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Grrr, my neck is killing me.
So anyway, today wasn't terribly exciting. I ate lots of chocolate, and I went to uni, and I had some driving lessons, and I called Sarah, Lea and Tom. That's all in the wrong order, by the way. I watched Will and Grace, and some of the MTV Europe Awards. It was *hilarious* when Alicia Keys won her award and there were people fighting in the aisle as she tried to walk down! Europe's fun like that. Have I mentioned my cousin invited me to his 21st? As much as I'd like to think it's out of the goodness of his heart and he really cares whether I come or not, I'm pretty sure he's just doing it to be polite or because his parents told him to. I have shiny easter-egg paper, and a shiny easter bunny. Joy! Easter Sunday is looking to be a bit of a bummer for me though, coz I'll be at home and probably won't see anyone. I'm actually slightly depressed by that. But I couldn't go with my family anyway, since I've got a Film Studies assignment due Thursday of next week (in the middle of my bloody holidays!) and an Asian Studies one due the first week we get back from holidays. *sigh* I just hope some people will come over. I know I'll at least see Lea. The real kicker is that I'm actually housesitting so I can't be out too much myself.
You are a goddess!
Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Okay, either the creators of this quiz were on crack, or I unconsciously cheated. To be fair to me, there weren't a lot of answers that actually seemed remotely related to me.
Link of the day is The Harry Potter Multimedia Index, coz it's got *loads* of very shibby fun pictures which I *love*.
And directly related are my pics of the day (except the comic, which is just for fun)--a bunch of very shibby Potter-related pics, with explanations. Also, I've finished 'quebrante'!!! Yay! Although, I don't think this part is as good as the others. I dunno, it just seems odd that Orli's talking to Dom. Anyway, here it all is.
Can anyone say *gorgeous*?!
*incoherent mumbling about how he's a damn child*
Joy! Gary Oldman's all set to play Sirius now. How perfect does he look?! *hearts Gary Oldman* and he's with Heyman, all set to be in HP. Can't *wait* to see pics of him in costume.
This was from Something Positive. It's just *perfect.* Very, very funny and very clever.
quebrante
DOMINIC
You’re laughing at loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering
Could I just be you tonight
My envy of you hasn’t grown into hatred, not yet, because I’ve already lost so much and I don’t need to lose a friend. I didn’t realise that he and I had become so alienated. He shocked me when he dumped me. But then, I suppose you already know that, because he’s yours now. He’s there with you tonight, and he’s probably taking the bottom, loud and sweaty. I always liked him best in bed. He’s probably given you everything I’ve lost, and I’m so jealous I can almost feel myself turning green. Kermit the Frog in his underclothes with nowhere to go. I’ve lost Viggo too, of course. I know I could go back and worm my way back into his heart and fuck him, but I have the drugs and the drink and besides, I do still have a conscience, no matter what you think of me.
I wonder if you hate me as I shoot up in an alley.
There’s a stabbing kink in my shoulder and my pillow feels much too hard as I wake up. I reach out my arm for him, but only feel concrete below it, and then I remember everything and I’m crashing and as I open my eyes I see my own vomit from last night in front of me. I consider getting up. You said to call you if I needed. I need to be you. Can you do that? I know you won’t call me. When did I start crying? Someone terribly polite pokes me with their foot to see if I’m alive. Probably wants a wallet. Where would I be hiding one? Can’t he see I’m not dressed? Cold, too, so I stumble my way home. I only make it to my couch before I pass out again. I realise someone’s been in my house as the world goes black.
I know it’s you.
You show your pain
Like it really hurts
And I can’t even
Start to feel mine
I guess I don’t expect you to still be there when I wake up and the room is smothered in night again. You’re sitting in a couch next to mine, your legs thrown over its arm, staring at a spot above my head with vague worry and concern. I close my eyes again quickly and hope you didn’t see, but I already know you did, so I’m not surprised when I feel your hand on my arm, warm and firm. I can’t get up, but when I tell you that you ignore me. You lift me into a sitting position and I really have no choice but to open my eyes. I know you’re talking, I can see your mouth moving, but all I can hear is my heartbeat n my ears and the rain against the window, and they’re so loud I doubt you can even hear yourself. Then suddenly I’m clean and in bed, and I don’t remember how that happened, which is probably a good thing because who needs the memory of you showering me?
And you’ve gone back to him, so all that’s left is nothing.
