Uchiha Hishiki

And life continues to be interesting...

Sun, 16 Apr 2006 19:59:28 GMT

Ah, the continuing saga that is my life... I find it amusing, in a morbid sort of way, how just two days ago I was battling ennui, meaningless, and the beginning throes of depression, and yet when life goes to Hell in a Handbasket (as it always seems to do in my case -- and with frightening regularity) it almost makes be want to wish back those almost ephermal, cerebral concerns. So, on the good side, depression has been pushed aside, for the moment. On the down side, me and my roommates have to be out of our apartment by May 13th at the absolute latest. Originally, at the posting of the notice on our door, there was some confusion about us being evicted because of the constant flow of people, myself included, who were living at the apartment but not on the lease. However, now that one of my roomies talked to the new apartment manager (our complex got purchased about a month back), it is instead looking like either: a) we're not actually getting evicted, instead we simply have to vacate in thirty days. b) they're coming up with an excuse to evict us so as to get us out, meanwhile claiming they're not so that no one bothers going through with all the trouble of fighting an eviction, which, as I understand it, you can do for several months with little issue in California. Apparently, the line they gave my roomie had something to do with them having ninety days from when they purchased the complex to remodel the units, and our is one of the ones they plan on remodeling. But, honestly, this just doesn't sound exactly 100% right to me.

So, to make a long rant short -- I have thirty days to find a new place to live. And with me currently living with my boyfriend, and not having a job... this is going to be an interesting experience. Again. I think that my best option at the moment involves moving in with said boyfriend to his mother's spare room temporarily. After that, I'm not entirely sure what to do, although I've been thinking about moving back to the east coast (probably Maryland or Virginia). I do miss my father, and my little sister, and then there's grandparents in relatively proximity -- New York and Massachusetts are much closer to, say, Maryland than to California, after all. Admittedly, this would involve moving further away from my mother (who is currently in Texas) but, I just can't manage to conceive of that as a bad thing, given how strained relations have been between us for as long as I've been alive...

Admittedly, going to school out East would be a million times more expensive, and likely not have any of the wonderful Asian classes I've been wanting to take, but, if I can get through just ONE semester out here, I should be able to get the classes that I really want all squeezed into one semester, and then just transfer to whatever college I'd end up going to out there, maybe find a private teacher for actual Japanese Classes. There's also the issue of said boyfriend... I really don't want to leave him, and would even continue to suffer through Sacramento for him... but, he has expressed some willingness to at some point move so that I can be closer to my family. But, at the same time as I find that utterly adorable, I'm also a bit worried. I mean, it may sound all fine and dandy now, but, his family's out here, he has friends out here, and I'd feel awful about him leaving that all behind on what would seem like all on my account. I mean, hypothetical situation, what happens when we've been out there for a few months and he hates it there and misses friends and family, et cetera?

There's also that panic button point of he has a job out here, and as it's a franchise, it's not like he can just transfer... And I don't have an answer for that. There's always poking around on-line for jobs in appropriate regions, but I have to admit, that when I was doing that before moving out to Sacramento, I didn't have any luck. Of course, as it's a government center, in theory there are always jobs. There's the option of trying to get a couple hours a week at some nationwide corporate chain, just to have the ability to transfer... Of course, if it's still around, there's a chance that I may be able to get a job at the café I used to work at before I moved out to California. But, none of this is certain, and just all of my random musings. I've also found that moving across country without a good amount of money saved up is never a good thing. The several thousand I moved out to Sacramento with is really all that's allowed me to have the ability to last out here for as long as I have, in conjunction with the money I've gotten from my parents at and relatives at random holidays.

