(no subject)

poems are due tomorrow so that the rest of the class can read and comment on them before workshop day

self-indulgent sociopath poem has now reached 68 lines

and is on part two of three

threw together an eight-line poem in an hour in a futile attempt to balance the proportion of normal wordy pretentious poems to crazyfuck wordy pretentious sociopath poems

this did not have a significant effect

still have to finish part three before sleeping tonight

if you're reading this, send help

Also discussed in tonight's phone call: "Formaldehyde'd brains are tough like old bubble gum."

Just got off the phone with my mother.


MOTHER: One of my co-workers recommends watching the Sherlock Holmes movie. Your thoughts?

Allow me to pontificate for several minutes upon the significant differences in atmosphere and characterization between the many adaptations of said series (half of which you've never heard of), and also the fashion in which more modern versions have started to give our leads a chemistry which tends toward "bickering" or even "vitriolic", in line with the sudden rise of people being total assholes in modern media.

Allow me to augment your diatribe with commentary on Darcy's scathing dialogue within the modern work Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies.

Blame my upbringing, folks!

I am not up early. I am up very late, and planning to stay up even later to go to the zoo.

In an effort to start writing anything again, I may have just spent a month scrawling out/tweaking a prologue which turns out to be sort of redundant and unfitting to the rest of the unwritten story, which could easily start more in medias res and be better off for it, and which additionally falls smack in the middle of my semi-plotted (and likewise unwritten) series continuum.

On the bright side, when I say "a month" I mean I wrote like 3000 words in one slacktastic week, took a break for about two weeks, and then wrote the next 2500 over the last five or six days. So if I actually put my mind to it, as I have not been doing, there's a chance it could go a lot faster.

An unrelated note: I forget what they say about people on vacation. Is it that they aren't themselves, or that they are their true selves? I've also forgot who says this. Probably some philosopher douchebag.

I see a ship in the harbour, I can-and-shall obey...

I am sitting awake alone in the dark in my living room and listening to 90s rock in order to counteract the fact that I went to sleep at 7 AM last night--or this morning--whatever--and am now awake at 1 PM with my mother planning to drag me out somewhere after a late lunch/early breakfast.

She is not sure what we are doing yet (possibly genealogy work, dropping me off to swim later) so I told her to get back to me on it.

But "Blue Monday" kind of makes me want to dress in drag and go dancing at a gay club.

Except they'd probably just play Lady Gaga instead of 90s music that sounds like it wants to be 80s music.
  • Current Music
    Blue Monday -- Orgy

To be loved or destroyed; from a void to a grain of sand in your hand.

The sum total effect of a year's worth of college essaying and zero creative writing: prose is harder to throw together than I remember it being, but four hundred words is a lot less than I thought.

Oh, and my cat masterfully captured a mouse the other night. This has nothing to do with college but I am very proud of him and would like to share his achievements with the world.
  • Current Music
    Orphans -- Beck

Day Six: In which Jade missed Day Five and consequently her chance to use Cure lyrics as a subject.

I could go on about how I've got presentations on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday next week, and how I was planning on at least doing a bit on the Monday one, since it's ten minutes of I-haven't-even-put-anything-together-to-talk-about-yet and I've got plans tomorrow, and how I ought to be trying to get ahead of things anyway if I want to have the time to write my 7-10 and also 4-5 page essays for Cultural and History classes on Thursday and Friday, respectively.

But I won't.

Instead, I will mention that my Cultural teacher has sent me an E-mail saying I ought to submit my "Thoreau discusses natural rights with Zombie!Hobbes" essay to some sort of Honors contest. Unless I have something more interesting from another class which I would like to submit. No, sir, I'm fairly certain the dialogue between a zombie and a hermit encompasses the heights of "interesting" present in my Very Serious College Essays this year.

Je n'even sais pas.
  • Current Music
    The Crane Wife, Pt. 3 -- The Decemberists

A Quick Tip to the Boys in My Cultural Traditions Class:

You do not actually need to persist in shooting me mostly-sly, somewhat-guilty glances after every off-color "lol women amirite?" joke you make. While it is true that I am the only girl in your group for a certain value of "girl", I am also the one who made the "Oh, broads love romance" remark at the top of the hour. I will not be moved to righteous feminist fury by a couple of dudes crackin' wise.

In conclusion, get your whore asses back into the kitchen and make me a sammich.


New Knowledge, PART DEUX

Dude, Holst-who-wrote-the-Planets-Suite is the same guy who wrote/arranged the Second Suite in F for Military Band that I played and loved in freshman year Symphonic! (It took me like two years and a lot of Googling to find out that the Song Without Words, as an old folk song, does in fact have words, they just aren't used in the instrumental arrangement. BUT THEN, for my pains, I WAS ABLE TO SING IT without sounding like a brain-damaged, la-la-la-ing imbecile.)

This is significant to absolutely no one else but me.

And contrary to how this may look, I have not actually spent the last two weeks exclusively on Wikipedia...