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The Chinese roomie. I know I should be patient, because I know the culture shock's gotta be pretty severe, and she doesn't know how to do certain things because she has never been taught, yada yada yada.
These are just snapshots. Every morning I walk into the kitchen, this is part of what I encounter. Everything looks deceptively clean, but then you look closer and you notice the potato peels hiding in the corners and the sticky surfaces on EVERYTHING. And then there is this:
( Pictures of my morning aneurysms, right here. )
Ugh. Roommates, man.
- Mood:
bitchy
In other news, am reading Macbeth and have been horrible at commenting lately, for which I apologize. This fucking play is messing up my speech patterns, soon I'll be speaking in iambic pentameter just for the hell of it. :/ Skimming through it in search for soliloquies, which is probably what will take the most time, since the actual assignment is only supposed to be a page or so. Hopefully I'll finish it, because I seriously cannot take the stress of procrastinating right now. *sigh*
The police preemptive riot control bullshit that's been going around my flist is both horrifying and pissing me off something fierce. What the actual fucking fuck, yo? The only thing I can think of is the Communist witch hunt in the 60's, and it freaks the fuck out of me. America is not a police state, guys. You know what, fuck it, whatever personal reservations I may have about Obama, I hope he kicks McCain's ass in the election. As much as this whole "I believe in Barack Obama, he's our Savior, glory glory hallelujah" reaction is freaking me out, the guy does at least seem passionate enough. (As an aside: how amused am I that Obama's middle name is Hussein? SO AMUSED.)
Funnily enough, I've never been this invested in Swedish politics. I think that says something about me.
Anyway, happy belated birthday, Ryan Ross. May you continue to be utterly ridiculous and may you always have a feather in your stupid hats.
- Mood:
nauseated - Music:My Chemical Romance - Famous Last Words | Scrobbled by Last.fm
The one person in all of bandom that has openly dissed the "pornfiction" and you make him hold a fucking SIGN? WHERE does that get okay?
Oh, my God, I can't even take it, GTFO.
- Mood: bitchy
United States Department of Health and Human Services proposes classifying contraception as abortion.
What. The actual. Fucking. Fuck.
- Mood:
infuriated
The good bits involved almost everything about that thingamajig that they found in the beginning, and both Gwen and Owen's encounters with said thing were actually pretty interesting. Also, the little montage with the guns was rather entertaining. So, I've come to the conclusion that Gwen only provokes me to bang my head into the wall when she's talking. Or, you know, flirting with Jack, because I've never quite seen anything so painful. Stick to Rhys, honey.
Furthermore, I was somewhat befuddled by Jack's general aggressiveness in this episode. He was growling and shouting a lot more than he did last week, and for some pretty strange reasons at that. No matter that last week he had to deal with murders all over the city and an orgasm-craving alien, because then he was pretty goddamn cheerful. You know what? Fuck it, I have no choice but to conclude that he had PMS and offer him some chocolate and a hug.
2 stars out of 5 for not being completely worthless and for actually having a decent plot and for making me feel something for Owen, even if the lines were awful and painfully cheesy (see: the last scene between Jack and Gwen. Ugh.).
- Mood:
disappointed
- Mood:
angry
Does anybody know what the hell this is?
- Mood:
uncomfortable
Yeah = slang, meaning "yes", pronounced pretty much like what it looks like.
Yea = archaic, I think it means something along the lines of "lo" and "hark", but is mainly used during a vote. Also? It's pronounced "yay".
For some reason this little thing can destroy an entire fic for me. It's almost - almost - as bad as "your/you're". It just comes off as... sloppy, ya know? Me no like.
On another note: some time I would like to understand the difference between Canadian and American. To me, it all sounds pretty much the same, and I'm usually pretty good - for a non-native speaker - at picking up differences like that. "Hoose"? "Abawt"? Huh?
Also? WTF is up with my grammar lately? I've been abusing it like mad for some inexplicable reason - I can hardly speak Swedish these days.
