eumelia: (Default)
... that one day I will blog again and that my thoughts will be arranged in paragraphs, instead of declarative sentences.

Hoping. Hoping.

I think once I move and my time changes a little, I'll be able to make these spaces work again.

I want to believe.

Did I mention I'm going to Hawaii?
eumelia: (wave dropping)
Good evening.

It's the night before Erev Rosh Hashana (New Year's Eve) and I'm freakin' exhausted.

Those of you who follow me and are active on twitter will know of the saga of the window that has been haunting me since Friday morning.

What is the saga of the window you might ask? Let me tell you from the beginning.

My bedroom had carpeting put approximately 20-odd years ago. It was brown. In the late 1980's early 1990's I assume this was he height of floor fashion. I was a mite too young to appreciate it. Nevertheless it was brown. My parents decided my room needed a renovation and put in parquet. It looks lovely, really it does and it makes the room look bigger and lighter than the god-awful brown wall to wall carpeting - a thing I will never do in a home of my own, it is a horror to clean (when one bothers to do so) and collects dust and hair and insects.

Insects.

If you've been reading me for long enough, you know I have a terrible phobia of cockroaches. You see, last summer the humidity and temperature were ideal for these cretins to spread their wings and fly. And so father put a mesh net over the inside of my window as an attempt to keep the creepies out. It worked for the most part, but looked ugly as sin and it was a bitch to clean my shutters and window panes.

And so, along with a brand spanking new floor a new window was installed.

Only on Friday when everything was supposed to have been done at the same time, floor and window, there were malfunctions.

The window workman brought a torn net panel that was designed to be on the outside of my window to keep my mortal enemies outside my domain. So... it was decided he'd come back on Sunday.

Only on Sunday he decided he couldn't make it.

So he came on Monday. Only when I got back from work that evening I was told that he'd torn the mesh net again.

I swear, I felt like I was going to have a tantrum that rival my 2.5 year old niece! You see, all my stuff, all my property was in a pile in a living room while we waited for this incompetent ass to get his act together. I spent my nights in my childhood bedroom, where my nieces and nephews sleep when they come visit. It wasn't bad, but I was stressing out because it was taking so long and on the Saturday when I started cleaning up the floor and rearranging my bookshelves a baby cockroach flew on me.

It was creepy!

But this afternoon my mother sent my a text in which she told me "Tonight's the night!"

My reply was "Hallelujah! :)"

Yes, smiley included.

So tonight I sleep in my own bedroom, in my own bed, with all my stuff clean and tidy.

It was a rough week because as I said, I was stressing out and I everything was going wrong and my mom was resenting my bad mood, which made me resent her and her bad moods like fucking whoa!

But we got through it and it's now over.

Tomorrow the whole entire clan is coming over to celebrate Rosh Hashana. I'm so glad alcohol is a mitzvah.
eumelia: (jewish revenge)
I'm such a flake. I swear, it's ridiculous. The time suckage of twitter and tumblr are atrophying my ability to actually brain and write in long form.

I think the fact that my job also demands brevity is affecting my ability and skill to actually sit down and concentrate on a proper post, I don't know, I just want to write here more and there's no one to kick my ass about actually doing it.

I have many thought and links that I just shoot off on twitter, I drool over images on tumblr and just can't seem to sit down and write down the meanderings of my brain like I used to. I mean, I look back at my DW and LJ and there are swaths of navel gazing diatribes about whatever and analysis of links that I'd find.

Now, I'm almost 30, have a steady job, doing the Millennial thing of being single and living at home because the economy fucking sucks and wants me to spend more money that I can afford on things like rent, utilities and food.

But I'll wave that away for now, because I went on a two week long vacation, chronicled on my phone, email and twitter, bought a new computer (that saga of me locking myself out of Elphaba was written as well).

I'm watching "Orphan Black" now, and also want to get into a few other shows. I'm hoping I'm inspired to write longer thoughts about them all, as well as fic.

I keep saying I want to get back into the groove of writing. Well, that's also something right.
eumelia: (not in rome)
Good morning. I've decided to try entering journal posts on the move, considering the fact that I'll be travelling extensively over the next two weeks. And yeah, I'll be taking my tablet Officer Kalakaua with me, I thought it would be fun to try to chronicle the vacation in long form and not just tweet randomly.

