A blogging challenge and deathbed confessions

It's July! I'm still reminding myself to buy 2013's Christmas presents. How is it July even.

The lovely Roxana, with whom I used to work, has invited me to join Writers' Boot Camp this month. That means 60 minutes of blogging for every day in July.

I'm not usually up for these meme-like challenges, but looking through the posts people have already put up today, I got all inspired and I figured - why the hell not? (Which is obviously how all great creative ventures start.)

So here goes. Day one's topic:

Even if you know me well, you don't know this.

I have freckles!

Wait...

I'm awkward!

Um...

I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die?

Sorry internet, I have no deathbed (blogbed?) confessions. I'm incredibly lucky to have a handful of truly close, loving relationships and if you know me well - then - here I am! (Don't tread on me.)

But obviously, I'd like to share something in this post. So here it is - not a confession so much as a question mark, a parallel universe, a what-if.

I've always wondered if I could have made it in the performing arts. 

I understand if that dorky little thought made you chuckle. If you know me, you know I'm one of the most awkward, self-conscious people in the world. I can barely make eye contact with people, and I can't remember a time when anxiety wasn't my constant companion. That's why I love writing! You can backspace, edit, and construct a confident tone even if you actually feel like your insides are being microwaved.

So you might wonder why on earth I'd think performance wouldn't be my worst nightmare.

You know what's weird? Probably my favourite memory from high school was being a co-MC of our grade eight play. I was on stage for maybe a minute, I messed up, and afterwards someone told me I sucked - but it was SO MUCH FUN. I felt completely at home on that stage. I laughed off my mistake and a hall full of bored parents even cheered for us! I mean, how cool is that?

If some angelic sponsor descended into my life and let me go back to varsity for another degree, I'd study drama or music. Maybe it's the compelling secret urge of every insecure introvert to be the centre of attention. Maybe I would just love more storytelling skills. It's probably a little bit of both. With a massive wad of Gen Y entitlement to fame and fortune stuck in the middle.

So there it is, something you probably didn't know about me! It's not so much a regret - I don't honestly think I would be incredible at acting, or singing, or stand-up - but it's a little something about me that I don't usually share.

I've always toyed with the idea of having a youtube channel, and discovering Anna Akana has re-ignited that urge. But I honestly don't know what I could do with video that I couldn't do better with writing. Except maybe karaoke. And drunk makeup tutorials. And drunk karaoke.

Wait, all karaoke is drunk.

Nevermind.

Review: A Sudden Bout Of The Plague

Last night I had a tickle in my throat. This morning I felt for a dagger sticking out of my neck. That's right, kids - I have the plague again. And because I don't have the heart to leave you guys without a review two weeks in a row, please enjoy this out-of-ten approximation of my misery.

Suddenness: 8 / 10. Truly impressive, would recommend. If you're looking to get out of a fun weekend or a shotgun wedding quickly, just let me know and I'll email you some of my germs!

Plaguiness:  7 / 10. Quite plaguey, especially seeing as it's just getting started.

Boutiness: 10 / 10. It's a fun word, isn't it, boutiness? I wish it were real.

Reviewability: 6 / 10. Not as reviewable as a book but far more reviewable than a passing phase of existential doubt.

Forethought and Planning in Event of the Plague: 0 / 10. I had planned to casually read a hundred pages of the book I'm busy with, to get a review done today. But I decided to pass out for the majority of the day. If it's any consolation, I had fever-dreams about some water park I was trying to review for you guys. I even had a screen full of text in my dream.

Odds of Survival: 6.6 / 10. I've had bronchitis twice before. So this is either going to be a piece of cake, or the third bout that kills me.

Temperature: 3 / 10. An unimpressive 37.3 C. I'm sure it was higher before the Degoran, but I don't care about my blog enough not to take medicine. Medicine is my favourite.

Achiness: forever / 10. My back, hips and every single joint is radiating unhappiness. This must be what Woody Allen feels like all the time.

Sexy Croaky Voice: 8 / 10. Could totally belt out a verse of Sticky Shoes by Phoebe Buffay.



Overall Rating: I'm Too Tired To Do Maths / 10. I'm all reviewed out. Hope you guys have a good weekend full of rainbows, ponies and strong immune systems!

Review: SHERLOCK SEASON TWO OMG!

Can we talk about Sherlock now OMG.

