fictional: (doctor traveling)
Thank you all for your words of encouragement! I am feeling a bit better, and slightly less like an extremely angsty seventeen. Which is good. I don't know how teenagers make it through adolescence without killing themselves or being killed by others. I appreciate it muchly, and will endeavor to be a little less classic lj-whiny in future - but I make no promises. *grin*

I watched the Children in Need charity thing. First of all, it was pretty budget, wasn't it? I mean just the first two mins of the Christmas special? CHEAP. And also, *sniff* it was sad. Two minutes less of absolutely new Ten material. I really want my Seven Doctors story. Now that would've encouraged me to donate!

At some point soon, I've got to post pictures of the Chicago thing, and [ profile] magnetgirl's and my incredibly underappreciated halloween costumes. And the regency ball photo essay! I see I have a lot of fiddling with pictures in my near future.

Today I taught "The Last Battle" and Neil Gaiman's "The Problem of Susan." Susan was always my favorite; she had long black hair, as opposed to Lucy's golden curls, she was a wicked shot with a bow, and could swim, and I loved her. "The Last Battle" broke my heart. What do y'all think about the problem of Susan? I don't know why being an outcast from an undesirable redemption filled me with so much woe, but it did. Also, the Stable at the end of the Last Battle? Lewis says it's "bigger on the inside than it is on the outside." [ profile] faris_nallaneen accuses me of seeing everything with TARDIS colored glasses. Probably true.

If it's wrong, I don't want to be right.
fictional: (doctor phone)
So, I just had to make a quick [read 3 hours] dash to the New College Which Must Not Be Named. (I may need a new fandom-specific name for this one: thoughts? Prydonian Academy will not do, as I fear it will not be all happy, happy, joy, joy.) It was frantic because I'd not read the email closely, and I was just checking it to make sure I was getting certain notations right in my syllabus, and then I realized that we were *ahem* requested & required to make an appearance at a New Faculty Tea. At 3pm. It was 2:10pm when I was reading the email. SO I dashed out the door, armed with laptop (so I could work on the subway, always fun, and I ended up just writing more story instead, bad kali! no biscuit!) and ran like the hounds of hell were chasing me down to the college.

Only to discover that it was totally useless. It was in fact, just tea. (Literally tea. And lemon cake. and ice cream - none of which I ate.) Dunno what they made such a big deal about it for; it was completely insipid, and also not net-worky. Just to produce the illusion that we are all collegial colleagues, with spirit Feh. And if I have to hear once more: "Oh, you teach children's literature! You're so lucky!" I might throw something. I'm not lucky, okay? I've got balls and attack ovaries, and therefore enough guts to actually study things I like, rather than things which look respectable. Luck has got nothing to do with it! ANYWAY. I did get some writing done, which was okay, and on my way home, I stopped at the bookstore to see if my texts for the class had arrived, and didn't even have to go downstairs because I saw a bunch of college boys coming out with them all in their hands. One of them was cute too! He looked exactly like Lex Luthor from Smallville. Dunno what I'm gonna do with that.

In conclusion, a rec. This is a Doctor Who vid; it's called Handlebars, and I think it is incredible. The song choice is impeccable and fits the Doctor in all his breathtaking arrogance and fundamental glee so perfectly, but with all that, there's an underlying irony; the glee is undercut throughout by notes of anguish that just made me want to cry, even as my mouth hung open in awe. It's the kind of vid that is so very clean, you almost can't see all the work the vidders did to make it work. Spoilers through 4x13: Journey's End. Go check it out!
fictional: (Default)
As part of the Dr. Who methadone program*, I watched my very first episode of Red Dwarf the other day. [Honestly, I wasn't that enthused. But I have an oddly unticklish sense of humour. I also don't get the Monty Python thing, which I concede to be blasphemous. I'm not proud of it or anything. They just don't make me laugh.] However, when watching a multi-fandom vid, I noticed that it a) included Red Dwarf, and b) had the two guys kissing. Wow. Slash everywhere, omg.

Screw you, British Empire for being such freaking wimps. If you hadn't lamed out, we could ALL BE BRITISH. And enjoy the beautiful, beautiful spectacle of boys kissing in every single available medium. Instead you were all, oh noes! My tea! My taxes! Hippies on salt-walks! Minutemen! [Talk about an unscary moniker there] Come on. You should be ashamed. White man's burden, my ass.**

In other news, I seem to have got a job. So there will be a new College Which Must Not Be Named come September. I'm teaching kidlit @ Hunter on Mondays & Thursdays. While I was there for the interview (the speediest, most railroad-y interview of my life; they had me filling out my paperwork so fast I thought my head would spin off!), I ran into in rapid succession: [ profile] jlh, [ profile] sykii [*waves* Hi guys!], another friend of mine from the grad center, and another woman I went to high school with, whom I cordially loathed***. Any omen interpreters on deck? Sybilline oracles? Anyone? Bueller? What does it all mean???

*Netflix queue now includes things which are British, include time travel, or are about death. Like methadone, ultimately unsatisfying.
** I'm kidding. Mostly.
*** I really mean both the "cordial" and the "loathing". It was the friendliest non-liking I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. We were both equally close friends with one other girl, so spent any number of drunken evenings having civilised conversation about how much we despised each other. With my kinks, I can only be surprised that it didn't blossom into romance.
fictional: (Default)
i know that i should deeply appreciate being employed. with the job market the way it is, making 7 bucks an hour, tax free, is not to be sneezed at.
but my nose is runny, and it's sleeting outside, and getting out of bed this morning sucked.
in other words, i wish i was still home.

yesterday, i got up way too early and had the preliminaries to getting my head shrunk. or something. the gentleman was very nice, beard and all, (although he did not stroke it, thank goodness) but he left me with the question. can someone help you straighten out your head if they think your lifestyle is somewhat mislead? i'm still not sure of the answer. at any rate, finding someone in this frozen wasteland who gets me is going to be tough, so i guess i'll just suck it up and move along with it.

this evening the Dandelion-Head and i are going to see a play. eep!
it's called Shakespeare's R & J, and it is about 4 private school boys who discover Romeo and Juliet and get totally caught up in reading it. various violent and sexual hijinx ensue. my kind of interpretation, yo.

things are not bad, and the water that i am currently sipping is cold, sweet and good.
(even if it is coming out of one of my boss's mugs, emblazoned with the legend:
"What are the three things that make life worth living?
God, Sisters and Chocolate Chip cookies"...
um. yeah.)
fictional: (Default)
i feel like i'm in kindergarten. they've got me tracing maps of new york state. i have drafting tape, sharpened pencils, enormous sheets of tracing paper. it's kind of nice of them to have me doing arts and crafts to fill up the empty spaces of time at work, rather than, say, dusting. (!!!)

and i hear that they give lunatics in mental health places arts and crafts to do, to calm them. i think they call it occupational therapy.

so perhaps it is not merely coincidence that this is what i am doing at work today.

i just called psychological services for an appointment.
i hate that i feel i have to do this.
it seems weak, and silly. especially when there are so many other people, with far huger problems. and not to mention, i've tried this before, and it hasn't worked any magic for me.
but i guess it seems weaker to simply continue destroying myself, and those who i love more than i could ever hope to explain. without even putting up a fight.

so i'm going.
and i'll even do everything i can to be totally honest, and not be afraid that they'll show me some truths that i've spent my sentient life trying very hard not to see

hey, maybe they'll just give me the good drugs, and send me away.
one can always hope, right?


fictional: (Default)

August 2009

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