I don't know what my connectivity is going to be like, so this may all be for nothing, but it's worth a try.

I'm still laptop deficient, relying on my phone and tablet for most things, but seeing as my work is Internet based and the access to my mother's guest account on her desktop, I am most certainly not offline.

I do, however, miss the reliability of a pc. My tablet isn't capricious as all that, but the amount of DYAC that come from this little touch screen keyboard are too comical, not to mention that my go to websites tend to be a bit borked.

Still, it is a lot, I'm aware.

Here's to being around here more during my holiday!
eumelia: (oh no!)
I've been spending most of my days on my mobile devices, because my parents are back and the desktop actually belongs to my mother. Still, when she's not on it, I'm on her guest account.

Not having a laptop/PC of my own is a pain, but I still manage to stay connected, though it curbs my desire for long term writing because the touch screen keyboard really isn't all that.

If you follow me on Tumblr, don't expect to see me there until I get a laptop, I hate the mobile apps for the website (they're clunky and don't have saviour, meaning everything I don't want to see... is there to be seen) and I can't really have my dash up here because a bunch of it is not safe for work, making it not safe for parents who may glance in my direction while I'm on the main desktop with it's ginormous wide screen.

Still, I am around and hopefully I'll keep blogging until I head out on my holiday next weekend. Yes, I'm finally off on my two week holiday next Friday! I haven't had a proper holiday in quite a while. All my other long weekends this year were with my family and while I love them, they aren't really all that relaxing come to think of it.

I've been blocked with fic writing for months, hopefully this two week jaunt will help clear my head and give me some new experiences to sublimate.

So, yay for that!
eumelia: (slytherin)
I know everyone, their cat, dog, toad and owl is on this thing, but I don't care!

I have a wand!

And I was Sorted into Slytherin!

Finally!

EEEEEEEEEEEE!

Please excuse the late night stupidity.

eumelia: (bullshit)
Hello my lovelies.

Shall I regale you with my continuing saga of ordeals, making my unremarkable life a series of events one can only coin as "unfortunate".

I don't remember if I mentioned, but my parents have gone on holiday and I am house sitting for them, spending time like a single lady with a cat. I had procrastinated most of Sunday and Monday away, the most productive thing I had done was write a few words of fic, send out a few resumes and set up a job interview.

The job interview was set for today and there's not much to say about it. The interviewer wasn't impressed by me and so when I get the call back, the rejection shan't sting. Still, as my sister told me as she coached me, "have fun and gain experience". It was fun to dress up and look around a be utterly out of league when it came to this kind of place of employment - high end kitchen design halls just aren't for me I guess.

However, prior to the interview I lamented the fact that my good pants were in the wash and I had no decent shoes!

[Sexy!Roommate], bless her, works a hop and a skip away from my home town and she very generously brought me my good shoes from our flat up north.

I was out of the house for two hours or so.

When I returned, it was like a scene out of Titanic.

My red All-Stars were soaked as I stepped into a puddle of water and I literally gasped. I just, could not believe what I was seeing. I followed the water to my parents' bedroom.

My mother's Crocs were floating.

The pipe of the en-suite sink had burst and was spraying water everywhere.

Every-fucking-where.

I had to call my neighbours to help me turn on the mains for the water and I was holding it together by a thread. A thread.

By the time the plumber came I'd already cried to my parents over the phone - they tell me they are proud of me, that I handled things well. God, I hope I'm never in a real flood or other natural disaster, I would not do well, I tell you!

That said, I did my best to scoop the water - but the carpeting in their room was soaked, as was the carpeting of my childhood bedroom. It was pretty horrific.

There's something poignant and tragic about taking pictures of ruined pillows, boxes and pictures to send off to the insurance company.

And today, the plumber returned to repair and rip up the carpets - had this happened in July or August, we may had been tempted to air our the rooms and let the carpets dry, but in March it's still too chilly and damp.

The cat, of course, is utterly stressed out. He shat all over the place and I've mopped up the floor twice already. It doesn't help that he's old and has a cough. I'm taking him to the vet tomorrow for the first time in... many years. He's a very anxious and indoors-y creature, he doesn't do well with these things, if we're going to understate things.