Here be spoilers, carry on if you dare! Or if you already know!

Or if you don't care.

By the way, this isn't so much a "review" as a very long, disconnected, slashful, ALLCAPS SQUEEFEST. Cool? Cool.

So I couldn't imagine anything that could upstage the first season, which was the best television I've seen in years (possibly ever). But OMG, the second season completely exceeded my expectations, which is shocking because I’m one picky weequasher. I tried to tell myself it would suck, because that way it's easier to not get disappointed if it DID suck. But in many ways the second season is even better than the first, and I just can't stop thinking about it.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT SCANDAL NOW OMG

I’ll admit they way they ended the cliffhanger pool scene annoyed me. I was expecting explosions and wet t-shirt contests and I didn’t get any of that. Despite that, I think Scandal In Belgravia was my favourite episode of the series. The 90 minutes flew by and it gave me so many warm and fuzzy feelings.

In fact, I might even use the trite term EX-FUCKING-HILARATING to describe this episode. It was so awesome.

Irene Adler was hot, though I don't find visible ribs sexy I think she had swag and hey, everybody likes lesbians. I also deeply respect her for pulling The Naked Man on Sherlock (pity it only works two out of three times!) 

Sherlock finally got those x-ray contact-lenses to work.

It does irk me that Adler was Sherlock’s intellectual equal except she was worse than him because she was a woman ("Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side" – smooth.) That was lame.

BUT WAIT, she's gay but straight-for-Sherlock, and my big heart-wrenching THING that I had to rip out of the subtext was that Sherlock was straight for her too.

A Fascinating Glimpse into the Psychology of Dasia Has A Blog!

{Edited To Add: If you're at this post to see Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing, kindly skip to question 19, and from there read until the end, and then stop. If you hit the comments, you've gone too far!}

I know it's Writing Wednesday, but the thing I was going to post today was super lame. And this post is about blogging, which is sort of like writing, EXCEPT WITH MORE ALLCAPS.

I've realised far too late that today is the SOPA and PIPA blackout day. While I totally support the fight against this, I can never be as hilarious and on point as The Oatmeal about it, so check out his page today and learn more about why American censorship would break the whole internet.

Meanwhile, I've had this in my drafts for like a month...

Community Meme from Sunday Stealing! I can never resist a meme! Found through The Geeky Shopaholic.

1. As a blogger, what do you draw inspirations from for your posts?
Generally when a rant in my head / to my sister starts forming itself into bullet points, it'll turn into a post. As a rough guide, anything that excites me or pisses me off will make for a good post!

2. If you could swap blogs with another blogger for a post, who would you switch with and why?
I'd love to post on Yearning For Wonderland once, because Anna's blog a) is really awesome and b) has a vastly different tone from mine. She's all whimsy! fairies! fancy hats! and I'm all CRASSJOKES and SNARKYREVIEWS and MASHBOOBSONKEYBOARD. Come to think of it, it'd be funnier to see what she comes up for my blog rather than what I'd do for hers!

3. If your blog had a theme song, what would it be? Why?
IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT.
Excuse me for the text-karaoke, I can't resist allcaps when it comes to this song. Not only is it hilariously motivational on its own, please observe this very beautiful man doing a very silly lip-sync to it.

4. What is your writing process for a post?
I usually decide on the topic about a week before it's due. Then I draft it up and feel really productive. Then I forget about it and freak out on the day it's due and spend about two hours re-reading and previewing it until I finally post. Then I hyperventilate until someone comments on it. Healthy, huh?

5. Your blog requires a cute, new, mascot - what would it be?
Well I'd be hard-pressed to find something cuter than a momonga, which was my first mascot!

squeeeeeeeeee. (source)

6. Do you feel you express your "true self" on your blog?
In a way. I'm far more honest and - erm - expressive here than in real life.* But I'm also aware that people on the internet don't care about the stuff that real-life people have to care about. So when I'm a sadface I don't post about it, I JUST SQUEE THROUGH THE TEARS.

7. What is your biggest online pet-peeve?
Oh, so many. The biggest ones are probably when people on twitter beg for followers (OMG I'm nearly at 1000 followers I just need 998 more PLS RT!!!!!!) and when bloggers put cheesy, distraction animations up - snowflakes falling, bats flying around, etc - I saw one recently where a poorly-animated twitter bird actually flew around the screen and sat in front of the text. It irks me, I feel like there's bugs on my screen!