It’s another two days before you come back. You’ve been questioning your conscience, fighting yourself, talking to him. You find me right where you left me, which I think scares you a little. I can hear you opening curtains telling me to ‘pick up my bloody phone once in a while, for fuck’s sake, because everyone’s been calling, because you’re all so worried about me. I try to ignore you but you rip the covers from over my head, telling me I have responsibilities. Then you tell me my TV was stolen. As though that one piece of news is going to make me sit up and take notice, regret my action, sober up. Some box with dancing pictures being ripped from my life, when before I had him. You grab my face and force me to look at you, and then I see that you’re crying. As if the depravity of my life hurts you.
It doesn’t hurt me.
Baby baby baby
When all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I’m up against out in this world.
Another blackout later and we’re in my bathroom, and it’s not just me and you anymore. It’s me and you and him, so beautiful and unattainable, and Viggo’s outside talking to Sean and Billy, I can hear them. I chuckle to myself. What is this, an intervention?
Oh.
I’m lying in a warm bath, fully clothed, and you’re pouring water over my head and it feels wonderful, like security and chocolate and fireplaces in winter. You’ve taken me on because you feel the heavy burden of responsibility for me, because you get to keep him. You don’t understand that I started dying when I lost him. Who has him now is inconsequential. You’re ushering everyone out, closing the door, undressing and redressing me. You won’t let me die.
Why are you doing this to me?
They take turns, one by one. Ian and Peter and Live call in, each with their own brand of logic and reason to beat into me. I ignore them all, but I’m and actor, and I act like I’m listening. Besides, with listening, who can ever tell? You and him, apparently. Cuz you two just sit there, quietly, as the others file out one by one. Time drags by as one by one they’re satisfied and the house is empty of everyone but the three of us. I try to avoid your gaze by glancing outside. I notice that night has fallen and suddenly I just know, somehow, that I’m going to be alone again very soon. I’m right. You both glare at me, giving it twice the force and the weight of a normal glare, and I can feel my stomach flip when you tell me, with interjections from him, that unless I make the effort to listen you’ve stopped making the effort to talk.
By the time your words sink in you’ve gone.
That’s all that I need yeah
Someone else to cling to and
Someone I can lean on until
I don’t need to
It’s been exactly 23 hours 4 minutes since you two made the break with me. I’ve done nothing but think, stay sober and get on a bus in that time. I’ve thought of you once or twice, him too many times to count, and then, finally, the two of you as one entity. And then, corny as it is, write a letter relinquishing him to you completely. You’ll be able to appreciate him more than I’ve ever been able to in my self-obsessed fucked-up life. I’m going over the wording of the letter in my mind (should I have said “Love Orlando”? I only wrote “from”. Maybe I should’ve sounded less resentful,) when the kid in the seat behind me drops a crayon. It rolls between my feet, red against the gum-stained linoleum of the bus floor. I hand it back to him, and he snatches it from me and sneers. Once his attention is turned back to his colouring, I can’t help but keep my eyes on his face. I see his happiness. The pure, unadulterated joy of having the one small task with its bright colours fill his whole 5-year-old world.
And like an idiot, I start crying.
Sean’s not there when I first get to his house, but he gets there pretty soon once I’ve text messaged him, and when he finds me outside crying sitting on his garden ledge I can see him melt. I’m guessing you told him I wasn’t listening yesterday. I tell him I’m listening now. He takes me inside, and calls you, and it turns out you’re at my place. I have to convince myself not to make any snide comments, but when I say that aloud the fact that I even thought of snide comments makes you cry. It’s not until then that I notice that I haven’t had thought like that, real independent thought, in a while. Sean hugs me for what seems like forever, but then I knew he would, and I know that’s why I came to him instead of one of the others. Well, I wouldn’t go to Viggo, and I didn’t think I could go to you, and he’s with you. It didn’t leave a huge number of options. I knew he’d take care of me, though, and that was what I needed. He sets me up a mattress, and kisses me goodnight like a child, and as I lay on the floor in the dark I hear a tiny pair of feet pad their way over to me, and the bottom of duck-patterned pyjamas swims into view in front of my eyes.
“Can I stay with you?” It’s Ali. I blink a few times.
“Why?”
”Daddy says you’re sad. Plus, you’re squishy.”
”Sure.” I shift back as far as I can, and my ass is hanging off the back of the mattress and I can feel cold air on my back as she pulls most of the blanket off me and curls around her teddy in front of me.
So at least, I’m finally not alone.
Asking the questions we all want answers to: How did the casting directors for HP know that the kids would all grow up to be enormously good-looking, and not know Richard Harris (may he rest in peace) was going to die? Faulty crystal balls?
(hehe. I said balls.)
