bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)

So yesterday I contributed to the continuing effort by The Goddamn Fishmouse and I to turn our apartment into something less resembling a deathtrap. I did this by purchasing an extension cord and attaching it to the other extension cord which, up till now, connected my computer’s powerboard to the outlet in our bathroom, thus extending the extension cord to an extension which allows us to thread it underneath the door instead of through the side, thus enabling us to close said door when we shower - and, bonus! marginally reduce our risk of electrocution.

Why, you ask, is my computer’s powerboard connected via extensive extension cordage to the power outlet in the bathroom? because (and we did not notice this before I moved in because it is the sort of thing you take for granted, having power outlets in rooms, you know) my room is COMPLETELY DEVOID OF ELECTRIC SOCKETS. It does have a thingy for plugging your TV antenna into, though. Not sure if they thought this was going to be a battery-powered television or what.

This absurd blindness to socket location practicality extends to the kitchen and is next on the un-deathtrapping to do list. We have one of those corner-counter kitchens like I always build on the Sims, where it goes Fridge, Counter, Stove, Counter, Corner Counter, Counter, Sink, with the other two sides of the rectangle being The Third Wall and The Lack Of Fourth Wall Leading To The Living Room. One powerpoint is back behind the fridge and one is over the counter next to it. Guess where the other powerpoint is?


Yes, that is an extension cable plugged into it. Because, you see, our microwave is on the corner counter, so in order to plug it in we have to stretch a cord either across the stove or across the sink. DEATHTRAAAAAP.

Eventually we’ll use some 3m hooks or duct tape or something to attach a powerboard to the wall above the stove securely enough to leave it there permanently, at which point the bizarre sink-adjacent powerpoint will cease to be in use and presumably feel very sorry for itself.

And then TODAY I tried to donate blood but was turned away for low blood pressure, following which I went and recorded a demo of a new song with Lily. We had an hour of free time at King Sound Studio as a consolation prize from their song competition that we entered. They're good dudes albeit slightly disorganised, but frankly it's the music industry and I, personally, have not a leg to stand on. I'll have the song online once they send it to us :3 my voice was a little rough, but traditionally nobody pays more attention to that than I do.
bliumchik: (quantum)
I found it odd initially that the UTS theatre society, Backstage, wanted to do a double bill of The Real Inspector Hound and Mother Courage & Her Children, but I must admit it's worked out pretty well. You come away from the night with a real sense of the general theme being Plays That We All Studied In High School er Won't Let You Forget You're Watching A Play. Fourth wall? Hound's got five. Suspension of disbelief? Bertholt Brecht spits upon suspension of disbelief. And yet, it goes without saying, the skill of the respective playwrights means you can actually make a pretty entertaining evening out of it, and this the actors did with aplomb.

We open with Tom Stoppard's absurdist classic The Real Inspector Hound, and let me reassure you I am fully aware of the irony of making any sort of critical review of The Real Inspector Hound, and promise not to use the word "elan" at any point other than that one. To say this production was on a budget is to make university students the world over laugh uproariously and insist that it is your round, so rather than engaging in funny business with mirrors, the traditional Messrs Moon And Birdboot Are In The Audience game was played by means of several chairs extending the audience seating onto the stage (floor) in a curve with Reserved signs on two of them, not that this was necessary because the audience knows what's what and nobody wants to sit in the weird seats where the lighting kids can stare at the back of your neck. I hadn't brought a companion, so I ended up sitting in the middle of the second row next to pair of men with accents so incredibly German they could not possibly be actual Germans from Germany.

Read more... )

What can I say about Mother Courage? Many things, but a lot of them involve trying to pronounce Verfremdungseffekt. It seems like each new production uses different theatrical devices to shoot for Brecht's ideal of estrangement, and each one manages to shoot itself in the foot by casting likeable, empathic actors. This was basically the case here. It is of course possible that the artist's goal of undermining audience immersion in the story to breaking point in order to make them think about the issues presented is truly impossible to achieve, and it is also highly probable that anyone who's going to think about it at all is capable of doing so while totally engrossed in the story, but it is more to the point to note that the spread of postmodernism and the vagaries of student theatre mean we are entirely accustomed to a fourth wall that's more of a colander, to highly non-naturalistic scenery and to metanarrative commentary. The only things that remain unique to Brecht and therefore remotely jarring are the thing where you announce what's going to happen in the following scene and the thing with the awful music. All of the above were used quite well in this production.

Read more... )
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (mine is an evil laugh)
So I finally went to see the last Harry Potter movie last night. I had several aborted first starts - I booked a midnight screening that turned out to overlap with a family holiday because I don't understand other people's definition of which day midnight is part of, I went to a Let's Watch Deathly Hallows 1 And 2 gathering where everyone gave up after the first one, but at last! Success! And a really awful milkshake!