- Mood: bitchy
TELL ME WHAT TO DOOOO!!!! *pulls hair*
- Mood:
frustrated
I don't talk about my WiP on my LJ that often, I feel, but it's something that's been growing in my brain since I was ten, more or less. I know the basis for my story, I know what will happen, in what order, and it's fairly detailed. The problem is that the beginning is awfully sketchy, and that is the part I've been working on lately. The issue here is that the story is essentially techno-fantasy (TM my brother) and there is so much I need to explain in a very short period of time. My main character's main squeeze, for instance, is a bit of an issue right now, seeing as she is not human, but at the same time she's not exactly a stereotype of her species either and that is important to the overall plot.
I'm having a hard time explaining the traditions and morals and ethics of the different races and species in this story without completely overshadowing the plot. The Guarders are especially troublesome. I mean, how do you explain a bunch of people who think that murder is morally comprehensible, and not only that but also expected? How do you explain people that are essentially born soldiers, who lack the capability of feeling bad for taking a life? Especially when you main character, the main squeeze and the friends all are Guarders?
I've been dabbling a little with a new beginning lately, but it's very... cramped, I feel. It's the first chapter, and I feel that there is very much information in very little time. Also the first chapter is written from the POV of a girl named Andie, friend of the main character, and Andie is not the most approachable of people. She is suspicious, arrogant, and proud, and she does not like new people, but she still needs to have some semblance of attainability to this girl she meets - coincidentally the main squeeze, named Zareth. On the other hand, I make it very clear that Andie is dying, so she might have lowered her walls a bit, but she is still as stubborn and proud as ever.
Zareth is not a very friendly person either in that respect - she's a very shy person and she does not share. People often thinks she is arrogant because of this. In my original draft of Zazzie and Andie meeting, Zareth was intimidated by Andie's personality and her relationship with Shea (i.e. Mr. Main Character), while Andie disliked Zareth thoroughly because of Zareth's relationship with Shea. They did not get along, and for a dozen pages or so Andie did nothing but growl at the poor girl.
But I still need them to share in this first chapter. Maybe it had been easier if it wasn't Andie that Zareth met first, hadn't it been for the fact that if Andie sanctions Zareth she is essentially a part of the group already. Andie is like the last obstacle to overcome if you are to be accepted into her group of friends - well, besides Shea, naturally - so if Zareth becomes her friend it's much easier for Zareth later on in the book.
See? See what I mean? This story is driving me insane. It's already slapping me around, putting me in manacles and forcing me to call it Daddy. I also have the problem where I need to explain why Zareth's name is important, and why she shouldn't tell anyone who she is. Picture me headdesking for all I'm worth.
- Mood: frustrated
- Music:Save me - Queen
There is a couple of instances where I have to take my meds still, and spring is one of them. There's mold and pollen and all sorts of nasty things in the air (which frankly is worse even than summertime and lawnmowers) so I have to be on my meds, no matter how much I resent the fact. However, it turns out that my meds may be the reason to above mentioned muscle problem.
I'm used to the shaking and the fluttering heart, some of my medicines are pretty strong, so I live with it. It's still annoying as hell, since it makes me all jittery and restless, but I can deal. Worse is when I realize that one of the little troublemakers make my muscles cramp up whenever I rise from a chair, or tries to walk up a stair. And don't even talk about running, because I discovered early on that if I do that without significant warming up I fall right over.
The problem here is that my muscles doesn't relax quickly enough. It's not exactly painful, but it's very, very uncomfortable. It was especially bad when I stumbled headfirst into puberty, but I never put it in association with my medication. Not until now. A week ago, I was fine - I could get up, even dance without repercussions. Now? I can hardly flex my fingers, because for some reason it seems to hit my hands the worst. It doesn't incapacitate me completely, I can still write this, but I can't curl my fingers around anything (which was incredibly painful when playing softball, let me tell ya...) or do anything more difficult with my hands than hold a pen.
