Nov. 12th, 2013 12:15 am
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when I was nineteen and staying on a kibbutz in Israel, I was seriously hella sleep-deprived.  Seriously hella sleep-deprived.  I mean, I was for most of my adolescence and early adulthood, right, because things are messed up in my brain, but like.  I would wake up every morning too late to go to breakfast and go straight to class or work, depending on the day, and then eat lunch and then go to either work or class, whichever one I hadn't been to yet, and then I would come back to my room and fall asleep.  I had no choice about this.  At least once I fell asleep on the staircase to my room.  The outdoor staircase.  The outdoor stone staircase.  Just started walking up it and was asleep before I got to the top.  That is how tired I was.

anyway, I'd usually manage to wake up a few hours later, but by then I would have missed dinner.  So not only was I seriously hella sleep-deprived, I was also not getting more than one meal a day.  I was also walking a fair distance every day, and carrying piles of laundry in my arms at work.  I lost a lot of weight, but I doubt I was particularly healthy.  (People would compliment me on it and it would make me uncomfortable.  Then they'd be like "just take the compliment, gosh" and I'd be trying to explain "no but I do not want to lose weight" and it was all very not good.  But not the point of this story.)

I was living with two roommates who were... hm.  Strongly opinionated individuals, with strong boundaries, and strong tempers, and our room was very very very small.  Eventually one of them had to move out, our living habits were that irreconcileable.  But one thing they would always invariably get into it over was anyone taking anyone else's food.  Because we did have a teeny itty-bitty grocery store, of sorts, though to me, a Midwestern American more accustomed to Meijer's, it was more like a commissary— significantly smaller than your average gas-station convenience store.  But it was there, and you could buy food.  I almost never did, because, again, I was never awake and free when it was open.  But my roommates would buy food, and keep it in our cupboards, and steal it from each other and then get into screaming matches over it.  I mean, they got into screaming matches over plenty of other things, too.  Very small space.  Very large personalities.  Looooooots of drama.

I didn't fight with them all that much.  I tried to keep out of it and let them be distracted by each other and not take sides.  I knew better than to think I could steal a single cookie without its loss being noticed.  And I did not want that drama.

But I was hungry.  And what I could steal, I realized, was the peanut butter.

Because a missing cookie, you can see where it's missing.  Mix the peanut butter up a bit, no one can tell you stuck a knife in and licked it clean.  So when I woke up and dinner was over and the grocery store was closed and I wasn't going to get to eat until lunchtime the next day, I would creep over to the cupboard and sneak a small enough amount of peanut butter that I was confident it would not be missed.

Anyway, this was... *counts* ...about seven years ago.  But every time I eat peanut butter now, it still tastes like sneaky-triumph-barely-staving-off-roaring-hunger.  Sneaky triumph, by the way, tastes delicious.

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So I went out to get pizza

and I got lost

and I ended up

driving a really big loop? I dunno, Paul figured it out on a map when I got back

maybe like ten miles? or half an hour?

and the GPS couldn't find me

and I was a little worried that I wouldn't have enough gas to get home

but I did

so it was very fun and I enjoyed myself.
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and I am fucking not okay.

That put me in a really really bad headspace

It's really hard for me to see anything ok in the world right now

shit, I hate when this happens

I'm not going to be ok for a really long time now

The whole world is just going to have gone dark for a bit

Hopefully it'll be less than a few days this time?




I don't know how to pull myself out of this

I need to

I fucking have things I have to do today


ETA: Think I've got a handle on things a little better now, thanks to angsty feels about completely separate things & the chance for some conversations, at least to the point where I can start looking for fluffy fics and they will help instead of simply being tainted by association. Have one in which the dwarves accidentally get tiny!Estel drunk.
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mmmmm feeling all painfully introspective and melancholy tonight

feeling too much emotion, even happiness hurts

haven't had a night like this in a while

come, Smetana, you will hurt too but I would rather hurt with music than with anything else
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I keep wanting to write Thor and Loki addressing people as "sirrah" and using thou

I mean, on the one hand, I can't even imagine how much awful there would be in fanfic if Asgardians actually got translation-convention'd as using Shakespearean English

So I'm grateful for that

But! Loki calling people sirrah! Who wouldn't want that?

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Right, so, now I'm fifteen pages in and my two protagonists decide to ruin everything, thanks guys, because I finally, finally thought I had found a couple of avenues that this story could go down, and so right when I was getting close to maybe picking one of them you guys go NOPE NOPE NOW THEY WON'T WORK WE ARE GOING PLACES YOU NEVER EVEN THOUGHT OF AS POSSIBILITIES HA HA HA.

What. What, what. What am I going to do now? Now I have, like, negative amount of idea where this story is going, what. *throws hands in air*

Seriously, people talk about outlining stories and I just look on wistfully and wonder if they have some kind of superpower.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Ten Eleven pages in and I still have no idea where this story is going, Eru help me.



Feb. 27th, 2012 02:50 am
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Eru, I should just not be allowed to talk when I'm on Vyvanse. Like, and this goes a million times for when something bad happens.

The hard part is that Vyvanse makes me want to talk, need to talk, and Vyvanse and bad things make me desperately need to talk, over nine thousand.

And then I regret it later.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
What the hell, brain? It's not even the pairing that is weirding me out here, it's the fact that I just wrote 1000 words of Nu!Kirk/Spock Prime in a Star Wars fic.