8. If you could live in a fictional universe, where would you live? Why?
I'd live in the Pokémon universe because there isn't any intense fight-for-the-world thing going on, but it's still pretty magical. Also, you don't need an education and nobody ever dies. I'd totally apply for Team Rocket, they were my favourite. Prepare for trouble! And make it double!** 

9. You're having a bad day, you're upset, you're angry, or you're sad - what is your go-to comfort?
Tin-roof ice-cream or emo rock - I know, I know, I'm a walking cliché! 

10. What is your favorite inspirational quote?
Oh, so many. I love quotes, don't make me pick my favourite! But here's one I dig, by Goethe:

Plunge boldly into the thick of life, and seize it where you will.

11. If they were to make a movie based on your life, who would play you, your leading lady/man, your best friend, and your rival?
I would be played by Merrit Wever (the amazing ball of awkwardness who plays Zoey on Nurse Jackie) and the movie would be me in a padded room with a laptop surrounded by gremlins who represent the voices in my head. It'd be deep.

12. Do you think the world is going to end in 2012?
Did you know that 150,000 people die every day?  So a lot of people's worlds are going to end in 2012, when you think about it. And that number's probably gonna go up once the zombies take over. 

13. If you could change anything about yourself, what would it be?
My self-worth or my thighs. I can't decide. My thighs think my self-worth would be the more mature answer.

14. What is your favorite season and why?
I love Autumn because the world cools down.

15. You've been bitten by a vampire. Would you fight it with all your undead being or would you embrace it for all it is worth?
I'd embrace it. I'd finally have an excuse to sleep in all day! And kill people all night!

16. Have you personally met any of your blogger friends?
Yes! I know Ali in real life. Though I knew her before Linguisticali Speaking was even a thing so I'm not sure if that counts. I bet it does though.

17. What does your favorite pair of underwear look like?
Your mom.

18. Have you ever drank something right from the container in the refrigerator knowing other people will have to drink out of the same container later?
 Yes, it's the first step in my plan for world domination.

19. What is your favorite word and explain why?
Oh no you didn't just ask a writer to choose a single favourite word. A short sentence is the best I can do:

Benedict Cumberbatch weequashing in crisp twilight.  ***

• I might have mentioned that I like Benedict Cumberbatch, and his ridiculous name is one of the things I like the most about him.
• Weequashing is a lost word I came across in The Phronistery, which is an awesome site. It means 'spearing of fish or eels by torchlight from canoes.'
• Crisp is one of the best words ever.
• I've always loved the word twilight and its abuse is just one of the many, many reasons I dislike Stephenie Meyer.

20. 2011 is soon coming to a close (told you I took forever to post this), is there anything you'd like to do different on your blog in the year 2012? 
Well I made the biggest change late last year by starting to post regularly and, um, putting more effort and thought into my posts. This year I want to read more about comedy and decide if I want this to be a comedy blog or an everything-blog.

If you guys are bored and you have a blog (what am I saying - everyone has a blog!) you should post this and link it back to me so I can read it!


*Although I'm quite inappropriate in real life as well - but because I don't have a week to edit the things I say in real life I come across as awkward and deranged rather than witty and ironic.
**It makes me sad that I had to google the exact phrasing of that quote. I'M SO OLD. 
***If  somebody would photoshop this scene, I'd love you forever.

EDITED TO ADD 

The Amazing Stasia has proved her amazingness once more...

Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you...

The picture that made me laugh until I cried tears of squee...

 BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH WEEQUASHING IN CRISP TWILIGHT!!!

:D :D :D

View the larger, fancier version of this epic piece of art at my facebook page - and while you're there, click like! 

Awesome reader Lair Sapir also made a version, in which the good canoe itself announces Benedict's mission! Those eels better watch out!

MOAR WEEQUASHING

So yeah....
I LOVE YOU GUYS.

The Perils of Second-Hand Books

First let me say I love second-hand books. They're conveniently sold at the place where I work, it's nice to support independent traders instead of bullying corporations, and best of all, they're cheap!

But like dating a divorced guy or taking in a stray cat, sometimes you're bound to run into the darker side of their damaged, worn and sometimes sticky past. There's always dog-ears and maybe a few water-warped pages, but now and then you find something annoying, something weird, or something... perilous.