It'd definitely be nice to get to actually know one of my sisters, at least. With Brenna, I was away in California since she was three. In my efforts to avoid my mother, I couldn't help but avoid her as well. In a way, I kind of feel bad about that, since half sister or not, I never had anything against her, and yet I was never really there in any sense, aside from being a voice on the phone that might call around the holidays, but never remembered to call on her birthday (I would have called her this year, but, she's away at boarding school, so...). There was a year when she was, I believe, eleven, where I couldn't talk my way out of visiting my mother for Christmas, and I actually got to see her, but even that turned into a classic fiasco of me versus my mother, yelling and screaming, fun fun happy happy joy joy, et cetera, et cetera. I think I still feel kind of bad about being this theoretical older sister who yet never really seemed to exist.

And then there's my parents. Well, my father and my step-mother, although, honestly, I really consider Melisa more akin to a maternal figure than my biological mother. For all the differences, arguments, and the variety of subjects we disagreed on, she's still someone I can actually talk to, and can respect. Which are two things I'll never be able to really do with my 'real' mother. I actually really miss having that net of relatives -- and not necessarily just for the fact that when something goes wrong, there are people you can depend on to help you. But, there's also the fact that holidays seem so dull and empty without big dinners, friends and family, laughter, booze and bar-hopping. And food... what can I say? I miss my father's cooking.

Anyway, more updates and rants on this subject as I get them...

Oh! And Happy Easter to any who care about such things.

Random Musings About Nothing at All

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 02:09:16 GMT

"... it occurred to me that my life, whose days more and more repeat themselves down to the smallest detail, resembles that punishment in which each pupil must according to his offense write down the same meaningless (in repetition, at least) sentence ten times, a hundred times, or even oftener; except that in my case the punishment is given me with only this limitation: 'as many times as you can stand it'."
-- Franz Kafka, "The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923"

Warning for possibly incoherent musings.

Cyclical Repetition. Cyclical. Of, relating to, or characterized by the cycle. Recurring or moving in cycles. Repetition. An event that repeats. The act of doing or performing again. The repeated use of the same word or word pattern as a rhetorical device. But, enough of definitions, I suppose. I remember now why boredom is so antithetical and so absolutely crushing: boredom leaves me with nothing to do but think. And the places I tend to go internally when my mind is allowed to wander are rarely pleasant. Meaning seems lost the more a cycle turns; it degrades, loses coherence and meaning. What is life, if not a cycle that turns and slowly degrades until one's dying breath? Our bodies are merely the system of degradation. Eyes become scratched, adding points and hazy filters to the light-images reflected across our retina, et cetera. Meaning fades faster the more the cycle mirrors itself by each turning. If the turns of the cycle reflect into themselves as much as shadows across a mirror, can it not be said to be reflecting truths such as one can only be cognizant of in meaninglessness, by the inherent meaninglessness implied through mirrored reflections of repetitive action? If meaningless becomes the definition, if action loses the active principle, if thought degrades into intellectual masturbation without the ability to create, is there not a point where the repetitive dying breath becomes the pinnacle for anticipation? And yet, repetition is inescapable. There are many functions that must be performed, daily or more, in order to guarantee a survival of the system on which humans depend. It is inescapable and yet it destroys us, makes doubts out of the very principle of our existence. What is is to exist? Is it a heart beat, a brain that seeks answers to questions, or sheerly the ability to proclaim to the universe "I AM"? Even definitions do little to truely state the meaning behind the word. "To be real". The cycles turn; forward or backwards, I can no longer tell. With each revolution -- time meaningless because it refrains from passing, but simply creating illusions of movement within the denial of a universal principle of activity -- the truth of existence seems to fade into the realm of vague possibility, consigned to the mythology of a modern era, mayhap fallen beneath the waves with Atlantis.

"Youth's meaninglessness. Fear of youth, fear of meaninglessness, of the meaningless rise of a human life."
-- Franz Kafka, "The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923"

Value. A numerical quantity measured or assigned or computed. Value is subjective. If value is subjective, as previously established, and one has little to no contact with others, does one have any discernible value? Society as a whole assigns no value to those who seem to exhibit an inability to operate within the confines of its structure. I am not Worker or Mother. I identify to no role that holds societal value. My writing has value to society only if it is saleable. So, spiral inward... I have a significant other; someone who I love with more intensity than I have ever had for anyone else I've ever shared my life with. Does Lover associate value? Daughter, Sister... do these things ascribe value? And, if they do -- is it enough? Can it ever be enough?

