bliumchik: (Default)
I trapped a tiny spider under the box that holds my retainers. I should have got new ones last year or the year before, but my orthodontist kept saying I wouldn't need them at all soon. Then my wisdom teeth showed up, and they said to ask again once I got them out, but alas: procrastination. I thought I killed the spider but the centre of the box is raised on the bottom, and it ran away when I lifted the box again. I let it go.

There are seven toothbrushes in my bathroom. The little dinosaur one is my brother's, and mine is one of the green pair (I can never remember which). The dark red one is old and has been consigned now to those hard-to-reach places belonging to the bathroom sink. That leaves three pink ones and whichever green one isn't mine. Can my mother possibly be using all of them? My dad only ever uses their en-suite, but mum thinks it's too cold on that side of the house. The toothbrushes are never put away, so it doesn't seem like you could accidentally open a new one before you needed it, but my mother works in mysterious ways.

Today she decided the fridge needed cleaning. It did, but she only got as far as taking everything out before falling asleep in front of the TV. When I found her and turned it off, she woke up, mumbled about her stomach and went upstairs. Dad came home while I was cleaning the fridge shelves and we had a nice chat as we returned all the produce whence it belonged, including the five roots of ginger and two of turmeric that mum bought on a whim and none of us actually know what to do with. Also beetroot. Do any of us eat beetroot? Why do we have so much parsley? The only dish I know of incorporating large quantities of parsley is boscaiola pasta, but I know this because Alexander likes to make it. That doesn't normally happen at my house. My parents' house. My house. My parents' house. Double vision.

Double vision. I still expect my cat to turn up underfoot. Poor old thing. We didn't even bury her, we figured the vet would know what to do with animal corpses. My parents are thinking of minding a foster kitty for a few weeks. Not my responsibility. No pets allowed where I'll be living now, or at least no mammals. I like snakes. Do I still have that tiny mummified lizard somewhere? I'm going to have to move all my knick knacks off the bookshelf and decide which ones to take with me. Finally an excuse to leave behind the porcelain dolls my grandma gave me that I never played with. They can gather dust somewhere else.

My grandparents (or rather the more active busybody in each pair, being my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandfather), collectively appear to be worried that my new flatmate will either seduce me, steal my shit, or seduce some random guy who will then steal my shit. They're also vaguely relieved that I'm moving into a white-ish neighborhood. Previous generations, huh? Alexander offers in consolation that a) he's just down the train line to ~protect my virtue~ and b) his grandma is technically the class enemy. I think that's because she owns property and rents it out at market value. Alexander is very concerned about the housing market in his area, specifically its place in the gentrification of a traditionally poor black neighborhood and dispersal of housing commission tenants to economically dead outer suburbs. Or something like that, I get this stuff basically by osmosis - it's hard to follow along on any individual rant because of his tendency to interrupt himself four times in a row with nesting parentheses. This is as yet more cute than irritating. I've made a game out of counting the levels of tangent and then holding up a number of fingers and saying "ding ding ding." One must find amusement where one can.

The place in Summer Hill has nothing on the walls yet. I meant to write more on the ceiling of my room here, so the words from that insomniac episode was a few years ago seemed more artistic, but I didn't get around to it. I'm moving into a smaller room and one I can't write on because of that large bond I just transferred. On the other hand - no more surprise ginger. My dad says ginger juice tastes awful. I'm going to miss him.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
So anyway, I have clearly not kept up with my good intentions of updating lots. I should really stop waiting for my life to calm down to do stuff like this - all signs point to not any time soon, so I may as well figure out how to work around ALL THE THINGS for blogging. I have been keeping up on reading blogs, but not really commenting - sorry guys, I'm always either feeling like I have nothing relevant to say, like you've forgotten who I am since I haven't updated in so long, or like it would be awkward to comment because the post is two or three days old in the time it took me to read it. But I am reading! I have reverted to lurkerdom. Sorry :( I'm going to try to both post and comment a bit more, but we know how that has turned out in the past :P

I'm writing this first bit chilling at a dinner party on someone else's laptop while I wait for stuff to happen. By stuff I mean food. Since the last entry I have had a fairly solid block of social life and work.

rock and roll! )

tattoos! )

parties! )

extremely nerdy pursuits! )

work! and dashing about madly! and more work! ...and then moar social life, this time more sedate )

So yes, that was A LOT OF THINGS. I have conveniently split them into sections using The Magic Of Cuts (although it will be of most utility to DW users on their reading page or anyone browsing [personal profile] bliumchik, because of Dreamwidth's handy little triangle cut thing). It has been a fun week, but I am also glad now that the weekend is appearing sedate. There was a party on Friday as well, but I had to babysit, so instead of flailing at people on a beach I played scrabble with a sevenyearold. And I lost, because I kept telling him what words to use. It's just really frustrating to play against someone who keeps putting down "at" :P

I'm just gloriously lazing around my room and immersing my brain in the internet, while outside my window my new neighbours yell incoherently and splash about in a kiddie pool with all their housewarming guests.