*throws up hands* Anyone wanna let me know how that happened?

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So there were other people in the laundry facilities tonight, which, what, it's two in the morning. And I hate hate hate the way I babble when I'm nervous and want people to like me. This time I tried really hard not to lie without thinking, which I do around strangers, which basically meant that I instead did what Paul once called "Approaching the Truth with Leora," and sounds something like this:

--blah blah blah about weather, this is a nice time to do laundry because the machines are free, nighttime is nice in general, etc.--

Leora: I'm a biologist.
Person: Do you usually like to study at night?
Leora: What? Oh. No. I'm not a student.
Leora: I'm not actually a biologist. I shouldn't have said I was a biologist.
Leora: I was planning to be a biologist. I guess I still say that reflexively.
Leora: I'm not anything, really.
Leora: I mean, I work in the evenings.
Leora: Like, on the phone. So, only sort of. Anyway it means I'm awake in the evenings.
Leora: *remembers that it's normal for people to be awake in the evenings* What I mean is, I like being awake at night. I have weird sleep things going on anyway. I mean--
Leora: *flees. Flees like a coward.*

The sad part is, that was edited for clarity. I actually sounded far more stuttering and incoherent.


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True story: while I was sweeping the kitchen, I still had my hair only up in a half-ponytail. At one point, I turned around quickly and caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye of a dark fuzzy mass darting out of sight, and freaked out because I was certain that a cat had somehow found its way inside.

Ahahaha. Then I put my hair up.

It was down because I'd been at the synagogue for Simchat Torah, and so I was dressed up. It was approx. eleven metric tonnes of fun, and there was singing and dancing and I carried a Torah for one of the circles. And then I went again the next morning, but there were only nine of us and so we could not sing and dance, which made me very sad, but it was still fun. Vayi erev vayi boker yom shlishi.

I am leaving for Michigan within a few hours, and will be back hopefully before Halloween.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Am reading a story with a character who affects faux-Shakespearean language. Like, all the time. He's supposed to be a theater major with a minor in dance.
a.) I know next to nothing about dance, so when I can tell you're getting stuff wrong, there is a problem
and b.) HOLY HELL, PLEASE FIX YOUR ELIZABETHAN ENGLISH. PLEASE. If you are calling yourself after characters from Shakespeare, and you still use "be-eth" rather than "art," then I am going to assume that the closest you have come to any of the plays is the Cliffnotes.

"Be-eth." Eru Illuvatar above, I thought I had left that behind when I stopped looking for LotR Mary-Sues bad enough to require PPC assassination.

On the plus side, I have acquired a folding screen made of Beauty and Awesome. I have also hacked my badly-placed kitchen lightswitch with packing tape, a hotel sewing kit, and two tiny binder clips. Ahahahahahahaha I feel so accomplished!

So far I have also hacked my refrigerator door with a lovely cream ribbon and packing tape, and my cupboard doors with cotton balls and packing tape, and my potholder-hooks with packing tape.

I love packing tape! It is like Scotch tape for grown-ups! Which I totally am now, ahahahahahah!

Today Paul and I saw Cosi fan Tutte, which is yet another opera where everything could have been solved by threesomes foursomes. Not literal foursomes, actually, in this case, but more likely a setup where each girl is in a relationship with both guys.* Although seeing as how the conclusion goes "yeah, your girlfriends are unfaithful, but whatevs, it's not like you're gonna find a woman somewhere else who isn't, so just live with it," not to mention the musical subtext re: which girl actually matches up with which guy, that may actually be where they're going to end up. Then we came home and had cheese and wine and watched Castle. I really like Castle! I also have this weird headcanon that Ryan is actually a werewolf. I do not know whence this notion came, nor can I get it to leave by any means. It's like the way my brain is completely absolutely convinced that Steven Maturin has an alligator tail. *shrugs* My brain, fillies and gentlecolts.


*And if the guys decide to have a relationship with each other too, well, hey.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
...I am not sure whether or not to be proud of the fact that my subconscious will write in flawless iambic pentameter when I'm not paying attention.



Jan. 21st, 2011 07:13 am
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I have an idea for an art project!

Leora's Better Judgement: Wow, that looks... really involved. 

Leora: But cool!

Leora's Better Judgement:
Well sure, I guess it could be, it's just that... well...

Leora: Oh, spit it out.

Leora's Better Judgement: Um. How do I say this...?  You're not an artist.

Leora: I could totally be an artist.

Leora's Better Judgement: No. No you can't. It takes years and years of hard work and dedication. You have this demented notion that skills are like scabs, in that you should leave them alone and they'll get better when you're not looking. You know what's true? The opposite of that.

Leora: Come on, take a look at this drawing. It's awesome!

Leora's Better Judgement: Wow, a reasonably accurate sketch of a picture you had in front of you, minus, you know, those little things like details and backgrounds and proportions.

Leora: Now you're just being mean.

Leora's Better Judgement: I'm just saying, this project you've got in mind would require a lot of... well, everything you're not good at, art-wise. And writing-wise. And attention-span-wise. I really don't think it's a good idea.

Leora: See, this is why I usually just don't ask you. All you ever do is say no!

Leora's Better Judgement: ...oh my god there is so much wrong with you.



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