"I have written nothing for a year, nor shall I be able to write anything in the future; in my head there is and remains the one single thought, and I am devoured by it."
-- Franz Kafka, "The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1914-1923"

I was, at one point, obsessed with the idea of Legacy. Of leaving something behind after I died, in guaranteeing that somehow, people would remember me. That I would forcibly affect the lives of many, and thus raise myself above the milling billions and find a definition that would persist, even through death. Grade School became High School, however, and the ideas began to falter, crumble in my hands. I have sympathetic connections to so few people in existence, despite whatever dreams this life promises, destiny seems set by your very birth. I can touch no more than a handful, my effect on this world never enough, never anything that matters. Death will make ashes of everything, cement the ties of a world that already has forgotten I exist. Echoes of sympathy reverberate through the lines that bind us all to existence -- whatever such a concept truely means -- and in the end we mean nothing. Humanity, on an individual level, is nothing. Accomplishes nothing. In the end, all we can do is cease to exist, crumble into the nothingness of dust like the maggots of the world.

Sat, 01 Apr 2006 12:05:19 GMT

Sweet Surrender

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room
I've crossed the last line
from where I can't return
where every step I took in faith
betrayed me
and led me from my home

and sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

you take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me
are you an angel
am I already that gone
I only hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees

and sweet
sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

sweet
sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

and I don't understand
by the touch of your hand
I would be the one to fall

I miss the little things
oh I miss everything

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I left behind me
is a cold room

Musings . . .

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 11:32:05 GMT

So, random update-like-stuff... Well, I changed the layout. Found a site that had free pretty layouts for lj and a bunch of other blogger sites... unfortunately my favourite ones were all for other sites and seemed like it'd take far too much effort to rework them to work with lj instead of xanga or whichever blog site they happened to have been created for. Joined a bunch of new communities, trying to get back into writing, into creativity, debate, quantum theory, speculation about the universe, meaning of life, all those wonderful discussions that used to be mused about over warm beverages and a convenient form of edibles, legs folded cross-wise, and whispered in hushed voices.
How is it that things like this slip away from us? How is it that we don't ever seem to quite appreciate how amazing, life-altering and damn-near essential such things are until they vanish into the air like vapor? Crystallizing thoughts into some form of ephermal connection through a medium of spoken word. Every stale clove cigarette inhaled through trembling lips reminds me of everything I miss. Reminds me of a book once read, a conversation once had, a piece of art, a note or tone wrought from an instrument, the smell of old books, a line of a poem that sticks in memory. Everything reminds me of the things I have trouble finding, things that I used to find so commonplace are unrealized dreams, tantalizing thoughts that linger and solidify into jagged shards.
I remember how red wine left airing tastes in the morning. I remember sitting reading poetry as the sun rose, in quarters so cramped you couldn't move without hitting your knees against the person opposite. Why are words so important, anyway? Words said, recited in ritualistic fashion by candlelight, heat of alcohol threading through and woven with the metre of words, spilled into air clouded with incence and cigarette smoke as music hummed low in the background. Is this not perfection? Is this not absolute esctasy? How does a person who knew this at one point lose it? How does one possess gratification and not recognize its face? How does one lose it all?
But happiness exists outside of perfection. How, is something I don't understand. Fire burns in my throat of things lost never to be regained, and yet somehow I am still happy. Sorrowful, by turns, but still happy. And I understand it not. I whimper in silence, even as I know this bliss of intangible loveliness. Will I always crave for these things thus lost? Or is there hope to regain it? Coffee houses, poetry readings, everything so stereotypical and bloody pretentious that I adore without reservation.
Maybe this is all just over-emphatic nostalgia. Maybe I'm just going a bit stircrazy and somehow have simply failed to notice it yet. Or, maybe, I really do need the pseudo-goth-romantic literary exercises that used to liter my existence, and that now seems so barren it nearly makes me want to cry. The books, the music, the poems... even wine and candles... what are they without someone with whom to muse over meanings, implications, to crystalize beliefs into something painful in the purity of intensity. Even my own literature seems to stagnate, feels stilted as it sits lonely, unread, uncritiqued, and somehow, thereby seems to lose nuances of meaning, of things that could be.