SO, PEOPLE WHO INEXPLICABLY STILL READ MY BLOG: if you have gotten this far, or even if you have skipped all of the random anecdotes, Answer Me These Questions Three!

1. I am submitting a sample Advice Column to my student magazine, hoping to write a monthly one this year! Give me sample questions to answer in it. They can be serious or humorous, preferably some mix between the two - you can post them screened if you like. LET ME ADVISE YOOOOOUUU MOOHOOHAHAHahem.

2. Who wants to volunteer at Armageddon Sydney? I'm not sure if it's too late or not, but the form is still up on their website... I'm thinking of applying but obviously it's more fun with friends!

3. What hilarious horrifying yet realistic tattoo shall I tell my dad I'm thinking of getting before revealing my comparatively classier one so that he doesn't freak out about it? (nothing will stop my mum from freaking out :P)
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (mine is an evil laugh)
Slowly, things come into order. I have scheduled singing lessons, and a tattoo. Tomorrow I'm making overdue medical appointments. I am caught up on Anthology work for now. I successfully wrote a [livejournal.com profile] yuletide story in the Mirrormask fandom entitled The Point Of Keys. I also recieved this cute (and longish!) Obernewtyn story.

I'm going through my least-listened files in Winamp to rate and playlist stuff, although it keeps listing TV shows there because, obviously, I don't watch most of more than once or twice. I am getting into Jawbreaker, which is odd because when I first looked them up, years ago, on hearing and loving Brand New's cover of Accident Prone, I was horribly disappointed by how amelodic they were. I suppose my tolerance for less-than-perfect vocals has increased. Level up in punk rock? xD

amusing stuff that happened this weekend, containing equal parts fail and win )

EDIT: lol for some reason this posted backdated to last month? I swear I did not mean to do that... I think maybe I had the post window open for longer than I thought. Oops! fixed now.

things

Aug. 10th, 2010 12:13 am
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
So. I'm 21.

...

*hides under blankets and misc items of furniture*

But seriously, how do I feel? Well, I had meant to do a whole bunch of things by now, sort of as a red carpet lead-in to Officially Being An Adult (In Absolutely Every Country That Counts, No Excuses Any More, Seriously). Most of them fell by the wayside like 90% of the things I plan do. In the end it just sort of happened. So if an occasion like this can be considered a portent or microcosm of one's life in general... I suppose it suits me? I've muddled through everything so far, and I suppose I'll muddle through the rest.

This weekend was a Neil Gaiman extravaganza, my birthday present to myself (or, I like to think, my birthday present from the universe, which conveniently scheduled the Graphic festival at Sydney Opera House right before my birthday). It followed pattern, if by pattern you mean "awesome with crunchy bits of fail," which as we have already established is, in fact, my pattern. I now have many books and slightly more rage at bus drivers! Memorable quote of Sunday's panel was Neil Gaiman telling Eddie Campbell that he'd love to see Frank Frazetta's Peanuts. Also Shaun Tan was cute. Saturday was a short story reading with illustrations by the aforementioned Campbell and accompanied by a string quartet, which was. Unique. They were pretty great! Although my current musical obsession is Van Canto, an a capella metal band. RIDDLY DIDDLY DIDDLY I CAN'T GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD

*cough*

Um other things I have discovered recently! New webcomic! It is mostly about... other comics. Haha back here they do Kate Beaton and Scott Pilgrim in a row. MY PEOPLE!

Speaking of Pilgrim, the movie is out in a few days! And I still haven't read the last book! Although Ramona has coincidentally similar hair to me for half the trailer!

What's new in the rest of the internet?
bliumchik: Jared Padalecki's thinkyface (deep thought)
I really need to relocate my mornings to the actual, you know, morning. I've lately spent hours after midnight doing nothing in particular and then woken up at one pm, and it's not doing me much good.

