't all work, and that was about a month and a half ago.

But yeah. Things here are going.
And now, I have to leave for work.
Ja ne.

So yeah. Party was interesting. Joseph saw people in the bathroom mirror and was more than a bit shaken. More than a bit shaken means he drank a goodly deal of wine afterwards. Once he was able to talk again.
Watched Allo Allo for a while and we were amused. Several folks stayed the night, including Trebbie, who evidently attempted to wake screaming when the Thing That Lives In My Room(who keeps leaving long golden hairs on my pillow and in my hairbrush, and who keeps opening the bathroom window and getting the curtain stuck under the frame when it closes it again, and who keeps petting my face and toying with my hair when I sleep, and who has giggled and pinched Julian on the ass, and grabbed his feet)climbed merrily into bed with him.
At least she/it is NICE. a bit creepy betimes, but on the whole quite pleasant.

And someone who I have known for a week, and who has never seen it, described my basement with utter accuracy, down to "and on the right is the room with the bicycles." She thinks the basement might want her dead, and she's been dreaming about it.

And you know what?
This is all absolutely the most normal part of my life right now.

And in a potential TMI--I'm on the tenth day of my period. Very strange indeed. Writing this here to keep track for myself, mostly...

--Gen

Heh. Yeah. Stupid me! It'd be nice to post a TIME for this party I'm having on Saturday, right?

TIME! Starting at like, say, seven PM? Running until everyone goes home, and as I'm baking cinnamon rolls in the morning it's cool if you bring a blankie and stay the night watching movies and hopefully playing some Super Smash Brothers or Illuminati or Apples to Apples, having sleep-deprived conversation and eventually crashing out on one of the many sleeping surfaces evident in my house.
(It'd thrill me to have people stay over, really. I love making breakfast.)

And. Um. If you can bring chips or whatall, it'd be cool, but despite my slightly addled last post it's hardly obligatory.
If you don't know my address, or how to get there, or whatever, email me at kanetagouri(at)gmail.com . Or talk to vermilionskies Julian, he's good at giving directions. Or something.

Later! Must go clean house.

Having a movie-thing at Nils' house! Saturday! For as long as people stick around, concievably into the following day, since the following day is Sunday and we're all heathens. Yes!
Have some movies already in mind, but if you've got a good one, bring it.
(or a bad one. Bad ones are also desired.)
Also, bring whatever snacky things you think will be cool, though hopefully I'll have brownies and stuff, since I get paid Friday and HOPEFULLY it will be a halfdecent paycheck. Yes.
This means everybody.
Everybody who can make it, anyway. Relatives and Dan are not really expected to attend, but should you manage it there will be room on the couch.


--Gen

Oh. And if you happen to have a Gamecube and the most recent Zelda, I will have your babies, should you be kind enough to bring it along.
Or a PS2 and...well, almost anything, though the thought of Silent Hill five feet tall is kinda scary...

Hung out with Julian all of yesterday--helped install jellyfish in the cloister of the Frick Fine Arts building(my mind keeps trying to amend that to Cloister of Trials), which was cool, and there soon will be photos. Then I hung out in the Lithography lab and talked with a nifty gal named Nicole, who I think could become a good friend.

By the time Julian was done painting naked women it was eight PM--by the time he got done doing what else he needed to do in Litho it was nine-thirty, and we came back to his dorm to grab some stuff so we could go to my house for the evening. I sat down on his bed, and next thing I know, it's three in the morning.
And guests need signing out of the dorms, or signing in overnight, by two.
Whoops.

What else? The last time I was at work, I was working the infodesk(as usual)and a woman behind me made the precise, exact, dead-on noise that the nurse-mannequins make in Silent Hill, that groany "Uh-ohhhhhhh." I almost hit her with my stapler.

And a darkly amusing thing. My biological father writes an internet column for Sierra Times. And when our birthdays come up, he usually mentions it in the bottom.
In January, he gave my little brother Ethan 'a belated happy birthday.' Except Ethan's birthday isn't until next week. He was thinking of Colin. Colin, the one who's twenty-one now, and on his mission. Hah.
Anyway. Away. Must find food and photograph jellyfish.
Later!

--Gen

Tanith Lee has written a sequel to The Silver Metal Lover. It's called Metallic Love, I think, and it's out next month.
I've preordered it. Am a bit afraid of what I'll find. I mean--Silver came out what, two or three years before I was born, right? Or at the latest in the mid-eighties. I hope it's good. I really hope it's good.

Soon to go for breakfast, yay. No money whatsoever for food right now, so Julian is treating me to Sdexo Tube Food--probably something grease-coated and made from grease-concentrate, watered down with a nice helping of molten grease. Food!

And that's mostly it.
Except!
I now have a computer. Thank everything. It runs. *deep sigh of joy* And soon I will be able to get my own internet connection, and all will be well. Joy!

Time for me to go. Later!

--Gen

*yaaaaaawn*

Not tons going on. Well, that's an utter lie, but nothing I can really put into words. ;)

Went out with Diane today, not anywhere special but just out, which was good. Julian and I and she went to Ikea and laughed at uncomfortable furniture. Talked about novels and such, and all was well.

Missing Dan. Haven't been able to talk to him in a couple of days, and probably won't tomorrow either. :(
(and you nearly never reply to my emails, you man, you!)