I thought it was an excellent movie - even the epilogue was well done, considering it was, you know, The Epilogue. And I have for some time been planning a mixtape for Draco Malfoy, partly out of fanon nostalgia but mostly because the movies do so insist on lovingly panning over Tom Felton's really quite effective HALP!face. (Incidentally, I vaguely met the guy in passing at the last Supanova which I failed to write about here, and he is in fact a genuinely awesome person. Ironic casting choice ftw!) (When I say "vaguely" and "in passing" I mean "we were in the same room for a while and he addressed a small group of people of which I was one in a friendly and jocular manner, I am not trying to project a hob-nobbing with the stars image here.)

Anyway, so here's the mixtape.

I was a little disappointed that I couldn't find a song that really summed up the Malfoy family relationship and the way they grew over the series. I mean Narcissa's priority is very obviously keeping her child safe, and I find the reversal in Lucius Malfoy really interesting - the actors showed it very economically in the movies, the gradual but huge realisation that they have gotten in over their heads and now all they can do is try to stay afloat.

But I guess not many people write songs about that sort of thing.

Playlist and links to lyrics )

In other news, my final semester of university has begun! I've got one day a week at UNSW for my Linguistics elective, and one and a half at UTS finishing off the writing stuff. I say and a half because Independent Writing Project turns out to meet fortnightly, on the basis that we're not really doing anything except workshopping and it's better to take two weeks and bring in more work to discuss than to do it in little spurts. Screenwriting is shaping up to be fun, our teacher is a stand-up comedian and has good taste in short films. Linguistics is fun as always (my lost major creys ;_;) and I like my teachers - the lecturer is an adorable old butch lady (who I think must have been strikingly attractive twenty years ago) and my tutor is Italian and pronounces my name right!
bliumchik: (quantum)
Internets, I am the most tired. I'm not going to do the spiel about days piling up and journalling procrastination, y'all know it backwards and forwards. JESUS CHRIST I HAVE BEEN BUSY. But now university is done for the semester, and the requisite fortnight of absolutely everybody going HEY GUYS, LET'S HAVE All THE PARTIES WE SAVED UP DURING EXAM PERIOD is done so I no longer have a thousand 21st birthday parties to attend, and I SWEAR BY ALAN MOORE'S PRODIGIOUS BEARD I WILL BLOODY WELL START TO UPDATE REGULARLY.

  • Even though uni is done for the year, I am still procrastinating on all the things. Also I think I have RSI from playing too many internet games during said procrastination.
  • Yuletide exchange is getting into swing, and I will post a belated letter for my santa today or tomorrow, although they may have strated writing already, but that's okay since it will consist largely of rambling about what is best in life/these canons - my actual requests pretty much pinpointed what stories I want. Now that I am not spending all my energy outside the house I shall be able to start writing my story as well :) although first I have to finish downloading the canon. I swear I USED to have it, no idea where it went.
  • I found a tiny lizard in my shower the other day. I was already in so I let it sit there, probably going HOLY SHIT FUCK WATER EVERYWHERE WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON FUCK FUCK, while I finished washing up, and then dried off and chased the poor confused thing till it got on my hand and put it outside.
  • This summer I am one of 8 people responsible for putting together my uni's yearly Anthology, which at the moment means reading ALL OF THE MANUSCRIPTS. ALL OF THEM. I had to lug a massive tote bag full of paper across entirely too much public transport and this is only about a third of the stuff. SO MANY PAPERS.
  • I've been thinking maybe I should have a 21st after all. This may just be the influence of ALL OF THE PARTIES that I've gone to this week xD but I mean, late is better than never, I guess? And I am no longer of the NEVER WANT TO ORGANISE ANYTHING, TOO STRESSED mindset, or at least I won't be when I recover.
  • Today I have had genuine cause to tell someone "Not understanding punctuation is not an alternative lifestyle." Yes, I am smug about it.
  • My Vodka Cookbook has gotten some exercise and I am here to tell you that yes, French Toast with alcohol in it IS pretty tasty. Except now I have a jar-ful of vaguely alcoholic syrup in my fridge and no idea what to do with it.
  • It's passed six months now with Alexander and basically wonderful. <3
  • I have overdone it in the book-buying department and I have ALL THE THINGS TO READ. I'm currently halfway through Alan Moore's Voice of the Fire and also have his Lost Girls and Extraordinary Gentlemen unopened, not to mention Machine of Death, Strahan's Best SF&F of the Year, Frankenstein's Mobster and Gearhead. I also still haven't finished that Patrick Rothfuss book I got at Amanda Palmer's opera house bookswap, and that was SOME TIME AGO. Basically I am going to read all the things, is what I am saying.
  • Finally though by no means conclusively BUNNY
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (splode?)
I am half-convinced, by now, that tales of sunny long weekends in Newcastle are but a cosy myth perpetuated by the organisers of This Is Not Art in order to attract people to their festival. Oh, sure, Hannah claims to have spent nearly a decade attending it with reasonable success in the weather. Faced with two consecutive years of rain, rain, rain I feel a tad skeptical. But hey, at least this time we weren't camping!