Fiction and More!

Fri, 17 Mar 2006 10:10:55 GMT

Yeah, so, I suck at updating. I'm sure people have figured that out by now anyway. So. Stuff. So, I'm dating someone now. Did I ever mention that here? He's cool and awesome and amazing... insert all of the classic "I've-been-dating-someone-for-a-couple-months-and-am-still-all-gooey-and-pathetic" stuff here. He's a gamer. He likes the same sort of music I do. I'm smitten stupid. Oh, yeah, and he's also my roommate. I actually moved in before we started dating, just to be odd, but, well, I hate going to movies alone, so, him being my roommate, he went to see Underworld: Evolution with me, and things sorta went on from there? Need a job, blargh... I was supposed to have one at this fast-food place, but the manager keeps putting off actually putting me on the schedule so I can get trained and start working and all that stuff... it's been about three weeks since I was supposed to start training, and I found out he's put it off yet another week now. Sigh. Anyway, on a happier note that sorta indicates what I've been doing with a lot of my time, here's a random bit of fiction... Feedback is God. So's constructive criticism. Please? If I'm feeling productive, I might type up a few of the other story bits I've been working on in my notepads (pencil and paper addict that I am... I want a typewriter, dammit. That'd be the best-est thing ever!) and post them here, see what people think. This one is kind of odd, anyway!

I live on commentary... Gimme, please? Anyway, I might post a few more bits either later today/tonight, or possibly tomorrow. I'll try and be better about posting and stuffs. Love to all my friends and stuff like that!

Title: Untitled
Pairing: None, really. Yet, anyway
Rating: PG-ish? I think?

Fingers trembled, sliding through sleek tresses, sitting alone contemplating a broken mirror and the events that had created the shattered pieces that now adorned the navy blue carpet. What do you do when your past rises from the embers of long forgotten mist to haunt you? What could you do when someone appeared and demanded more than just your body, but your very essence of self? For what, what right had he to claim anything? Lips curled in annoyance as slender fingers angrily searched along the dresser top for the pack of cigarettes she knew she’d left there. The pack was traitorously empty, filled with that vague scent of clove and tobacco, and a snarl left those lips as the package was tossed across the room to bounce harmlessly across the carpet. He’d probably stolen the last cigarette when he’d shown up and tried to steal her dignity. Unconsciously, her right hand lifted to her face, tracing along her left cheekbone, skin still an intense shade of pink from where nails had scratched, aggravating flesh.

Curses were snarled under her breath as a crumpled few dollar bills were shoved into the pocket of the black silk pajama pants she’d changed into after that blistering hot shower. Black tee-shirt was pulled up off the carpet and then pulled down over her head as she searched around for a pair of shoes she could just slip on. Certainly, there was probably some fashion faux pas that involved running down to the corner store at one in the morning wearing your pajamas, but at the moment she couldn’t have cared less. Her nerves crackled as if with electricity, and she didn’t have a single cigarette on her. Fashion could go hang itself.

Of course, nothing could be that easy. No, no, of course not. Setting her jaw, green orbs blazing like some sort of supernatural flame, she pulled her headphones on, trying to act as if he wasn’t there. Why the Hell had he interfered anyway? Weren’t there laws about barging into someone else’s apartment? Of course, she was all but certain that he saw himself as the knight in fucking silver armor. Her bloody savior or whatever the else he saw in his head. Probably heartfelt thanks, batted eyelashes and sexual implications as she asked how she could ever make it up to him... The boy’s lips moved, but her music was up loud enough she didn’t hear, and she purposely shouldered her way past him. She didn’t need messiahs, or angels in shining armor to rescue her. She would have been fine, even if he hadn’t barged in. Or so she’d tell herself, over and over, until it was truth.