Today has been beautiful, aside from the constant ache of missing-Dan. Weather was glorious, snow is mostly gone but the ground isn't mostly wet, and I was awake before eight and so had the whole day to do fun things. It's only six now--an average Saturday off I'd only have been up for seven hours at most, not nearly twelve.

Watched four episodes of Excel Saga last night--picked them up on DVD for six bucks at the Exchange. Too funny for words, and Il Pallazzo is great, particularly the bits inside his own head. "He should die! I will make him die! Nar-nar-nar stupid!"

And. Yeah. Must go, now, I think, before I get stuck wishing I could watch Fruits Basket. "Peel his skin off and burn him until he dies! Burn him until he dies, right now!"

Hee.

Later!
--Gen
I have work tomorrow--nice sparkly blue skirt, I think. These are the weighty issues that I must deal with on a daily basis.

So.

Geez. There's a lot been going on, and doubtless sometime after Dan gets out here and I can breathe again I'll make a nice ten-thousand word post about it. Not today, though. Today, I'll just say hi.

I'm at Julian's dorm(most predictably--if I'm not working or on the phone with Dan, I'm with Julian)but I hope to have my own internet access within about two weeks, yay! And then I can do nice things like check my own email whenever I want to.
Today we're going to the craft store for wire and fabric, so that Julian can make ten or fifteen giant jellyfish to put in the Frick Fine Arts building for his installation/collaborative sculpture class thingie. I've had a nasty sore throat the last couple of days, but it looks like sleeping here last night made it mostly better--the weather here's miserable cold, and I've got no real heater in my room, so I've done what I can with creative drapery but on occasion it is not enough.
(my bed is set into an alcove and surrounded by curtains, which helps quite a bit, but the effect is most cavelike.)

What else? Spent much of yesterday reading graphic novels at the library, full of random thinkings. I've come to the conclusion that I'm not a big fan of Gravitation(no grace that I could see)or Scion(cliche piled on cliche, but I must admit it was very pretty indeed and I would probably not object to owning it), and that ElfQuest just gets better. I need to pick ALL of those up, at some point.
My life is really quite interesting right now, but most of it won't go flatly into text at my bidding. Work is good, loving it still, but I'm also still falling down with depressing regularity, and now there's this pretty glowy thing that doesn't ever go away for long. Sigh.
(though, really, the falling-down-ness isn't nearly as bad as it was a few weeks back, so I can hope it's just stress and pushing myself too hard.)

Missing Dan. Missing him awfully.

And snow is only pretty when you don't have to be out in it. Thank goodness for three-inch heels and leather pants, is all I can say.

Anyway. I don't think we got 'round to eating dinner yesterday...happens quite a bit, that I get too distracted by being alive to do the things that will keep me living. So breakfast is a good idea, and one of the dormy-food places here allows one to make waffles.
Mmm, waffles.

Dan, if you were here, life would be perfect.

Ja ne, mes amis.

--Gen

Still alive.
Too much going on to talk about, really, but still alive, and that's a step in the right direction.
No internet yet, though. Working hard, playing hard, generally just living. Hard to believe it's January already.
Better go--more as I can.

--Gen

Still alive. Very tired right now, have work in about an hour so I have to catch a bus(where IS Delray street?)but things are good. Work is hard but satisfying, making this bookstore into a real place...I'm doing a lot of heavy lifting, which at least is good for my arms. And now I gotta go. Have fun...

Staying tonight at Diane's for the heck of it, and tomorrow I have my Orientation meeting at Barnes and Noble in Monroeville. Wish me luck, por favor.

I'm wearing shoes that are too big for me, but it's cool, because they were only a dollar. They're totally black high-tops, and I got them from a Goth fleamarket, which is in itself an idea of cool. The reality was somewhat disappointing, very small, but still *shrug* a good idea.

Dreamed that I opened up a store selling clothing and jewellery in this castle-y place in Oakland, which has had a For Lease sign up for a couple of years at least. Dreamed Julian sold artwork there, and wore funny hats, and his and Susan's T-shirt business took up a good section of it. And that there was a coffeeshop upstairs, internet-cafetacular. It was a good dream. :)


The Matrix is on in the living room, quite loud. The first movie was the only good one, I think. After Neo became God, it just wasn't cool anymore.

I wear makeup now.
It's like warpaint, only in greys and silvers, or coppery browns depending on what I'm trying to look like. It's not something I do, or will do, every day--but it's a necessary thing for work, I guess. Gag. Funny that to look normal I have to do things that once only courtesans did, ne? A good metaphor, perhaps?
(still, it's all so delightfully arcane and cool, the little mixtures of poisons that make one look like an adult. No mascara for me, though, my eyelashes are perfectly cool, thankyouverymuch...)

What I wish I had for my birthday--something to read. ANYTHING to read. All out.
(again. Predictable! Pfah.)
Prismacolor pencils or markers. Bristol board--I have a pad, though, which is going for the--*quiet little whisper* have I mentioned this? Webcomic.
THE webcomic.
The SAINT webcomic.
Sssh.


