eumelia: (oy vey)
I know.

I don't even know what I have to say. All my little thoughts are scattered throughout the day on twitter, sitting on my ass and actually writing something coherent is kinda overwhelming.

So what's the what?

I'm still at my all-damn-day-job. Which pretty much my life, eating up my time and brain.

I got promoted! In this job I've been at for nearly two years, I didn't think I had the ambition or the guts to actually try to climb the corporate latter, but here I am.

Still living at home.

I've made friends and lost some friends over the past few months. I need to clean up this place a little, cobwebs everywhere, icons that don't reflect my life or my interests, bios that are two years out of date.

Everything is strange.

I feel strange.

But I'm here.
eumelia: (rest and relaxation)
2013 has been my leanest year by far when it comes to writing here, the reasons are multifaceted and strange, but they the main one is that I have been sucked into the world of micro-blogging.

It may surprise you to hear, but I do very well on twitter (the link to it is on the upper left corner there). The content is pretty exactly the same there and it was here - feminism, fandom, queeriosity, politics, etc.

But friends, I have over 400 followers. That's not as many as some, I don't think my influence is that great - pah! Look at my ego go - but people like what I have to say, this is amazing to me at times.

I suspect that if I could have DW/LJ open at the office (and I sort of can, in a way, now that I think about it) I'd blog more. You see, I work 9 hours a day, 5 days a week (sometimes weekends) and I really love my job, but it doesn't really give me time to write long form. Texting quickly is where it's at and with my job, being connected to social media actually helps, so getting lost in the friends list may not be wise - but it might help my sanity? Who knows, I'm not sure.

I'm still living with my parents, 2013 was the year in which I did not move out, basically.

One thing that keeps me happy is fandom. I'm still watching "Hawaii Five-0" despite feeling like it reached it's peak in episode 3.15 and then took a nosedive to a place I sometimes find myself thinking "what the fuck am I watching?", but Scott Caan, Danny and his relationships with the team keep me going and keep me inspired, so I'm not giving up yet.

It has made me a bit lonely, though. Not being a multi-shipper (the little sparks of Danny/Kono and Danny/Mary and Danny/Almost-anyone-let's-face-it notwithstanding) I find myself a bit estranged from some of the fandom friends I've made when I realised that the majority of the McDanno fans aren't what I'd call home.

I feel very torn and pulled, floating along with the very few with whom I can gush and lose my head with and the fact that the rest of time I feel policed and annoyed.

Them's the breaks, I guess. I'm hoping the upcoming episodes uplift me a bit, knowing a few of the spoilers help when they don't make me fucking anxious because I trust Peter Lenkov et al about as much I trust the piece of Lego I stepped on.

I do hope to get back to writing long form, again.

That's what the arbitrary changing of dates is for, right?

See you on the flipside.

Tumblr crossover
eumelia: (mystique)
I figured you'd all be interested to know that I grew up.

I went up a cup size and went down in band size. This because I've been wearing the wrong size bra for who knows how long. I went up from a C to a D and down from an (European sizing) 85 to a 75. For the first time in years my bras feel snug and aren't poking into me.

Who knew!?

Well, apparently lots of people, because more than once when my girl friends and I discussed the topic of bras, which was kind of often, seeing as many of us are busty and bras over a certain size are fucking expensive and can only be found in "speciality size underwear shops" which another post for a different day.

*deep breath*

In any event, I decided to use the holiday coupons I got from work to buy new bras. I also decided I'd ask what size I should wear. The staffer took one look at me and said sternly. "You're a 75D." And I was all, um, okay, let me try them on.

Which I did.

It was a hallelujah moment, let me tell you.

I bought four new, beautiful bras last week and I've had the chance to wear two of them so far.

One of them creaks.

Like an old floorboard. No really, when I move my shoulders, it sounds like I need oiling. Which is what my boss said to me when she asked me, "Are you creaking?" I mean, she called me the Tin-Man!

It was a source of great amusement at work, where we are very casual, and people found my bewilderment rather funny.

But what's really extraordinary is that other people have mentioned this happening to them too! That this is apparently something that happens when you have a bigger bust.

Cut for body image issues and internalised fatphobia )

Also, regardless of what size you are, you can enjoy Busty Girl Comics!
eumelia: (tickled pink)
Work continues to kick my ass. I continue to do well and make mistakes. I can see that I'm not making many mistakes, but you know, no one praises you for a job well done when you manage a day in which you don't have to fix a hiccup.