Outside a wild breeze whipped down the side street illuminated by the flickering orange glow of streetlights. The sliver of a moon played hide and seek behind the clouds and the tall apartment buildings, while the glare of city lights hid most of the stars from view. The street was always dark at night, but tonight was the first time that it almost seemed oppressive. Something out there, waiting in the darkness. She hissed through her teeth, turned her music up a few notches, and hurried her pace a little. She just wanted to get her cigarettes and then get back to her apartment... not that she was afraid of him, exactly. She just didn’t want to be tempting demons when she didn’t have to be. Not that such thing really made a difference.

She apparently had done too well in trying to forget the past. Seemed to have forgotten about those talents of lurking in shadows, forgotten what the weight of personalized malevolence felt like. Of course, in her defense, it had been years. Who wouldn’t try and pass off such a creature as something out of childhoods nightmares, forget its specialities in torment? He waited for her, fit form of broad shoulders and long legs leaning unobtrusively against one of the lampposts, seeming to melt into the shadow. Consequently, she failed to notice him until it was too late. Not until she’d already entered that pool of flickering orange light the sodium lamps gave off did she notice the form that leaned up against it.

His back to her when she first arrived, he slid around the lamp to face her, blood-red eyes of infinite cruelty gazing into emeralds that seemed to waver with wonderfully delicious fear. His eyes bored into hers, lapping at the terror that rolled off of her in waves; an emotion like the finest wine. She claimed to be stoic, cold, all but emotionless: however, this demon of a past she’d tried to forget managed to illicit feelings in her with a look of those eyes. She stood still, trembling without shaking, screaming without making a sound. Not that she had to, he knew what she felt. Silence always speaks in volumes. A smirk danced across his face, lazily making its way from his eyes to settle on thin betrayer’s lips.

His eyes always challenged her, always spoke the opening move to a game she didn’t even know the name of. Boots sounded on the sidewalk as he advanced a single pace, almost carelessly, pulling a cigarette case and lighter from his pocket. As he clicked the case open, breath seemed to come to a halt, that scrape of metal on metal the only sound that reverberated in the late night morning. He pulled out a cigarette – a clove, one of hers that he’d stolen off her dresser earlier. Subtly adding insult to injury, no doubt. Yellow flickered, caught that black cylinder of paper and clove-flavored tobacco and burned as the demon inhaled, drinking down something besides just the perfumed fumes.

Hello World

Tue, 31 Jan 2006 08:24:31 GMT

So, back on this little piece of webspace, it seems... Figure it'd be nice to have someplace to write, rant and all that other sort of stuff. I will admit that this is, at least in part, brought on by a desire to have someplace I can toss up random bits of prose, poetry, story ideas and whatever else, and have them somewhere people can comment on. I do always look for feedback, and who better than the small number of friends I have who actually know of my livejournal? Anyway, if you don't want to get the literature, comment and I can put you on a filter.

As far as life... hectic, but, at the moment it's good. Now on my third apartment since moving out to Sacramento, but, I think I like it here. I'm going to college at Sac City, taking Japanese, Asian History, and Asian Religion. They're all wonderful, although, I will say that my Asian History class starts far too early in the morning to be considered civilized by any means.

Recently been looking over a lot of my old stuff and thinking about trying to put all (or at least some) of the story ideas I had into motion. Not to mention that recently I've had several ideas for new characters, and one for a totally new story (not even based in the same world/continuum as most of my stuff).

Anyway, I'm back on lj, and should be posting occasionally now. So, look for forthcoming text, in all of its various forms. I plan to do a general sort of write-up for the story ideas I have currently floating around in my head, and comments would be much appreciated!

