I suppose the second job had to be soul-sucking to make up for the fact that the first job is awesome, amazing, wonderful, and exactly what I want to do with my life.

I HATE THE UNIVERSE'S SENSE OF BALANCE.

Omigodiamnotfiveandiheardyouthefirstsixtimesyousaidpoemsjusthavetobewhichisutterfuckingnonsenseanywayargharghargharghargh.
So, if I shoot the roommate who keeps turning the heat down in the middle of the night, that's okay, right?

I mean, I wouldn't do it fatally, or anything.







Probably
Reaching that point in the year where being amused by my roommates turns to being irritated by my roommates turns to really wishing my roommates would just stop.


IT'S DECEMBER. ON TOP OF A MOUNTAIN. STOP TURNING OFF THE HEAT AT NIGHT.

THERE IS A PERFECTLY GOOD PARKING LOT LESS THAN TWENTY FEET AWAY. WHEN YOU GET TO THE GARAGE FIRST, THAT IS WHERE I PARK. STOP PARKING BEHIND MY CAR.

OTHER PEOPLE LIKE TO USE THE PUBLIC SPACES. STOP CAMPING ON THE COUCH AND LEAVING ALL YOUR POSSESSIONS THERE WHEN YOU GO TO WORK AND/OR LEAVE TOWN FOR A WEEK.


I know that it's just that we've been in the same space for too-long-not-long-enough, that I'll be resigned in another month or so, but...jeez.


(Especially stop talking like I have no right to park in the garage, okay? Like it's an enormous imposition on my part. Like when, already ten minutes late for my exam, I ask you to move your car from behind mine, it's incredibly rude of me to ask you to move your car. Either park behind someone who you're sure has no intention of going anywhere, or--I dunno--park FIFTEEN FEET AWAY in the parking lot. During the summer, you had that garage to yourselves; I did not insist. Now, it takes an extra fifteen minutes to get the car to driveable condiation, and I am insisting. I pay as much rent as you do, so that's okay for me to do. Rly.)
Homophobia makes me sad. SAAAAAAAAAAAD. Especially in my own family.

WTH, seriously, you'd rather they were drunk than dancing with each other shirtless? CLEARLY they were joking, for one thing, you idiot, and you KNEW they were joking, but it's worse for them to be violating a stated rule than for them to skirt the edges of the appearance of something that might turn into violating a rule?

Also, I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure drunkenness is worse for people's health than a little shirtless dancing.

I really desperately want to kick him. He's not stupid. He's not so old that I can chalk it up to the culture/time period he was raised in. He is CHOOSING this.


And I said something, and got all flustered and turned around the way I always do, and part of the problem is that he never does this when we're having a private conversation, he always does it when we're in public and around small children and I can't say the things I really want to.


What makes me really sad is how everybody else was nodding along to his little diatribe. Wth, family. I can make a few more excuses for you, because of the aforementioned time period thing, but even with that, you are all thinking, generally sensitive people. Most of the time I am genuinely fond of you. What is this HUGE and APPALLING blind spot in your awesomeness?

It makes me a little sick to listen to one of the women I admire most in the world talk like that.
P. S. It appears to be possible that finding a counsellor for my stress problems is a major cause of stress problems. Freaking Catch-22.
Okay, y'all--

I'm scared.

Everybody will go different places and I'll have to check four flists (which I will never, ever remember to do) and I'll lose people. And communities. And--holy hannah, have you any idea how anally my memories are organised, and all that fic and beautiful, beautiful commentary will just disappear.

*sends hate, hate, hate, hate, hate in the direction of the senders of the apocalypse*

THERE IS A WAY TO DO THIS WITHOUT BEING ASSHATS, YOU KNOW.

Tell us, specifically, what you have a problem with, and ask us to take it down. We will. We're eager to comply, LJ. This is our home. This place contains our family. We are trying so, so, so hard not to leave our home and scatter to the four winds and forget to keep in touch like my Aunt Nancy who moved to California and never got her invitation to the grandparents' golden wedding anniversary. I grew up here. I like it here. I love the people here. The only site I am reliably on, every single day, is LJ. And I am very, very far from the only one. But if your home is having its foundation washed out from under you, and you aren't allowed to try to fix it, you gotta move. Into a cruddy apartment when two-thirds of your family are going to Asia without you.

Let us fix it. We want to stay where we are.



I'll go back and re-check the flist for who I need to add, y'all. Fortunately, everybody I've seen point has referenced GJ, where I already have an account.

You can find me there under elucreh. Damn it all.
MAY I INQUIRE WHY WE ARE THE LAST OF SIXAPART'S BLOG SITES TO BE WORKED ON???

*clings frantically to flist*
Dear Spn/J2 fandom,

I know in the past few days I saw a reference to a community celebrating Jared's birthday. I am sitting outside B&N and really in the mood to love Jared a lot. Can somebody link me to it? I can't recall the handle of the comm for the life of me.