But yeah. That's spoken for, so with my first paycheck I think I'll get some drawing stuff of my verrrry own, like a small handful of Prismas. Maybe ten. Julian is an artist, and he needed some stuff(canvas, brushes)so we went to the art shop closest to his dorm--drool. I miss painting, I miss the sweet-candy scent of acrylic paint and the feel of the brushes. I saw a full set of Prisma markers for about two hundred dollars. Not this season! But I can wish. I'd rather have the pencils, anyway. I'm finally getting to the point where I can justify getting NICE art stuff--the only art pencils of my own that I've ever played with were Crayola. Waxy five-year-old stuff. Heather's always been the artist, not me, so Heather gets art stuff--I get books, which I have NEVER minded. Stories are my first love. But...I dunno, something about how my eye translates to my hand has changed, this past year, and I'm becoming happier and happier with what I produce, artistically. It's getting a better, looking a lot less like something Janae would draw.
Someday maybe I'll be good enough at it to...I don't know. Be satisfied?


A sad thing, though--I lost my sketchbook somewhere. Maybe the diner or one of the two coffeehouses I sit in(mm, danishes), maybe a bus...either way, it's gone. A half-year's worth of steady drawing, a year's worth of halfassed stuff...
and the first two handwritten chapters of my novel.
Dammit.
I need a computer.

National Novel Writing Month starts on the first. Go to it, my dears! ;)

*sigh* So much has happened lately that I don't think I'll type much of anything about it. So I shall say--I am making friends. Julian is someone, I think, who could fast become someone I want in my life forever--a good friend, this one. Susan is a great person, though it'd need a tidge more work--the flow isn't as smooth, but her company is most enjoyable. I met a guy on the bus, and now he's probably my friend too, once I get him convinced that I'm not going to be falling into his arms--and he's not going to be falling into my bed--anytime soon. Pleasant guy, though, funny, and he corrected me on the length of Sephiroth's sword, so he knows stuff that I know. Common ground is the easiest upon which to dance.
There's a really cool neighbor across the back garden from Nils'--her name is Suella, and she is undeniably moneyed British. Wonderful. She's--it's--a slender Lady Vimes, this one. Invited me 'round for tea, and I think that soon I'll take her up on it.
(she came over just to yell at Nils for me doing all the obvious work in the house, and Nils hoarding stuff too much. I'd never met her before, but she'd seen me painting the dining room, through the side windows.)

I've painted my loft bedroom in deep, dusty lavenders and a shade of ice-cream green. It's soothing and wonderful and the room constantly smells of Nag Champa, just a bit. It is much more my own place. I love it. I've put the bed in the corner-nook(it's a futon, so it fits well)and sectioned off the place where it sits with hand-dyed calico and thin shimmery veiling. A sad bed to sleep in all alone, 'tis true, but comfortable nonetheless.
(I have realized that I no longer move around in my sleep. I've gone back to nesting again. How odd. I pull all the blankets around me in a circle, and pull the biggest one over, and tuck my head to my shoulder and my chin to my knees and sleep. More a fox than ever, I think. It would be cozier if I had a tail, but it's not bad.)

The fleas are mostly gone. The cat is still outside--I went two days without seeing a flea or getting a bite, then the cat got in as I was polyurethaning the floor(little rubbery kittytracks)and I have seen four, I think, since. Bleurrfh. But the cat is out again, and I can hunt the little monsters down.
(one of them I only saw as it leapt from me, brave and free, and sailed into the can of golden yellow paint. I slapped it with the paintbrush until it disappeared. Soon it will be a permanant part of the kitchen wall, a testament to messiness.
Ha.

And...
and...

I don't know what else to say. I should sleep soon, because in ten hours I have to be my sparkly best and chipper and attentive for my first day learning my new job.
(that's a happy.)

So--sleep well, mes amis. Be well, Danyosan. Love you all, and you especially. ;)
Ja ne.

--Gen

I am still alive! Really. No computer yet, but I have found a job--part-time temporary at a Barnes and Noble, and I go in for orientation on the day before my 22cnd birthday. I'm--happy about it, but tired right now. Very, very, very tired--walked four miles in the rain last night, because we were GOING to a Halloween party, but when we got there we turned 'round at the door and left because it didn't look very nice at all, Precious.

I'm typing on my friend Julian(vermillionskies, I thinkno, that's not right at all, who could he be, then? THERE it is, he's vermilionskies.)'s computer. Julian's a lot of fun, and Susan is as well--they're the two that I was out in the rain with last night.
Today, we are going to a Gothic flea market. I will want things, but have no money for them. Alas.

What else? Life is tiring, and saddish much of the time--it looks as though I might not see Dan until springtime. Christmas is going to be miserable, and I don't know if I'll even be able to go to Arizona for it--I'll have a job that depends very much on its workers for the Christmas rush, and I NEED to keep this job. Badly. No money to do anything.

One week from today, I shall be twenty-two. No birthday party for Genevra, or presents either. But at least I've finally gotten paint for my bedroom at Nils' house--it's ice-cream green, and two shades of purple. It looks really nice, so far, and I made a canopy for my bed. It's a start, and being in a place that looks good makes me feel a bit better about things. At least, it doesn't depress me. The house is looking much better--living room floor is sanded and stained, and I'll put the stuff that I can't spell over the top tomorrow.
Warm and sticky today, after all that rain last night. Warm is good--it's been so cold lately. Winter is coming fast, and the winters here are brutal.
(need boots.)

