Eight of Cups

I have an uncanny knack for finding and getting close to people who don't give a shit about me in the long run. Happened before, happens to me every few years. (Remember Terra? I sadly do.) Or maybe I just don't have the knack to make men do everything I want them to.

Truth be told - I don't invest this much into anybody. Which is a damned shame, because this is what I must be doing wrong. If not, I'm out of ideas.

In either case I'm feeling a tad bit miffed, so I'm gonna undertake some new creative pursuits. I've never tried nuno felting for example, and by the price of the finished projects it might be a good idea to make it yourself.

So on monday I'm gonna hit the shops and ask about some chiffon and buy some special felt as well. And I will cherish the friends who still care about me.

Ummm... hi! I have nothing to say, really. How boring is that?

I blame Facebook and Goodreads. I read a lot these days. The Adrien English Mysteries is a hit for me. The first one was horridly cliché, but the second one... was much, much better.

Also, if someone knows by any chance the title of that fanfic with Garak and Bashir in the Mirror universe where Q shows the near future and Garak takes Bashir away from DS9 to some other planet to save his life...

I thought I had saved it, but no! I can't find it godsdamnit!

Oh yeah... now that I'm actually writing... Alas, I'm handling a translation. From English. I hate it. Why can't I get normal translation jobs? (Because normal jobs are grabbed up by everybody else and by the time someone, anyone thinks of asking me it's usually the shitties, most disgustingly sucky stuff that gets stuck in my hands.) It's some fluffed up sales bullshit with lots of shiny words and no substance. I am struggling and suffering - and I won't even be paid for these 3 pages! This is just the test run. I am... not sure this is worth it. Actually... I'll go ask how much they'd be paying me.

And yay, if I refuse, my dad will bitch at me because I "obviously don't want to work". As if I would love to translate phrases like "ships with broad product capabilities" and "proven real world performance with marquee clients across industries". Yep, just what I wanna do with my evenings.

Ghost Story

Blergh.

Worst. Book. Ever.

Compared to the expectations anyway. I mean hell, Butcher said he wanted 4 additional months to write it better.

After 5 pages I wanted to put it down. HARD. Like maybe trow it against a wall or tear it up.

I didn't. Not sure I shouldn't have. It drags on, is totally uninteresting, lacks the wit and sarcasm and fun that the other books had - the reason I was reading the series in the first place.

And then Butcher comes out and wants to push a name like "Ragged Lady" down my throat? As in sweet little Molly becoming a deranged, magical lunatic homeless vigilante/mass murderer thingy and calling herself "Ragged Lady". Uhm... yeah, right. I think Butcher needs to pull his head out of his roleplaying ass and look around himself, get reaquinted with the real world. Outside of Marvel people don't call themselves names like that with a straight face.

Jesus Christ almighty.

I dunno if it's sad or if Mr Butcher thinks that after 12 books he can feed us anything and we'll just lap it up. This book... plain hurts.

Just groovy

Good sex, a good book, and a smoke afterwards. Perfect.

Alas, before anybody gets a scare, I am doing some anger management, learning new relaxation techniques... and will move away soon. No reason to stay in a highly stressful environment or to make myself miserable.

My mom's newest hobby is to leave the doors open. The last week and during a few weeks before early this month, we had frigid, 15°C air outside. And crazy humidity. (I have asthma, humidity cramps my lungs. And I can't stand the cold. I always get sick.)

So she opens the window (or balcony door) in the room she is in, letting in the humid, 15°C air into the flat with the 25°C trapped inside.

She gets a kick out of irking me - making me close the doors behind her (so I won't freeze my ass off while staying indoors) gives her a rush. She tells me so. She smirks at me and taunts me. (Is this really what parents are supposed to do?)

For the last week I had to repress myself, as every time the above mentioned happened, I had pictures showing me pushing her head repeatedly into the wall. Or me breaking her fucking arms with a baseball bat.

No, I never owned a baseball bat and I don't even hit people. Especially my parents... not that m,y mother deserves any kind of respect, but still. In my culture it is not a proper thing to raise your hand against your elders, especially your parents.

But boy... the way she has been acting towards me I wonder when I will finally snap.

...moving?

Folks going away on holiday. Yipee.
Either way, seems like we clash more and more. Like... daily.

I'm gonna move away. I'll need a reinforced door, soundproof of course, and internet. I can live without a TV, telephone and video... but not without a PC and the 'net. Will be fun to carry it over. (The PC.) Ouch.

I'm still wondering what to do with Manó. No idea where to put his cage or where I could let him out to roam. No doors. Save from the bathroom door and the front door. If he so much as takes a bite out of my handmade Indian table, he is dead.

Also, I will need some heavy drapes for the bedroom. No door on that one and all noises from the hallway outside my front door (which is right in front of the bedroom doorway) reach directly into the bedroom. Yes, apparently a moron did that. I hope some heavy drapes would mute the sounds. That and a soundproofed front door.

I wonder if I could buy a washing machine for cheap. Something small and easy to use. I like washing machines that open on top. No reason to crouch and make a treasure hunt of finding the proper buttons to make it work.

