I haven't done a Reality post in a while, so there.

Sometimes, when everything falls into place, I wonder if I'm going to die. It's not really angst, just more of a jarring sensation. Like once, when I thought it'd be okay to take cough syrup without measuring it (kids, two tablespoons is a lot less than you think it is), I fell asleep with a very acute awareness of my own mortality. I was like, "why does any of this even matter? I'm just going to die anyway." It's funny in retrospect.

But I get these ideas sometimes that are just weird. Like, okay, great. I can move into my apartment on Saturday? Awesome. I wonder if my back tire's gonna blow on 82-E. I wonder if I'm gonna spin out of control and crash into a huge ditch. Boy, that'd suck. It's probably gonna happen. Whoo, wow, made it to work. That's a surprise.

I don't know. I think of this stuff, and it's crazy. I don't really think I'm going to die, but it seems cocky to completely disregard the possibility. I figure that by acknowledging it, I'm actually giving myself a better chance of survival.

tl;dr: word, homie, shit is whack, but that's coo'.

I was looking online for small electrical parts to set up a better lighting system in my new studio without having to buy tacky lamps or Christmas lights, and I ended up getting sidetracked. I promised RJ that we could build one of these on several conditions:
1) we only buy the plans because damn
2) he helps me hunt down the parts
3) it stays in my apartment
4) he agrees that I reserve all rights to use it as a threat to his and/or Gerald's well-being
I think it went over surprisingly well. I like turning fun things into hey you're my slave. His one condition was that I actually let him help. Haaa.

Oh, Bertie ran away again, but he came back of his own free will. I'm less terrified of him being lost forever now, so yay.

Working on a possible subcontract within my new job for web design. We'll see how the presentation's received.

I think that's it. OH. Oh, wait. There is that one thing, that one thing about my biological father still being completely not in prison and living, oh, a block away. Haah, ha. Isn't that funny? I think it's hilarious.

I should probably sleep tonight, huh. Woke up this morning feeling like there was an arc welder in my brain, except the tiny person wielding it was drunk. Not the fun drunk, either, but the obnoxious drunk that goes "let's go on top of that roof and burn stuff."

Also I need to learn how to make porridge, because I've never made it before and obviously I cannot be considered a decent human being if I have not made porridge at least once.

That is all.

Band Name: .sa
Album Title: List of Yukon Leaders of Opposition
Tracklist:
1) Ben Wallace
2) 100483 NAOJ
3) Electoral district of Wentworthville
4) Leon Russom
5) San Pedro, Laguna
6) Alan Kirby
7) Pickerington, Ohio
8) Word problem (computability)
9) Sealed Cargo
10) 1972 World Championship Tennis Finals – Singles
11) Fight On Sioux
12) Hip (slang)

what the hell it's like Sufjan and Kraftwerk made love and subsequently gave birth to a proper noun

I has a jorb. I start tomorrow at 6am.

Basically, it's a part time position at the front desk of an extended stay motel. Thing is, the pay includes a studio apartment on site. Plus utilities, laundry, etc. So. I need to learn not to worry so much.

Job? Check.
Residence? Check.

And my kitty's back home. While I have the studio, I can't have Bertie stay with me but for a couple days a week, so I'll probably just end up spending a lot of time at my mom's.

Very, very happy am I.

Music Update:
shit yeah: Owen Pallett, Seabear, Beach House, Stornoway, Titus Andronicus, Delta Mirror.

too much time on my hands whaaaaaaat

Later, peeps!

Except for the part where it totally doesn't.

I had a craving for chocolate earlier, but then I made brownie batter from scratch and put it in the oven, and now I don't want chocolate anymore. The brownies are going to come out of the oven, and no one's going to get to eat a warm one because everyone's either at school or doing Important Errands with Bus Passes (which I have no business partaking in due to the fact that I'm out of gas and have no bus fare), so they're going to get cold. Because I don't want one anymore.

I mean, if they wanted to, someone could microwave it. But it won't be the same.

At least the apartment's going to smell good. Well, to everyone else. It's kinda making me sick. I probably shouldn't have licked the spoon. Most likely I just gave myself salmonella or something. Maybe not. I don't hear about brownie batter giving people salmonella anymore. I'm sure it happens, but it probably won't happen from spoon residue.

Oh, brownies.

After a long and arduous process, I believe I have finally regained complete control of my email. Fucker had a forward on it. I can't believe I didn't check that immediately.

Whatever. DO NOT answer or open any emails from the following address: emiphistel@aol.com. Unless you want to send viruses (virii?), in which case, you have my blessing.