I've signed up for the ABC H/C Hawaii Five-0 Challenge.

I got the creepiest prompt of them all; "Buried Alive", which I had planned to make hopeless and terrible, because my brain is a lovely place to stay for a holiday. Thankfully my beta-to-be talked me out of my original idea and now I have something creepier, really!

What I don't have is time or discipline. I need to sit on my ass and write, but it's a hardship and I'm annoyed, because I want to write more, but my lifestyle is such that I basically get home from work and vegetate.

Tumblr is very good for vegetation.

I still want to write all the meta and a spiel about identifying with a fictional character in the most profound way, but at this point it just feels like I'm reaching for the impossible.


Mar. 8th, 2013 12:49 pm
eumelia: (get a job)
My week was long and felt rather endless.

I let myself sleep in this morning, I still snuggled under the duvet for about two hours before I felt the need to extract myself from covers.

I feel like my life consists of work, brain melting, and sleeping.

I miss the days where I could write long meandering posts about whatever came to mind, but there seems to be a real effort involved in doing this now. The effort it worth it, and I wonder if it really is because I have less time during the week, or because I'm more careful with my words these days.

Yeah, I also sniggered when I re-read the line above.

I'm almost positive my picture is next to the phrase "puts foot-in-mouth" on more than one occasion. Although work has somewhat restrained me, the casual atmosphere does not help much.

Yes, work is pretty much all I do. I went to one roller derby training and haven't been back since because work fucking eats my life. I know it's about getting my priorities straight and managing my time better, but suddenly the job has become a career.

I still don't know how to deal with that mindset when I'm laziest person alive. I've been doing this for nearly a year, and I don't want my life to just be about work.

I suspect it's the fact that my commute there and back to my room in my parents house has something to do with it.

I'm anxious about moving out, especially to the city (we are suburbia), not because I don't like the city. I love the city and would love to live there. It's just that I'm very seriously considering emigrating at some point over the next five years (and yeah, I need to start getting my shit together for that to actually happen) and living on my own (and roommates, the studio apartment dream died long ago) will eat up my finances.

At this point I have no expenditures and I very rarely spend my money on frivolous shit, which is a funny thing to write when I'm in the market for a new laptop and am planning a holiday in June.

Context is everything.
eumelia: (queer rage)
Originally posted on Tumblr.

I have a co-worker, whom I hate. I would say the feeling is mutual, but I suspect she’s too thick to notice.

She’s one of those people who think they’re funny, that they have insight on matters of life, the universe, and other people’s business.

We’re a small group working together, and we work long hours. Obviously, casual talk will commence, especially when many of us have a lot in common - geekery and gayness being some of them.

I’m out as gay at work, on my team there are two other gay guys, and we’re a majority women team (including my boss, who is a woman), so my workplace has been very comfy for me, woman wise and queer wise.

This co-worker has been making my workplace hostile.

Earlier this week one of the parents’ at the office brought their baby to work. He was a big hit among everyone.

Obviously when there’s a baby in the office we start talking about babies, and the having them, or not.

I mentioned that it was fun to play with them, but it was so much more convenient to give them back at the end.

This co-worker said, “well, you’ve said you didn’t want a family so maybe it is better for you.”


I was hurt deeper than I expected. Yes, I’m an out dyke. Yes, I mentioned that I don’t intend to have biological children, or adopt any. That doesn’t mean I don’t want a family.

That I don’t have a family.

I was erased by her words, her mind cannot entertain the idea of a family that isn’t a heterosexual one made out of parents and their children.

This happened days ago and I’m still thinking about it. She isn’t worth my time of day, I know this. I shouldn’t even think about what she said.

And yet, in her eyes, I’m not a real person.

That cuts deeper than anything else.
eumelia: (coffee)
First of all, to everyone who commented, sent me emails, pm's, etc. Thank you.

Thank you.

You are all wonderful and I'm so lucky to have you in my life one way or another.

As you may have heard there is a ceasefire. I'm still extremely nervous as I do not think it will last long, nor do I consider my nation's memory strong or long enough to remind ourselves that our current government brought rockets to the centre of the country and brought bus bombs back from the past.

The occupation, of course, remains and will not be moved at this time, no matter how much violence and damage it puts us through (Israeli and Palestinian).