New Polishes!!!!

My newest polishes. One of them was not packaged right, or more like they left it a tad bit open and it spilled. The nail polish remover removed the silver paint on the top too. Alas, they are still pretty!

Well, this will be another netless night. It's cold and Sunday to top it all off, so no party. I've already packed my overnight bag and getting slowly ready.

Words can't describe how tired I feel. Haven't been able to sleep properly for two weeks now. No idea why. And today I slept like 5 hours thanks to my mother. She's a bitch. Period. So I'm off to my flat without the net and the computer. It's not like I need it. Since the whole Cliff thing anybody that needs contacting can be reached by phone or by bus.

And I could bring my Kindle, I guess, but that'd mean I wouldn't study French. And I could really use this opportunity to study some French. Or I could call up my ex and see where things could go.

But frankly... I just wanna lay down and cry. Haven't felt this crappy in a long while. And it's not even the herald of my period. How cool is that?

Oh well. Time to go.

Update: in better mood but still tired. My dad begged me to come home. So not amused. My overnight bag was effin heavy and I was thinking of a nice, quiet evening with jazz and French books. Oh well.

On the top side I found an OPI stand in the mall (I was there to buy a hedgehog keychain that's pretty fucking impossible to find) and they had one last red shatter nail polish. Now it's mine. I also got a full-frontal view of my neighbour, shirtless. Dripping muscles. I wonder...

Amazon delivers!

Yep. My nail polishes arrived. See pictures for further reference.
So, from left to right: Zombie Zest, Ick-A-Body, Fairy Dust, Mistletoe Kisses. All of them China Glaze polishes.Also... today this was my manicure. Alllll day long. ^^

Flowers revamped

You probably know the 5 and 6 petaled flowers. I took the pattern for a spin. Nothing too fancy or anything, of course, but hey, it's summer!

Were The World Mine

...indeed.

I have issues with this movie being a musical, as it breaks up and interrupts the story, and it annoys me... but the lead guy has a very nice singing voice, so all is forgiven.

Otherwise, I liked it. Very cute, definitely something that doesn't feel like it's trying too hard. I mean try for example Inception. Yes, obviously different genre, but you come out of the cinema feeling totally out of sorts, and not in the good way. That was a "what the fuck did I just see and why did I pay for this shit?" feeling. This was the "awww, so cute, can I have a side of that?" feeling.

That and I am a huuuge sucker for A Midsummer Night's Dream. I remember I got an illustrated copy when I was way too young, barely able to read and didn't even know who Shakespeare was (before somebody starts throwing a tantrum, I'm not British nor American, so Shakespeare wasn't in the curricula for quite a while). And ever since then I was hooked.

So anyway... this is obviously a comedy. I'd say it's better than American Pie. Less shallow, definitely has a message and it's not crude. It's on a completely different level. And hot, obviously. ^^

"Remembrance fallen from heaven,
And Madness risen from hell,
Strength without hands to smite,
Love that endures for a breath;
Night, the shadow of light,
And Life, the shadow of death."

/Atalanta in Calydon - Algernon Charles Swinburne/

Velvet Goldmine

Yeah. Still weird. Requires a certain mood to watch it.

Still, since I stumbled over Ziggy Stardust's name like a hundredth time in a book I just had to watch the thing again.

So... what to say? It's still the same thing my brain screams. Curt Wild... whoa. (I'm guessing it's totally obvious I'm preferring the male looking crass rocker in the leather pants - when he actually bothers wearing clothes - to the feminine jailbait)

So... Weird movie. I guess it might have started out as a Bowie-Iggy thing, but Bowie was only saying he was bi because he wanted to be new and exciting. If you look at his track record and what his wife (ex?) is saying... he was anything but. And that guitar licking? So wasn't as hot as in the movie.

And yeah. That guitar licking was smoking hot. They win hands down. It was believable. Reeally. Hot.

...ummm... yeah... Curt Wild...

Here, that special scene. (WILL contain female nudity, not much male nudity at all, is very suggestive and not HD)

Teh package in question

Yeah. Yesterday? April's fools. Obviously.

This is the package that arrived. No, the ring is not gold, it's actually silver, gold plated. With lab grown sapphires and zircons.

The fuurin was something I was ecstatic about. I mean I wanted one for ages and nobody sells them in Hungary. I'm so lucky it survived the trip!

The ring? Perfection. It fits my finger just right.

The kitteh? Pure adorableness.

Many, many thanks, Cliff! ^^

Oh boy...

Well.

Huh.

The timing... sucks. But oh boy. It's a done deal now.

I'm still high on adrenaline and feel all pink and fluffy inside.

Technically, he asked me a few weeks ago, after which he went in search for a ring. He remembered I wanted sapphires. After a year!!! It was the nth ring that I choose but hell, the guy has patience. And what a ring!! I love it!! (I hope my folks love it too because it has some diamonds in it and it cost a lot!) And he went down on one knee all proper... gosh it was so formal and... (will you laugh at me?) just perfect.