I guess that even though so much has happened, I don't have a lot to say right now. Too much in my head. So I'll sign off, and maybe check my email for the first time in a month--but I've onbly got the computer whilst Julian is in the shower, so I don't expect to be able to answer any, sorry. Later, folks.

--Gen

Still alive--stil no net access at all. Reading, working, had a job interview today which was terrifying.
More as I can. Love to all.

Fleabombs smell like Froot Loops.

Damn, my throat hurts.

But the bastards are all dead. All dead. And in a week, I shall slaughter their children as they rise by the thousands from all the hidden places in this house.

Nils is no help AT ALL. I was cleaning up his crap, and he did some dishes and then vanished.
I think he did the dishes to feel useful. But I'd just asked him to sort out the huge pile of paper-shite and dusty garbage, and he looked at it, went "hmm." and left.
Sometimes I just want to smack him. Make him see sense. "Well, we're all very depressed." he says, as if that is an excuse. Clean up, you fool, and then at least you'll be in a place that doesn't BREED depression.
To top it all off, I decided, fine, I'll clean up all this shit myself--and he told me not to throw any of it away. Like he's ever going to sort it out. Pfah.

I miss Dan too much to deal with this happily.

Fleas.

The fucking house is INFESTED with fleas.


That is all.

(the two of you lovely people expecting commissions from me--they may be a little late. I have to get some of it drycleaned, and some of it I just have to remake.

Emma, y'never answered--is it all right if your bodice is cotton linen? If not, there's still some other stuff I can use to make you pretties. :) It all goes nice.)
(what is up with LJ today?)

Oh! Dan--(hope you chekc this)if you call and I'm out, it's because I've filled the ouse with nerve gas in the attempt to rid m'self of these MONSTERS. Try again later. I will probably be gone from two to eight or nine, though, so I might not get to talk to you at all today.
Love you muchly.

Dan--call me, please. I'm at Nils', for now.

Mmm, shower. Diane has the most hedonistic bathroom--tub with whirlpool, and an absolutely wonderful shower.
(My shower at home is most unimpressive. It kinda goes 'fisssssss' and it's an electric shower, which is good, but the temperature control's gone all wonky so there's about two minutes out of every shower where you have to step back because it's just too hot.)

So, I'm clean. Dressed, mostly. Sparkly. About ready to go to WorD, which'll be lovely.
Missing Dan terribly, but he called me today, so I'm feeling a bit better. And he's gotten this HUGE website job off of a guy who sells--here, lemme show you the preexisting site.

*grins*
Just what Dan would want to work with, really. He's buzzed.

It is so nice to be clean. yay for Dove soap, the nice soft-making kind which I never buy for myself, but which Dan bought me a huge bottle of.

Going to be settled in at Nils' on Wednesday night. Tomorrow night, that is. Which means that Thursday I can start looking for a job, and a computer.

Anyway. I'm safe, but no time to reply to comments yet--I do read them, honest, and I always THINK of replies, but no time. Must try and find socks that Diane's dog hasn't slobbered all over.

Love you all!

--Gen

Dan! I'm online now, with icqlite. Turn your Trillian on! My number is 170253555, if I'm not on your list.

Here safe. At Diane's. Tired.

Miss you, Dan, so much. Fifty-nine nights, after this. No more than fifty-nine nights. I can stand that.

I love you.


Everyone--feel free to still email me. I might be a while replying, but it does me much good to hear from folks. Big hugs.

About to go. British Airlines flight 197 to Philidelphia, then 297 to Pittsburgh. Don't expect this blog to be updtated anytime soon--Nils's computer hasn't really heard of the Internet yet.
Love you guys. Keep safe.




Love you, Dan.

A meme that interests me(please do it for me!):
Write something for me. Just for me. Post it in your journal so everyone else can see it, too. A sentence, a paragraph. Nanofiction. Short story. A scene, dialogue, a picture described, a moment, anything. Long or short. But it's got to be just for me. Tell the world you wrote it for me, even. Mine.


Then feel free to put this up in your own journal, and I'll reciprocate.


This is for funwithrage.

He'd been standing in the rain for hours now. It streamed down his face and his chest, rolled off of his fingernails, down the blade of his katana. He blinked it out of his eyes once in a while, but it was useless--it just kept coming down.
And still he waited.
He was nearly ankle-deep in mud, for as he stood the earth was turned to liquid beneath him. He hadn't shifted his feet in more than an hour, as he stood with his sword drawn and ready, facing the stone steps of the temple.
She's in there. He knew it. He could feel her. But going in would mean death, painless death before he had time to wipe his face clean of rain. She was too much for him, within her chosen den. And there was no way for him to lure her out of it. Others had tried, screaming taunts or imprecations, whispering pleas. And sometimes she came. And sometimes she did not. This man, though, tried none of those options. He had not a poet's tongue, no ready ease with words of anger. There was no hate in his heart for the woman he had sworn to kill. She was dangerous, so she would die; that was the way of it. Men need not hate bears to slay them.

