...Okay, not really but I made it and loved it so much I couldn't resist putting it up.

Hello my lovlies. I fear I must apologize for my prolonged non-posty-ness. Yeah. That. I'm really just killing time right now until I get tags in my RPs. Pretty much.

I picked up a Dib. Why I'm playing both Dib and Zim? I'll never know. It's like a madhouse in the headspace now. I'm going to wind up killing them all.

I also kind of want to make an AU Dib where he's the invader and Zim is all perfectly normal Irken skool-kid who one day realizes OHMYGOD THERE'SANALIENINTHECLASS. Just because it would make OU Dib's head implode. It's the size of a hippo, that head!

In other world news, we went to see Wall-E at the drive-in. CUTEST MOVIE I HAVE EVAR SEEN EVAR. Robot romance? Hells yes. What's not to love? Really interesting concept, too, having the two main characters unable to speak beyond a few words. It's difficult to write a good story with no dialogue when your medium is film/comics. (Spy vs. Spy anyone? I'd pay to sit and watch an hour or so of the Spy Guys beating up on each other.)

Anyhow. No real news at the moment. Sorry. Um. Bentley's getting bigger? Really big. Uh. I'm definitely totally maybe going to cosplay Richard in addition to Dib at Dragon Con. RICHARD PLUSHIES ARE ON SALE NOW OH GOD I WANT TO SQUEEZE THE EVIL.

This is not a drill. I repeat, this is NOT a DRILL. THIS IS YOUR LIFE.

I'm on perpetual short-story mode, the synapses in my brain firing quicker than the the speed of literature. I gotta write something... SOMETHING. Anything. Short stories. That's what I'm good at writing. I can pound out a whole slew of them if I set my mind to it. That's right. I can do it.

Publish a collection of short stories. People like short stories. They're like... like tidbits of a novel, slices of the greater literary cake, edible in one sitting, lingering on the palate of the brain; they are short, they are concise, and they require a whole hell of a lot less time than a full-blown novel. I can do a novel. Oh yes, I think NaNoWriMo last year proved that. A novel can I do.

Yuss. BUT. I can only do a novel if I have a team of people who are also doing a novel, people who are struggling through the same thing that I am, people who know the critical need to reach a word count. I can't do it on my own. I need people to back me up, to charge through the morass of literary fatigue with me, to catch me when I stumble, people that I'll catch when they fall.

Short stories are just as intense, but the intensity is contained in one little burst, rather than drawn out and antagonizing over the course of a month. Of course, some people think it's crazy to write a novel in a month. I agree. It most certainly is. But it's also... fulfilling. But we're talking about short stories now, aren't we? Little bursts of literature, and they can be as long or as short as you need them to be. No worries about "is it too long? Is it too short? Do I need to add more here?" You begin, you continue, you end. When you get the end, that's when you stop. And you start at the beginning. The middle bit is there mostly to get from the beginning to the end.

I want to write somethng powerful. Something that makes you sit and stop, and think for a moment. Something different. Something raw, something real, realler even than real life, something that makes the world around you seem fiction, and fiction seem real. The Truth Is Out There, Stranger Than Fiction. Delicious. But it should be "The Fiction Is Out There". I want fiction stranger than truth, not truth stranger than fiction. I want the real world, held up to a mirror and tilted at a slight angle so everything is skewed. Bend it, break it, twist it, mold it, make it your own. Take the world and write it. Every little detail, every little thing.

Let the ink pour from the pen, not like a river of blood, or a river of anything. Let the ink pour from the pen like ink pouring from a pen.

( There's this door here )

*tries to stay awake* Got up at ten-thirty today so I could come to the library. Is currently one. Need sleep. Not used to getting up before twelve.

Still need job. Made eighty bucks last week, one-fifty the week before. Still need more money.

Did I mention that it's one? Probably won't be online tonight. Probably. Maybe I will. Um. Krystal's, maybe. Maybe take a few bucks and buy a drink and two burgers to use the internet. Maybe. Don't know. Depends.

Need one more journal for Johanna and Zim in Econtra. Crowley's covered. All three need threads. Crowley has one with Foaly but it needs moar comments, Zim has one with Jareth that needs moar comments, and Johanna with Dib that has no comments yet but that's okay because I'm falling asleep at the keyboard.

Yeah.

Need a cigarette.

*yawn*

Choose five series (no peeking before you choose them), list them, and then answer the questions behind the cut.

1. Invader Zim
2. House
3. NCIS
4. Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends
5. Fairly odd Parents

( DON'T PEEK! )

Dear Jareth-mun:

OMG I WENT CAMPING YESTERDAY AND DIDN'T HAVE MY COMPUTER SO SARAH WILL HAVE TO WAIT 'TIL NEXT WEEK TO SHOW UP IN ECONTRA I'M SORRY DON'T HATE ME BB T.T

To everyone else: Oh god my stomach. T.T A gazillion WEENIES + a gazillion S'MORES do not a happy Richard tummy make.

Okay. So. There are two guards. One always lies, and one always tells the truth. You may ask only one question of the guards. What do you ask?