Despite the ceasefire I didn't go to the office today, but rather spent my entire day working from home. I finished working but moments ago, technically still the 22nd of November, so my work didn't slide into the weekend. Whew.

I didn't go because I was anxious and because there was traffic that would have kept me and my co-workers who live in the same city stuck on the highways into Tel-Aviv for about 2 and a half hours.


So I worked and faffed from home.

I'm rather pleased, but for a totally different reason. The reason being I'm going away for the weekend with friends! We'd planned this long weekend (took a day off and everything) over a month ago and god, I need this. I need this weekend like burning, I just need to clear my head, get away and regroup.

My hypervigilance was way out of whack this week. I have other thoughts about that, but that's for another day, I feel.

Right now I need to unwind from my long, long day of work and prepare for my long weekend ahead, which will be full of friends, puppies and rain!

Plus my laptop, there shall be some writing done!
eumelia: (sad soldier)
Two sirens went off in Tel-Aviv. Countless ones in the south and on the border with Gaza. Dozens of people in Gaza were killed.

I'm not keeping a tally, I did that last time and it's an insane thing to do. I'll leave that for the other people.

I'll talk about myself and my cushy-only-twice-in-a-day descent down to the shelter of my office building.

The first one was at about 10 am, just as I was sitting down to actually start working. We're supposed to stay ten minutes in the shelter after we hear the sirens. When I was back at my desk to check on updates I saw that the Iron Dome interception system did it's job and got the two rockets that headed our way.

[Sexy!Ex-Roommate] and I commenced a gallows humour tweetfest in which we tried to think of a dry drinking game for each siren during the day, seeing as we can't drink at work. We discarded coffee, considered cookies, eventually decided on songs.

She tweeted Alive.

The second siren was at the end of the work day, around 6 thirty pm and just my crummy luck I was in the bathroom when I heard the siren. I was more annoyed than anything else let me tell you. It's awkward. I pulled up my big girl pants, washed my hands like a civilised human being and went down, to the shelter.

This time I was a bit shakier, possibly because of the compromising position in which I found myself during the siren, possibly because it was two sirens in one day and I'm still, ha, sheltered and don't want to think about what it means.

Regardless, the song I tweeted was Tubthumping (I Get Knocked Down).
eumelia: (not in rome)
This week had been so hellish, I don't even know where to begin.

So I'll start at the beginning )

That was my week. I'm so glad it's over.
eumelia: (ravenclaw)
I thought I'd write a quick post while I travel to work.

I had weekend duty and as such had no time to actually do anything other than work. These weekends create a full 7 day work week, so I'm rather knackered. I didn't get to write like I had initially planned to and due to the nature of the fic I'm currently working on I need to be in a specific head space, for which I have need time to get into.

I'll see if I can can squeeze out some words when I get home. I really want to get this story out because I feel it could be the star of a whole cycle and seeing as it is set in season 2 of H50 the subject matter is that much more poignant due to what you we know and what the characters are yet to discover.

I love this kind of discrepancy in fic, it's something unique to it, the time in which the fic occurs informing us what the characters are capable of knowing as opposed to what we, the audience, the readers, know.

I also signed on as beta for a few projects which will be very interesting, because there's nothing like sifting through someone else's work to figure out your own weaknesses. And also read a fic before everyone else, mwahaha!

I look back a few months ago and felt creatively dead. I'm so glad summer is winding down.
eumelia: (jewish revenge)
*Pokes head*


I slept for 10 hours.

I'm still feeling pretty wiped. It was a very long weekend. I've been put on the weekend roster at work and will now be working the weekend about once every two months. Crazy.

I woke up about an hour ago and it's going to be the most stressful Holiday ever.

Shana Tova, by the way.

Thankfully, we're not having people over today or tomorrow, but we are on Tuesday, which is when I also have to go up to my apartment for the last time ever and get my desk top computer (and desk) and just, be rid of that fucking time and money suck.

I'm working again tomorrow, because the holiday needs to be dealt with as well and I decided to get my duties over and done with as fast as possible.

None of the above really makes sense unless you know what I work at and what I do, huh?


I have my lecture on fanfiction and bisexaulity to write and I really don't feel like it, but I promised and it should be fun, at the end of the day to sit around and talk fandom with a bunch of other queers.