It's funny, when I spoke to my mother she asked me if I had blogged about my exploits and I said, no, I hadn't. I wasn't sure whether this would read as hilarious anecdote or an over share of pity. I suppose it's a bit of both.

When speaking of all the above to my siblings I reiterated that I must be cursed. How does all this plumbing shit happen to one person, over and over again, in less than six months?

My eldest sister suggested I become a plumber - in my addled mind - that idea is beginning to sound pretty damn good. Don't think I haven't been looking at technical colleges!

I have another job interview lined up soon.

I march on. One soggy socked foot at a time.
eumelia: (Default)
I'm running a test to see who's reading my posts. So, if you read this, leave me a one-word comment about your day that starts with the third letter of your DW/LJ USERNAME. Only one word please. Then repost so I can leave a word for you. Don't just post a word and not copy - that's not as much fun!

My word is "mire", because I am slow going this morning.
eumelia: (Default)
It's so happened that I'm chatting on the email with a fellow fan and friend and we're discussing the merits of Scott Caan and Alex O'Loughlin.

I ended up saying:

"I just, really love that they're both hairy :)"

And you know, I could say that I'm shallow and all that, but I've actually put some thought into this!

For reference: Images Under The Cut )
eumelia: (queer rage)
This post touches an important pan-fandom subject and as such I think it should be read far and wide, so please, spread this link around! Thank you in advance.

[livejournal.com profile] verasteine has written a parallel post of her own regarding being straight in fandom.

Something has been weighing on my mind for a while now.

It’s not a new thought, in fact I’ve written and discussed this before, because it is a pervasive issue and it touches me again and again in fandom.

Slash fandom is not a place without problems, this we all know, as fans, but this one particular issue is one which I’m finding harder and harder to let go as time goes by and I’m wondering if other fannish queers and/or queer fans feel it as well.

I’d like to state that I’m very aware of how problematic the use of “queer” is as a word – because while I personally identify with it strongly, it is a word with a traumatic past and not every QUILTBAG person sees it as a reclaimed word, as such, please bear with me regarding its use in this post.

Things are not as they once were, over the past decade the media landscape has changed in a way I still find hard to describe, I’m sure you who are older than I feel this even more acutely.

I don’t want to talk about the canon queer characters, relationship and storylines, because you can critique those from here to high heaven from our perspective and that has been done.

I want to talk and ask you, my fellow queer fans, about the ambivalent feeling I get from slash fandom as a queer fan.

Slash isn’t queer fiction, but it is queered fiction and a lot of the time, the idea that gay people exist within a larger cultural context is either forgotten or exploited. Forgotten in the sense that a lot of stories write the two men as though there isn’t an entire gay history and culture that informs on how these relationships are constructed.
And they are exploited in the sense that some aspects of gay culture are used to differentiate these two guys from those other queers, because they are the strange and the freakish, whereas the two guys are in love.

There are of course the instances in which authors try to be inclusive of queer culture, but due to the stereotypical way it is depicted in the media the image of effeminate men being “less than” masculine men gets perpetuated in fic.

The coming out process and the whole notion of being queer in public is, at times, reductive and lacking in the narrative complexity that informs our own queer identities. Not to mention the use of the work “queer” itself without any acknowledgment that hey, for a lot of these guys, it would as bad as the f-word (no, not “fuck” or “fellation”).

There are times where I will be thrown out of a fic that deals with homophobia, but succumbs to gender stereotypes, because the relationship becomes yet another reflection of heterosexual and heteronormative models, only with two dicks.

And of course, the ever popular of putting “slash” or “m/m sex” in the warning part of the header.

There are other issues and other instances, some of them too numerous to recount, and yes, fandom can’t but reflect the larger straight assuming culture from which it emerges. But QUEER PEOPLE EXIST in slash fandom and I’d like to hear our voices with regards to how these narratives and stories are written. Because even though this isn’t gay fiction, I am a part of this creative and transformative culture that takes from my sexual culture and doesn’t seem to realize that that is what it does.