Love and happy wishes to everyone who remembers my existence. ^_^

Wed, 07 Apr 2004 13:03:26 GMT

There was going to be a very very long and rambling and odd post of questionable coherence here. But, then I slowly became unable to fathom exactly where my rambles were going, and deduced that they made me seem even less sane than usual. So, I think it shall stay safely tucked away. But, a mild rant was all I had to say anyway. But... hrm. Why do I get attached to all these bands which end up disbanding or having someone die? It's so... unpleasant.

Sun, 29 Feb 2004 11:41:51 GMT

I'm officially annoyed and kind of confused. For the longest time I couldn't make my computer write in the Japanese character set no matter how hard I try. Now, in all supported windows, it's writing in Japanese whether I want it to or not. Tempermental computer systems. Bah! Anyone want to do something tomorrow/today? *yawns* It's 6:30 am. I'm going to sleep now. Good night.

Wed, 25 Feb 2004 10:04:17 GMT

Had a really nice day at school, for once, which then got ruined in typical fashion by a person who will remain nameless, though, no one who knows I even have a journal knows him, so, not like I'm protecting anyone. *shrugs*

Argh! Why does the person I'm around the most always end up being so off and on moody? It's so bloody annoying. Makes me want to either strangle him or kick him at times, just to make him cut it out... >_< Okay, so, I know he likes me as "more than a friend", and I like him *only* as a friend, but, still. We've settled that, and I suppose essentially agreed to disagree. He knows my stand-point, I know his. I suppose part of the issue might be that I'm more physically affectionate with my other friends, but, I really just can't help that. It was like that before he even bothered to tell me, mainly because I'd known for *ages* before he ever got up the courage to tell me... (really, how dense do people think that I am?) And then there's this whole issue of him getting all passive-aggressive sulky and bitchy and then refusing to directly tell me what's wrong and whining and moaning when I get annoyed with the angsty-sulky-silent thing he pulls when I have to sit there in a car with him for damn-near an hour. And he says it doesn't involve me. My personal opinion is that if you're being so god-damned passive-aggressive and acting as I've I'm just supposed to 'know', and yet, at the same time, pull this angsty, oh it doesn't matter stuff, then you're involving me by making me deal with you. If there's nothing for me to deal with, then it doesn't involve me, and do whatever you like.

There was more to that, but, that was yesterday, and I got distracted from blogging about it by having to have a fight about... I'm still not entirely sure what, over the phone, with said person. So, now a day later, I have just finished making chicken ramen, and being exhausted from the time involved in that, am now going to go to sleep. It's yummy, though time consuming!

Still thinking about making Udon for Friday to go along with the cosplay thing we're doing... still need to find a good recipe. Anyway. *yawns* Off to bed now.

Mon, 23 Feb 2004 07:06:22 GMT

In recent news, I'm thinking of dropping cultural anthropology..... My computer just does not seem to be stable enough for me to be guaranteed to be on-line at the nessecary times to get the assignments done, not to mention that I'm also a bit absent minded when it comes to a website I have to remember to check daily to find out assignments, and a class that only meets for a one-hour lecture once every week. Going to talk to my techer this Tuesday after class and see what she thinks about it. And I'm really having trouble with this story for Creative Writing class... more in the way of condenscing it... I *can't* do the ending I was originally planning (not enough pages)... anyone willing to let me muse and bounce ideas off of them? Or maybe let me babble and perhaps offer suggestions? First three pages due Tuesday... will write those up tonight, and see where things go from there...

Oh, I also got my hair cut today. It is short again. Why can I never seem to grow it out? I always lose patience, or just want it short for some reason, and then end up cutting it all off... ^^;; I do like it though, and everyone else seems to think it's flattering too, so, I guess it looks good. Not that I nessecarily trust and/or care about most of the people who seem to offer their opinions *scoffs* but that's an altogether seperate topic.

One Piece is addictive. Yay for pointless One Piece-related quizzes.

Which One Piece Character are You?
quiz by orangeday.net

You're Sanji!

