siamesa: (Default)
Alright, I'm gonna say this loud and clear, comics.

Some things are meant to be dark and edgy. 

Some are not.

Bruce and Selina will continue to break each other's hearts and damaged psyches, and Lois and Clark will continue to be happily married.  Both stories are great.  Both stories have their place.

The X-Men will continuously angst and experience black and gray morality.  Squirrel Girl will continuously kick butt with squirrels.  Both stories are great.  Both stories have their place.

Sometimes, what's happy and what's dark don't need to be clashed together and warped beyond all recognition.  Sometimes, what's in the middle can work just as well.

And, sometimes, when you've got something beautiful and happy, you don't need to take it away for shock value.

Really.

I promise.

You don't.

I think I'm only buying the one series for right now.  No BoP, no Emerald Warrior.  I'm sorry.  I'm just kind of mad.

(Still love you!)

Lou.
siamesa: (Default)
,
(I'm just saying that maybe Not Having Friends was much easier because I didn't have to worry that I was being all clingy and Doing Everything Wrong and the only problems I had to worry about were mine.)

But enough of that.

In an attempt to get my mind onto a somewhat less depressing topic, I shall now babble on about some more of my family's pets- the guinea pigs, Teddy and George.

Our first guinea pig was named Spot.  He was black and white and very friendly, and lived in a large cage in my little brother's room, which he enjoyed running around in when he wasn't playing outside, eating, or sleeping.  I had been very skeptical of the idea of a guinea pig at the time- I suspected it would be like the class hampsters from school, spending all of its time as a sleeping lump of fur. 

But Spot had personality.  He eventually won me over when he learned to "wheek" at the top of his lungs whenever he heard the refridgerator open- hopefully, it was Carrot Time!

Spot died a few years ago, and was missed.  Eventually, we decided that we did not have enough small furry things in our house, and so ended up with two more, Teddy and George.  We're fairly sure that they're brothers, as they look almost identical and actually get along.  They, too, have learned that an opening refridgerator could signal carrots.

(I really have no idea what to say.  I haven't been in a real social situation comfortably for years and I don't think that people want to talk to me so when they do I say nothing because if I say anything I'm being pushy and overstepping boundaries and so no one talked to me anymore because I didn't start conversations and now that people are trying again I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."

So I talk about my pets. 

Online.

This really wasn't supposed to be an Angst Post.  That tag is too big.)
siamesa: (Default)
Why can I not be mean to people?

It's not that I want to be mean, per se.  I dealt with enough people who never even considered the feelings of others for far too long.  But surely not everyone is as hyper sensitive as I am?

Maybe, just maybe, I could manage to tell someone that "your fic makes my eyes bleed" or "please shut up about that teacher you hate already, I want to talk about my life now" or even "no, I'm not sorry?"

Just once?

Maybe?

Because I can't do that.  Because there is a little factor in my brain that completely shuts down when I try to be not nice, with the result that people get two impressions of me:

"She never talks, does she?"

Or, when i snap as I do occasionally,

"Oh, Lord, I'm just going to run away now."

This is not a healthy state of being.  Surely I can bring myself to realize that harsh words won't completely destroy someone's life.  Just because I once came close to tears when someone (justifiably) insulted my writing awhile back doesn't mean that everyone else is that emotionally immature.

So yah know what?

YOU CAN'T SPELL YOUR OWN NAME.  WHY WOULD I WANT TO WORK WITH YOU?

MAYBE I'M NOT PERFECT AT DOING EVERYTHING TO YOUR SPECIFICATIONS.  NEITHER ARE YOU.  I'M SORRY.

YOUR KINK IS NOT OKAY.

I AM NOT SOME LITTLE AMUSING GAME YOU CAN LAUGH AT WHEN SHE HIDES UNDER TABLES.

YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T INSULT MY FRIENDS LOOKS WHEN YOUR ENTIRE FACE IS BASICALLY A GIANT PIMPLE.

Now, all of those were immature.  I am, in fact, going to apologize now for saying them if you were offended.  And I certainly don't want to shout them at everyone constantly.

But I'd like to be able to say them sometimes.  Like when you deserve it.

Ugh.

Mar. 27th, 2009 08:29 pm
siamesa: (Default)

I don't feel good today.

To be fair, I haven't felt top notch for weeks, but all of a sudden now I've got a hideious problem with coughing and a sore throat and I'm not happy.

On the plus side, I have found many places on the web to look at adorable baby animals, such as http://www.zooborns.com/zooborns/  (Warning: severe cute overload).  But going "squee" is also hazardous to my throat.  (Which pretty much dooms my looking through my fandoms- I can never be sure when squee sneaks up on me unawares.  Much like shipping.)

Luckily, I have this little corner of the net where I can vent.

Also, it's messing up my typing skills something fierce.  Which means that writing is tough.  Which is annoying.

And I've been patrolling DeviantArt for fancomics, which has been pretty fun.  And there's reading, obviously, though I'm in the sort of mood to choose Dave Barry over "Gettysburg", "This Realm of England", or even "Civil War Blunders."  And laughing hurts my throat.

Not that this will always stop me.  A few years back, Avatar Smilebender Week on Nickelodeon occured.  They played the funniest episodes.  I had a problem going on with a rib that mean laughing felt like something was stabbing me in the side.  Of course I watched anyway. 

