It sticks. Frack.

Hey, Long time no write. Over a year to be more exact.

So, It turns out Im dying. Cant say I'm too shocked or heartbroken but if people really do go through the five stages of death then I guess it could be the denial talking. Perhaps it's just that I'm signing off in 6(?) years rather than in the next few months. Maybe I'll become more panicky when time draweth nearer.

The doctor went something blah blah, toxins not leaving system, blah organs shutting down, blah blah not enough oxygen to sustain them blah blah blah. Right sides of lung, heart and brain not doing too good and so on. Prolly wasn't an organ besides the left lung she didn't mention that was crapping out. Well, so much for my idea of organ donation.

Feel mighty sorry for my nearest and dearest tho. Not enough to do anything about it tho. What can I say, I'm a twat.

When your hope of being you, suddenly disappears
and you notice, that all that's left is anticipation,
that buries your thoughts and actions,

you will arrange a party.
You yourself shall decorate the odeum
and feel how loosely everything is tied.
How little you really care.

Now you open all doors for him.
You let him come,
to the party of those silent shades
who were created only to
be able to die here today.

You go and the streets are narrow,
on those quiet nights.
Where shades are dark on windows.
Expecting something.

I guess every one of them shall hold a tiny party
In which the beginning of endings
and the felt beauty of beginnings.

I think I'm becoming a sociopath. I just totally blew off a friend in cruel way, and I didn't even get a twinge from my concious. I however am made uncomfortable by the notion that there was no twinge. Strange. Maybe I'm just jaded...

I have been thinking (as shocking as it might seem). If I agreed to electroshock theraphy to cure my depression, and in the process forgot everything about me and my life, would I be able to have a normal, depression free, life?
I believe it's our memories that define us, and since I'm terminally depressed it might be because of my memories.
Technically speaking if I forgot everything I would be dead. There would be no me anymore, but maybe that new person would have a better shot at living a fulfilling life.
I don't mind being dead. I know it sounds like bollocks, but I seriously don't mind. Especially if someoneelsegets a shot at thislife thing.
Of course in that case I would be murdering my multiple personalities as well, and I'm sort of fond of the little buggers...

There are days when I'm the biggest baddest of them all. No one could top my dominance. In those days there is a constant growl, a rumble in my throat and the need to howl toward the moon while prowl for pray or pack is way too strong.
There is a dark beast lurking behind my eyes and every smile I give is a half smirk that just makes the receiver go real quiet and expose their necks in unconscious submission.
The hunt is afoot and if there were anyone whom I would be willing to call my own, on that day they would be marked, claimed and owned. Protection instincts go over the roof and should anyone dare to question my dominance, the growl in the back of my throat would move forward urged by a dangerous smile that was all teeth and no niceties
Those are the days I'm alive. When I COULD rule the world with little opposition. Where my unimpressive height becomes an advantage, and when people walk away from my path because somewhere in those dull mechanized bodies some primal instincts recognize the ultimate alpha.
Those days I live for and apparently today is one of em.

Today has been a great day. I haven't had one of these in years. Every now an then a good day comes along to say 'hi', but great days are so rare I Barely remembered they existed.

( Chronicle of a Great Day: )

It seems I'm twice as doomed as I was than the last time I checked. Appears that Jeeves & Wooster have once again snuck off with a piece of my heart, left yours truly with a strange manner of speech and fondness for anything about or of the 1920's.

One might say dear lord, one might cry out at the injustice of things, one might do all sorts of things in outrage. One instead finds, that all resistance is futile, and it is better just to, bally well, give in and drift with the flow as he saying goes. Or maybe it was go, I never remember there things.

The butterflies are hosting a rave in my abdomen and I have a sappy look about me. Also I'm assaulted by J&W plot bunnies a well as TDF ones.

*sigh* All it took to get back into that warm and fuzzy place was one fanvid. Namely this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MzRJLd9O0s and a little piece of the show http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2XTTO-utqg .

I'm not as miserable about this as I ought to be. I've never managed to say no to Wodehouse. As silly as I am about this, I must finish at least one TDF fic before I start with the J&W one. I just must, because otherwise I will get nothing done.