The Scribbler

Often in textbooks or self-help stuff, the previous owner saw every page as a blank public-toilet wall just begging to be vandalized.

Geniuses use pencil, bitch.

Not only is this lameness shortsighted (yeah, because you'll own this book until you die and then it'll be buried with you) it's also just WRONG. Writing in a book is like recording your own commentary to a rented DVD. Nobody cares. Get a blog!

The Leperous Softcover

They're falling apart, so well-loved there's only sellotape and hope keeping them together. 

I can't believe this is second-hand.

You figure there's one more read in them and they're in the bargain bin anyway... but you find yourself compulsively checking that the page numbers match as you read, checking if anything's gone missing while the poor thing was raging against the dying of the light.

The Hidden Horror

Forget the plot, what's scariest about these books is the disturbingly anonymous materials found between the pages.

For the love of God TURN THE PAGE. WHO CARES WHAT HAPPENS ON THIS ONE.

Most of the time, you don't even want to know what this is. Tea leaves? Unimpressive confetti? The last owner's dehydrated kidney? The answer would probably horrify you.

Suspicious Stains

The best you can hope for is that this was a fluid going into someone's body and not coming out of it.

That's... probably just orange juice.

Like the hidden horror, you're probably better off inventing a happy, non-gag-inducing tale about these marks than actually giving it a good think. You can't handle the truth.

The No Seriously WTF

The second-hand peril that inspired this entire post? HUMAN TEETH MARKS. 

Maybe the previous owner was a raging alcoholic.  Maybe they were trying to prove some obscure point about consumer culture. Maybe they lost a bet.

Maybe they just love the fibrous crunch of yellowing paper under their incisors.

Whatever the reasoning behind it, this book was in someone's mouth, and... They. Bit. Into. It. So hard that the marks persist months and probably years later. That's... just... excuse me while I scrub my hands with antiseptic.

Have you ever had to put a second-hand book down to take an emergency shower or preventative Listerine? Share your perilous – or marvelous – story in the comments!

Divine: The Series - A Snarky Review

This post contains spoilers for Divine: The Series*. You could read it cold but I'd love you to give the series a gander to see how scathingly accurate my review is. There are six twelve-minute episodes, linked below:
 

The One with the Magic Loaf of Bread

The One with the Evil Baby

The One where the Literal Fish is a Symbol for a Metaphorical Fish

The One with So Many Feelings

The One where Lady Gaga Makes Out with a Mascot

The One that’s Even More Confusing than the Last Five

Because I'm fair and wonderful and I don't want to burn in hell, I'm going to employ the sandwich-method approach to this review: positive-negative-positive.

With this bread I shall make the holy sandwich of criticism

Here are some good things about the series:

1. The lead actor, Guy Whose Name I've Yet To Google**, is naked for the duration of the first episode.

I'm okay with that.

2. Misha

3. Collins. 

4. Misha Collins plays a priest. Maybe because I wasn't raised religious, but there's something about that collar that just makes me want to... confess stuff. Granted, he doesn’t do much acting, because his character is in perpetual awe of everything, so he basically spends his days reacting…

This does not mean acting again.

Okay, are we happy so far? I'm not being horribly unfair and mean? Right, here's the negative stuff. Don't worry, there are only 8 points to get through.

1. There's a stone-faced self-flagellating superhero named Divine. Not an imposing name for a superhero. Well, not a traditional superhero, which he seems like. Could've worked for a cross-dressing superhero. In that case, it'd be great if his name was Divine! with an exclamation mark.

That would've made the series a lot more fun.

2. Blood. Lots of blood. Gooey blood. Blood makes us edgy! I’m not opposed to blood, but making someone bleed doesn’t automatically make me care about them. It just automatically makes me wonder what they use as a thickener for all that red dye.

3. Divine! has a 'sidekick' who's a hot Asian girl in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, goth make-up, and coloured streaks in her hair, which is in fucking pigtails. I'm not entirely sure what her purpose is, because she can't climb a ladder, and can't fight anything the size of (or presumably bigger than) a baby.

It's okay, it was an evil baby.

3. In episode five, Divine saves a hooker (or doesn't save a hooker? It's so ambiguous! Loose ends make us deep!***) who's co-incidentally dressed up as Lady Gaga for Halloween. Well, that last bit's not exactly in the show, but it's the only way I can explain her outfit.

Just dance! Or pose.