The screen slid back, six inches or so, and light poured out to catch on the rain. He did not blink, merely watched. With the light came a summery scent, the smell of a woman just from the bath. And something else--his stomach ached, and the traveler's bread he'd chewed down, two hours back, seemed to have solidified in the face of that other smell. Venison stew, he thought, and peaches boiled in honey. His thin lips quirked a little. She thinks this little of me?
The screen opened the rest of the way, and she stood before him, sheltered from the rain by the wide temple porch. "Come in, traveller. Let me feed you, and in turn, you may tell me of the world."
He stood firm, and shook his head. He couldn't see her clearly, through the rain and the bright light that burned behind her. She was only an outline, a suggestion of slim hands and long, straight hair. She took a step toward him, her house-slippers silent on the smooth wooden floor. "But I have spent time and energy cooking for you." He could see her teeth glimmer for an instant as she smiled. "Not to mention hunting. Have you any idea how hard it is to find and catch a duck when it is raining like this? It took me two hours just to get dry." She talked to him as a sister would, and for a moment he allowed himself to be amused. "Don't take me for someone so ignorant, lady-snake." he said. "If I step inside your house, you will devour me." She shook her head, and the scent of her hair reached out and stroked his face. "Not so! Or, rather, so, but this is not my house. This is not a place that is dedicated to me. It is just a place to get out of the rain."
Her kind did not lie. They stretched the truth, but they did not lie outright. Cautiously, he said "Then, you swear that no harm will come to me for sitting to dinner with you? You will not ensorcel me?" She laughed. "Not tonight." she said. "It has been long since I have had speech with decent company, and longer still since I've turned my hand to cooking for another. Give me this joy, before you and I must do battle, and you will be safe until dawn at least."

He stood a moment longer, the point of his sword streaming with water, water pouring from it in a fan, and then he shrugged. "So be it." he said, stepping forward. He walked up the steps, and into the warmth.









So, I'm just about ready to go to bed, for some few, few hours. Almost done packing my still-damp laundry and everything else. Wish me luck, and health, and wish my poor love as much...

Looking back only once
on the morning of our journey's end,
I meet my reflection in your eyes
for the first time.

At the bottom of transparent consciousness,
the moment our fingers entwine,
softly, softly touching,
drawing a map
of the distant universe...


Dan's walked to the grocery store for potatoes, so I can make him the last dinner that I will for a while. My clothes got rained on, so I've got the dehumidifier running in the living room, to dry them out. Hopefully it will be done before I sleep, so I needn't worry over packing tomorrow.

In twelve hours I will be at the airport.

I'm...calm. I broke down in the store earlier, for a moment, but aside from that--and the lump in my throat now--I think I'm all right. Dan's been smoking a lot, though, and I know he'll smoke more when I'm gone. I worry that he won't eat right. I worry about a lot of things.
(how will I manage this?)

Realistically, it's going to be at least sixty days and nights before I see him again. Six times the amount that I had such trouble with, last time. Maybe it would be easier if I lived with someone near my age, in Pittsburgh--but Squirrel Hill is just about perfect for my current needs, so this will suffice. Nils is a good person, too. But gods, I'm going to miss Dan so much. It makes me...diffrent, not having him around. I care less about everything, including myself. Nothing much matters, and it's like I'm living in a world in a shroud. All is dim, wearying and unimportant.

Listen to the child complain...

Dan is home now. I'm almost at the end of my song. I am going to go down and peel potatoes, and listen to Dan playing Silent Hill as I make a steak pie. I'll watch for bits and pieces, as much as I can stomach. And I will be happy. For now, for tonight, I will make myself be happy.

And then--tomorrow--

Just recieved a spam which says:

"living; till there flashed a fortunate thought into Bob's mind, and he
stooped, peered through the window of that other world, and beheld the face
of its inhabitant wet with streaming tears. Ah! the man was in pain! And
Bob, glancing downward, saw what was the trouble: the block had been lowered
on the


injury, he departed unrefreshed. "



O_O

Up until the last three words, it makes sense. But...unrefreshed? Vampiric!

I really like spam these days. It's so...on something.

--Gen

ARRRRRGH!
Looks like my bank account was closed because I had overdrawn(not making the translation from pounds to dollars in my head correctly)back in APRIL.
Nice of them to inform me of this on my emailed bank-statements, huh? I mean, damn, all this time when they told me I had thirty-seven cents in my account, what they MEANT was that I owed them thirty dollars!
Which means I'm in arrears, which means I can't get a bank account in Pittsburgh.
Which means I can't set up anything that would send a bill to my house in Pittsburgh.
Which means that I can't get any form of proof of residency.
Which means I can't get an ID card, which would allow me to get my motorcyclist's permit, which would allow me to get my license, which would be proof of address.

So how do I pay my original bank, and try and catch the scattered pieces of this idiocy? Online. With my account number. Which I can't get to, because--THEY'VE CLOSED MY ACCOUNT!

*facepalm*

So even when I get a job, I can't cash the checks myself, nor have any safe place to keep my money.
(Because I'm in arrears to another bank, so no bank in the country will let me sign up for a bank account.)

Round and round and round! Wheeee! Like one of those centrifuge rides at a carnival, you know, the ones that kids are always breaking bones on?

*deep sigh*

I have laundry to do. And a lot of stuff to pack. Away with me.



(but I have a couple of new icons. Take a look.)

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn.

Dan's been Ebaying his arcade boards. Makes me cry.
Worse now. He put up his favorite two, the two he wouldn't like to sell, with stupidly high reserves--R-Type(the original Japanese board)at £120, and Bucky O'Hare at something like £250.
And someone took the Buy-It-Now option for R-Type.
Dan's had that board for eight years. It's like selling his guitar, or his bike.