We met in the city at the unspeakably early hour of nine in the goddamn morning1 and divvied up car seats. Bonnie and I had a pleasant chatty ride in Hannah's car, interrupted only by an emergency bacon stop and a brief moment of confusion as Mat waved at us from the window of his car - in order, it turned out, to tell us to stop hogging the middle lane. We arrived at the Beachside Backpackers in a more-or-less coordinated fashion and set off to have lunch at a cafe which turned out to be twenty minutes walk away. (Luckily I had filled my thermos with tea at the hostel.) Only when we got there did I realise that I wasn't actually hungry, so wandered off to Staple Manor to check out some panels and things. I arrived just in time for the vaguely named "hosted by Vanessa Berry" which sounded exciting as she is a well-known Zine Personage. She was indeed very nice but what she was hosting turned out to be a bit of a sit down on some cushions to chat about her op-shop zines and upcoming festival events and such, so after a bit I left that to check out a Comic Book Launch on the other side of the same room. This turned out to be a Comic Book Not-Launch on the basis of the copies of said comic book having failed entirely to actually be printed in time for its own launch. However there were free samples, champagne, and David Blumenstein's industry stories, all of which I partook of before wandering off yet again2. Having been inspired by Vanessa Berry and the realisation that everyone else in my group was planning to go to the parties I had avoided last year, was not anticipating this year and had failed to pack for, I checked out some vintage and second-hand stores for improved attire.

long weekend is somehow less long than my last post )

1 for those who do not know me, be not alarmed! every hour before noon counts as the goddamn morning in my books.
2 I was having a bit of a fidgety day and had circled entirely too many concurrent events on the program.
3 The store also had shirts and excellent aladdiny vests, but all of them were, alas, the wrong size. Woe.
4 The program said "featuring Simon McInnerny" and he was sitting right at the front, so that might have been him? IDK
5 It was also easy to locate by zeroing in on the nanna-noises xD
6 The first batch was vodka-lemonade flavoured, mmm-mmm!
7 Well, I don’t know what YOUR year twelve formal was like…
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (mine is an evil laugh)
Hokay! So I am in the midst of another fortnight'o'doom but this time I am trying to keep up with the internet. Having got those mixes up my to-do list contains two gulf_aid promises and more stuff for uni. My more immediate to-do list consists of stuff to put in a perzine i shall hopefully print tomorrow evening have already printed by now because this entry is SO LONG OH GOD to take to This Is Not Art, where I shall spend the long weekend in a Newcastle hostel with some people from the Writers' Society, doing writery things.

What has my fortnight'o'doom so far consisted of? Well, on Monday1 I went to a short story reading in Newtown entitled Penguin Plays Rough. My boy Alexander, meanwhile, was also going to Newtown to see the Rumjacks with his cousin, so I showed up at his place and we all walked down there together. The Rumjacks are a local sort of celtic folk punk type of band, which means they are basically Al's power animal2. They were doing a free gig at the Townie, the performance space area of which has an approximately 60-40 pool table to regular table surface area ratio. Anyway, we got there before the first set, had some drinks and giggled a bit at the circle of little old ladies sitting on couches near the door. Little did we know, grannies were hardcore! When the band started they were totally into it, two of them even stuck their hands in the air and did those little palm rotor movements that old people do when they listen to music.

As soon as I finished my screwdriver I ventured forth to locate the location of Penguin Plays Rough, which heretofore I had only encountered in the form of WriteSoc newsletters. onwards! )

...and today I hung out with Alice and ate cupcakes and impulse-purchased comics before coming home to finish writing this LUDICROUS ESSAY OF A BLOG POST, OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS, WHAT THE HELL.

What have I been up to since I last posted? EVERYTHINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG.