The hooker is squirming in unnecessary ecstasy under a john, when she suddenly decides she's done hooking and wants to go back to school to fulfil her dream of being a nail technician. Probably. The fact that she rejects this evil dude before he attacks her is so problematic we don't even have time for it today. Let's just say that it's not enough that he's a demon beast thing and is therefore evil – no no, it's her asserting her right to choose what happens to her body that really pushes him over the edge.
  
4. In keeping with the Halloween theme, the perfectly normal guy MAGICALLY transforms into a guy wearing a crappy bull head. I assume he just put on the head because the full bull mascot costume gets him all sweaty when he beats up hookers. We just don't know.

Go Bulls!

Divine! saves the day and Asian girl crouches next to the victim, watching Divine get stabbed. She does absolutely nothing to assist, unless you count her continuing to be hot and Asian as doing something. 

5. These are just the action episodes. The poorly-thought-through talks-about-God episodes are even worse. My favourite part was when a curly-haired priest (not Misha Collins – boo) gives the old 'teach a man to fish' saying WHILE HOLDING A FISH. To REALLY bring that point home.

I had more sympathy for these fish than for any other character.

6. I almost liked a character once. There's a taxi driver who speaks probably more than all the other characters combined, and says some borderline amusing things. He generally doesn't have that ripe-for-parody serious!face everyone else does. Then he starts bleeding and mumbling in Latin and we never see him again.

./

Wait... what?

7. I get the sense that everybody thought the whole superhero + Christian mythology crossover was a great idea – but nobody felt the need to explore it or do something new and interesting with it.  There's a single moment where maybe a sticky issue is almost tackled. But then it's not. See, Curly Priest (the one who's not Misha Collins), while holding a fish, talks about how he feels guilty that a friend committed suicide because he (the friend) was gay. And Curly Priest couldn't help or support him, so now Curly Priest has angst. Unsurprisingly, this is all left open ended and Curly Priest doesn't actually say it's stupid to hate people because they're gay. He just cuts up fish and pouts. But whatever.

8. The whole series gives itself an air of gravity and importance that it doesn't earn through story development. Also, I hold a deep dislike for websites with light text on a black background. But now I'm just being difficult. Let's get the crusty top onto our review sandwich.

More good things! Continuing from the list above...

5. Um, it was free?  

6. Oh, I did like the Sin City-esque aesthetic they went for. Kinda feels like they ran out of money towards the Halloween episode. But the first few episodes look nice.  

7. The series was a public-funded project and apparently the supporters were really made to feel special and a part of the process. That's nice. 

8. Oh, did I mention Misha Collins as a priest? *scrolls up* damn it. But at least now I have as many good points as bad ones. Sandwich complete!


So that’s my – wow, very long – review of Divine. Overall, I’d recommend the series only if you have a snarky friend (or a companion blog post!) to watch it with.

For added fun, put some pictures of the cast into the Marie Claire Virtual Salon and see what they'd look like with Tyra Banks' hair, like I did with Dan Payne above. Sorry Dan, apparently we can't trust the Marie Claire robots to apply eyeshadow. But I still think you look divine.


*Not to be confused with Divine: the perfume, Divine: the gospel trio or Divine! The heartwarming TV movie about a gang of crazy kids that take their drag show from the convent to Vegas.
**Real name: Gregor Googlevitch. Ha, kidding... It’s Dan Payne. Which, coincidentally, is quite a heroic name.
***Or lazy. Or nearsighted in terms of story development. But probably deep.

Project: Not A Fanfic

So last night I had a dream about this amazing novelling software that helped with planning, note taking, quote collecting, and making high-waisted Guess jeans fit. Just a fun fact that has nothing to do with the rest of this entry.

Well I guess it does, in a way, as it concerns novelling (novelizing? noveltry? novel-mongering?) I figure since I keep declaring myself a writer, I want to somehow back that up by talking about the stuff I'm working on. (You can tell by the elegant structure of that last sentence that my Pulitzer is in the post.)

I have two big projects on at the moment, which will hopefully both grow up to be novels. The first is an idea I had about eight years ago and have been afraid of tackling since – let's call it Project: Stone Cold Bummer (30 Rock reference!) because not only does it involve elements of genocide and the moral bankruptcy of wealth and feral children, it's also forced me to do a lot of research into factory farming and modern agriculture, which believe me is a stone cold bummer in itself. If you don't believe me, just google ‘factory farming’ and you'll see why I'm thoroughly depressed about the world. And then google ‘do a barrel roll' to cheer yourself up.