Pirate cook and general kicker of ass, you are one
of the clever members of the team. Although you
love to fight, you also will think things
through before attacking. A womanizer and
general pervert, most women are somewhat taken
aback by your ardent desires.
Fortunately, you're also a gentleman, so, as
Mr. Prince, you love to rescue the damsel in
distress.

Hey! Which One Piece Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

My #1 result for the SelectSmart.com selector, One Piece Character Quiz, is Sanji

Another night of pointless test-taking! But, I suppose I should take a hint, when I get the same results repeatedly, ne? *snickers* But, Sanji's one of the coolest characters anyway, so, I'm not objecting. On the subject of that series, I get the seventh and eight DVDs tomorrow, which then allows me to watch up to volume 16, and then whine for more. We're supposed to be doing a cosplay thing this friday for One Piece, and I'll take pictures if it actually happens (I've been elected to go as... surprise... Sanji. ^^;;)

And... btw... on another exception to English grammar rules... why the hell do we say "a euphoric haze"? yet another argument with one of my betas... "an euphoric haze" just sounds horrid. I know I would never say "an euphoric" anything, so, I fail to see why I should write it.

And, onegai, to any of the lovely people who occasionally send me icons, and occasioanlly from fanarts... for future reference, please check with the images owners? Someone got rather upset at me over it. @_@ (of course, I somehow disbelieve that the people who send me lj icons actually read my lj... ironic, that is.)

Thu, 12 Feb 2004 09:31:17 GMT

Anime is evil.
Anime is bad.

Especially anime that your friends somehow manage to get you hooked on after you've staunchly ignored it for many many months.

And after seeing episode 16 am Officially Shipping SasuNaru. >D
(And it's not just me! Really! It's honestly one of the most slashy not-intentionally-slashy things I've seen in quite a while!)

There are actually real life events muddled in here somewhere, but, those will be posted on the weekend, when I have time/life... Any of the (three? maybe?) people who read my lj up to doing something over the weekend?

And, if this is rambling and nonsensical its because of a mix of anxiety, homework, school stupid shit, wanting desperately to write, but stressing because I can't write, because I have homework stuff to write and school things to deal with... and it becomes a messy cycle. And I haven't been sleeping well/at all.Insomnia sucks.

And it's 4-ish, and I get to get up sometime around seven to eight. So, wandering off to try and sleep now.

ttyl....

Sun, 18 Jan 2004 07:12:37 GMT

I feel dirty, unclean, and sentenced with a muse I didn't really want and whom I don't even really get aloung with... And this muse is the herald of a task I'm unsure of the possibility of! Sexy fiction from the POV of a Bloody Pair Of Leather PANTS!

How in the Bloody HELL do you write sexy prose... as a Pair of Pants??? I have attempted a paragraph. Continue reading if you wish to try and read a paragraph about a pair of pants and the person who wears them.

**

Warnings: Insanity! A fic told from the Point Of View of, well... a bloody pair of thinking trousers! I suppose it could be slashy if you think leather pants are inherently male. Comments begged for... aloung with ways to escape from this torture!

We enter the building together, my flesh clinging so tight to his it is hard to tell the difference. His pores pressing to mine, and our flesh is breathing and exhaling in synch. His skin tingles as he moves on to the dancefloor, the throbbing of the insistant music that plays pounding through the heated air, filling every inch unoccupied by bodies. It livens his senses, an electric tremble running through both of us as I continue to caress him, trying to press closer to him. On nights like these he doesn't bother with underwear; a fact I lavish in as it allows me to touch him all the more intimately. Lets me massage his flesh without the burden of strips of cloth between us. He dances, and I move with him unnoticed, his hardness moving against me, stroking me as I fondle him in return, caressing the parts of his body hidden from the occasional passing glances he garners from the others here. But, he dances only with me.