This paper, Queer as Folk and the Trouble with Slash, from the most recent issue of Transformative Works and Cultures is probably the best queer critique of slash. Ever.

Just to give you a taste, this is what the author, Kyra Hunting, writes in her conclusion:
[I]t is not enough to acknowledge that fan fiction and slash are not necessarily subversive. We cannot ignore the conservative potential of the exchange between canon and fanon. This is particularly imperative in cases where canonical texts have their own political goals. The ways that fan fiction can actively work to reinscribe normative or traditional values onto works that struggle with or resist these values are important sites of analysis.

This paper was written for me in mind, no doubt! Well, for other lovers and participators in slash who don't take it at face value.

I suspect that in a few issues there will be a paper about the queerbaiting phenomenon now making the waves due to Teen Wolf and the heartbreak that will occur with that.

And no, please don't tell me I need to watch the show. Others have tried. I'm over teenaged drama, angst and Alpha/Omega dynamics.

I'm honestly psyched about the fact that the season premier of Hawaii Five-0 falls on Yom Kippur eve, because that means I have no work that day and can watch and be fannish at my leisure!

Pardon me, I have to go and be Jewish.
eumelia: (bisexual fury)
I very nearly wrote a little post on my way home, on Officer Kalakaua, but refrained. I'm getting better at reading on commute, but writing is something else entirely.

Would not like to vomit on my little tablet.

I'm finding myself less and less tolerant of the casual humour that is dropped at the office. We are a very casual team, very little formality and thankfully we all get along quite well.

As I've mentioned, the team leader and manager, i.e. my boss is a woman, of the seven team members, four are women, three are men (two of whom are gay) - due to this dynamic, there are a lot of funny anecdotes concerning gay life - we very much throw around the "That's so gay" at each other (my gay co-workers and I, that is) - but that's the mild things.

But sometimes, I remember that the straight people are there, witnessing this. My co-workers are unconcerned, it seems, but I'm also, how shall we say, more "sensitive".

[The Heterosexist] sees fit to insert herself into all the gay funnies that are hurled around the office, inevitably, they are full shit and made of fail.

I mean, sure, our co-worker talks about approaching a guy who pinged his gaydar in a store for help to shop for clothes and what a funny encounter that was, that is totally an invitation by a straight woman to talk about a guy she knew was gay and overcompensated by flirting with women and was probably "of those who didn't know how to handle it."

I hate her.

I know, this is by no means a hostile environment, on the contrary, but I keep getting the feeling she considers the our co-workers as existing for her entertainment and I am irked by her.

It doesn't help that one of the things my co-workers and I do is make fun of stereotypes (speaking af a lesbian stereotype) and yes, everyone laughs and then I remember we're laughing for utterly different reasons.

Not to mention, that there are subjects I will not tolerate joking about either in mixed (as in, not exclusively queer) company, or at all, and those are jokes about AIDS, jokes that are homophobic and/or sexist, and rape jokes.

So, I'm the fuddy-duddy, except when I make the driest observation, the funniest sex joke and the best turn of phrase.

My workplace problems, let me show them to you.

As I said, I really love my team, but [the Heterosexist] annoys me to a degree I didn't think was possible. I feel justified seeing as she's racist on top of it all.

Regardless, tomorrow I have to dress nicely, the Big Giant Head is visiting from the United States. I have to decide which plunging neckline to wear and which earrings will make a statement! What? I'm working on a Fashion Week project.
eumelia: (queer rage)
Today I was complacent.

I was too confident, thought myself too smart and now things will never be the same. For me, at least. I doubt anyone else will give this as much thought.

Part of my job is to watch videos.

A lot of these videos are sexist, cater to rape culture and just plain offensive to my sensibilities. I am not shy about saying this, after all, just because I have to work with the material doesn't mean I have to like it.

One of my co-workers (we'll call her [The Heterosexist]) tried to convince me of the merit of the obnoxious humour that is found in these videos. I said, just because something is funny (and your mileage may vary rather widely!) doesn't make it inoffensive. Especially videos that are about how to "get a man" and tips of "how to kiss", all of which, as you can imagine, are sexist, cater to rape culture and are just plain offensive to my sensibilities.

The conversation evolved from talking about these "how to" guides for dating, to actual woes about dating. Two co-workers (including [The Heterosexist]) complained, as women who are socialising often do, about the dearth of men to date, how they didn't like strong women, how they didn't like older women, how they didn't like women who took initiative, etc.