Green Queen
So anyway, today wasn't terribly exciting. I ate lots of chocolate, and I went to uni, and I had some driving lessons, and I called Sarah, Lea and Tom. That's all in the wrong order, by the way. I watched Will and Grace, and some of the MTV Europe Awards. It was *hilarious* when Alicia Keys won her award and there were people fighting in the aisle as she tried to walk down! Europe's fun like that. Have I mentioned my cousin invited me to his 21st? As much as I'd like to think it's out of the goodness of his heart and he really cares whether I come or not, I'm pretty sure he's just doing it to be polite or because his parents told him to. I have shiny easter-egg paper, and a shiny easter bunny. Joy! Easter Sunday is looking to be a bit of a bummer for me though, coz I'll be at home and probably won't see anyone. I'm actually slightly depressed by that. But I couldn't go with my family anyway, since I've got a Film Studies assignment due Thursday of next week (in the middle of my bloody holidays!) and an Asian Studies one due the first week we get back from holidays. *sigh* I just hope some people will come over. I know I'll at least see Lea. The real kicker is that I'm actually housesitting so I can't be out too much myself.
You are a goddess!
Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Okay, either the creators of this quiz were on crack, or I unconsciously cheated. To be fair to me, there weren't a lot of answers that actually seemed remotely related to me.
Link of the day is The Harry Potter Multimedia Index, coz it's got *loads* of very shibby fun pictures which I *love*.
And directly related are my pics of the day (except the comic, which is just for fun)--a bunch of very shibby Potter-related pics, with explanations. Also, I've finished 'quebrante'!!! Yay! Although, I don't think this part is as good as the others. I dunno, it just seems odd that Orli's talking to Dom. Anyway, here it all is.
Can anyone say *gorgeous*?!
*incoherent mumbling about how he's a damn child*
Joy! Gary Oldman's all set to play Sirius now. How perfect does he look?! *hearts Gary Oldman* and he's with Heyman, all set to be in HP. Can't *wait* to see pics of him in costume.
This was from Something Positive. It's just *perfect.* Very, very funny and very clever.
quebrante
DOMINIC
You’re laughing at loud
At just the thought of being alive
And I was wondering
Could I just be you tonight
My envy of you hasn’t grown into hatred, not yet, because I’ve already lost so much and I don’t need to lose a friend. I didn’t realise that he and I had become so alienated. He shocked me when he dumped me. But then, I suppose you already know that, because he’s yours now. He’s there with you tonight, and he’s probably taking the bottom, loud and sweaty. I always liked him best in bed. He’s probably given you everything I’ve lost, and I’m so jealous I can almost feel myself turning green. Kermit the Frog in his underclothes with nowhere to go. I’ve lost Viggo too, of course. I know I could go back and worm my way back into his heart and fuck him, but I have the drugs and the drink and besides, I do still have a conscience, no matter what you think of me.
I wonder if you hate me as I shoot up in an alley.
There’s a stabbing kink in my shoulder and my pillow feels much too hard as I wake up. I reach out my arm for him, but only feel concrete below it, and then I remember everything and I’m crashing and as I open my eyes I see my own vomit from last night in front of me. I consider getting up. You said to call you if I needed. I need to be you. Can you do that? I know you won’t call me. When did I start crying? Someone terribly polite pokes me with their foot to see if I’m alive. Probably wants a wallet. Where would I be hiding one? Can’t he see I’m not dressed? Cold, too, so I stumble my way home. I only make it to my couch before I pass out again. I realise someone’s been in my house as the world goes black.
I know it’s you.
You show your pain
Like it really hurts
And I can’t even
Start to feel mine
I guess I don’t expect you to still be there when I wake up and the room is smothered in night again. You’re sitting in a couch next to mine, your legs thrown over its arm, staring at a spot above my head with vague worry and concern. I close my eyes again quickly and hope you didn’t see, but I already know you did, so I’m not surprised when I feel your hand on my arm, warm and firm. I can’t get up, but when I tell you that you ignore me. You lift me into a sitting position and I really have no choice but to open my eyes. I know you’re talking, I can see your mouth moving, but all I can hear is my heartbeat n my ears and the rain against the window, and they’re so loud I doubt you can even hear yourself. Then suddenly I’m clean and in bed, and I don’t remember how that happened, which is probably a good thing because who needs the memory of you showering me?
And you’ve gone back to him, so all that’s left is nothing.
