sigmastolen

i didn't call you tonight. today was horrible and all i wanted was to ask if i could come see you and have a hug and pretend that i'm not so isolated and that people remember that i'm here and a person. but someone asked me to get a drink with her and a bunch of her friends that i'd never met and i was in the city where you live and i drove right past your apartment and i didn't call and i didn't text even though my thumb was hovering over the button and i had three separate crises about it and i almost cried. and i went to a new place and i met some new people and i had a fine time and i didn't call you and i can't tell if that's willpower or if it's just more crippling insecurity but i didn't call you and i had fun and tomorrow i'll do it all again.

The semester is ending at last, and now it's crunch time for real. And yet, there's no sign of my usual sudden ability to get shit done at the last second. I don't know what it is, but my ability to focus on anything (except for playing bassoon, apparently) is nonexistent. I can't even concentrate on my distractions -- it's all, let's read something! let's draw! let's do the dishes! let's check schedules! let's watch music on youtube! let's look up song lyrics! let's wiki dead actors! let's read something else! let's have some tea! let's snack! let's draw! let's check facebook! let's fix some old drawings with hairspray so they don't smear any more! let's daydream about paper topics! let's sing! let's daydream about knitting! let's hug the cats! let's post to lj!

Just now I actually walked away from the computer in the middle of typing this and did something else for a minute. I'm on the verge of making myself a cocktail. Or drawing. Or something. I don't even know.

Maybe it's that the semester is so long? Maybe it's lulled me into complacency? Or am I just rationalizing my shortcomings, as usual?

( let's talk about all the things that are about to screw me over! :D )

Also, today it has been pouring. It might snow later this week. WTF.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS PLAY BASSOON AND SLEEP
WTF HOW DID IT BECOME AFTER MIDNIGHT

1. AWKWARD STORY!!! So remember bull-like percussionist (BLP)? Okay. So, rehearsal goes from 3:30-6 with a break in the middle. The Tuesday before the concert, we had been rehearsing Mozart 39, on which I played first bassoon and he played timpani. When Maestro Z let us go to break, he released the trumpets and timpani because we would be working on the slow movement for the rest of rehearsal. So I was sitting in my chair, maybe noodling? probably just sitting, and BLP comes over and is all, "So, how about getting drinks after this concert? You're not going to space out again, right?" Which, BY THE WAY: THIS IS EXACTLY THE WRONG WAY TO APPROACH A WOMAN. Because I didn't see him coming, and he got all up in my personal space, and the wording and tone conveyed a sense of entitlement and resentment failing to pass itself off as a joke, as well as left me no way to tactfully decline.

So I did the only thing I could do: "Suuuuuuuuure," I replied. Cue awkward conversation that I don't want to be in, in which I also misunderstand about half of what he says because he mumbles. *eyeroll* Aaaaaand then he left and I spent the rest of the rehearsal having a small "OH GOD THE AWKWARD" freakout.

The rest of the week I was polite when he initiated conversation but honestly I avoided him a little and exaggerated my natural social awkardness because I really wanted him to take a hint.

(fun fact: at the next rehearsal, Maestro Z tried to correct something BLP was doing and instead of accepting it (or at least pretending to accept it, as musicians WHO WANT TO KEEP THEIR JOBS do all the time), he said, defensively, "I'm just trying to accommodate everyone else," or something to that effect. And honestly, if I had been interested before that, I definitely wouldn't have been afterwards. PROFESSIONALISM/REHEARSAL ETIQUETTE FAIL. NEGATIVE POINTS.)