So... he is gonna meet my folks soon (I guess he should have met them first but what the hell, I don't actually care), but he is so adorable my folks will totally love him too. (My grandma tho, she'll have an aneurysm. ^^)

What's there not to love?

a map to my brain

I came across this in a book I'm reading. I'm starting to wonder if I could just shove it under the nose of any guy who gets interested in me. (Not that there are many of those, but there are lots of weird people on the net.)

"I just didn't respond well to begging or pleading or anything that sounded weak or clinging. I responded to power and dominance and demands for my time and my body. The gentle sensitive guy did nothing for me."

Oh gods, they did not just say *that*!!

Ok, first of all, before anything else is said, I still don't like America and Americans in general. They are a stuck up bunch who do not realize they are but one country of many, wage war on a country the general public cannot spot on a map and generally think being stupid and ignorant is a good thing. (That's a lot of generals, but hey, I better play it safe.)

But I have a few American friends I like.

That said... I came onto this while browsing the net. I started reading and I cannot stress how pissed off I am.

Let me quote a few lines from the article:

"Captain America is one of Marvel’s least interesting characters. And not to mention, most boring." (least interesting and boring sounds pretty much the same to me... were they paying the writer by word count, I wonder)

"...at the end of the day Captain America just doesn’t have Iron Man’s suit, Spider-Man’s ability to web sling his way in-between Manhattan skyscrapers, the visually interesting mutations of the X-Men, or the ability to transform into an angry green goliath when his feelings get hurt."

"...whose sole power is seemingly the ability to throw a shield?"

"Captain America’s alter ego Steve Rogers was never portrayed as much else than an over the top patriotic boy scout with an unwavering belief in, to borrow a phrase from another overt morally absolute do-gooder, 'Truth, justice, and the American way.' "

So. They say Cap is boring, because he doesn't do anything visual. They say Iron Man is just the suit, the Hulk is only the green apocalypse, Spiderman is nothing more than a red and blue masked webslinger flying through Manhattan's skyscraper jungle.

On one hand I'm appalled how right this sounds that Americans only want shiny special effects, because their minuscule little brains cannot comprehend anything else just explosions and mutated freaks and loud booms, that storylines beyond I-hate-freaks-let's-go-kill-'em are too complicated for their nonexistent intellect.

On the other, I'm frikkin shocked that they would not want the epitome of the American patriotism on widescreen. People, we are talking about Captain fucking America here!! This is so wrong even I'm shocked! Americans dissing their biggest patriot because he doesn't have enough special effects?! So... damn... predictable. And so damn sad.


And really. They say Cap doesn't have anything, that he is nothing else but the epitome of a patriot, a boy scout and nothing more, just the embodiment of the idea. I beg to differ.

Maybe Steve Rogers doesn't have green skin, extra limbs or laser beams shooting from his eyes, he can't fly, he doesn't have an adamantium skeleton. He has enhanced stamina, strength, he is like the champion of Olympic champions and I still think he has the two most valuable attributes a hero can ever, ever ask for, something that obviously slipped the minds of millions of Americans, to my horror. Steve Rogers, Captain America has the kindest heart I have ever read about and the fairest judgement of well... any superhero or human on the fucking US. Maybe the planet. He is a good man, the best man I have ever read about (still not attracted to goodness, but hell, I call a spade a spade).

So if America thinks good judgement and the kindest heart (technically parts of the American dream) do not make for a good movie with all the enhanced other attributes, I do not know why it's still called America and not the country that spit above and stood under it.


Oh and by the way, my favourite Avenger is pretty much Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. Just so you know.

Why? Because he stood up for his ideals. And when the American people disappointed him he said to them: no, you move, you change.

(I tried to look up where exactly he said that, but... work in progress, ok: It was fairly recent, during the Civil War storyline. Will look for it.)

Spring is a blast!

Well, yesterday it was 18°C, today it was 14°C. I'm having fun!

And since I got tulips (and a very pretty pair of butterfly earrings) for my namesday on Sunday, I took piccies... of the tulips.

Thus, this is my newest wallpaper. Taken by yours truly.
And the tulips a la sunshine.

I keep having nightmares, although today was the exception. I finally got about 8 hours of undisturbed, quiet sleep.

Yesterday tho... it was just plain bad. Not the dreams. I had a job interview yesterday, so the night before I was unable to actually sleep. I kept waking up, I was half asleep the whole time. Restful sleep eluded me.

And the dreams... Scraps of weird stuff, a kaleidoscope of puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit. I was a man, I was a woman, I was a thing, shiny and cold and metallic, I killed stuff and saved people and I made sand cookies in a sandbox at the seashore under a scarlet sky, skeletons floating in the putrid seawater, humans, trying to reach me, made of sand melted by moisture and pouring on the ground like a hourglass.

Once I was Iron Man, saving Captain America from some weird crimson mist, only next time, I watched his expression crumble with hurt at my betrayal when I shot him full of lead, with clean, point-blank shots into his stomach.

I wonder why I keep having disjointed weird dreams like these.