He's selling his guitar next. But at least he can get his guitar back.

He's downstairs smoking, I'm upstairs falling down.
Both of us feel like crying, now. I don't mind losing my stuff. I've lost everything that I own more than once. But Dan...he's never had to move, 'til he was with me, or near enough to never. And having to sell his babies is innately horrible.
And I can't do ANYTHING.

Adding to the general extreme stress and frustration, I tried to PayPal the money from my first commission to my bank account--and said account has been closed.
I do all my banking online, and I was never notified. There can't be any reason for it, it's not like I've ever bounced a check or anything with those guys. I've sent an email to them to try and figure out what's going on, but this really fucks my plans for the next couple of days--any money in my own PayPal account, I'm not going to be able to touch for myself until I get to Pittsburgh and open a bank account there. And how do I prove that I live at my given address? I've got *nothing.* Not a bill, not a statement of residency, nothing. It's shit.
Falling down again, lots. Hand keeps feeling numb, too, the last few days, sometimes waking me up with how strange it feels--left hand, so I suppose I'd better see a doctor. No time to get me in before I go home, though, so I just have to hope it's nothing that will be furthered by sitting in a cabin under compression.
(computer just went ding! to tell me that a game is copied. Dan's selling his PS2 games, too.)


Tired.
So very unhappy.
And I get months of this to come. At least right now I have Dan. But it's chafing, trying to save him up inside my head, trying to hold on to the little, little time I have left. I can't do it, and I'm already half home, trying to escape the pain by diving headlong into it. It's stupid, and hurtful, and there's nothing else I can do.
I wish I could just stay.

Shopping List for food and such, when I get to Pittsburgh(since I'll need food BEFORE I get over the jetlag...)

Cranberry juice.
Two-gallon jugs of drinkable water, since the tap water makes me gag.
Bread
Peanutbutter and jam?
Fruit of some kind
Bisquick?
Ramen nodules ;)
A few of those cheap boxes of blueberry muffin mix
Eggs
Milk
hamburger meat
Contadina tomato sauce
Spaghetti/shells/rigatoni
Canned tuna
Cream of chicken soup
Egg noodles
(*counting* Spaghetti, tuna casserole, ramen...maybe the hamburger meat can be stretched for two nights?)
Hamburger buns?
Cheddar cheese
(hamburgers, mac-and-cheese. Enough?)
Something snacky. Triscuits, cheez-its, or maybe I'll really go all out and get those Krispy Kremes I've been wanting for four months now.

*sigh*

That's it--I'm going out.
(flame war brewing at Deleterius, good way to let out some frustrations about life, but the SUN is kind of out today, so I'm going to go enjoy it. Yay)

--Gen

Feeling miserably lonely, though Dan is right behind me. Four days.
Three whole days that I have left with him, and then who-knows how many months apart. Feel a bit like screaming, or maybe sleeping. Wish there was a combination of the two.

Anyway, more stuff to remind myself of for Nils' place--
Advertise for roommate. Preferably female, preferably under the age of thirty, and unattached. Preferably smart, perky, and willing to put up with nerdiness.

and...
and...

I've forgotten the rest. Dammit. I want a cuddle.

Finished watching Haibane Renmei the other night.

Not...sure. About much at all, actually. The sub job was bad, and BOY, that's a vague and mysterious anime. And beautiful. So much left unexplained, though!
(Kuu's laughter, and invisible children running in the river between walls...)

A list of stuff I need/want/am considering, for me!
( I won't lose it here, in a couple of days when I go back to the States)

Black trousers
White button-uppy shirt, and a black one
Work-y shoes, for job-hunting
Computer! Must find/lend/work and save money for decent computer--for writing, KEEPING IN TOUCH WITH DAN, keeping my site updated.


For Nils' house, I will need paint, a paint-stripper, new rollers, and to find the brushes. See if I can drag out any other carpeting he might have lying in the attic-y bit. Stuff Nils' house really needs--get someone in to look at that monstrosity of a stove. One barely-working burner is not enough. New microwave, or at least get rid of the corpse of the other one; the same goes for the electric kettle. Decent silverware, thrift-store pots and pans? Sandpaper for both the top floor and nasty bits on the bottom. Borrow a decent vacuum off of someone and vacuum EVERYTHING, walls and ceiling included. Locate and destroy the source of That Smell--if it happens to be the cat, boil the evil thing. Won't hurt 'im, just finally get him CLEAN.
Drag the couches outside onto the lawn and beat the hell out of them with a broom so it won't make me wheezy just to sit there.
Eventually, a thrift-store or garage-sale television, one that DOESN'T come in a faux-wooden case with eight-foot rabbit ears and a rounded screen that mostly shows yellow. Hopefully before my birthday, because if I want to have a Real Birthday Party, Silent Hill is going to be involved, and you can't play Silent Hill in yellow.
(New-to-us TV MUST have proper input ports. Sheesh. Silly to run all the games through the VCR all of the time, it messes with the quality.)
More blankets. Almost froze, last wintertime there.
Space heater?
I'd LIKE a baby-gate, so I can keep the evil cat downstairs whilst allowing the nice heat upstairs. It is a good thing for air to circulate.
New scrubber for dishes.
Trim Evil Cat. Mats hurt one's skin, and he's an Inside Thing anyway, so the temperature is not to be worried about. Also might lessen the incredible number of stinking warm hairballs everywhere. Some of them with human footprints through them. Gag. ;)