So anyway, I contrived to bring Comrades K and R along and possibly some other people as well and make it clearly a JUST BUDDIES OKAY kind of outing. We played the concert (and BLP and I definitely didn't discuss this having of drinks during the intervening time) and I was chatting with the clarinets going offstage and while packing up. When we made our way out of the hall, I found my bassoon comrades, but BLP was nowhere to be found. The clarinets asked if we wanted to get frozen yogurt (I really like saying "fro-yo" but it looks so silly in writing), but Comrade K wanted booze, so we went to a nearby bar instead. Crossing the street on the way there, we saw BLP walking ahead of us with a cellist (who, hilariously, has a very similar build to mine, but she's blonde. well, I was entertained, anyway). I guess he got the hint? Which I guess also makes me a bitch, but I'm actually pretty okay with that. My Comrades and I had a beer with the grad conductors, who are all precious. BLP and I have had zero interactions since. Oops.

2. Grad Conductor J is Czech, and he is conducting the Stravinsky Septet, which I am playing in, for this Contemporary Music Ensemble concert cycle. His English is not great, and he mumbles a little, and makes hilarious faces when he conducts, and for some reason thinks it's okay to wear a white bow tie and red cummerbund with his black tux when he is conducting a concert... But it's kind of awkwardly charming, mostly because of his accent (and because he's pretty sweet, and definitely well-intentioned). Anyway, I'd really only spoken with him very briefly in class, plus one awkward mumbled conversation on a crowded bus, so hearing him talk as much as he does in rehearsal is a novel thing. It fascinates me. He keeps saying the word slowlier -- as in, "we take it a little slowlier" -- which is an adorable word-formation. I don't remember my Origins & Nature of English Vocabulary as well as I would like, and I left all my old notebooks in Long Beach (how's that for cutting the cord, yo? except I didn't get rid of anything, it's all in a box in my parents' house...), so I don't know exactly what neologistic processes are going on, but it's clearly a conflation of "slowly" and "slower," yeah? Cute. Also, he says "bassoon" with a fun accent. It's a little like "bassyoon" -- not pronounced enough to be umlaut-u, maybe a little like French u? As well as "wiolin" and always "celli" (never "cello"). It's fun.

3. The Stravinsky Septet is a lot more fun (and a lot easier to read) with more than four parts accounted for. No joke, for the first rehearsal last week (at 9 a.m.), I was the first person to show up, at maybe 20 of? Grad Conductor D, the CME manager, arrived soon after, and we set up the chairs (as we were doing so, someone from the rehearsal crew, which I guess is a work-study deal? they do set-up and tear-down for all the "large ensembles" -- orchestra, wind ensemble, and CME -- poked his head in but we were all, "we got this" so he left), and then Grad Conductor J came as well, and I warmed up. The violinist and violist were also essentially on time, so Grad Conductor D covered the piano part, and we started reading (we'd only gotten the parts scores (the parts are on back-order, bah) the night before, okay? I only remembered to pick mine up that morning). The pianist arrived 45 minutes late. The clarinetist and cellist never showed up at all, and Grad Conductor D had forgotten to put a horn player on the roster. This morning's 9 a.m. rehearsal had everyone but the horn, which, eh, not cool, but it was still much easier to put things together and get shit done. Yesterday's 8:30 a.m. rehearsal of the Stravinsky Concertino for 12 players was also pretty pathetic -- four people (violin, clarinet, oboe, trumpet 1) never showed up, trumpet 2 arrived halfway through the rehearsal, trombone 1 even later, and we started about 10 or 15 minutes behind schedule because we were waiting for people to trickle in.

I understand that this is college and it's hard to get up for things that early, but we are musicians and this is rehearsal. This shit? Is how grownups get FIRED. Dammit.

4. So I'm working with Tall Composer on a project for Research Seminar (which is something that happens to All Masters Students Everywhere, I'm told), because his joined-at-the-hip roomie is working with his new bestie, the oboist from my quintet. And it turns out he's kind of a douche (so props to you for calling it, Jeff). Best of all, it's in a way that reminds me unpleasantly of DIAF. Now I'm extra glad I decided I don't actually want to date anyone.

