Ugh, cold tea is foul. I've turned into my mother.

Also, I can't believe I've turned into the kind of person that bakes, cooks, cleans and swaps recipes with her friends. I feel like a 1950's housewife -- only one that dances around to Fall Out Boy and MCR. Being an adult is fucking depressing, or it would be if I wasn't feeling so satisfied with doing all these things. Seriously, baking is fucking zen, y'all.

In all honesty though, it actually does freak me out a little bit. Like... some part of me is horrified over the fact that I'm doing and enjoying these things. I suppose it's not artistic or rock 'n' roll enough or whatever. I feel like I should be rebelling and eating pizza on a napkin on the floor in my underoos or something. While shooting up smack and still looking like a model.

I have such a romantic outlook on the whole youth lifestyle, you have no idea.

Made Indian lentil soup yesterday -- I never realized cinnamon was such an excellent counterpoint to curry -- and today I shared that recipe with Jennie. And it hit me as I put away my gargantuan cook book, filled with little post its and paper notes and jotting shit in the margins, holy crap, I'm turning into my mom. I've even gotten to the stage where I forget I have half a cup of coffee or tea left because I'm so busy doing other shit, like baking.

Also? I'm suddenly all excited about this taking a walk shit. What's that all about? Health and exercise is supposed to be making me miserable, not making me feel better and boppier! Goddammit.

Anyway! Managed to write almost 4k last night alone, thanks my darling Aly. Seriously? Middle aged Brendon is a treat to even contemplate. Also, I'm finally getting somewhere on PLM (only like 5 or so scenes to go!) but action sequences are hard work. It's difficult to write them exciting, but the way I write is normally pretty breathless, so I'm hoping it translates. Editing is going to be pretty terrifying, but apparently Bee is looking forward to the challenge. I made a little laundry list of things that still niggle me, and those are the first things I'll look into. Also, I've started plotting the sequel, but god knows how that will turn out. In true me-fashion I know exactly what's going to happen in the first third or so, and only a vague idea of where to go after that.

But hey! I'm almost ten days ahead on my getyourwordsout pledge! I still say bravo for me.

Good day today. Look what I got!

( Pictures of... things. And bread! )

I've been out adventurin' today! Well. For a given value of adventuring, but I was out and I did things I don't normally do, and I could almost be mistaken for a functioning adult.

I got a note on the times I substituted spring 2007 in the mail today, so I basically decided then and there to go down to the employment agency and leave the merits I had with me. For future reference, there is nothing quite like a fifty-something lady giving you the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head to make you feel better. From her tone alone, I nearly expected a cookie.

So, I bounced out of there, playing Panic and FOB until my eardrums bled, and then! I found 20 SEK in my pocket. That would be about $2 and I was so THRILLED I went and bought me some crème fraiche. Don't tell me I don't know how to party.

So I got home and was in a VERY good mood, and lo and behold, I noticed I had one missed call and it was the folks over at the furniture store that called to tell me my dining room table had arrived and I could just get down there and pick it up (for those of you just getting up to speed: old roomie moving out, 95% of furniture gone). So I go down there, and I notice that, wouldya believe it, that package is pretty fucking big. Luckily the girl manning the place was nice enough to let me borrow this little carty thing so I could get the damn thing home, under the condition that I got the carty thing back within fifteen minutes. Despite some technical difficulties, I actually made it in ten.

( Am a spacecase. )

Now I'm going to go make me some foodstuffs -- I'm thinking lentil soup or lentil stew or lentil something -- and they're playing Michael Bublé on the radio. I'll leave you with this: I find it a little amusing that the better my mood is, the more Buffy the Vampire Slayer quotes I manage to squeeze into any text I'm currently writing.

It's 9 pm, and I'm completely exhausted. Taking care of children for several hours (read: better part of the day) is extremely tiring, even though you don't do much. Also, I made both lunch and dinner today, so yeah, go Team Me.

Hi. Tell me something funny that I don't have to think to understand.

It's pretty startling when you come to the realization that you feel nothing but pity towards one of your friends. Former friends. Whatever.

( I need to get this off my chest. )

Oh, man. I need to call my sister.

So, I haven't paid my phone bill as it turns out, even though I could have sworn that I had. My mp3 player wasn't working this morning, and despite a frantic search I couldn't find my note book before I was rushed off to school. I have no money, I still haven't bought any shampoo, and when I got home, I found the note book in the most obvious place imaginable. I also got my period today, which means cramps and general moodiness and pain. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in two weeks and I have so many things to do this week still, and not enough money to do them.

I hate today. No, scratch that. I hate January. No, scratch that too. I hate adulthood.

Have come to the conclusion that I am something similar to Juggernaut. Juggernaut is one of the Marvel villains, and Charles Xavier's step-brother, and his specific power is that once he gains momentum he cannot be stopped. That can be applied to myself in the sense that once I get going I can do whatever I set myself to do - but once I've been stopped, I'm just to lazy to start again. Which is why I bettah get mah ass in gear and take that driver license.

I had my first driving lesson today, and it was mind-numbingly boring. It wasn't driving - that part is scheduled Friday at ten - but theory. Ugh. The less I speak of it, the better. It'll rob my family of 5000 kr, and for that I'll get the theory, the books and the driving. Pretty cheap in comparison, but still... it's still five big ones. The greedy part of my soul is weeping bitterly.

Adulthood sort of sneaks up on you, doesn't it. Every time I check out my bank account, I get the shock of my life. "OMGWTFBBQ! There's money here!" You know, four years ago I didn't even have a bank account, and now there's money there. Money that's mine, that I can do what I want with. I haven't gotten over the shock yet.

On other news, I just finished the first Halloween movie. Now there's an hour and a half of my life that I'll never get back. Dear, sweet Jesus. Turns out sitting through Halloween is like reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - you only do it once. With great reluctance. The acting was mediocre at best (even Jamie Lee Curtis, whose brilliance obviously was dampened by all that hair), the deaths were more humorous than bone-chilling and the score made me want to pull my own arm off and beat myself to death with the soggy end. No honestly, John Carpenter's score made me feel like he was hammering away at my spine with a very small hammer.

The only plus points this movie gets is Michael himself - the way he popped up and disappeared, just standing there like some sort of deranged scarecrow. The mask was ugly as hell, but served it's purpose, and I really liked his jacket. He gets another plus for the creepy breathing - you knew the guy was in the room somewhere, but you didn't know where, all you heard was that psycho, perv-on-the-phone panting.

But that's it. Jamie Lee's crying left me giggling, not curled up into a ball in a corner. The killings made me laugh (especially the first one) and the end just made me roll my eyes. Also... if Dr. Loomis knew what a nut Michael was, why on earth did he insist on staying at the Meyers house alone, in the middle of the night? And, if Michael had never said a word, how could the doctor know for sure that he would some day try to escape? Why would he murder again? And all that yapping about being "teh Eeeeeeevilll" was completely lost on me. What's that word I'm looking for? Oh, yeah - contrived. I guess I like my murderers to have motives.

Quite frankly, for most of the movie I was contemplating my hair. It's just getting back to the way I want it from my less-than-fortunate haircut in October, and my bangs are growing back. A girl can't feel complete without bangs. All in all, this is the second disappointment in the scary movie genre for me - I almost fell asleep during The Exorcist. I will now move on to Stephen King and see if I can get something out of that. And if that doesn't work, I can always sit down and heckle Freddie Kruger.

Or I'll just watch a little Eddie Izzard instead.