The answer of course is simple: You ask one guard if the other will tell you the truth. If he says "Yes", he is the liar; if he says "No", he is the one who tells the truth.

BUT.

In the labyrinth, Sarah is confronted with a similar puzzle - but instead of presented to her by an unbiased, trustworthy outside source, it is told to her by one of the guards - a guard who might be lying, or who might be telling the truth.

IF the guard who tells her this is lying, then neither guard is truthful. Both are liars. And therefore, either both doors may lead to certain death, or neither.

So. Did Sarah pick the correct door? Impossible to say, without knowing for certain which guard was the liar, and which told the truth.

Discuss.

Finally got around to watching Labyrinth. I'd downloaded it ages ago. Watched it because Zim is rooming with Jareth in Econtra.

Now I'm wondering if I should app Sarah. But the chick has the personality of a broomstick.

And I have Magic Dance stuck in my head now.

I need a Bowie icon. I have acquired a lovely Jareth icon.

You remind me of the babe~

I found this lovely little website called Stripgenerator that does all the artwork for you and leaves you to mess around thinking up funny shit. So I figured, why the hell not, I can think of something funny and make a little webcomic and pretend I'm cool enough to actually do something like webcomics. So here we have it, Walk the Fine Line Installment Zero (because the pilot episode like, doesn't count or some shit like that.)

( Disambiguation )

Alright, I've been thinking about this for a while now, and when I've been thinking about things for a while, there comes a time when I must open such things for discussion. As it involves Sweeney Todd but is not particularly funny or witty, or whatever, I'm afraid I must open the discussion to my friend's page, rather than post about it to CapslockSweeney. Such a posting would be made of epic fail and would effectively negate whatever 'cred' I may have in the community at the moment. (Okay, seriously? I have fangirls. And I need to work on my brilliantly epic post. I told Kay I'd try to have it posted by the end of the week.)

Anyhow. I was rewatching Sweeney Todd the other day for what must about the ten millionth time, and it occured to me that Sweeney's reaction to Mrs. Lovett's meat pies is a very odd reaction. Granted, they are the worst pies in London, but Sweeney had been detained in a penal colony (Botany Bay, in Australia) for nearly fifteen years, and after escape, sailed back to London on the Bountiful.

Conditions in penal colonies were, to put it bluntly, hellish. Prisoners often died of hunger, medical neglect, disease, or excessive labour. For Sweeney Todd to have escaped at all is nothing short of a miracle; to have been picked up by a kindly sailor, even less likely. However, he did escape, and was taken on board the Bountiful. One can only speculate what food aboard a ship must have been like; the most likely fare would have been hardtack (a sort of dry, tough cracker) and dried meat - vegetables would rot quickly, as would fruit; water would go stale, and alcohol would likely be available in the form of grog.

Thus, upon Sweeney Todd's return to London, regardless of whether or not Mrs. Lovett's meat pies really are the 'worst pies in London', Mr. Todd ought to have not only been extremely grateful to eat something that wasn't crawling with maggots or grubs - he ought to have enjoyed what would seem like a feast after what he'd eaten in the penal colony and on a ship.. Alright, so there's a roach or two, but that's really nothing compared to conditions in Botany Bay or on a ship.

There's also the matter of how he managed to stay physically healthy, even if the years weren't 'particularly kind' to him - just how did he manage to stay alive long enough to make it back to London?

Alright, I've opened the topic - DISCUSS! Debate! Find a reasonable answer to this mystery. (Suspension of disbelief is all well and good, but really, I can only suspend disbelief so far, you know?) Aaaaand.... GO!

Meme!


Comment, and I will reply with a picture of the fictional character you most remind me of. Then, do the same in your journal!

I need to get Sweeney back into Sages. I went all "....blaaaaaaah" when Bentley got sick, and then I got caught up in Econtra. Definitely time to get Sweeney back in the game. Luckily, I've got a plot for him. So that's all right.

Lessee... Econtra is hella fun. I've got my Lucy and Johanna rooming together (doubly funny because Lucy's an AU and 20, Johanna's OU and 15).

Erm. What else? Don't know. I'm making some epic lolz for capslocksweeney. Got caught up on my Lucy tags. No Johanna tags at the present time. Hrm. Anything else?

Not really.

So. Um. I taped a few video posts, but none of them are very interesting, so I'll wait until I have an interesting one to post :(

I have more picspam. Featuring, among other things, the lovely stripey shirt in my icon. What else is there to post about, really? Not much, I must admit. Apparently this morning when I was still asleep, I decided that my regular pillows weren't good enough for me, and I had to cling to my black-and-white striped throw pillow and snuggle it as if it were my only friend in the world. Hey, at least my shirt matches my pillow, amirite?

Alex changed the background on my laptop from Sweeney/Lucy in the final scene to the crotchshot of Sweeney on the front of the Special Edition DVD. Mmmm Sweeney.

What else? I've got that silly rickroll song stuck in my head, so I finally gave in and downloaded. So my playlist can now rickroll me. Yay. I guess.