5. I am crocheting! I am crocheting "convertible" gloves -- the fingers are full-length, but they have a slit about halfway up, so you can stick your fingers out and be dextrous while the top of the finger flops around behind, and then when you're done you can be warm again! But you guys, I have remembered why I switched over entirely to knitting: crocheting sucks. Completely aside from the fact that I had to RE-LEARN EVERYTHING (except for how to chain, I guess), it is very slow going, and I have to look at what I'm doing all the time because I can't find where I'm supposed to stick the hook through by feel, and while the left-hand glove feels warm when I try it on indoors (it's the finished one; I've only begun the cuff on the right-hand glove so far), it is rather bulky and I'm sure the wind will cut right through all the GAPING HOLES that crocheting creates. Ah, well. I'm enjoying it well enough, I guess. And I LOVE the yarn I'm using! It's Elsebeth Lavold BAMBOOL (so named because it is 80% bamboo viscose and 20% merino wool) in midnight blue, to match my corduroy blazer (that it's probably already too cold to wear YAY). AND AND AND it's only $6.99 per 50-gram ball at the AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME yarn store near my flat, Knit One. It's deliciously soft (one of the owners confided to me, while I was checking out, that she had passed it off as cashmere in a hat for a friend, because they had no cashmere yarn in the colour he wanted), and pretty, and warm (I hope). MY NEXT PROJECT: convertible mittens (this is where it's "fingerless" (properly half-fingers, here) gloves underneath and a big mitten flap over the top) in a grey tweed wool, to go with my peacoat. And my trench. And, you know, everything. (Freedom Spirit by Twilleys of Stamford, $5.95 per 50-gram ball, score! srsly some of the yarn there, like the silks or the actual cashmere, was upwards of $30)

6. So it turns out I might be good at what I do? I always feel awkward when people compliment me. Which happened after pretty much every rehearsal for Mozart 39, be it from the clarinets, the grad conductors, or Lipstick Lesbian Horn Player (I like her, she's from NorCal and is pretty cool, even though Comrade P and Metal Oboist say she's a bitch. I suspect this is almost entirely because she does not like the cock). And now it's happened after a couple wind ensemble rehearsals as well (OH GOD WIND ENSEMBLE HERE KILLS MY SOUL. AS ANNOYING AS IT WAS AT UCLA, AT LEAST DR. DIRECTOR OF BANDS STILL LOVES HIS JOB), and Wind Ensemble Directator tossed off an awkward, "I love your playing," in rehearsal once (SO AWKWARD). And, while I am reasonably happy with the quintet I was assigned to this semester, I have been propositioned for next semester by three other groups so far: a trio wanting to become a quartet, the quintet that Comrade P is leaving, and a quintet that is trying to form (this one probably has the least chance of being graced by my presence, because the clarinetist is douchey and the oboist, though excellent and hot like burning, was one of the people who didn't show up to the Stravinsky Concertino -- although to be completely honest I really don't like the way the oboist in Comrade P's quintet plays. at all). So, uh. I seem to be in demand. Which is actually a little uncomfortable. But I really shouldn't be complaining, because, hey, the more I get to play, right?

7. Uh....... was there a 7? idek. WHATEVER, YO, IT'S 0040 AND I WANTED TO WATCH SOME BSG TONIGHT :\

8. OH BTW I WATCHED WHIP IT AND I LOVE LOVE LOVE ELLEN PAGE AND ALSO I WANT TO PLAY ROLLER DERBY AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF OTHER GIRLS IN FISHNETS AND QUAD SKATES.