I'm sure that the love that I feel for the fandom is entirely motherly. There is no one but Jeeves for Wooster, and Wooster for our dear old Jeeves. Maybe one day I'll find a Jeeves to my Wooster, but since I'm too embittered and with an overdeveloped sense of propriety, I doubt the said event ever coming to e.
If I just wasn't so confusing to everyone including myself. One thing is sure: I was born into the wrong era. Maybe I should have been born earlier or perhaps way into the future. If I just were monosexual, self centered and a bigot to boot *sigh*

Oh well, no point in brooding over the point. Emo time over.

Oh Wodehouse, how I worship thee.

Pip Pip. I shall leave you with these few last titbits of wisdom:


To be or not to be ~Shakespeare
To do is to be ~Nietzsche
To be is to do ~Sartre
Do be do be do ~Sinatra

I got my Photoshop to work. For an art student that is almost like for a Dresden Files fan to hear there will be a 2 season in the series. Not quite as a religous experience put pretty damn close.
I have been deprived of that digital goodness for way too long now. I can start with the icons!

I'm practically performing the floorshow from Rocky Horror. Full costume and everything.
Tears of undiluted joy are not beyond me and I usually am way too proud for sappiness.


Give yourself over to absolute pleasure
Swim the warm waters of sins of the mind
Erotic madness beyond any measure
And sensual daydreams to treasure forever

Can't you just see it!


Don't dream it, be it.

So I'm a bluehead no more. I'm a redhead now.
4 Years worth of image down the drain. Why? Honestly I haven't got the slightest idea. I just know that I like extreme colors. They say redheads do more wild things. We'll wait and see.
Born with black hair, grew up with blonde so light I haven't the words to describe it, dyed blue and after four years had natural hair color that was between blonde and a brunette. I think red suits my pale, pale complexion.
Will wear more green, drink whiskey/guinness and practice my Irish accent. I'm rubbish at it.

Will add pictures of both my hairdo's at some point... if I can repress my excessive paranoia.
I maintain that paranoia even in the extreme is overly healthy thing to have, no matter what others insist.

I still haven't managed to force myself finish the thing I'm writing. I try. I really do. Somehow it just doesn't feel right.

Have been listening to smilers' 'seilan 7 merd' (I sail the 7 seas)
At some point might translate the lyrics into english. Will see

Gah! I'm going insane(er). I have rabid plot bunnies chewing my legs off (The right one is off from the knee and the lil buggers have started on the toes of my left foot). Meaning I have an A4's worth of plot ideas that's about 56 plot ideas. *goes back to make sure she didn't miscalculate*

Correction! Just 53. Three of them had taken two lines to record. The worst is, that most of them aren't even drabble material, but more in the serious full blown epic/novel loooong stuff category. *groaaaan* I could probably squish many ideas into one story arc. But damn, is this unlikely to happen.

Edit [2:44 AM]: 54 plot bunnies. These things breed like rabbits. *morose*
Edit [3:02 AM]: 55. *deadpan* 8 of them are Ideas how to get bob corporeal.
Edit [3:23 AM]: 58. *facepalm* I give up.
Edit [6:22 AM]: 61 *sniff*
Edit [4:02 PM]: this isnt gonna go away... 65

***** End of anything useful in this post. Stop reading. Fear for your sanity. Just boring venting. End of post. Honestly. *****

( Ze Ventilation System )

Done. Fin. Loppu. Lõpp. Kонец. Jiendo.

This is about the third time I try starting a LJ account. I hope I'll pull it off this time.
I should provide something to the communities I visit. I read their posts and fics, I watch their art but i never comment and I never give anything back. I hardly seems fair to me but I can't pull myself together to actually give them something in return.
Don't get me wrong, I have more ideas than I could possibly ever unleash upon this world (they are very lucky that ost of my ides won't ever see the light of the screen glow).

I shall try harder this time. And all because of dresden files. I probably wont comment but I'll try really hard to draw or write something to them to show my appreciation.

Here goes...