1 LAST Monday *looks sheepish*
2 Thank you, [personal profile] jkrockin, you are entirely responsible for this figure of speech entering my vocabulary.
3 Also, spent way too long walking behind this one woman going in the same direction, which made me feel awkward about singing under my breath as I do when walking semi-deserted streets.
4 The third or fourth author to read began by apologising for not deviating from the unintentional "women's issues" theme of the night, before proceeding to read aloud her draft of a touching and hilarious story about abortion clinic waiting rooms.
5 Okay, Tasmanian Tigers, but dingoes are inherently funnier creatures :P
6 Heh, long entry is long too, BUT NOW DO YOU SEE WHAT KIND OF WEEK I AM HAVING.
7 Of course, the only ink I had was blue.
8 The men in my boyfriend's family are REALLY FUCKING TALL.
bliumchik: batface + batpalm = batfacepalm (facepalm)
Guess who fell of the edge of the world again? I have got to stop doing this. You know, that or accept it and make it part of my ~journalling style~ or something.

Too much stuff has happened since my last post (A MONTH AND A WEEK AGO, HOLY SHIT) for ye olde post of recap to be anything more than tl;dr, so I'll just give you a miscellany:
  • I had a couple of those EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING AT ONCE weekends, including a particular day on which three separate parties were scheduled and all I wanted was to curl up with a book, and managed not to explode spectacularly all over the furniture!
  • I saw Scott Pilgrim and Tomorrow When The War Began, both were pretty great and I will elaborate below!
  • Stan and I baked bread! It was delicious!
  • I printed some zines!
  • A dude from Writesoc who I spent entirely too long thinking was a lesbian suggested that I edit things for money! Specifically his as-yet unfinished movie script! So that was odd!
  • My mother had an epic meltdown and did non-permanent damage to my worldly possessions!
  • I bought stockings from We Love Colours and they are excellent! Also some awesome fishnet gloves~
  • ...which I immediately wore to a Musical themed costume party and dripped wax on, as my assigned musical was La Boheme. It's the Opera that Rent is based on, and shares with it a catalytic Candle Lighting scene, you see. The only candle I could find was a shallow flower-shaped one, which promptly broke, and I spent the party periodically attempting to fix it using the heater mushrooms. (The rest of my costume consisted largely of a skirt, a beret and ALLLLL OF THE SCARVES. Other notable efforts included Elphaba from Wicked, Sweeney Todd & Mrs Lovett, Frank'n'Furter, Rocky, Marilyn Monroe, the chef from South Park and a Cat from Cats.)
  • (Both Marilyn and Elphaba were dudes.)
  • I bought a Smashing Pumpkins ticket!
  • I went to a stand-up gig with, among others, my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend and girlfriend, and the girl who would shortly become my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend's new girlfriend in addition to same (but without my boyfriend). (That is, without my boyfriend both at the gig and in the harem.) Try saying that out loud three times!
  • I accidentally a WHOLE pudding!
So that was some things that happened! and now hopefully when more Things happen that I want to write about I shall do so in the immediate aftermath, rather than summing them up for twitter and then forgetting about them. *cough*I have also been linkblogging on tumblr, and have signed up for too many writing/BB complement/other things, some of which I am currently working on. I'll be posting the complements over the next few days/week as they have, like, deadlines, lol :P BUT [ profile] bitternarration and [ profile] miss_sapphy rest assured I have not forgotten you!

And now my spoilery thoughts on some movies!

Scott Pilgrim and Tomorrow When Australia Got Invaded By The Red Menace Or Something )
bliumchik: Item: trebuchet. Item: zombie. Sound effect: braaAAAAaains. Zombie Badminton: priceless.  (zombieminton)
Well, it's been a bit of a week. On Monday night I noticed an odd lump on the left side of my neck, just at the base of my skull. Having been sitting in front of the computer all day, I thought it must be a tension knot, despite never having had a protruding one like that. BUT THEN I felt two tiny ones right next to each other lower down on my neck, kind of like someone had surgically implanted smarties beneath my skin when I wasn't looking. Naturally I was a bit freaked out, I mean, what? LUMPS? NECK CANCER! But then I told my mum, who immediately took over ALLLLLL OF THE WORRYING DUTIES and flailed around calling all my grandparents and This One Friend Of Hers Who Is A Doctor. I promised to make a doctor's appointment forthwith, which turned out to be Wednesday, so she decided to continue to panic.

We cut to a commercial break as Maggie contemplates the ultimate destiny of... NECK LUUUUMPS! ...actually this is mostly about buses and thespians, sry )

Thing Of The Day: RIOT NRRD, a webcomic linked from Tiger Beatdown, which is SO VERY ADORABLE. I mean its name is RIOT NRRD, for fuck's sake. It basically does what it says on tghe tin :P also JOSS WHEDON PUPPYYYYY. I totally made a DW feed :P
bliumchik: (hat)
I did that thing again. The thing where I don't post for ridiculous lengths of time because a post about some big event is just a-sittin' there in my draft box, steadily receding into the past. I know, we're all shocked.