I, jokingly, suggested that there was a remedy for this. That would be to not date men.

A different co-worker (we'll call her [Laid Back]) replied that the lesbian option was becoming more and more appealing. I said, one just needs to try hard enough *wink-wink nudge-nudge*

Now, because I work in an extremely liberal and casual office, because I work with a boss who has said the word "sexism" seriously, because I work on a majority woman team, because two of the three men with whom I work are gay; I felt safe enough to be casual and jokey about this aspect of my life, seeing as everyone else was being casual and jokey about that aspect of their lives as well.

Never fucking again.

[The Heterosexist], in light of what I said and how [Laid Back] replied, decided to share the fact that she knows she's not lesbian because when a woman hit on her she had to quit the class they studied in together.


[The Heterosexist] went on to say that this woman treated her like she was her "boyfriend", went with her to the bus, took her to meet her friends. When a third co-worker (we'll call her [The Comedienne]) asked why she didn't just say she wasn't interested, [The Heterosexist] said this lesbian woman wouldn't take no for an answer, that she just kept hanging around her.

Considering she said she didn't know how to handle a woman hitting on her, I'm disinclined to believe her regarding how she interpreted the behaviour of this woman.

[The Comedienne] asked if she felt this woman was harassing her, [The Heterosexist] she wasn't sure, just that she was annoyed by her. [The Comedienne] said that would make a great comedy, about the lesbian who couldn't take a hint.

As you can imagine, I was feeling my blood boil and I ended up saying: "I think we have enough predatory gay stereotypes we have to deal with."

Call me Mel, the conversation killer.

The thing is, she clearly thought she was sharing a funny anecdote about Lesbians because the topic came up. Never mind that she has an ostensibly lesbian co-worker (me) and she was clearly uncomfortable with the implication that if she didn't date men she might be, god for-fucking-bid, considered one, because otherwise she'd be one of those pathetic women who were hung up on straight women who clearly would never ever ever want to date another woman.

I'm sure she thinks she has no problem with gay people. She's not bothered by it. Unless it's implied that this is something that can actually touch her.

Well, I shan't be so cavalier like I was today. I was stupid to think I could be.

And what burns the most is that one of my gay co-workers (let's call him [The Assimilationist]) said the whole situation was funny, that it would make great comedy.

Nice to see where his loyalties lie.
eumelia: (get a job)
Officer Kalakaua here!

I'm in a meeting I am not participating in, so I brought out my little tablet.

I'm looking very studious!
eumelia: (get a job)
For fuck's sake.

I really, really wanted to post another "Meta on Commute" tonight.

But I'm not going to.

I arrived home from work at ten. I arrived at work this morning at half past nine.

I can barely see the screen in front of me. I am at that point where I can only make vague hand gestures and flop tiredly on flat (yet soft) surfaces.

The worst thing is that I will be working these hours tomorrow as well, because I'm taking a day off on Thursday. Christ, no one told me it was such hard work to have a holiday.

And it's not like I'm even taking a day off because I feel like having a long weekend. If only! I'd get a chance to write, something I'll have to sequester myself into my room on Friday and Saturday. Damn in, I need to get this story done, it is meant to be a gift!

Yeah, so my day off is going to be a nightmare one way or another. You see, I've decided to schlep my ass to Jerusalem (a city towards which my feelings are not wholly positive) in order to participate in the annual Pride/Memorial march. Not only am I participating, I'm going to be an usher there. I've never been an usher at any kind of political event in my life. Well, apparently this includes interacting with the police (a segment of the population that has never made me feel particularly safe, not as a woman and certainly not as a gay woman with political opinions that are considered wrong by many and dissident by others).

So yeah. Fun times.

At least I'll see friends, allies and have a place to crash, considering my sister and her family make their home in that city.
eumelia: (get a job)
I still haven't gotten the hang of the fact that I am working full time.

All the time I once had for writing here, I now tweet, because I don't have access to DW/LJ at work.

However, because I now work in an office space, I actually have a funny anecdote to share!

As those of you who follow my twitter know, The Company is an Evil Corporation, but my Boss is a lovely person and we get along pretty well for people who only met a month and a half ago.

I work in metadata and content editing for online videos, I'm basically the drudge worker of the IT world. But it does make for very interesting conversation - because we're a team of six people and each of us works on different topics, we often ask each other for advice about how to tag a video.