9. DEAR APPLE: WTF DOES THIS MEAN??? D: YRS, SIGMA
UPDATE: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?

This story actually starts yesterday. Saturday I went to see the Pittsburgh Symphony play Beethoven 5 and some other stuff, and I was really keyed up still when I got home (OMG MOTIF! OMG SCHERZO!! OMG MY TEACHER IS SO FABUOUS!!!), so I stayed up late late. (btw, Saturday was v. busy, between practicing, having a lesson, getting an iPhone, and going to the Symphony. I pretty much spent the entire afternoon on buses, or waiting for buses. Which apparently tend not to run on time on Saturdays.) So then on Sunday I woke up about 8:30 or 9, later than I intended, and allergies were terrible so I fed the cats, had some tea and a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter (shut up, peanut butter rocks), and then napped from about 10:00 until 2:30. At that point, either the allergy meds had kicked in or the allergens had subsided, so I got up, had a shower, and made food (tea and grilled cheese and fried eggs. I ran out of Cheerios on Saturday, okay? I'm having to be creative about breakfast). I had wanted to go to DSW to find myself some closed-toed flats (because I don't have any right now and open-toed shoes are really not gonna cut it, very soon), but then the Port Authority website said there would be bus outages along the route I needed to take, so I decided that Fate was against me getting shoes, so instead I practiced for a few hours, then cooked some more (curry with tofu & egg over pasta because I can't find the goddamn rice in the grocery store, and cheesy bread allegedly for today's breakfast). And then I fucked around on the internet because, what do you know, it was midnight and I wasn't sleepy. And I wasn't sleepy. And I wasn't sleepy.

Around 2 I was like, I better go be in bed, because if I stay out here in the dining room I'll never sleep. And then I was lying in bed in the dark, still awake. And still awake. And still awake. Until 5 am.

At 5 I was finally, finally, kinda tired, so I thought, "one hour of sleep is better than no sleep; I'll nap until my alarm goes off at six! Because my 9 am rep class is doing Mendelssohn 3 and Brahms 4 today!"

And then at 9:12 I woke up to Baxter clawing my arm and crying for breakfast.

So I dashed off a quick text to Bassoonist P, my stand partner, took a fast shower, discovered it was raining, dug up my rainboots and a jacket and scarf, repacked my bag (because it got very unpacked this weekend while I was running errands), and dashed out to the bus. I arrived at class around 10:12 and followed along with Brahms 4 for about 5 minutes until they packed up, and then the professor teased me a little about needing a new alarm clock. And then he teased me some more about being late when I ran into him in the cafe (OMG BTW MY SCHOOL HAS A CAFE IN THE FINE ARTS BUILDING. THIS IS HOW IT'S DONE, PEOPLE. Because musicians and artists are probably the most caffeinated people on any given college campus ever).

So I practised for perhaps an hour because hey, we have lessons again today! And then I was hurriedly packing up to go to my noon class when Bassoonist P asked if I was leaving, and so I surrendered my practice room to him. Dashing out the building, I passed a couple other people who are also in my noon class, none of them in the same hurry I was. And yet I thought nothing of it. Until I walked halfway across campus to the building the class is in, and the lecture hall was dark and empty. And finally I was like, "crap. Did I miss a memo or something?" So then I checked my e-mail, and indeed, the professor had cancelled class. At 9:00 last night. And as much as it was definitely a case of me being as big a fuck-up as ever lived, it would have been nice of someone to say, "hey, you know class is cancelled, right?" while I was boogieing out of the CFA (college of fine arts)

So then I trudged back to the CFA and got chips and a bagel in the cafe and we're finally up to now.

Also, you guys:
My Hair: ASASLKDJHFSAHD;K RAIN SWEAT WIND HUMID PRACTICE ROOM A;SDKLFJLK
Me: oh god why. what am i supposed to do with this?


The picture really doesn't do it justice. It is impressively crazy.

Last night I joined for Netflix (the 31-day free trial, but I'll likely pay them their $10 a month afterwards). I have been signed up for less than 24 hours and I have already spent several hours browsing DVDs, rated 184 movies, added over 200 DVDs to my cue, and watched one movie on Instant Watch. THIS IS GOING TO DESTROY MY LIFE YOU GUYS.