So I really did spend most of that month procrastinating. I didn't even get much further in Portal, because I was hit by that curious mental tic whereby doing anything substantial is Admitting I Am Not Doing Work. Unlike, say... compulsively refreshing twitter and playing solitaire.


But I finally handed everything in, not too late if you don't count extensions, and only slightly under all the given word-counts. Probably a lot of it was a bit shit, but oh well. I got at least one decent poem out of the Culture & Poetics final, a decent novel opening that I can hammer into better shape later (and the realisation that HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS NOVELS ARE LONG), and I had fun writing about tiny communists for Utopias. The stress was probably good for me! Or something.

My final extension ran out oh... a couple of hours before my volunteering gig at Supanova began. So that was good timing! I even managed to get my hair properly bleached for the first time on the way (which: holy burning sensation, Batman!) and which was handy for my Corinthian costume, seen here albeit not in sufficient detail to see the awesomeness of the facepaint on my eyelids. It was generally agreed to be a great outfit! Also, the sunglasses made me feel extremely badass standing next to queues with my arms folded and telling people when they can go forward and when they are in danger of turning into a snarling mob. That was handy because on Saturday morning I got commandeered for that particular duty at the Supanova Store just after doing my make-up but before getting a) my badge and official shift-times and b) breakfast. This is because a shitload more people showed up than expected and allllll of them wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs. Well, no, all the scruffy middle-aged men wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs, everybody else wanted Eliza Dushku autographs. We were so swamped that the coordinators couldn't find anyone to relieve me for another ~three hours (by which time McDonalds were no longer serving breakfast). I felt very put-out about this until I discovered that Jenn, Mish and Nat were about three times as swamped at the photobooth, because everyone and their mum wanted a photo with Eliza or Summer Glau.

Sydney Supanova is held in a big dome thing out in Olympic Park. I camped out at Al's place because a) he actually lives on a train line which significantly reduced my travel time and b) the man is some sort of crazy morning person and was pretty much certain to ensure I was going to be awake by seven. (The whole relationship thing is going well, by the way!) Somehow I still managed to be late on Saturday morning though (hence the lack of breakfast). That is because trains and me? We are not friends. We are not even frenemies, we are more like a rickety wooden bridge over a canyon, and a semi-trailer. I should probably put the rest of this story behind a cut, huh? Ahhh, the return of my epically long posts :D

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 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)


Feb. 23rd, 2010 07:41 pm
bliumchik: (fight the system)
I think I have some sort of persistent opportunistic flu infection that pops right up as soon as my immune system is compromised by stress or leaking or lack of sleep. grah. hate. Also I have had a weird skin reaction to this lotion my gran brought back from Israel. Fuck you, dead sea! However this resulted in hilarious twitter conversation yonder:

jk_rockin: you're allergic to the Dead Sea?
me: Apparently so! This does not bode well for any undead israeli boys that want to sweep me off my feet in the future!
fishmouse: Better a vampire than a zombie anyday.
me: yeah I'm pretty sure EVERYONE is allergic to zombies :P
me: oh man, imagine if you were allergic to the kiss of death! talk about adding insult to injury!
me: MOOHAHAHA, NOW YOU ARE VUN OFF USS! ...and svellink up somesink awful. Armand, is zis supposed to happen!?

Further such hilarity occurred IRL last night, when I showed up at Jenn's Batcave (a warehouse full of amazing giant piles of junk, omg I wanted to put on a snorkel and wade in) for adventures with hairdye! But first, a scenic detour to the Shire. "Hey Jenn... I think I am on the wrong train. Where is Panania?"

Anyway I have a red skunk stripe now. Oh did I mention I got a superdykey haircut last friday? I did that, yes. It is. Interesting. I can never quite impress upon a hairdresser that MY HAIR IS A LITTLE CURLY and they keep giving me styles I have to straighten bits of otherwise they look ridic. But anyway I have a red fauxhawk with an S-curl and brown lady-sideburns with almost-shaved cut-outs behind them. I like it but I don't think short and rectangular is really my thing in general - next time I will let my hair grow out much longer before I go in, give them something to work with. On the other hand, it looks excellent under hats! :D

A meme I tagged long ago and forgot about:

Reply to this post asking for words and I'll give you five I associate with you, which you then talk about in an entry on your journal!

From [personal profile] amber!

slam poetry: hahaha I am not sure why you associate this with me? I have done it all of twice. I find it interesting how rhythms are different when you're writing poetry to speak aloud, than to look at on a page. It's a matter of long and short beats, internal rhymes and consonance. Whereas book-poetry is less about how the words sound aloud and more how they look on the page, what kind of beats a space, a line break, an indent create. I think the best poetry combines the two, really, but I can't quite express the process.