Do other queer fans and/or fannish queer fans feel this way? Are there areas in slash fandom you feel more welcome and included? What other issues have you felt that corresponds with being queer in fandom, if at all?
eumelia: (melody pond)
Your job is now your Time Lord name. The last digit of your phone number is the current regeneration you are in. The nearest clothing item to your right is now the most notable item in your current wardrobe. The last person you texted is your current companion. Your favourite word is now your catchphrase.

"Gevalt!" the Librarian (in training) exclaimed, when she realised she had died and been regenerated for the 3rd time.

She grabbed her purple fleece jacket, utterly bewildered at the fact that she was in the Mountain Flat with [Sexy!Roommate] as a Companion.
eumelia: (gryffindor)
It's been a week since I moved into my own apartment.

I happen to be spending this weekend without [Sexy!Roommate] but that's all right, because I met with friends last night. A friend from Uni (previous, not current) invited me over for Friday night supper and it was quite glorious. A close-knit group being so warm and accepting towards a "stranger" and excellent food - there were not enough people to eat it all.

And today I work up so very late and had breakfast for lunch.

Apparently I moved into a neighbourhood with quite a dodgy reputation, which I understand where it comes from, it is quite neglected (despite the fact that many of the neighbourhoods, other than the tourist traps and historically restored ones, are equally neglected by the city) and what you'd consider "low class", I can't really tell you if the reputation of dogdiness is warranted. Maybe once I've lived here for longer.

Right now it's raining buckets while the sun is shining. My parents always said that there's a monkey wedding when that happens.

I don't really understand that idiom, but it's something that stuck on my mind, because I can only assume it means monkeys get married under a rainbow.

My room still doesn't feel like it's mine. There are too many things missing and there is still so much to be done in the flat itself.

Maybe you're all bored by all this writing about the changes I've gone though over the past few weeks...

So, is there something you want me to write about? Something you miss reading on this LJ/DW? Are you all busy writing NaNoWriMo?
eumelia: (Default)
After I finished writing my papers, I slept for twelve hours.

I may have woken up due to nature calling, but I slept for hours after that.

It was the sleep of the just, my friends. Of the just, because I was done and I had no where to go the day after.

I did, however, decide to clean all the things. And when I say all the things, I mean the fact that over a three month semester and a two and half months long summer I let papers pile on high and books migrated from flat surface to flat surface, leaving dust voids that were very quickly filled. With dust that is.

Six hours.

That is how long it took to make my cave lair place under the bridge bedroom habitual again.

I felt very accomplished, mainly because I also opened up my drawers and empties them of the junk that accumulated since the last time I emptied them. Which was probably when I started my degree, four years ago.

So yeah, I still need to go through all the papers I removed from there. A lot, if not most, will go by way of recycling. But it's a very cleansing thing, going through your drawers and removing the debris. I'll probably do the same with my Uni notes and articles, but I'll let those lie for now. They only recently found a home inside my cupboard.

My main accomplishment, though? Moving my hamper of stuffed animals (my loyal companions since early childhood) into our house's designated kid's room - where my Nieces and Nephews play and sleep when they come over. I was actually all verklempt because I was sealing off a portion of my life that was never coming back. I kept a few small stuffed animals that are easy to place of a bookshelf or something similar - even though in my current status as a single person they sleep quite happily by my pillow!

Related to that, I gave my "My Little Pony" collection to my niece. I had been reluctant to let her play with them, because, you know, they were mine and little grubby five year old hands aren't going to be touching the ponies I played with when I was five! Of course, I then realised I was twenty-six and really, what's the point of keeping toys in a box I hadn't opened in years?

I told my mom, they were to be played with, if my Niece wanted to. My mother's face, boy you could see the glow and she happily told me that while I was at work and my Niece came over she played with the Little Ponies more than any other toy.

Fuck, I'm tearing up just writing this!

*sniff*

Sorry, I seem to be going through growing pains.
eumelia: (polka dot art)
*Deep breath*

Hi guys.

It has been... a long summer. Putting it mildly.

A lot has happened and in fact not that much at all.

But the main thing that happened to me today was that I handed in my final papers and I have officially finished all the academic obligations for my BA in Literary Theory and Women & Gender studies.

Four years.