Mon, 12 Jan 2004 09:00:05 GMT

Dear Valar.... SAVE ME!!! Lurtz / Boromir Slash.... And I found it funny. Should I be executed for commiting sure a horrible horrible horrible sin? For you sick freaks who actually want to read the attrocity. I think the Author's Notes are supposed to be funny.... or, at least... I hope. *shudder*

Sat, 10 Jan 2004 04:22:56 GMT

I was horribly bored. But, in browsing around bloomed.net, I was provided with a site (celebmatch.com) in which according to supposed 'biorhythms' based on the day you were born, it matches your compatibility against various celebrities, and gives you physical, emotional, and intellectual compatibility, then a general average. So, to ease said boredom, I checked my compatibility against the LotR celebrities they actually had. Results (and commentary) are below, posted for the amusement of anyone who finds such silly things as amusing as I do.

General results: Most would make either really great flings, or really great friends.

Sean Bean - %53 - hot sex though!
Billy Boyd - %64 - good emotional connection, good intellectual connection... need to work on that physical part!
Orlando Bloom - %80 - need to work on the physcial side just a bit and everything's perfect!
Sean Astin - %70 - good physical, great intellectual... no emotional connection.
John Rhys-Davies - %48 - NO sexual chemistry What-So-Ever
Cate Blanchett - %95 - Hot Sex and hot everything else!
Sir Ian McKellen - %77 - Hot sex and emotional connection... Intellectual side is lacking... Of course, what do you expect from a Maia?
Liv Tyler - %95 - Hot Hot Sex and hot everything else... @_@ Why?
Ian Holm - %64 - great intellectual connection... everything else is bad.
David Wenham - %61 - Hot Hot Sex, great intellectual connection -- not a clue emotionally
Viggo Mortensen - %85 - Hot sex, great intellectual connection, and a pretty good emotional connection.... gimme!
Peter Jackson - %71 - good on the physical and emotional, intellectually needs some work -- but, what can you expect from a hobbit?
Dominic Monaghan - %91 - Hot sex... Not as hot as with Viggo or David Wenham, but, then there's that great emotional and intellectual connection... I'll take him too!
Elijah Wood - %76 - Great Sex, great emotional connection, and again... lacking connection intellectually. Hobbits!

Wed, 03 Dec 2003 04:12:35 GMT

Not much to say... Finals are frantic as Hell. Save me, please! Got the Return of the King Soundtrack today... Ahhh, love... hehe. Can't wait for the gathering!

Return of the King - Into The West

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end

Sleep now
Dream -- of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are those tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass

Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time

Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West

Mon, 27 Oct 2003 03:32:43 GMT

The Twins Are (possibly) In The Movie!

We have visual (possible) confirmation of Elrohir and Elladan in the ROTK movie... As the Elves re-forging Narsil into Anduril, no less! The picture is here, if you want to check the picture out and offer your own opinions as to the identity of the two Noldorian Smiths. As for me, I'm going to stick by the idea that it's Elrohir and Elladan. (Which may, in part, be due to wishful thinking.) It does make more sense than the idea that it was going to be Arwen, (which is now rather fully discounted by the two, male, elves doing the reforging), and Elrond probably has better things to do anyway. :-P

Wed, 23 Jul 2003 23:52:47 GMT

Ah, my first post in this particular journal. I really should pick one and be happy with it, I suppose. It just never seems to work out that way... I post for a while, neglect my journal for months at a time, and then start a new one. Though, I suppose I'm deviating this time... I started this one a while ago and quite simply and never posted in it.

I've been trying to remember the passwords for my other journals so that I can delete the ones that contain incriminating entries from the stretch of about, say, fourteen to eighteen. With rather limited success, unfortunately... My Kasua one need to die. Quickly. And I can't find the bloody password.... siiiighs. Woe is me. But, anyway... I need to get back to work on these Sindarin lessos for my friends. Oh! Yeah! And if anyone else is interested in text-based on-line roleplaying, likes Lord of the Rings, and has an interest in the languages, history, and literature of that world, come join me at Angol En Edhil

Cuio Mae!
~ Leithelen Lasloss?