It’s another two days before you come back. You’ve been questioning your conscience, fighting yourself, talking to him. You find me right where you left me, which I think scares you a little. I can hear you opening curtains telling me to ‘pick up my bloody phone once in a while, for fuck’s sake, because everyone’s been calling, because you’re all so worried about me. I try to ignore you but you rip the covers from over my head, telling me I have responsibilities. Then you tell me my TV was stolen. As though that one piece of news is going to make me sit up and take notice, regret my action, sober up. Some box with dancing pictures being ripped from my life, when before I had him. You grab my face and force me to look at you, and then I see that you’re crying. As if the depravity of my life hurts you.
It doesn’t hurt me.
Baby baby baby
When all your love is gone
Who will save me
From all I’m up against out in this world.
Another blackout later and we’re in my bathroom, and it’s not just me and you anymore. It’s me and you and him, so beautiful and unattainable, and Viggo’s outside talking to Sean and Billy, I can hear them. I chuckle to myself. What is this, an intervention?
Oh.
I’m lying in a warm bath, fully clothed, and you’re pouring water over my head and it feels wonderful, like security and chocolate and fireplaces in winter. You’ve taken me on because you feel the heavy burden of responsibility for me, because you get to keep him. You don’t understand that I started dying when I lost him. Who has him now is inconsequential. You’re ushering everyone out, closing the door, undressing and redressing me. You won’t let me die.
Why are you doing this to me?
They take turns, one by one. Ian and Peter and Live call in, each with their own brand of logic and reason to beat into me. I ignore them all, but I’m and actor, and I act like I’m listening. Besides, with listening, who can ever tell? You and him, apparently. Cuz you two just sit there, quietly, as the others file out one by one. Time drags by as one by one they’re satisfied and the house is empty of everyone but the three of us. I try to avoid your gaze by glancing outside. I notice that night has fallen and suddenly I just know, somehow, that I’m going to be alone again very soon. I’m right. You both glare at me, giving it twice the force and the weight of a normal glare, and I can feel my stomach flip when you tell me, with interjections from him, that unless I make the effort to listen you’ve stopped making the effort to talk.
By the time your words sink in you’ve gone.
That’s all that I need yeah
Someone else to cling to and
Someone I can lean on until
I don’t need to
It’s been exactly 23 hours 4 minutes since you two made the break with me. I’ve done nothing but think, stay sober and get on a bus in that time. I’ve thought of you once or twice, him too many times to count, and then, finally, the two of you as one entity. And then, corny as it is, write a letter relinquishing him to you completely. You’ll be able to appreciate him more than I’ve ever been able to in my self-obsessed fucked-up life. I’m going over the wording of the letter in my mind (should I have said “Love Orlando”? I only wrote “from”. Maybe I should’ve sounded less resentful,) when the kid in the seat behind me drops a crayon. It rolls between my feet, red against the gum-stained linoleum of the bus floor. I hand it back to him, and he snatches it from me and sneers. Once his attention is turned back to his colouring, I can’t help but keep my eyes on his face. I see his happiness. The pure, unadulterated joy of having the one small task with its bright colours fill his whole 5-year-old world.
And like an idiot, I start crying.
Sean’s not there when I first get to his house, but he gets there pretty soon once I’ve text messaged him, and when he finds me outside crying sitting on his garden ledge I can see him melt. I’m guessing you told him I wasn’t listening yesterday. I tell him I’m listening now. He takes me inside, and calls you, and it turns out you’re at my place. I have to convince myself not to make any snide comments, but when I say that aloud the fact that I even thought of snide comments makes you cry. It’s not until then that I notice that I haven’t had thought like that, real independent thought, in a while. Sean hugs me for what seems like forever, but then I knew he would, and I know that’s why I came to him instead of one of the others. Well, I wouldn’t go to Viggo, and I didn’t think I could go to you, and he’s with you. It didn’t leave a huge number of options. I knew he’d take care of me, though, and that was what I needed. He sets me up a mattress, and kisses me goodnight like a child, and as I lay on the floor in the dark I hear a tiny pair of feet pad their way over to me, and the bottom of duck-patterned pyjamas swims into view in front of my eyes.
“Can I stay with you?” It’s Ali. I blink a few times.
“Why?”
”Daddy says you’re sad. Plus, you’re squishy.”
”Sure.” I shift back as far as I can, and my ass is hanging off the back of the mattress and I can feel cold air on my back as she pulls most of the blanket off me and curls around her teddy in front of me.
So at least, I’m finally not alone.
Asking the questions we all want answers to: How did the casting directors for HP know that the kids would all grow up to be enormously good-looking, and not know Richard Harris (may he rest in peace) was going to die? Faulty crystal balls?
(hehe. I said balls.)
Green Queen