Since I've had my meds since I was very, very small I didn't realize what they were doing to me, but obviously the cortisone-levels in my body are protesting, according to the manual (which I normally never read, since, hey, kid here, and also I have a pretty decent doctor) and that "can cause muscle cramps". Way to tell me now! It's officially annoying as hell. And this is just the Seretide, so I wonder what the Bricanyl is doing to me.
Fuck it all to hell. My body just refuses to cooperate.
- Mood:
aggravated - Music:Pure morning - Placebo
Been visiting youtube.com recently? These past two weeks or so, I've been having much fun with finding as much stand-up comedy as I possibly can. I have seen Eddie Izzard, Robin Williams and a whole bunch of Swedish comedians as well (of which I have to say that Magnus Betnér is probably the funniest Swedish comedian out there today, with Johan Glans as a close second). Right now, I'm amusing myself with George Carlin (which you can probably tell, because I've officially adapted his speaking pattern), but that's besides the point.
The point here is the comments. Oh, holy mother of Christ. I beg your pardon, but what is it with stand-up comedy that makes the commenters behave like flaming dipshits? Half of them cannot spell, and half of them doesn't give a shit about the feed they've just seen. Now, George Carlin isn't exactly the nicest among men - he's rude, crude, at many times disgusting, but in my (and many others) point of view, he's still pretty funny. One person (male, female, I have no idea) disagreed, and said so. This was the response, and I quote:
""I had to stop under 2 minutes" HA! WHAT A FAGGOT! This is why you guys caved in both world wars, cause you're pussies. Keep watching "Taxi" you shit eating panzy."
I think the guy who thought Carlin was an "arse" was French, hence the WW comment above. (Which could lead me into a whole other rant about Americans and the French, but I'll save that for another day.) Also, WTF is a panzy, you uneducated fuckwad?
Jesus Christ.
I can't stand George Carlin, Dave Chapelle/Richard Pryor/Ray Romano is so much better. Well, if you don't like the man, don't watch all seven parts! George Carlin ruulz! Anyone with a different opinion SUCKS! If you cannot watch a stand-up number without getting offended by and lashing out at someone with a differing opinion, I think you need a reality check. Right. Fucking. Now.
The comments section has a purpose, which generally can be said to give the person who downloaded the video some sort of feedback, even if it is something as simple as "Oh, yes, I quite liked that, thank you, give us some more, please." It is not - and I repeat: NOT - the place for some sort of digitalized argument. People who feels the need to make replies like the one above needs to step away from the keyboard and go do something productive, real fast.
Seriously, things like this gets on my last nerve. It's like there's suddenly two camps - the ones who loves the show, and the ones who hate it. I don't mind that. But there really is no need to start insulting people in the comments section. Save that for some other place. Or even better, don't lower yourself to their level.
Ah. Well, now that's off my chest. I'm still sick, still feel like hot crap on wheels, but at least I'm not as pissed off anymore. Always something, eh? I think my tolerance level of stupidity lowers as my temperature goes up, honestly... not that I "suffer fools gladly" when I'm not sick either, but that's beside the point.
Bleh. I hate being sick.
- Mood:
irritated - Music:I don't feel like dancing - Scissor Sisters
On an unrelated subject, I was so riled up last night that I didn't manage to fall asleep until 6 AM. Feel like I need some serious industrial strength sleeping pills, swear to god. Fucking insomnia.
- Mood:
cranky - Music:A Long December - Counting Crows
They... they cannot be serious, can they? This is ridiculous!
I mean, yeah, sure... I can see how they would work that label in certain cases. You can't really get gayer than The Village People in my head, but... There's no words. I'm stuck somewhere between horror and amusement, I can't seem to decide if I want to rant and rave or burst into gales of hysterical laughter. Frank Sinatra? How the hell did old Frank make it to that list? And notice how Elton John's on it twice. Oh yeah, he's (really gay). Gotta beware of those pesky groups that'll twist your child into nefarious acts of genderbreaching, non-marital hanky panky. I'm sure that if I sit down and play my P!atD backwards I'll immediately be overcome with the idea of giving some random woman head. Not even jazz is safe anymore - Frank! How could you DO this to us!!