I can't believe it's been four years. How does that happen?

Soon, I'll be starting the Library Science program at a different university and I'll be going flat "shopping" with my future room mate who is going to be studying along with me.

I am so sleep deprived, I have no idea if any of the above is even coherent.

Suffice to say, I'm back after a summer of way too much on my plate and I'm here to stay.

I hope you all find a reason to stay as well.

Thank you for sticking around.

<3
eumelia: (get a job)
My Library is undergoing renovations.

As we speak my brain feels as though the drilling is actually happening to it, rather than the floor and plaster walls!

I do not do well with loud, continuous noises. Beyond mere irritation, it feels like my ears are bleeding, because once the noise gets to a certain pitch, my ear drums are telling me to GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE NOISE!

Add to that the dust, the schlepping and hauling of books in the general reading room (my job is in the reserved reading room, which is much smaller and more pleasant) and my general bitterness at having to work in these conditions and you may imagine what my mood is like.

Trying to get people to complain with me is no good, all they keep telling me is that it'll get worse before it gets better.

Has no one heard of any solidarity complaining!? Making the bad things appear worse so that we're ready for the truly gruesome nonsense to come?

And on top of that, I watched a truly depressing movie the other day and my appetite has still not returned. That's what I get for watching a movie about a hunger strike.

Oh my god, I've only been at work an hour and the noise will never end!
eumelia: (Default)
Baby duty.

Library paging.

Studying.

Writing.

Going out with friends.

Etc, etc, etc.

At some point, there will be more! Really, really. It must be so, because I changed my default icon for the first time in, oh, four years.

Melody Pond, you foxy lady!
eumelia: (get a job)
When it comes to hierarchy in the Library of those who actually deal with books, I'm pretty much the lowest.

Being a Library Page, I get books from the return box, register them as "returned" and push a trolley to put them back on the shelves. Being that I work in the Reserved Reading Room (i.e. the books that are lent out for two days, rather than two weeks or a month) lots of students who, for some reason, either don't know how to use a computer or don't understand the system (Dewie-Decimal, which is numbers and alphabet) will come to me and ask for help.

It's a good feeling.

I pretty much know where every book is in my little Reading Room (it really is little, because as I said it's only reserved books) and if I don't, I can pretty much find any book if I know the general subject, if the number + name are absent.

The knowledge I have obtained and will hopefully retain feels special to me, though probably anyone who loves Libraries or is an academic who uses them on a regular basis has obtained a part of this magical ability to find one book between these walls of information, bursting, all them calling "Read Me" (except the Econ books, sorry dudes, you're too boring, unless you're about the sociology of economics, or economics and class disparity, but then, you're not really about Econ).

I arrived this morning, about half an hour before I was meant to punch in, because yesterday the Library was closed, but the return box is always open. It took me an hour an a half to sort through all the books students returned yesterday, I'm surprised the box didn't burst.

My foresight served me well, as by the time I was done sorting with the first batch, the second batch consisted of a sane amount of books (5) as opposed to an fucking insane amount of books I had to deal with on my own (well over 50).

So, I'm feeling pretty accomplished and good at my job.

Too bad my back disagrees with me. Ow.
eumelia: (little death - thinking)
I have been absent, not because stuff in my life hasn't been happening or because I found myself unable to comment on politics in my locale, or even because I've been exceedingly busy (though I have been).

I was actually going to update yesterday, but due to the DDoS attack on Livejournal I found myself reluctant to put down in words my thoughts and such, because I wasn't sure whether the cross-posting would work. Let me tell you, I am so happy my DW and LJ are mirrors of each other and that everything is basically backed-up in that way.
Jesus.

I've been contemplating what I'll be doing next year, and I've been zigzagging between various decisions none of which feel resolved to me, but life in flux isn't all bad, I have the chance to reflect and think about things.

One of the things that made me want to get back to making regular updates, is giving a bit of an anecdote about my niece Libby (she's the big one, not the infant), because looking back since the beginning of the year, my writing here has been choppy and scarce, hopefully you all have been noticing, and even if you haven't I have.

Hopefully I can get back to spieling at you all on a regular basis.
There has also been a "taking television seriously" reason that got me blocked for a time, I might get into that here or later. Oh... now that I that I think about, I have a lot to write about, suddenly!