Upstairs bathroom and upstairs-upstairs bathroom--Hell. All of the bathrooms need seeing to. First-floor one especially, it *stinks* of catlitter and is the guest bathroom, second-floor one...I might just leave alone. Its nastiness confounds even me, and I have tried, repeatedly, to make it better. Third floor bathroom needs mirror, fix windowframe, fix showery thing, bleach tub, and for the love of the gods, put something other than tarpaper on the floor. Cheap linoleum can often be found in small quantities at thrift stores also--bathroom is small. Remember to look, when buying work-hunting clothing.

More to follow, as I think of it...

Read it.
Just another day in Baghdad, the title is, and it seems pretty dead on. What's in the news about it at home? I see the BBC and the Guardian and various sorts of Times--but when I read stuff from home, it's pretty empty of blood.
(Thirteen thousand civilians killed by us, now. A bit over a thousand of our own military. Every dead one of 'ours' has thirteen of 'theirs' for company. But ours are all adults.

How many times 9/11 is that, in a country that had nothing to do with it? A bit over three, I think? Only it's a lot more women and children than businessmen.

And if you remember the 'civilian contractors' that they mention having been murdered, ages ago? I've never seen the proper term for them used in US news. Mercenaries. Not 'contractors,' as we think of the term, unless you understand that they were contracted to kill people for money.
At least they and theirs are honest.

I'm voting in November, when I'm home. As the website-url goes, kerry is a douchebag but I'm voting for him anyway. And then? Genevra Littlejohn, British citizen, I think. I simply don't see the point in sticking 'round. I don't like living somewhere as barbaric as home is.

So, Dan and I were at the disastrous Herstmonceux faire, trying to steal a moment to breathe. We walked between the tents and marquees, watching people--the rude stage magician with his tired, ridiculous tricks, the beautiful minstrels, the jewelers and tanners and carpenters. One of them sat in the shade of a makeshift canvas roof suspended on thin, whippy poles. He was very large, bearlike, and quite furry. Shirtless. He was engrossed in some craft or another, and his leather trews made both Dan and I think the same thing.
"My. That's a hairy blacksmith." Dan said.
I watched him for a moment longer before I realized the truth.
"Not a blacksmith. He's a potter."

Badump-ching...

Thankyou.

I've been downloading songs like mad. Stuff I've wanted for ages, to help me bide through the long cold winter alone. I've had a big list of Akino Arai stuff downloading in blips and bits for about eight months, now--and just this minute, one of them finished downloading.
And it's a song I've been trying to find for nine years.
Wow.

I didn't know it was by her. It appears on the last episode of Lodoss War, only in the background of a really action-packed scene. It's nearly impossible to hear, and I can't read Japanese, so I had no way of finding the title in the credits. I'd heard just that one verse of it that's in the show, so many times, because it's so pretty. And I never knew what the words meant.

So I'm checking through the new stuff, and it starts off, and I recognize it almost immediately. And now I can look it up at animelyrics.net, and figure out what it's saying!
Yay!

The translation goes as follows:
( Wind and Birds and Sky )

Wow. No words. Shining little happiness...

Trying to find good Hermione/Snape fics. Preferably easy on the smut, more tension than anything, and with at least Snape well in-character. Any ideas?

Taken photos of about thirty hairsticks, and I'm just about ready to make a page and toss all of them onto it--no sense doing frames and thumbnails in this case, because they're only little things. Better to just have a long page to scroll down, I guess.

Reviewing lots of fanfic lately. One of the LJ communities I'm on--Deleterius, which is brilliant, and MarySues, which is equally so, are both a lot of fun--pointed me at a really nasty fic. It's a Hermione/Snape fic, wherein Snape is an unregistered Animagus(a raven, except he's NOT a raven, he's at best a corby or a crow)and he gets injured, and only Hermione can nurse him back to health. He moves into her room(still in birdform, and she doesn't know)because Dumbledore asks him to. Cue musings on how nice and soft her breasts are, and such. Hermione nicknames him "Mr. Mistoffolees." Like the cat. One of the reviewers suggests that perhaps the authoress meant "Mephistopholes," since the other name is stupid and makes no sense when Snape's a bird,, and the authoress goes slightly apeshit about how stupid Americans are, and how she's got a higher level of learning than anyone who would ever read fanfiction, and she KNOWS what she WRITES, okay? despite the fact that she cannot for the life of her figure out how to use a comma, or whether she should use "then" or "than."

So I review her, giving her a sorely-needed and polite line-edit of her entire fic. And I, like a good handful of others, say that her generalizing and ethnic slurs are uncalled for.
So she posts a new Authors Note saying "I can say whatever I want, dont like it dont read it, and I AM American so I can call you all stupid if I want to!" Really damned mature, this one. I'm pinning her at about thirteen, fourteen? Maybe a very immature sixteen.
It's irritating, but at the same time I feel a deep and satisfying desire to poke. And poke and poke. ;) But I won't. I promise.