Anyway. That movie was G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, and it was epically, hilariously bad. It was literally So Bad It's Good*. It is, in fact, the first example on the So Bad It's Good: Film* page. And if I'd known this, I would have watched it so much sooner -- except I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much before this exact moment in my life. I mean, the hilariously improbable plot and relationships between the characters and stilted dialogue and slightly impossible action sequences, yes, but OMG THE CAST which includes: The Ninth Doctor as the Fake!Scottish Big Bad, Arthur as the Evil Disfigured Mad Scientist, Gaila as the Hero Chick, Darth Maul (or Toad if you prefer) as the Silent Masked Ninja Hero, Governor Swann as the POTUS, Sienna Miller as the Hot Mind-Controlled Villainess Who Happens To Be The Protagonist's Ex, A Wayans Brother as the Sidekick, A Victoria's Secret Angel as the Hot Secretary, and oh by the way Brendan Fraser in an uncredited cameo during the Training Montage*??? I just. What. How could I possibly resist this movie? We all know I often sort of love things that are bad. Like Torchwood. And Cheetos and Mountain Dew, together, during D&D. And John Barrowman's ACTING!!!

I guess to make amends for how hilariously bad this movie was, and for linking to TV Tropes and IMDB so much in the preceding paragraph, and because I feel obliged to counteract the potential of the G.I. Joe movie to be Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Dethroning Moment of Suck*, have a video! This may actually be JGL's Crowning Moment of Awesome*... performing "Make 'Em Laugh" while hosting SNL. Complete with pratfalls and wall kicks! AWESOME.

WARNING: LINKS MARKED WITH * GO TO TVTROPES.ORG, WHICH IS LIKELY TO SUCK YOUR LIFE AWAY. IT HAS ALREADY DESTROYED MINE.

It is Monday night. I fly away FOREVARRRRR OMGGGGGGG Wednesday morning. ( HOLY CRAP MOVING FREAKOUT )

- unpack lists from Travels
- orch manager. sigh
- children: having them, teaching them, my perceived ethical obligation to the species to procreate
- sort out thots re: women and beauty and worth

