April 15th, 2011

Readwrite || Rosethorn || Stare.

(no subject)

Warning: This is not a typical Kiwi entry. If you are looking for a soft-spoken, unique-perspective, speckled-with-humour-and-poetry, slightly-ridiculous post, please select a ticket number from the machine and stand in queue behind Kiwi herself, who has been waiting a week. There will be an announcement when typical!Kiwi has returned. Until then, please stand with varying levels of patience, occasionally glance at your watch (pocket or no) and mutter "typical!" from time to time in an effort to return her to her rightful mindset. No member of this queue will be judged for his or her presence, except Kiwi, because she is whistling. (Kiwi - knock off the whistling or it's chimney by the ankles for you.)

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In Gudnusland:
  • I am alive.
  • I have written.
  • I am revising, even if too slowly and too suckily and too sulkily.
  • I drew something.

    This is for kitty_ryan because she wanted to see it and I'm off to bed (hello 6am!) and can't send it to her. Please remember that art is Not My Thing. (At this point, nothing is my thing but Complaining. Not even very skilfully. I am not an A+ Whinger. I'm more of an Eeyore at the moment, really... anyone found my tail?) I am not an artist. I generally don't draw. Yada-yada-yada, more excuses as to why you shouldn't take me seriously, and why any critiques should not look like criticisms so I don't bawl my eyes out due to my inability to remove myself from my work. Wow. Someone's feeling open about the inner workings of her mind today... And now for something completely different!

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    Oh, screw you, dawn and birdsong! I have no time to be appreciative and poetic! Can't you see I'm in a tizzy? Could you please just go away for a while?

    You all can call me Grouch E. McAntankerous now. Seems I've got my prickly pants on. I'm going to bed now. Hopefully if there's a post tomorrow it'll be more...positive, and less like attempting to cradle a cactus with no gloves.

    *Kicks exams.*


    They say goldfish have no memory; I guess their lives are much like mine and the little plastic castle is a surprise every time. And it's hard to say if they're happy but they don't seem much to mind.
    [Ani DiFranco; Little Plastic Castle]
    • Current Music
      Sodding Birds.
    Rainbow || Rainbow northern lights.

    (no subject)

    Every year Uni. Reading hosts a Summer Ball; everyone dresses up and gets drunk. There are bands and activities, apparently - I don't know I've never been. The plan was to go this year with Jojobird and Claire, but when Jo and I realised how expensive the tickets were (£50) and how rubbish we thought the bands were, we ducked out. (Claire is not abandoned, for she's going with her housemates.)

    Instead, Jo has decided she, Emma, Pip, Susanne and I (we're five out of, like, nine ecologists) will go to the Royal Ascot instead; she booked our tickets.

    So, uh, I have to find some 'oober posh' (as Jo reported) stitches and a ridiculous-but-fancy-esque hat. This should be an interesting endeavour. I wonder if I could get away with wearing a suit-like-thing instead of a dress, since we're in the section with the smart-casual dress code. Not that I can ever find trousers that fit my little lady legs.

    In other news, I hate that I get what I have declared 'textual paranoia'. Some people get sexual paranoia, I get textual. Without inflection, tone, body language, expressions and eyes to interpret, I am likely to read most text as darker than it was intended. And then think everyone is annoyed with me or secretly dislikes me or wishes I would really just go away.

    Perhaps it's because in a number of my elementary, junior high and high school experiences, that was the case. But regardless it's annoying now. I wish I had a knack for keeping a person's True Voice in my mind when reading something he or she has written. Instead I read it as if I've crossed lines, the person is peeved with me, I've done something wrong - and am tempted to spend much of my next communication apologising, for my actions or just myself. Erglackaglack.

    ETA: If you've ever wondered why I spend so much time online and seldom IM you, that's the reason. I'm probably sitting there considering it in a corner of my mind and ultimately deciding I would just be irking you, hah. Sometimes it takes too much energy to overcome that fear and actually hit 'send' - on IMs, emails, posts, comments, what-have-you! Alas. Initiating contact is not generally my comfort zone; I have to be quite comfortable for that!

    Welp. Back to revision.


    "Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company."
    [Lord Byron]
    • Current Mood
      pessimistic Pessimistic.