Excuse me while I mop up the sarcasm from the floor.
"Love God's way" my ass. You know what, dislike homo- and bisexuality all you like, I don't give a flying fuck about it, but for the love of... don't bring religion into it! I'm pretty sure that Jesus - who preached turning the other cheek, loving everybody and all that - wouldn't give a rat's ass about who you are currently boinking. As long as you treat this significant other with respect and love I think he'd just give his blessing and be on his merry way. Bigger fish to fry. And if those fundamentalistic asshats come dragging with that old "but it says so in the Bible" I'll be more than happy to pull their tonsils out. The Bible also mentions "turning the other cheek" and it also mentions, and this is my personal favourite "love thy neighbour as thyself". As thyself, right? It also at some point says "treat others as you would like to be treated" or something along those lines, it's the Golden Rule.
Or in other words - and I am now going to be mildly offensive as I am pissed off - the Bible is a whole bunch of mumbo jumbo. It has been written and re-written so many times that it hardly holds any value anymore. The Bible is based upon the values and opinions of Men, not of God. The Bible contradicts itself on more than one occasion. In the Old Testament God is a bastard - he has no patience with the people of the world so he drowns them all, except for Noah, the drunk. In the New Testament there's Jesus and suddenly all's forgiven, "whohoo, the Son died for all your sins" etc. etc. ad nauseaum. In my opinion - and it's not so fucking humble - the Bible is bullshit.
Believe all you want. I'm not religious of any sort, but that doesn't stop me from thinking there's something there that I cannot see or understand. I want to believe. But what I really don't like is organized religion. "Gay music will turn your child homosexual"? Yeah, pardon me, I think I strained something rolling my eyes to the heavens...
Oh, yeah. And "reformed homosexual"? WTF??!
- Mood:
annoyed - Music:Elton John, of course... BACKWARDS!
Well, obviously not my real name (what would I find about that?) but "Chebonne" and... someone has stolen it!!
Or at least I think so, because I'm pretty fucking certain that I invented this name on my own, which is why I'm using it. Che is a minor character (well, not so minor really, she has an entire arc of her own, but that won't make it into the real deal) in my story, and I use the name because it's one I'm particularly proud of. I like the sound of it, and I think it really is rather beautiful.
Anyway, it really is rather... bizarre to check it up on Google and find that the name pops up in messages that I know that I haven't written. Spooky.
Well, I'll be damned. There's another woman out there with the name. I thought it was mine. I'm officially freaked out. Poor, poor Che. And here I thought I was being original. Chebonne is one of the very few names I can use - Lilian, or Lillie, my other choice of preference, I can't use because it's too common. It'd really make more sense if I could, since Chebonne and I definitely think very much differently - she's a helluva lot meeker, for a start, and more insecure - and Lillie (who is also a bit character, but granted a bigger bit than Che) is the one character that I really can relate to.
Meaning, of course, that I feel closer to her than most of my other characters. D'ya ever get that feeling, that you're dealing with children? I get that all the time. In a way, Lillie is my way of mothering these children in a more hands-on kinda way (although she usually cuts them an awful lot of slack, but that is mostly because... well, she knows things).
It's funny really, because Lil is one of the few remains from my fanfiction days, where she was my deus ex machina-type self-insert. Nowadays she has an entire world of her own and we're not really that alike anymore, but most days we think the same. She's nicer than me though. As I said, she cuts people an awful lot of slack, whereas I would have used that staff she's carrying and bashed their heads in long ago, crazy about them as I may be. Ain't stories grand that way...
But why did I go off talking about this? I just googled myself! I'm not the only Chebonne! I think I have to go through my list of invented names and find something that is just my own. (Not that I'm really bothered like that... it just boggled me that I wasn't as inventive and original as I thought...)
- Mood:
predatory - Music:Panic! At the disco - Build God, then we'll talk