Now for the second bit. Apparently, the ass deleted my contacts list. Apparently, this is irretrievable. So, basically, if you want me to have your email address, you're going to have to give it to me again. I would recommend sending me a message, but if you would like to leave your e-mail in the comments, I've set this entry up so comments are screened. Please state the following:

Name (as you want it to appear in my contacts):
Email (using anti-spam formatting, ex. butt [at] butts [dot] com):

Once again, I know this sucks, but there are a lot of people with whom I would hate to lose touch. I beg this of you as a final inconvenience to endure.

Now, to get Facebook to reinstate my profile.

My e-mail account was hacked. Just letting everyone know that the message that was sent out was NOT from me. I am NOT in London, I was NOT mugged at gunpoint, and while I do need money, I would prefer to earn it through work and not by scamming people on my contacts list.

( screencap, thanks to mary )

Just another lucky happenstance, I guess.

I've been with my family for ten days now. It's different, that much is certain, though exactly how much I've been pushed out of my comfort zone is up for guesses as I haven't had much time to dwell on the matter.

Nonetheless, I've done so much since I got here. It gives me a good feeling to finally be able to help my mom while she's helping herself as well.

My brothers are assholes and I love them dearly. RJ and I made the world's most drunken gingerbread house at eleven o'clock last night (wherein my brother shows a lack of candy-decorating patience by declaring: "There're too many gumdrops. The snowman needs a hat. Fine, the tree gets a hat. So does the chimney. Fuck it, everything gets a hat.") and then promptly demolished it. Gerald's predilection for violent video games has proven amusing several times over. He insists that he's an assassin and that I'm his partner-in-crime. Unfortunately, before he can truly become assassin material, he needs to learn how to escape the Tickle Torment. To which he is laughably vulnerable.

Who's evil now?

The job search is going. I've applied several places, and during such a quest, I've run into someone with whom I went to high school, which to an extent is totally not allowed. There are exceptions, but mostly any sharp reminder of that period during my life is catalyst to a terrible anxious feeling that doesn't leave my system until much later.

I do wish I had a better high school experience. I understand it can be a beautiful time during one's life. It just didn't work out that way for me.

So, hopefully that'll be that, and it won't happen again.

Bertie is still missing. Neighbours have strongly suggested that someone's picked him up by now. He is a terribly pretty cat. I'm trying to maintain hope that he'll come home, though it's hard not to slip into the process of grieving. The most I can do is just keep calling his name.

In the meantime, a stray 6-month old kitty has taken it upon herself to adopt the family, and while she's unbearably cute and lovable, I feel guilty every time I pet her. Her name is Anna, and she is 98% fur.

Grocery shopping today, breakfast for the family, dishes, then laundry day, see you there. I'll get used to this in time.

Wooooo, made it to LA with great time last night. There were TACOS and PIE, which makes harmonicalesson the best ever.

I'll be making my "yay I'm not dead" phone calls later on this morning, as I first must retrieve my phone from the van and charge it because I am a luser.

Peeeeeeeace out.

I just drove to Albuquerque, NM.

From Lexington Park, MD.

In 27 hours.*

Whassaaaap! [/stinson]


* total drive time. does not include rest stops or fueling. total overall time for trip was 36 hours.

I finally placed the ad on Southern Maryland Classifieds for my position. Exciting and terrifying. I put it up twenty minutes ago and already I've received three phone calls. Each of them asked for me specifically, and each of them was as earnest to please as I remember being when I was looking for employment. Whether or not they're hired depends on my opinion and analysis first.

Hee! I shouldn't let the power get to my head.

I wish I had more to say besides, "the clock in the living room is seriously causing me anger by going off every fifteen minutes and I keep dreaming that one day it will be engulfed in flames." I can't even say that because then I'll feel bad about wishing nothing but destruction on someone's treasured family decor, and if it were to suddenly catch fire, there would be no end to my guilt.

So without anything interesting to report, let us meme.

the fake review meme. - stolen from kytha
In the comments, give me the title of a story I've never written, and feedback telling me what you liked best about it, and I will tell you any of: the first sentence, the last sentence, the thing that made me want to write it, the biggest problem I had while writing it, why it almost never got posted, the scene that hit the cutting room floor but that I wish I'd been able to salvage, or something else that I want readers to know.

http://www.nightcastlealbum.com

parts of it doth stream.

( story )

It's starting to rain six hours ahead of schedule. This is awesome. Except for the part where my window's open and I'm too lazy to summon the troops required to create the downward force necessary to close the stupid thing.

Aw. Wet kitty came in through the window and is curling up on my pillow. How cute.

... wet kitty ... pillow.

Nnh. I guess you can stay, Bertie. Asshole. You're lucky you're adorable.

... and wet.

Oh, children.