Epic Audition Extravaganza: The Completed List
1. PACT: Do Not Want, Wednesday night panic, Muscle Spasm awesomesauce, Granola Bars FAIL, probable overpacking
2. LAX: Terminal 6 does not appear to have a theme... but does have plants, sausage sandwich, sitting and waiting, I change my wallpaper when I'm bored apparently
3. Midair: Continental serves Bombay Sapphire (which is a bigger point in its favour than it should be considering I don't generally imbibe on airplanes and especially not when I have to do something important the next day) and experiments with biofuels, sleeping through lunch, Renee Zellweger is Not Pretty, Houston is verdant.
4. IAH: many sprawling terminals, rude cart drivers, extremely localized food, assholes at chili's, Apple Fritters are NOT Apple-Filled, changing gates OMG: I am not amused; many outlets; many running people (I feel this is a sign that the layout here is ineffective); no dinosaurs here either; waiting forever to board
5. Midair: teeny jet, smashed finger, eager-to-please flight attendant, sleeping, omg my ears
6. Greensboro --> Winston-Salem: Awkward driver, Historic Hotel is Actually Posh (pictures!), These Boots: Made Foar Walkin
7. UNCSA: Disjunct practise rooms, Air Travel Fiasco Part the First, The Audition (so-so), Oon Bonding: Lunch, The Interview, Oon Bonding: Coffee (which I had to regretfully decline)
8. Winston-Salem --> Greensboro: These Boots: No Moar Walkin Pls, Automated Phone Systems Suck, Chatty Driver
9. GSO: Ticket Fiasco Part the Second (OMG OMG OMG)
10. Midair: Sunset Sandwich, SO MUCH SNOW
11. PHL: How do they get the snow off of so much tarmac?, still (miraculously) on time, very convenient clocks everywhere (yes, this is notable), classical music (Quiet City :) ), CNN: "Monster Nor'easter"
12. Midair: PROPELLOR PLANE OMG, de-icing fluid, fucking loud, uncomfortably warm cabin, uncomfortably warm dude (why must you choose to sit next to me?), dumbfuck lady behind me (worthless human being)
13. EWR: wtf soliciting taxis inside baggage claim (TSA should make them gtfo), the clear deterioration of my mood (stressed? tangry? hangry?), muscle spasm: reprise, I just found a dust bunny under my keyboard cover wtf
14. New Brunswick: Meeting Zach's friends, cosmos, hangover, New Brunswick is charming, snow makes things pretty (and ice makes them slippery), orchestra concert, Houlihan's and bassoon-related desperation, fastest audition turnaround EVAR, sleepover!, omg the snoring (how does your girlfriend stand you?), breakfast or lack thereof (two granola bars and a tangerine, which has less of a ring to it than "two turntables and a microphone"), snow is cute!
15. Onna Train: easy-peasy, so sleepy, Not the Closest Stop to Temple
16. Temple: only arriving 15 minutes before means I can't overtire my chops in the practise room :D, The Audition (I think it went well but man am I awkward. Also, no "do you have any questions?" wtf)
17. Wandering Philadelphia with my Bassoon: The Broad Street Line (and the rude ticket booth attendant), Avenue of the Arts, Curtis, Rittenhouse Square, Walnut Street (H&M + Steve Madden = Temptation), classy ladies eat at McDonald's, City Hall and the Love Statue (pictures!), The Blue Line (one stop haha but it's better than walking 8 blocks), serendipitously convenient timing
18. Onna Train Again: still easy, still sleepy.
19. New Brunswick: walking distance ftw, awkward ride offer, naptiems, Fat Sandwiches, The Hangover
20. Monday: seriously dude chill the fuck out, Coldstone :D, No Restrooms Anywhere, Spontaneous Audition is Spontaneous!, I hate paperwork, train, subway, Hot Dogs Are Delicious, Lincoln Center is Pretty, OMG THE MET (Barber of Seville; can I work here please?), Deacon Brody's, RUN RUN RUN, embarrassing stories are embarrassing!
22. Tuesday: sitting around, OCD suitcase management, Tiny Professor is Tiny, New York Adventure! (train, subway, Mannes, rehearsing with Raphael, aimless wanderings, Roomie!, chilling with Paula: YMCA, Dinner (Peter's), Cupcakes (Magnolia), missing the train), margaritas (likely ill-advised), The Rite of Spting
23. Wednesday: Toaster Oven FAIL, New York Adeventure! (bus, train, Penn Station is Still Confusing, the 81st St. subway station is the prettiest (PICTURES)), The Audition (Mozart I, Berceuse, Alan Fox), aimlessly wandering the Upper West Side (eggplant parmesan in Central Park (PICTURES!)), Museum of Natural History (Birds! Dinosaurs! how the hell do I leave? no time for rocks, space :c (MORE PICTURES!)), omg my feet, The Music Theory Battery, train, dinner and much wine and Beatles Rock Band
24. Thursday: mild oversleeping (still with time to organizedly re-re-pack), train, EWR (Dunkin' Donuts outside security but not inside? FOUL DECEITFULTEMPTRESS, No Freaking Outlets), Onna Plane (crosswords, sleeping), PHX (WTF weird random hills GTFO, CPK :D, No Freaking Outlets Again), Onna Plane (sniffles, boredom, sudoku), LAX (fuckers don't know how to drive), home again home again (kitties! disgusting hair! sleeping!), apartment (ugh just go the fuck to bed)
25. Friday: Reasons I Hate Flatmate (huge mess, coffee grinds, coffee pot, garbage disposal, fridge takeover), SCSBOA Festival (these shoes: not made foar walkin), Contempo Flux, Napa, home again home again


Also!! My car has a passenger-side mirror again. Yay :)

WIN
- omg voice class with Super Cool Grad Mezzo is SUPER AWESOME FUN.
- I had my first really good practice session in about a month tonight. Yeah, my reed still sucks, and yeah, I'm behind where I should be on this music, but I didn't feel frustrated or angry, I didn't have any tantrums, and I actually did productive things and made progress. I'm not totally sure why.... I guess, one, I was still happy from voice class, and maybe I'm happy to be back? Happy to have a concrete schedule to work around, maybe, or happy not to feel like I'm disrupting other people's activities by bassooning in the house, or happy to feel like no-one is listening to what I'm doing? Eh, I'm just glad.
- My bassoon student got in to the middle school All-Southern and All-State bands! Yay!