I've been a comment whore lately, commenting just about everywhere and getting all happy when people comment back. Convos on the internet are fun! Um. The other night I watched Secret Window and had the strangest craving for corn on the cob. We went grocery shopping today and sadly did not get corn on the cob, although I did get a bag of potatos and a cabbage. Had baked 'tatos for dinner tonight, and tomorrow for lunch I'm going to have boiled cabbage and mashed potatos. Mmmm. I only wish I had some suitable meat to throw in there with it to make it a proper Irish dish. Ah well. I've got hot dogs.

Been working on a short story for killer_fiction. Not sure where it's going, but it's going somewhere. I need to find two icons to fill the blank spots on my LJ because I thought it'd be fun to switch them around and get rid of the icons I don't use that much. Because I'm never content with the icons I have and feel the need to switch them out until I find one that I'll use consistently.

There's a bag of potato chips in one of the drawers at my desk. Feel like Mort Rainey, I do. Writing tools: chips, soda, laptop, cigarettes.

...Seriously, neighbors? It's cool that you have these little drum circle things, but it's not cool that you have them at 3 in the morning when other people are considering going to bed and getting some sleep. Shut the frell up already. Also? Get rid of the screaming drunk people who pound on your door at 3 am. It's getting ridiculous. And on another note - if you don't want my dogs running around outside without a leash (at least I'm out there to supervise them, may I add) then don't let your dog run around outisde without a leash (unsupervised, I feel obliged to point out.) And I really don't get why you've tried to make us move away (seriously. Leaving a note on our door that says the landlord wants us to get of our dogs or move? When we can go and talk to him ourselves? Yeah, we saw through that one pretty quick.) or why you're always so hostile toward us. If anything, we're better neighbors than you. We keep to ourselves, we don't make obscene amounts of noise at 3 in the morning, and we've hardly ever spoken to you.

I lol'd so hard.

More picspam from me! ♥ I can't help it. I'm drawn to cameras like a moth to a flame, 'cept I don't burn to a crisp when I get near a camera.

Like the other pics, I made this set into a set of icons as well. And, like any photographer, I took about a gazillion and one photos and only picked the best.



( Camwhoring )

Because I'm a terrible person, I made icons of my camwhore photos.

( I feel pretty, oh so pretty )

So. I was playing with my webcam and decided to take a few photos of meself, because I'm a narcissist like that, ya know?


What is that?

( It's priest. Have a little priest... )

Watching Sweeney Todd while playing on the internet? Results in this:

Sweeners: ZOMG! Mrs. L, you bitch! U lied 2 me!
Lovett: nut rly. neva said she died
Sweeners: U new mah Lucy lived!
Lovett: an old geeza eatin' out of garbadge, you wanted to know she was livin' like that?
Sweeners: No whut? ur rite. I 4give u. Cum here n secks me. I'm totz not gunna thro u in teh oven or nething.
Lovett: rly? *go*
Sweeners: Hahahaha! I lied! I thro u in teh oven naow!
Lovett: OMG HAX!!11!!1! ninja l00tur *ded*

Also: a sign that I've been watching far too much Tim Burton lately - Beetlejuice made yet another appearance in my dreams. This time he'd stolen my beetle pendant. And the night before that I dreamed that I had a spiffy Beetlejuice-style stripey suit.

Let's see. I have 7 pages of Screnzy done. Mostly I've worked on it once. Yeah.

Sweeney's waiting. He wants you bleeders.

L'histoire du monde, ma chère
Les pauvres sont au service des riches
Comme il est satisfaisant de savoir que pour une fois
Les riches serviront les pauvres gens!

There are reasons that I should not be allowed to obsess over things, I think.

So. We went to the mall on Friday. There's this nifty store there that sells oddities and antiques, rare and exciting things from around the world.

They had these pendants. The pendants contained insects. I got a nifty one with a big, shiny, greeeeen beetle.

Now, by all rights, the store I got this thing in combined with the nature of the object itself dictates that I ought to gain magical powers, or the pendant ought to come to life, and I should have to travel into the fairy realm and save a princess. Or something.

This has not happened yet. Clearly, the universe is a bit slow on the uptake.

On the other hand... I dreamed about destroying stuff with Beetlejuice last night. Or rather, I was destroying stuff with magical powers and people were blaming BJ and he was like "OMG IT'S NOT ME THAT'S DOING IT PPL IT'S THIS EVIL WITCH HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THIS???" But eventually he joined me and we pretty much ruled the Neitherworld with iron fists. Well, okay. I ruled the Neitherworld with an iron fist and he goofed off.

So perhaps the universe isn't as slow on the uptake as I thought it was. (For those who are curious, yes I did wear the pendant to bed.) Obviously when I dream, I dream myself into a different world and gain magical powers. If I had been injured in the dream, I've no doubt that I should have awoken to find myself sporting whatever injuries I had sustained in the Dream Realm. (There's something extremely Wheel of Time about that, though, so perhaps not.)

Still. This pendant is the sort of thing that looks different enough that I could easily believe it to be magic, and yet it appears to be nothing more than a simple trinket. Of such things are adventures made. I shall continue to examine it minutely, searching for a flickering of its wings, a twitch of its antennae... something, anything to prove that this is, in fact, no ordinary pendant.