But anyway, the second project that's alive and kicking right now is my NaNoWriMo attempt, and perhaps the kindest name for it would be Project: Not A Fanfic (I like the colon in my project names - it has a Mission: Impossible feel.) I've attempted NaNo two or three times before, but always faded away because I never actually planned much beyond “I'm just going to keep writing until I get hungry.” But this year, I made notes. Hell, I even have an ending! And a beginning! The middle, though, is a slightly different story... or rather, a lack of one.

Notes! What is it about a new black pen on fresh white paper that gets me all tingly?

There's just the tiny matter of this blank page.

As for the (incredibly kind though not highly accurate) name of Project: Not A Fanfic... you see, I've been watching Supernatural quite a lot lately (soon we'll have a whole blog entry devoted to the deranged excellence that is Misha Collins) and it's possible that a few elements of the story are shamelessly stolen from inspired by the Supernatural franchise. 

It's not a big deal, so maybe I'm referencing tiny insignificant things like a character (or three) and maybe the overarching plot or even a forbidden angel-human gay love story - but come on, what adventure fantasy doesn't include that these days? It's practically a given! (Like hobbit-wizard relations with homoerotic undertones. Or lightning-shaped scars that hurt when one is near a bad guy who killed one's parents.) I'm critically addressing the tropes of the genre! It's not copyright infringement if you're consciously troping, right? Right!

So Project: Not A Fanfic is roughly a quarter through its first draft, and it's been a bit of a mission to pull out of my brain (or out of the ether? Let's pretend my brain isn't made of ether) and get onto paper. I think part of the problem is that the devil-monkey on my shoulder – the same thing that tells me it's okay to have that third cup of ice cream or stay up past 2am watching Comic-Con panels on youtube – realised early on that I was serious about this project. Some people's devil-monkeys organise flat tyres, friends who call crying in the middle of the night, and computer viruses (*spits three times* *crosses self* *gives the monkey ice cream*) to keep them distracted from the work at hand. My monkey lacks this sort of initiative and creativity – it just makes me stare blankly at the screen, mind soaked in self-doubt, and convinces me to take a break every thirty seconds for either coffee or the bathroom (one habit tends to enable the other.)

So this project is alive largely due to the glory of the productivity steroids woven into Dr Wicked's Write Or Die. The web app is free and quite useful, but I highly recommend giving this god among men ten bucks for the desktop version. It's great because you can customize how harsh you want 'punishments' to be (I'm sensitive and easily spooked, so the screen going red is quite enough for me without the soul-shattering sound effects) and you can customize a bunch of other stuff too. It really is a lifesaver if you've got to write a first draft in a hurry and / or you suffer from devil-monkeys.

In case anyone cares, my devil-monkey looks roughly the same as the Chicken Licken orangutan, but mine wears those kitsch little light-up devil horns you find in every Cardies on Halloween.

Is it bad that this is one of my favourite ads ever? I love the music and the puppetry and the fact that this guy looks more like a strung-out junkie than a fried chicken enthusiast. But I can't think about those hot-wings without feeling a little sick. I won approximately a metric tonne of them once... let's just say the devil-monkey made sure they didn't last long.

Editor's Note: Sorry about the impossible amount of ellipses and brackets in this entry. I'm definitely in first draft mode... (and ellipses... will always be a bad habit... from my fanfic days... don't they just... imply so many... impossible.... to... articulate... feelings...?!?!)

On Feeling Funny

So I haven't updated in a while because whenever I think of this neglected little blog I think to myself, "But I just don't feel funny today."
Which is dumb, because

• I'm not even that funny on days that I do feel funny.
• this blog started out being about everything, not just desperately trying to amuse the vast, uncaring gaze (gays!) of the internet.
• nobody reads this except a few kind friends and my sister, so what does it even matter what I write about?

What I was aiming for in the beginning was some semi-professional, semi-regular writing practice devoid of angst and unchecked squee. So when somebody from the real world asked if I had much writing experience, I could casually say "Well, I have a blog," and give them my business card ( haha! ...Sorry, I really must learn to say that with a straight face) and not be embarrassed by the idea that they might actually go to my blog and read it.