Yours in Jared-solidarity,

Lu







Dear RL People,

I know that you either a) think the rest of us are crazy, b) don't get in until like one in the morning on the red-eye from New York, or c) are being forced to sell people cosmetics two hours away before you can get down here. However, um...I love you a lot? I forgot to go buy myself dinner and water before setting up, and am now hugely paranoid that the second I leave someone else will show up and claim my place, and I want the "number one spot" wristband to frame and hang next to my Nicolson's napkin almost as much as I want Ginny to NOT BE INVOLVED IN THE FINAL BATTLE IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER. (Please, dear JK.) So if any of you could be moved to pity me enough to either come hold my place or come take my credit card away from me and purchase my dinner for me, I will totally buy you dinner too.

Yours in hunger,

Lu





Dear LJ/SixApart/THEMAN,

When I asked my flist not to be asshats, I was talking to you, too. I realise you don't have me friended back, and that I was actually talking about spoilers, but still? Request stands.

Also, picking this weekend? Incredibly low blow.

Yours in disgust,

Lu

P.S. Have you NOTICED YET that every time you do this people stop purchasing things from you? Has that GIVEN YOU A CLUE yet? I was considering a permanent account--me! the extremely broke!--right up until Strikethrough. STOP PUSHING YOUR LIMITS, will you please, if we have to relocate we'll lose people and communities again.
I would simply like to state for the record that if this week doesn't improve soon either I will be kicking its ass or the other way round.
Some idiot unplugged the satellite and I only realised this when I turned on the TV for tonight's SPN and so now I am sitting here anxiously awaiting the completion of its setup process and muttering imprecations under my breath. Just now I looked up at the screen and it said (and I quote): "Just a few minutes more..."

It's trying to placate me.

The truly sad part, however, is that it isn't working.
I HATE THE WORLD. AND MY ABDOMEN. AND PILLS THAT WORK TOO SLOWLY.


ETA: I take it back about the pills. In case they resent it and stop working again.
I AM GOING TO KILL MY FATHER.

So, like, first VM new episode in a DONKEY'S AGE. I have to wait through my little sister, my little brother, and my dad watching what they want to watch until finally the first two are in bed and the last one goes to run an errand.

Great new episdoe. Evil!ConnivingWeasel!Logan, which means I get to shout at the screen a lot, and Gay!Power, which makes me grin, and Keith being gutty, which makes for the happy little squirms of crushiness, and more towndivision!stuff, which makes for the happy, and we're just about to really get down to investigating this week's investigation, when I'm faced with a question.

Do I want to delete this recording?

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, he cut it off recording. In the MIDDLE of the FIRST NEW EPISODE IN FIVE WEEKS.

They'll bring it in justifiable homicide, won't they?



Gah. I can't even download it for another two weeks at least, if last new episode is anything to go by...*whines like crack addict being shown powdery white baking soda*


ETA: I wanted to icon to make myself feel better, then realised that my laptop (the only computer on which I can screencap) is AT THE SHOP. Thwarted at every turn!
PRETTY.

PINK.

PRINCESS.

Sorry, Seanan, but there really is no possible better way to sum up this day.
Looking for a pro bono publico assassin. Any takers?
It's time to start hunting for a second job and a one-room apartment. I cannot live under my parents' roof much longer.

There is a bug trying to crawl up my screen and I am confusing the crap out of it by scrolling down when it tries to go up and scrolling up when it tries to go down.

Yes, I am a sadist tonight.

Bite me.

There's nothing bigger around.
Bethy, my love, are you sure you don't want to move out here and get an apartment with me?

They're opening my mail...
The universe hates me.

No, really.

My muse must have friends high up in the organization of the world, that's all I can say. Between her and the cosmos this fic is going to be the cause of my throwing my computer THROUGH the non-openable window down three stories to smash on the cement below.
*throws rock at father* *borrows rocks from seventeen other people and throws them at father*

Just got an e-mail from my home ward's bishop. "I just realised you just had a birthday. I wanted to wish you a happy belated birthday and tell you that I hope you're not having too hard a time, I know it can be lonely, you can always count on your spiritual councilors blahblahblah..."

MY BIRTHDAY IS IN EARLY NOVEMBER.

It's not enough that the man tell my CURRENT bishop and three different academic advisers and force me to go talk to a complete stranger about it (and they're all basically complete strangers, the most I've spoken to any of them is three hey, how are you conversations), he also CLEARLY went to my former bishop and told HIM.

If I want to be depressed I will damn well be depressed. If I tell you I can and will work it out on my own I damn well want you to stand back and let me work it out on my own. I do NOT want you to go to people I barely know, tell them "all about it" when you know nothing about it, and then ask THEM to interfere while claiming you trust me to handle it myself and that you would never dream of interfering.

And NOW I have to write back to him and NOT say: "Tell my father to stop "telling on me" and stick it in his ear. And btw, thanks for lying to an eighteen-year-old to whom you are supposed to be the spiritual advisor," but instead, "Thanks for caring." I'm sure he meant well, but now I'm just mad at him AND my father.
*throws large rock at Bush*
Last anthro class today! Heard all the stuff I've been hearing in the past four weeks crammed into one review session--we could cover so much more than we do, seriously, he takes so much more time than he needs to to communicate the info--

However, highly amused. Teacher says that there was a theorist who noted that good warriors have more children. Teacher phrases it like this: This theorist says that warriors are more likely to marry...I guess because it impresses women...basically, that war is not only a way to get more access to material resources, but to...reproductive resources as well."

I am a reproductive resource. I am a reproductive resource.

Well, I learned something today!

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