Russia: ZE MOTHERLAND. lol. I identify as Russian without any particular tie to the place we call Russia, I think that's common to a lot of immigrant kids like me. It's about the language, the food, some little customs and cartoons. Family history plays a part, too, anyone whose family spent a few generations in the Soviet Union generally has a fairly russo-unique set of "grandpa stories" and interesting familial neuroses.

The actual place is by all accounts a corrupt racist alcoholic winter wonderland, but I'd still like to go back there some time just for the novelty of getting by in a language other than english.

neutral_omens: Ahh that old game. A Good Omens based "let's throw some characters into a place and see what happens" roleplay, albeit much smaller than ones like CFUD and la. We actually got together in OOC-chat and worked out bits of plot :P also, it was HILARIOUS (or maybe I just thought it was because I was sixteen). Angels, wizards, demons, an antichrist and some random bewildered humans in a hotel that used to be a satanic nunnery cum paintball retreat? OH yeah. I played Newt Pulsifer, toying with a proto-accident-field-superpower that has inspired a comic book character who now lives in my head. At some point I will script the first issue and find an artist for that.

Here are some of my favourite threads I was in: John Constantine and Newt Pulsifer vs. the Cellophane Beast was fun times, as was American Gods character Loki prodding Newt's Special Fail Powers. That one also resulted in a hilarious AU drawing based on what else could have fallen through the ceiling (hint: there was nudity).

Amanda Palmer: lol this list was given me before Evelyn Evelyn drama drama went down. I should have done it then, I could have gone on about her voice and lyrics and audacity and ability to connect with people instead of her privilege and public relations failure. And after all I said in the last post I STILL ended up arguing about it with strangers on the internet. God, both sides, too! I guess I am just one of those CAN'T SLEEP, SOMEBODY IS WRONG ON THE INTERNET people, regardless of whether that person agrees with me or not. Well, you know, you don't want people who agree with you to be wrong, do you?

Honestly I am more disappointed in the way Amanda has handled this whole fiasco than with the concept of the record. Like, sure, that was problematic, but as an initial provocation on a scale of 1 to 10 where 1 is accidentally saying "stand up for yourself" to a wheelchair-user and 10 is Spartan social darwinism, Evelyn Evelyn is maaybe a three. She could totally have salvaged that situation, but instead she's managed to make everyone who started off going "amanda I love you but I feel a little uncomfortable with this" feel like she sees no difference between us and people who tried to censor Oasis/think her photography is "goffic snuff porn"/hate her for dating Neil Gaiman (disclaimer yes I know those are all different people). For somebody who has cultivated such a feeling of closeness with her fans that just feels like a bit of a betrayal.

Also I am a little disappointed in the manner in which many people pursued this complaint against her in the first place, but that's a whole essay on effective privilege-checking that I want to save until tempers are less frayed, so that I can use this as a specific in the general case without putting people on the defensive.

And speaking of defensive don't even TALK to me about the people jumping in with "it is your responsibility if you feel offended because we choose our feelings" (more or less verbatim from one) because OH MY GOD. Alternating fury and motts at those people, why must you remind me that just because somebody likes the same stuff as me does not mean they are not a douche? (also mottsy because it reminds me of times when I have leapt to the defense of something without thinking, although I can't recall specific instances right now, but that just makes me paranoid!)

talking-really-fast: it's. a thing I do? XD I think out loud, and thoughtspeed is always faster than we are physically capable of forming words, so sometimes I trip over myself. Also sometimes people say "okay now say that again only use a spacebar" (not in so many words). Aside from that it's not much of a thing one way or another. Now talking really LOUD is a real problem I have, whereby I forget that I have a volume setting that can be adjusted until someone goes OMG STFU MAGGIE. (I feel that is a good note on which to end this post.)
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
Mrgh, still lagging behind the update train I am. I've a little collection of links from the past week or so that I'll post after this even though they are no longer new so some of you may have seen them.

I'm home again after a week of doooing stuuuuffff, the last few days of which involved me only returning to my house to sleep, and that only half the time.

bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
The sky was taunting us. Not two days ago I had been convinced that summer was coming early, but on the day we set off for Newcastle with tents and sleeping bags in tow the clouds appeared to have settled in for the long haul. “Come to TINA they said,” I grumbled, heaving my backpack into Natalie’s car. “We’ll all camp out, it’ll be fun. Oh yes.”