(She falls back on the tired cliche of making Ron into a would-be rapist, because after all, Hermione wouldn't just CHOOSE Snape, she'd have to have every other guy she was attracted to cease to be. 'Cause otherwise Snape wouldn't have a chance. And Snape, rather than feeling contempt when he sees Hermione complaining that she can't get laid, feels tender feelings in his black feathery breast. It makes me wonder where the authoress has stuffed the canon characters.)

May have found a way to get my motorcyclist's license when I'm in Pittsburgh. Hope hope hope!

It's *hot* today. I'm loving it. The house is a mess still, but hopefully it won't be in a couple of hours--we're slowly, slowly getting Dan's stuff sorted through, and putting tons and tons of it up on Ebay tonight. He doesn't want to, but he's selling a lot of JAMMA arcade boards. Anyone interested? He's got some rare ones.
(though I really, really doubt he'd sell his Bucky O'Hare board.)

*yawnouch*
I think I'll go get some cranberry juice, and start cleaning up a bit. Expect the Accessories page to be up at Glass Gryphon either tonight or tomorrow.
Ja ne!

--Gen

Three AM, nearly, and I'm still up. Ah, well.

Got most of a bodice and most of a cloak finished for Emma, but I'm not sure how I'm doing the skirt yet. Hmm. Shall have to see.
(Not sure if the bodice is perfect, either--it's dark green linen. Is that spectacular enough, Emma?)

Tired but satisfied. Dan's working on his portfolio site, tomorrow we're taking photos of hairsticks and making the Accessories section, which ought to be good.
Also, I'm taking a nice long bath and making my hair nice, and then we're taking some artistic photos of me. We found this nifty package tape(soft and barely sticky at all)when we were in Bath with Slade. It's white, and says FRAGILE in two-inch-high red letters, repeated over and over. I'm going to wear it, and we're going to use the pictures for my personal website when I finally get 'round to building it. Fun. :) I like taking photos. If I'm lucky, maybe I can get Dan to pose for me.

Oh, now Dan wants to go to sleep. Figures! *hands in air, smiling* When I finally start DOING somthing instead of just browsing various sites. I'm hungry again. Why am I hungry now?
Food or bed?

Had some terrific nightmares last night. Don't remember much--trying to keep a kid safe in the middle of a forest/ghetto/warzone that kept shifting. A splintery hole where floors used to be in a bathroom and a bedroom. The woman who loved us/was our enemy, dead by being flung through the air on a wind...she was grinning madly, her eyes were open, and her head was turned right around. I could hear the ends of her broken spine grinding as her head swayed back and forth in the breeze. Unpleasant.
Getting some good ones lately, but nothing I could really write about. Oh, well.

I'm pretty sure that the grinding sound I heard was me grinding my own teeth. My teeth/my enemy's broken bones. Odd.

Dan's got a great story in progress. I want him to finish it so it can be reviewed, and then submitted places--it's pretty much publishable now.

Made two pairs of earrings today. Going to photograph them tomorrow, too.

My house is a mess. We got all the rest of Dan's stuff, every bit of it, from Dan's Mum and Dad's house. They're selling the house, splitting for sure. Sigh. Poor Dan--he lived there the last sixteen years of his life, or something like that. And it's hard for him to be going through all this nonsense with his parents as well. It'll be good for him to escape to Pittsburgh for a while.

(hey, Pittsburgh peoples! Anybody know someone willing to teach me how to ride a motorcycle?)

I'm getting woozy. Bedtime for Genevra. Mm. Yes.

Love ya!

--Gen

::this morning::

(Both of us cleaning up, trying to make room since we're getting EVERYTHING from Dan's Mum's house today, including the arcade machine and boxes of JAMMA boards for it)
Dan's Dad is going to be helping us out, moving the impossibly heavy arcade cabinet, so Dan's doing a nice check on the bedroom to make sure it's safe. Common thing to have to do, we're slightly-disorganized people, and one mortified squeak from Gnomie was enough so we're more careful now.
(I know that it was a box she gave us, but dammit, the size was just right. All those little drawers, perfect for one type of protection or another...)

So Dan picks up my How To Draw Manga: Pretty Girls! book(you know, the one with fifteen pages on breasts?)and closes it on my latest attempt, stacks it with The Encyclopedia of Unusual Sex Acts(definitely an interesting read, written by the improbably-named Brenda Love)and opens the dresser drawer.
Me: Dan...what are you doing?
Dan: I am...taking these dirty books, and I am putting them into the sock drawer.

And he does so. Pats them, and closes the drawer on socks and pencil and paper and naughty books alike.

*facepalm*

(and now he's calling me slanderous. " I did not call them dirty books! I did not!")

But he did.
"You know," I say "You could just put them in the bookcase."

(Downstairs, with all our other HUNDREDS of books, where it'll be invisible. But hey. That's what his drawer was for when he lived with his parents, and he was thinking a lot about said parents, so *shrug*)

All right. website should be sorted now. Links got messed up when I stopped making it(I develop in Textpad)and Dan started(he uses Dreamweaver). Should work. Hopefully.
;P

--Gen

Website is live, at www.glassgryphon.com . It's still under construction, but the bones are there(minus sections for cloaks and hairsticks, because the cloaks all sold at the Faire and the hairsticks are in Jenna's case so we couldn't take photos of them--expect those within the next couple of days)...