Should I get business cards? I feel like people who spend most days at home in their Hello Kitty pyjamas don't deserve business cards.

Maybe I should get business cards. It's been quite difficult to see myself as a professional writer, probably because apart from my three weeks at the Copywriting Job From Hell, I've never been paid to write anything. Even though I've made R68.86 from people clicking ads on this blog since January 2010! So that's almost R3 a month. *smugface*

Maybe I should just kill this blog? All my favourite bloggers are the ones who can't wait to post, and are usually accomplished illustrators or photographers with, you know, actual stuff to talk about. I have to force myself to post once a season.

But if I do kill it, what would I put on my Hello Kitty business cards?

*contemplative face*

ETA: After an impulsive (and slightly attention-whorey) facebook poll about what I should do with my blog, I've decided to carry on with it. Even people I didn't think cared at all have said they enjoy it, so I may as well try for a revival! Excuse me while I commission Hello Kitty business cards from my incredibly talented graphic designer sister.

Thanks to everyone for your support.  :)

I may be a postgraduate, but I'm not mature

This is the first year in living memory that I haven't been a student. Even though it's been over nine months since my last exam or essay submission, I've mostly been wallowing in unemployed self-pity and / or existential angst too much to appreciate it until now.

But it's Spring, I've already gotten my first sunburn of the season, and the jasmine on the breeze makes me feel like I have superpowers. For the first time, the relief of warm weather isn't mixed with the ever-present anxiety that deadlines are clogging my schedule and exams are standing over my bed, staring gauntly at me like Richard Wright's American hunger*.

Of course, every now and then I miss my essay-writing ritual, which can be summarized in these steps:

1. Procrastinate until roughly four hours before the deadline
2. Cry deeply (like a BOSS)
3. Sit down at the computer
4. Grudgingly open a Word document
5. Type one sentence, beginning with "In this essay, I will answer the essay question by arguing the position the essay question has suggested, thus answering the essay question."
6. Hit Word Count with the irrational hope that it'll say 2500
7. Decide I deserve a coffee break
8. Repeat steps 5-7 until the last syllable of recorded time.

Ah, good times.

A part of me is melancholy with the thought that leaving student life behind is one giant leap on the one-way path to grownuphood. I'm saddened by seeing student events in my sidebar on facebook, knowing that I didn't get an invite to this or that cocktail party (to which I would've replied 'Maybe' when I really meant 'No',) because I'm not a student anymore, and I don't belong there.

Teehee. Cock!

But maybe I'm not a grownup yet either.


*If you don't get that reference, you have to read Richard Wright's Black Boy, which was originally titled American Hunger, one of the awesomest semi-autobiographical books, like, ever.**
**Why yes, I did just give you homework and use the word 'awesomest' in one sentence.

Have you met Lexi?

Darling reader, I could give you a long explanation of how my life is far too busy and orgasmically* wonderful for me to blog, but that would be a lie. I’ve been less busy and possibly less orgasmic than your average senior citizen, and this blog has once again come to the edge of death because I suck at life.

But! I have made a new resolution! Call it a Nearly End Of Winter resolution or a Post-Bronchitis resolution, but I’ve made one and here it is: just because I suck at life doesn’t mean I have to suck at blogging. Most people whose blogs I enjoy suck at life anyway (except for you, because if you do blog I’m sure you’re amazing and I marvel at your ability to keep your orgasmically busy life at bay long enough to document it.)

So what do the pro-active, successful bloggers of the world blog about? I don’t know, but I have a cat** so… here’s a picture of my cat! 

Her name is Lexi and she's adorable. And whenever I run out of ideas I’m going to post pictures of her*** so this blog will never almost-die again! Look at me, with my flawless plan. It’s almost as if I don’t suck at life.

What are you doing in that shoebox, Lexi? You’re not a shoe, you’re a cat!

Of course, I’ll talk about other stuff too. Because there’s thin YET INCREDIBLY DISTINCT line between me and this girl:



And that line is that she’s trolling, and my devotion to cats (at least, my cat) is disturbingly genuine.

*Spellcheck assures me that I mean ‘orgasmic ally’ here. I think I’ve just found the name of my superhero sidekick. Climax would be the main superhero of course. And aren’t sidekicks supposed to have more cumbersome and less impressive names which tie in thematically to the main hero? There you go.

**a common symptom of sucking at life

***because she’s fluffy