We continue... )
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
Okay not to spam but I just wanted to document this twitter exchange for posterity, the lulz and just in case I want to use the bunny :P

sex cheerleaders? really? )
bliumchik: Dr. Horrible laughs evilly (squee)
Wicked. You guys. WICKED. Oh my god. *explodes in paroxysm of squee*

I think I have a new fandom! That was amazing.

I'm not going to read the book for six months or so because it would probably harsh my squee - reliable sources tell me the ending is much happier in the musical. I'm a fan of tragedies but this was too awesome not to savour for a while.

I will however reread the original Oz books ASAP, because I have discovered that I do not remember anything except that one of them involved a princess and a talking rock or something. Well, I must have been thirteen or fourteen when I was reading those, it's not surprising. I recall them as something like a cross between Narnia and Alice in Wonderland.

So uh. It's kind of four in the morning? Only half-way through my ludicrous week and my sleeping patterns are totally fucked XD In fact my eating patterns also appear to be going haywire - today I had tea for breakfast, then forgot to eat until four pm when I had a toasted sandwich, and then went to Avi's for hotpot. This was fun but... the third vegan meal I have had this week, it's kind of freaking me out. You feel like a douche insisting on a burger joint if there's even one vegan in the party, then before you know it you realise you have ingested a metric fuckton of soy and some funny shaped vegetables and you'd just kill for a fucking cheese sandwich or something.

Mmm, cheese. I think I'll go get some cheese.
bliumchik: THIS IS NOT SPARTA. I AM LOST. (scenic detour!)
I have this vague plan to go to Supanova in June as Delirium, from Sandman. This plan involves a lot of fishnet and dying my hair orangey-blonde with rainbow streaks. Now because it's a month away I haven't given much thought to the specifics, but then...

Lily: Do you need your hair bleached? My friend Yoko is an apprentice hairdresser and she needs practice with non-Asian hair! It's really cheap because she's a student!
Me: ...
Lily: Her boss is this really famous guy who does six-hundred-dollar haircuts for famous people!
Me: ...kay?

What the hell, I figure, I should get some feeling for what my hair does when it is bleached. So long story short I show up at this salon with Lily. It's called RAR or RAW or something trendy and guttural like that. We hang around for a bit on the fancy cushions waiting for Yoko. Six Hundred Dollar Haircut Guy swans in. He is a bit camp but inexplicably wearing navy tights with suspenders. He's coordinating several students and junior hairdressers, by the look of it.

Further Adventures OF Hairdying )
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
Um right so. Twilight drinking game was fun! I blame Edward's hair for my subsequent headache.

Right now I am procrastinating on two items: 1. essay due Wednesday on an incredibly open topic WHERE DO I STAAAART and 2. going down to the junction for to return a DVD my dad left with me before fucking off to new zealand with my mum.

Other things my parents left behind: a total lack of margarine and a shitload of zuchini. What do I do with this much zuchini, you guys? I have been replacing the marga with avocado because leaving the house ew. But I have never eaten a zuchini! In fact nobody in my house regularly eats zuchini, so I do not understand why my mother bought like twenty of them right before going on holiday!

The main reason I am not returning the DVD, aside from general leaving the house ew, is the torrential rain outside my window. It is seriously niagara falls out there. My grandparents, brother and cat all got caught in it, because my grandparents, brother and cat all leave the house.

To be fair I barely spent a consecutive twelve hours in this house for most of the last month, so this week I am perfectly justified in hibernating. The trouble is not having to GO anywhere seems to equate in my brain with not having to DO anything, so this essay is not turning out well.

Incidentally my sodden cat looks like a hedgehog and has taken shelter in my lap. It is extroadinarily fun to give a cat a noogie when the fur on the top of its head is sticking up like a twelve year old boy that's got into his dad's hairgel. I have been trying unsuccessfully to think of a way to relate this to twitter without sounding vaguely dirty.
bliumchik: (Default)
I no longer remember who linked me to this but you guys. TEARS. TEARS OF LAUGHTER. Even if you have no idea who Warren Ellis or Alan Moore are, go have a listen. (He wrote Watchmen and V for Vendetta, you heathens :P) I love it when comics people tell Alan Moore stories, he is like that strange spinster auntie that comes out with non sequiters at parties and sometimes knits you things that shouldn't be awesome but somehow are.

Today me and Lily wrote a song that reminds me alternately of The Nightmare Before Christmas and the Lonely Goatherd song. I feel the urge to yodel creepily. Actually we didn't finish writing it, I'm not that good at coming up with words on the fly yet, but we have the basic gist of it. Also met up with Avi and Stan and Jess and ate a free hot dog (I did not catch what it was in honour of) and then some semolina pudding pressed upon me by an earnest member of the UNSW Hare Krishna Society. Yum, semolina! Avi also took advantage of their free vegetarian lunch thing. Then I went to class and managed to, well.