( bob loblaw irl bs )

On a different note, wow! Water on the moon? Awesome! And oh! Listen to this: Three Americans won the Nobel Prize for physics! Go America!

ALSO OMG THEY'RE TOTALLY FINALLY RELEASING NIGHT CASTLE I'VE ONLY BEEN WAITING FOR TWO YEARS WHAT

(Come on, if I weren't spastic at least once in my entry, you'd think something was wrong.)

I'm going to have to update my resume, for real.

Body by Design, Inc./Drive Line, Inc.
Office Manager
August 2007 - present
Duties:
- accounts payable/receivable
- general filing and office upkeep
- getting people out of jail

Apparently we hired a new mechanic (a friend of both Kirk and Rick), but the catch is that - oh ha ha haa - we have to get him out on work release first. So I'm writing yet another letter to fax to the SMDC sergeant, who now knows me on a first name basis. Watch for an ensuing saga of me completely losing my shit, robbing a bank with an entire eight-ball spitting conspicuously from my flaring nostrils, and then "ah-whoop, sorry Donna, but I felt left out!"

I don't get paid enough for this. HAPPY FRIDAY, Y'ALL.

I woke up this morning with a splitting headache and a certain white demon curled up basically inside my nostril. Something about the impending autumn has my cat (and I use this nomenclature loosely) progressively sleeping closer and closer to me, and while typically I wouldn't mind this (in fact, quite the opposite), I've been having difficulties with seasonal allergies and the road to respiration does not begin with a feline rat attempting to crawl into my face for comfort.

On top of that, I get to make a presentation in one of my classes today looking and feeling like I've just come off a twelve-day bender without the pleasure of actually being intoxicated beforehand.

And I was informed that the book I spent fourteen precious dollars on for the same class is not the book I need for the report. FUCK FUCK FUCK. If anyone needs a droll narrative on the Black Death, let me know. AAAAAAAAAH.

I know it isn't much if you compare it to global crises (yo I'mma let myself finish but people with cancer have the best reasons to complain of all time), but I'm wondering if someone shooting me in the face today would be inconveniencing me or doing me a favour. OVERREACTION FTW.

To open: If you don't think Spencer is god, then at least admit he's a prophet of the highest order.

( Also, I got this in my e-mail )

I want to imagine that it's a patriotic interpretation of postmodern leitmotif, set to slowly tinkling chimes and a hammered dulcimer.

therefore:

A POLL

Poll #1458412 A POLL
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 11

WHICH IS THE BEST ANIMAL

WHO IS AL FUCKING ROKER

PLEASE DEFINE, IN YOUR OWN WORDS, AL FUCKING ROKER

The only thing on par with Ben Gibbard's kitten-killing is Twilight and all of its evil incarnations. Which means that it doesn't come as a real surprise that DCfC is providing a single for New Moon's soundtrack; it's a song titled "Meet Me on the Equinox," and without my obvious prejudices and groans, it's actually not a bad track. It's got the majority of Narrow Stairs beat. I just wish I could connect with it more. Ngh. I need help.

In other veins of mediocrity, has anyone else seen the video for "Black Swan"? Take some NyQuil and stare at a Media Player default visualisation for a while. It has pretty much the same effect. (For the type of label Jagjaguwar seems to be, one would think they'd put more effort into their weirdness. At the very least, something like this. Or, you know, maybe something not so weird. Like the colonial duel scenes in WP's "I'll Believe in Anything" video from SubPop. They blew up a chicken; that should count for something, right?)

A lot of this disquiet stems from the fact that the music industry hasn't been sitting well with me for the past couple of years. Does it make me a bad fan for just wanting to listen to albums and go to shows? I mean, I understand the appeal of contributing to a major soundtrack and making a video (some videos are amazing), but when it gets to the point of being a contrived necessity for something that's become uniformly and inappropriately greater than the music itself, I have to step back and wonder what they hope to accomplish.

The "Black Swan" video looked like someone at Jagjaguwar went, "okay, look, this band is weird and their fans are obviously on drugs, so we need to throw something together that they can enjoy while on various forms of psychedelics." Nothing about capturing and interpreting a complex metaphor, no videographic representation of the story. Apparently, the band isn't interested in making videos at all.

And Ben Gibbard has only a vague idea of the Twilight plot.

I know I sound jaded here, and I might be so. Just a little. In my mind, music should be music for the sake of music, and trying too hard to make it into a marketable machine reminds me of the Helepolis for the siege of Rhodes. It's big and impressive, but it doesn't go anywhere easily, and it's not going to achieve the intended goal. It's simply cumbersome and bloody distracting.

Besides, what happened to film scores? Williams, Elfman, Horner. For fuck's sake.

Blah. Back to work.