Just there, like Caffino
- my first day of student teaching was okay, I guess.... I like my master teacher, I was a little annoyed at how resistant and disruptive and overly-familiar some of the students were, I'm a little intimidated by the thought of having to do a Teaching Event, I'm impressed by how good these kids sound, I'm worried about having enough nice-enough clothes to wear (omg so many geeky t-shirts, so few blouses, and even fewer that I don't have to safety-pin because the buttons gap across the bust), and I feel super super awkward and third-wheel-y, but I'm pretty excited to be there. I need to figure out what foods are good to pack for lunch, besides a sandwich and nuts and an orange or apple, because I will want variety very soon, and because I was definitely still hungry after my sandwich-almonds-and-fruit today.

FAIL
- I don't know when my bassoon lesson is going to be, because people already snapped up the times that I just discovered I will in fact be available. And none of them are answering the e-mails I've sent asking if they can change times.
- I am super super exhausted and it's not even eleven.
- Things mysteriously stuck to the kitchen counter: (1) tiny bits of red wax, all over -- they smell faintly of cinnamon and must be from Flatmate's gross cinnamon scented candle, but I can't imagine how teeny tiny bits came to be all over the damn counter -- and (2) what appears to be a dried smear of egg white, plus a bit of brown eggshell, you know, like the overpriced eggs Flatmate buys and occasionally, inexplicably, leaves in the freezer for months on end. RAW EGG. RAW EGG DOES NOT BELONG ON MY COUNTERTOP. THAT IS NOT SANITARY. WHO SPILLS EGG AND THEN DOESN'T WIPE IT UP? OH YEAH, FLATMATE DOES.

But seriously, who does that? *pout*

when I called my parents last night to let them know I didn't crash the car and die on my way back up here, my dad admonished, "be nice to Flatmate." And I was like, seriously?? I am nice -- that's why I have so much rage; my anger has no outlet so all it does is build up and then make me bitch endlessly about it when I get home. AAUGH.

With... well, just me, really. No Jimmy Fallon, no Tina Fey, no Amy Poehler, sorry. (Can you tell from that list when I have watched SNL?)

FIRST!! I have seen NO FLEAS for the past few days. VICTORY IS MINE, Y/Y???

I cooked a lot this weekend! and by 'a lot' I actually mean that I made Rice-A-Roni (but hey, at least it's on the stove and not in the microwave, yes?), I steamed broccoli (this time in the microwave, but it was fresh broccoli), I baked cheese bread (this link goes to copperbadge's recipe, because he is brilliant. I used havarti, smoked provolone, and asiago as my cheeses. I had too much salt in the herb mix, and next time I'm definitely switching the oregano for rosemary because I don't particularly like oregano, and I left it in the oven slightly too long, but the bread came out a lot fluffier than the first time I tried it (with p'tit basque and asiago) which was lovely, and anyway, my brother liked it), and I made crepes (filled with Nutella, pear slices, and peach slices. whipped my own cream, too! whipping cream + sweet vermouth (which was admittedly a little strange) + a splash of almond extract + a heaping spoonful of sugar when that wasn't sweet enough + LOTS OF ELBOW GREASE EH because I don't have an electric hand mixer and couldn't be fucked to get down the stand mixer and dirty yet another bowl okay?) for breakfast today. Plus I made myself a martini last night, and mixing is almost like cooking, yes? (I needed to finish the old gin because I bought new gin and had to justify it. don't judge me okay??)