See, we were talking about Maslow's Heirarchy in the context of ads and what exactly they appeal to, because one of our assignments involves being given a crappy ad and asked to improve it, by means of drawing up a different version for each step of the pyramid. (I find it hilarious at this point to think about Melissa's HSC Extension 2 English project which she planned to base on Maslow, but it ended up being about sex, which was awkward when it came to Mentor Review.) (Speaking of awkward, during the lecture there was an ad relating to penis enlargement on the screen. It was a clever ad but the way the lecturer danced around saying the word "penis" was hilarious to behold.)

Anyway, the tutor decided to give us some practice and put a slide of rainwater tanks on the screen. "Okay," he says, "Let's start with physiological. Who's got some ideas for slogans?" Obviously I had some ideas, but that is beside the point. Ten minutes later we get to Ego. And uh. It just kind of slipped out.

"My tank is bigger than yours!" I mumbled. ...very audibly.

My tutor literally facepalmed.

At least I managed to keep the comment about zombie apocalypses sotto voce during the Safety discussion.
bliumchik: (nothing sus)
The building in which my awesome stickfighting1 class is held is Undergoing Construction. Anyone who has any experience with builders knows that a site can remain in this state for practically infinite periods of time, entering a sort of Perpetual Construction Zone in which walled-off areas grow into the architecture and you start imagining that the construction noises are in time with the elevator music.

What I'm saying is, I got to my class two weeks ago and found the plaza and stairs all boarded up, with signs directing me to the main building lifts to get down to the right level. Once you descend you find yourself in a maze of twisty tunnels, all alike. In the distance you hear the eldritch sounds of industrial drills. You see a sign reading "Dentist" with an arrow pointing in an indeterminate direction. What would you like to do?
> look around
there are three exits.
> go north
which way is north? you are underground.
> take the first exit
that is not an exit. You were deceived by an inexplicably protruding temporary wall.
> take the second exit
you follow the corridor until you see a large sign reading ITC. you have reached your destination.
> hit some things with some sticks
you hit some things with some sticks. You are now sweaty, poorer by fifteen dollars and full of endorphins. Also your bus leaves in ten minutes. What would you like to do?
> leave
you are standing outside ITC. There are three exits.
> take exit I came in by
which exit did you come in by?
> um
your bus is now leaving in eight minutes.
> take first exit
You follow the corridor to a padlocked door.
> go back
your bus is now leaving in seven minutes.
> take second exit
you are now standing in front of a lift.
> press button
you press the button
> wait
nothing happens.
> press the button again
you lean on the button. Your bus now leaves in five minutes.
> go back
you are standing outside ITC. There are three exits.
> take the third exit
you follow the corridor to another dead end.
> go back
your bus now leaves in three minutes.
> flail
a stocky Chinese man sticks his head out the doors to ITC. "Wait." He says. "All go together." He goes back inside.
> ...
your bus now leaves in two minutes.
> go back inside
the door is stuck.
> yell through door
somebody helps you open the door.
> flail
the Chinese man returns. "Right, going now." He says. Everybody gets up to follow him.
> follow everybody
you join the herd. You are now standing outside the lifts. The Chinese man swipes a card at a security light and presses the lift button.
> facepalm
the lift arrives.
> pile in
you squish into the lift next to that ditzy blonde hippy with the dreads and spiky armpit hair.
> make awkward joke
everybody titters. The lift has now arrived at ground level.
you're welcome. PS you missed your bus.

Two weeks later and the temporary walls were still in place. A small sign by the lifts proudly declared that demolition was finished! but miscellaneous drilling would continue for up to six months. It therefore seemed the maze was there to stay. We had a group of new students that day. At the end of the class I collapsed into a chair, resigned to missing my bus and waiting for the next one and so in no hurry, and incidentally in a trance-like state from fatigue and euphoria.

"Well then bye everyone!" Calls one of the new guys, as they walk out the door.

"Bye," I mutter absently, echoed by a dude with a shaven head whose name I do not recall, also resting in a chair.

About a minute passes.

"Huh," I eventually say. "We possibly should have mentioned the Exit Problem, shouldn't we?"

"Let them have their fun," grins the dude.

Too true, shaven-head guy, too true.

1 I ran into a couple of girls from my school on the way there. They were approximately the twenty three trillionth people to mishear "eskrima" as "eskimo" which was the last straw so I am now officially referring to it as Awesome Stickfighting.


bliumchik: (Default)
Captain Oblivious

October 2014

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