So yeah, today was mostly consumed with sleeping and waiting around for a friend to confirm whether or not he was flaking on a thing until it became obvious that he was, in fact, flaking on the thing, by the fact that he had not called me to confirm or deny flaking on the thing. There did eventually turn out to be a good reason, but it has become apparent that I really can't handle not knowing what's going on (especially when a definite cancellation would free me up for something else). I end up all jittery and trying to ring obviously-out-of-reception phones repeatedly and not getting other useful things done (not that that last one is exclusive to this phenomenon :P) and generally not being in the best place. I'm going to have to start mapping things out more thoroughly and explicitly with regards to backup plans and confirmations.

To more cheerful news! I wrote a fic for [community profile] access_fandom's Festibility: The Uncertain Trumpet, X-Men gen.

I mean to write more of those prompts, because there are some really interesting ones, but I figure I should get started on some stuff I promised for [profile] gulf_aid_now. (Also on my epic mess of a room and all the shit I promised myself I'd get done before I turned 21, lol whoops)

Incidentally, I have actually been reading my flist and all while I wasn't posting. This has not helped the situation of my six million tabs, oh well.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Well, my two-week flood of assessment deadlines is over! Now I have at least three weeks before the next one starts, and I am naturally going to use them to procrastinate.

In TOTALLY UNRELATED NEWS, Portal is free from Steam for another week or so :D

...you guys, I get motion sickness from this game. And it's awesome. I do not even.

So anyway, since handing in my final assignment last Friday I've been tumbling and shooting portals at things and vegging out on the internet, woo! This sluggish state has been partly in response to the freedom from all that writing about socialists and french philosophers and moths, and partly in order to recover from Friday itself, which was approximately 36 hours long. (PS: I totally started this post on Tuesday :P oops!)

cut for length of the recount and a bunch of random tangents and an aside on the topic of good-touch/bad-touch and uh I got a little carried away...? )
bliumchik: Jared Padalecki's thinkyface (deep thought)
Getting back into posting here with any degree of regularity is easier said than done. Rusty, I guess. There is also the question of what form I want this blog to take in the future - do I continue as, essentially, a diarist, or do I only post when I have Something To Say, or should I return to my blog the random-thought-receptacle function now usurped by twitter?

Decisions like these are made continuously, on the net. I didn't even think about them when I started blogging at the tender age of fifteen, aside from the occasional dilemma regarding the degree of disclosure I was comfortable with regarding incidents that involved people who might actually read this. Funnily enough I mostly settled on nothing but my love life being off-limits... not taboo but discreet. Then again, everyone I dated before read this journal (yes, both of them) while my current is a bit of a luddite. People who know him read this, though, which leaves some things firmly in the realm of TMI (or maybe it would have been like that regardless). I've always been astonishingly blase about TMI in the general sense, and equally oversensitive about it in the specific. My embarrassment squick: it functions really fucking weirdly. I feel okay about contemplating a post about my intimacy issues and how bizarre yet lovely physical contact is, but writing up a date seems wrong despite the actual events depicted being practically identical to many other occasions I have chronicled here.

Tangent. It's just that I'm twenty now, and even as I sometimes come to a total full stop epiphany about how bloody young (we all are) I am this feels like something I can and should be held accountable for now. In the standard Get Famous, Have Biography Written About You hypothetical, stuff you write when you're sixteen is stuff you can smile at and say "aw, silly tiny pastme," but stuff you write when you're twenty is much harder to divorce from your identity. This is Me, not Minime. This isn't going under Early Years.

I feel sorry for people who only got onto the internet post this Age Of Reason epoch. I've had years and I'm still only just cementing points of internet ettiquette in my habits. It must suck to realise that not only were you a douche to somebody on the internet that one time, but you were actually (nominally) a rational adult when you did it, and people expected better of you. (related reading open in my tabs right now: How to disagree, How to want to change your mind. Actually though the main thing that it has literally taken me all this time to realise is that the age-old noob-pwning heuristic of LURK MOAR compacts an essay's-worth of Sensible Things About The Internet. Someday I might write the essay.)

Tangent. I have 2000 words due Friday, another set Tuesday and yet another next Friday. I'm procrastinating. You may as well ask me anything (you can totally do that in comments, too... it's just my formspring hasn't seen use in a while :P)

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