But first, being the self-centered and proud Auntie that I am (I even have a nickname!) I want to talk about how this anecdote reflects how foreign I feel in my own life, sometimes.

Anecdote: Cut for Length )

I should find a girlfriend for myself, really, and not just to be cool-and-queer aunt Mel a.k.a Gaga (yeah, that's my nickname!), though that's a really big perk :-)
eumelia: (buggering)
An anecdote, regarding how one shouldn't have supper, if you please.

Last night, after a long day at Uni and Work, I came home, showered and was picked up by a friend in order to spend time with my, um, posse, I guess.

They'd been meeting the past few weeks to (re-)watch Battle Star Galactica and I'd decided to join them yesterday evening.

As is common when all of us meet up, we all decide to order take out. This time, we ordered from a burger place called Moses. I've been told it's a good place. I wouldn't know as the only things I eat that used to be alive are fish and sea food.
They have a veggiburger, called "Missouri" which on paper looked decent enough, though the only really good veggiburger I ever had was about three years ago from a burger place called Black - they call their veggiburger "Bridget Bardot". I like that.

Any way, the food was ordered.

I'd had no idea the burger I ordered was a "health" sandwich.

Woe was I.

The bun was not a nice fluffy white bread bun, oh no, it was a brown whole wheat (which can be nice, damnit!) bun. When I bit into the burger I couldn't tell the difference between the burger and the bread. They were the same colour and texture. Yes, really. I added some mayo and tomato sauce and took a bit sans bun (it was gross) and while there was a slight improvement, it was still not edible enough.

I grumbled. There was much bitterness.

One of my meat eating friends took a bite and said "I really can't taste any difference between this and the cardboard it came in".

I ate the chips and some of the mashed potatoes that someone else had ordered. There was also chocolate cake, which should have cheered me up, but merely mocked me. Yes, the chocolate mocked me, I kid you not.

I declared "we are no longer ordering from "Moses" or indeed any other burger place when I with you!"

They grumbled, but said "fine".

Thus my rights as a minority prevailed.

We also renamed that burger "Misery".
We are a punny bunch.

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eumelia: (Default)
Eumelia

June 2015

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V and Justice

V: Ah, I was forgetting that we are not properly introduced. I do not have a name. You can call me V. Madam Justice...this is V. V... this is Madam Justice. hello, Madam Justice.

Justice: Good evening, V.

V: There. Now we know each other. Actually, I've been a fan of yours for quite some time. Oh, I know what you're thinking...

Justice: The poor boy has a crush on me...an adolescent fatuation.

V: I beg your pardon, Madam. It isn't like that at all. I've long admired you...albeit only from a distance. I used to stare at you from the streets below when I was a child. I'd say to my father, "Who is that lady?" And he'd say "That's Madam Justice." And I'd say "Isn't she pretty."

V: Please don't think it was merely physical. I know you're not that sort of girl. No, I loved you as a person. As an ideal.

Justice: What? V! For shame! You have betrayed me for some harlot, some vain and pouting hussy with painted lips and a knowing smile!

V: I, Madam? I beg to differ! It was your infidelity that drove me to her arms!

V: Ah-ha! That surprised you, didn't it? You thought I didn't know about your little fling. But I do. I know everything! Frankly, I wasn't surprised when I found out. You always did have an eye for a man in uniform.

Justice: Uniform? Why I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. It was always you, V. You were the only one...

V: Liar! Slut! Whore! Deny that you let him have his way with you, him with his armbands and jackboots!

V: Well? Cat got your tongue? I though as much.

V: Very well. So you stand revealed at last. you are no longer my justice. You are his justice now. You have bedded another.

Justice: Sob! Choke! Wh-who is she, V? What is her name?

V: Her name is Anarchy. And she has taught me more as a mistress than you ever did! She has taught me that justice is meaningless without freedom. She is honest. She makes no promises and breaks none. Unlike you, Jezebel. I used to wonder why you could never look me in the eye. Now I know. So good bye, dear lady. I would be saddened by our parting even now, save that you are no longer the woman I once loved.

*KABOOM!*

-"V for Vendetta"

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