btw, for those of you who don't know, a martini is this:
in a shaker: ice, gin (I like Bombay Sapphire but I'm too posh for my own good), "fond memories of vermouth" (I actually use a liberal splash, but I love that quote. Who said that?). And everyone says "stir, don't shake, you'll bruise the gin!" but I can't be arsed really so I stick the top on and I turn it over once or twice and then I strain into a glass (a cocktail glass, properly, but we have no cocktail glasses (they were Roomie's -- man I should get my ass some cocktail glasses, and some wine glasses) so thus far at the new apartment I have strained martinis into margarita glasses and, last night, into a coffee mug because I desperately didn't want to make even more washing up for myself after doing the washing up, then cooking, then washing up again). Garnish with olives impaled on a cocktail sword or something, I generally stick two onto a toothpick and call it a fucking night. Or if you're posh and you don't fancy olives you could garnish with a twist (of lemon peel), but honestly, who wants to make a goddamn twist? Plus I like olives.

I didn't used to like olives. Funny. I wonder when it changed?

Anyway. I had myself a bit of a Torchwood marathon this weekend, in between cooking and washing up and going to the market and attending a family function. I had stopped in the middle of the first series before Children of Earth aired in July, and now I've finished that and gotten about half-way through the second series, which is considerably less mockable than the first series. (Not mock-proof, note. Just less mockable.) And I kept getting ideas for shit, and jotting them down in my "fragments" file. So I might start writing again, god save me. Fanfiction.

No, I'm not sure I mean that the way it came out. Many good fanfiction authors are very much Good Authors In General, or at least have the potential to be should they every quit their day jobs. And it's not shameful, to have ideas and create things inspired by something you're into. It's not inferior to original fiction, but it has that social stigma, like pretty much every aspect of fandom. And I'm done denying who I am, right? I'm embracing the things that make me who I am, especially the geekery, so you know what? I am an avid reader of fanfiction. And I have been a writer of fanfiction, and I may become one again.

It's kind of crazy that Torchwood has gotten so much under my skin. I love it on a campy sci-fi level, and a Gays On TV! level, and an Actors Are Attractive People level, and a caring-about-characters level, and a fandom-makes-awesome-things level (fic, art, vids, icons) -- but then there's also the meta things: I like to read what other fans think about episodes, characterisation, themes and messages, and other fans' ideas. And I have had a lot to think about because of fandom, and because of the way I personally react to this show. It's led me to define and articulate what I think about love, what I think about relationships, and it (and even more so Doctor Who) has reminded me to appreciate the wonder of the world and the people around me. I don't think I was this consumed by Animorphs, or X-Men, or Harry Potter, or even Lord of the Rings. None of those have been so... thinky for me. Well. LotR got pretty scholarly-thinky, but not as personal-thinky. V for Vendetta and its message about integrity (Valerie, anyone?) was a step on this path, but it was nowhere near the level of personal growth Torchwood has triggered. And yet, it's a plot-holey, bad-sciencey, , campy, darker-edgier-sexier spinoff of a show that I didn't even properly watch before Torchwood sank its teeth into me. How can it have become such a phenomenon in my life?

It's very smoky in my area tonight.

The kitties were roughhousing on my bed earlier, but now they're just chilling. Baxter definitely jumped face-first into the wall a couple times, though. Uh.

Ducky (formerly Dizzy, formerly Maybe-Vasco-Maybe-Quantum) likes to sleep in the crevice that my bed makes against the wall. I guess it's probably because my apartment is hot and the wall is cold? But it worries me when I accidentally bump him or put a limp partially on top of him and he makes no complaint. What if I roll onto him in the night or something?

This morning I woke up and the kitties were curled up on either side of me, dozing and purring. It was brilliant.

I really need to practise tomorrow. I haven't since the last time I said I needed to practise. Oops.

OMG SO while driving with my family to day I heard both "Uprising" AND "Knights of Cydonia." SO. PUMPED. I was practically headbanging, with my mum and brother in the car. Honestly? Muse might be all I really need from pop music.

God I've been so tired today, and yet I've been typing this entry for nearly an hour. Priorities much? Gah.