Today a conversation went something like this:

Colleague: "Mel, what do you call auto-erotic asphyxiation when someone else does it you?"
Yours Truly: "Erotic asphyxiation"
Colleague: *frowning* "Are you sure?"
Yours Truly: "Yes, K, I'm sure."
Boss: "I don't even want to know how you know that"
Your Truly: *grin* "Better not ask then"

And that is some of the stuff we get up to in the office.

I'm very happy to tell you that the sexual harassment law hangs for all to see in the kitchen and that the uber-competent office manager is the ombudsman - that is, she's the one we go to should anyone feel therer is a need to report a case of inter-office sexual harassment.

I'm enjoying the job. Even if it sucks the life out of me!
eumelia: (slayer)
Trigger Warning: Frank discussion of sexual harassment, breach of body autonomy and dealing with the above

Last week, on my way to work, I was sexually harassed on the bus. Details regarding the incident and dealing with it under the cut )

ETA: Cutting due to request. I'm sorry any of you were harmed by reading this.
eumelia: (get a job)
I wrote this entry last night, but due to LJ feeling poorly, I'm posting this just as I'm heading out the door.

Maybe one of you will read it.

My brother asked me how work was and why I hadn't been writing about it.

My bitchy reply was that I was tired (sorry about that, big brother!)

And I am.

It's been a while since I worked these kind of hours. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last time I worked these kind of hours was way back when, when I was in the IDF!

So, yeah, tired.

Also, annoyed, because it was Remembrance Day eve last night and I told my 6 year old niece I would come see her participate in her school's ceremony - but I was stuck in the most massive traffic jam ever because the entire country was on the move in an attempt to get home before the ceremonies and the air siren that marks the start of the day sounded.

I ended up having to stand in the middle of the street as the siren sounded. I hate that.

I have a big distaste for the whole atmosphere of this day, considering I despise the glorification of death that this day requires, the compulsory heterosexuality of the day - because the dead soldier, who is always a man, will invariably leave behind a mother, a father and a wife/girlfriend - and everything is so bloody war mongering.

In any event, regarding my job. I now work for a big international company, to be known henceforth as The Company (yeah, not that Company... but it does sound mysterious, doesn't it?) in the capacity of content editor and SEO (that's search engine optimisation).

Being a n00b, I'm not actually doing much other than being trained and going through the database and learning things. My boss, to be known henceforth as Boss, is a bit impatient, I think, because I'm not the only new person on the team, so she's a bit stressed. But she is strict and I'm asking so many questions and I like having boundaries and an authority figure who I can identify with.

The floor is amazing, I love my colleagues. One of my best friends works there and he pushed my resume to Boss and he's been absolutely charming and helpful and it's so much fun to be able to be me among these people, as we're all a bunch of geeks!

One of my colleagues is a little, how do you say, not really into the whole slaty language thing and spelled out "bitch" in lieu of saying it and I, in a moment of complete id and fangirrlism, said: "bitca?" A la Xander Harris.

This began a 15 minutes discussion about Buffy, Dollhouse, Firefly, Joss in general, Farscape, Stargate, Battle Star Galactica, Star Trek and even Star Wars.

Boss, who is not into tv or sci-fi or anything like that concluded our status meeting with "Okay, good, and live long and prosper. That's what you people say to each other right?"

I was not the only one to do the Vulcan salute.

So yeah, I'm having a good time on my first week.
eumelia: (get a job)
Okay so life sucks, no arguments there.

Thank you, everyone, for your lovely comments and sympathies, they were a great help to me during my twelve hour crying jag. I thought I was cried out, but I find myself leaking every now and then.

Amidst the horribleness that was yesterday, I received a phone call.

As you know, I have had many a trial the past few months, what with health, death, plumbing and unemployment issues making me wonder if I was ever going to catch a motherfucking break.

About a month ago I had a job interview at a big company where a friend of mine works and he handed my resume over to his boss.

Yada, yada, yada.

I got the job. I'll be starting at the end of the month.


So, yeah. I'm pleased about that, am kind of bummed that I got the call just as the decision to put Wish to sleep was being made so I really had to put a whole lot of false cheer in my voice for my now-new-boss.

I'm now counting the my left over free time as holiday and arrangement making time.
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.


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)

June 2015

 12345 6

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 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.


-"V for Vendetta"


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