I think I'll just go to sleep.
siamesa: (Default)

Pretty much upon discovering the internet, I also discovered that few things were more entertaining than watching others fight on it.  I also discovered that it is probably best if I stay out of things myself. 

So, right now, I'm grabbing me some popcorn.

According to Club Jade and Fandom Wank, someone has decided to sell their Twilight fanfiction.  For money.  Because apparently since Ms Meyer never drew pictures of her characters, this makes them not copyrighted.  (Daughter... of Lawyer... Senses... Tingling... Also common sense...)

Now, I'm not going to go into detail, because I don't know the details and half my favorite blogs are sharing all of them anyway.  For all I know, in fact, this is a giant hoax.  But whatever it is, it has provided me with a soapbox.  And I love soapboxes.

Fanfiction has always seemed to me to be one of those "gray areas" in the "your right to move your fist stops in my face" deal.  Basically, if the author has expressed anti fanfic feelings, I shriek "WHY?" at the heavens what I may or may not write never goes beyond my computer.  If I ever get published myself (a big, big if) I'll be all in favor of and thrilled by fanfic, but I completely respect the right of a creator to say that they don't like it.  I think it does way more good than harm, but I thought that about Scans_Daily for the lovely week it and I spent together.
 
But seriously.  Maintain a level of respect for the creator, people.  IT IS THEIRS.  IT IS NOT YOURS, OR MINE.  And whenever one of these "fic for money" stories pops up, I get nervous.  Because those are the ones that get attention, and that's what prompts creators to not want fanfic anymore.

Urgh.

I hate to be one of the internet yellers.  Really and truly I do.  I like to watch them, but I try not to get too involved for my own sake.

But sometimes...
siamesa: (Default)

My family has had, since my parents were married in '89, four cats.  The first was Magdalene.  A few months after my parents were married, they got a tabby kitten from the shelter.  Mom claims it was a mutual decision, but Dad's story is that she mentioned "we should get a cat," he said "sure, sometime," and came home from work that evening to find the kitten already making itself at home.

Mags tolerated us all for nineteen years (I'm fifteen, by the way.) and is greatly missed.

She also may or may not have been a diabolical evil mastermind. We still aren't clear on this point.

When I was five, I got a kitten of my very own, Princess.  She was gray and black mottled and my absolute darling.  Mom and I were the only creatures she tolerated.  She purred for no one else, but she slept on my pillow at night.  She began the tradition of  my personal cats being greatly beloved by me and warily avoided by most others.  She also inspired a fear that lasts to this day of cats who twirl around my ankles, because while twirling she would bite.

Princess had a game of teasing anything that moved, and asserting her superiority over the car by meandering in front of it.  She tried this one dark evening and misjudged.

My sister occasionally jokes about Tai and cars.  These are the few occasions when she actually will be apologetic for something she has said.

Tai, of course, was and is the next cat.  He is my baby, a big, loud Siamese, the inspiration for my username, and Leaver of the One Fingered Glove.  I love him.  He has a terrible fear of cars, and this is what finally convinced me that it was alright for him to wander outside.  What convinced my mom was the destruction of our furniture.  Like Mags and Princess before him, Tai is an indoor-outdoor creature who spends most of his time attempting to rule the neighborhood.  Unlike them, he is somewhat inept at this, which is not to say he's not one of the smartest cats I've ever met.  This is a cat that figured out multiple ways to open doors.

After the death of Magdalene, we aquired Delilah, who is now almost a year old.  She is tiny, orange-yellow, and completely and utterly spoiled rotten yet still genuinely sweet.  Like Magdalene, she is named for a Biblical bad girl.  This is apparently a fairly common naming theme for cats.

I tend to greet new aquantainces with a funny cat story.  If they do not run screaming away, I know we are going to be friends.  (I have few friends).  And one of the best sources for these was Magdalene.

Magdalene was frighteningly smart.  Looking in her eyes could be eerie, because there was something looking back at you, and you got the feeling that it was wondering... well, heaven only knows what she was wondering.  It probably wasn't good.  Anyway, Mags could figure things out.  Among them, back when my parents were newlyweds with no kids, was how to be the exact center of attention.  (We have several lovely baby pictures of her "getting used to the idea of Elizabeth.")  One all-important part of this task was waking my parents up.  When Dad was home,this was easy.  It was merely nessesary to knock various items such as his giant hornrimmed glasses off of the bedside table.

When Mom was home alone, this was more difficult.  Mere property destruction could not always rouse Mom quickly   Finally, the kitten figured out that if she sat on Dad's clock radio, and wiggled around enough, eventually it would turn on to the blaring news channel dad had set as his alarm.

This would awaken Mom.

Coming Whenever I'm Next Bored:  The evil text-book eating rabbits from outer space!  The dog who remained lazy even after her medical problem was cured!  I swear those guinea pigs are looking at me funny!

Bad Day

Mar. 9th, 2009 02:39 pm
siamesa: (Default)
Also bad part of yesterday.

So, to begin with, DAVIDSON LOST.  Bleep you, College of Charleston, you have earned my eternal detest-ing -ment -whatever.  The point is you are now officially The Rival Team, Cougars.  A 15 year old from Charlotte is irrationally and vicariously angry at you!  Tremble!

Also I left my iPod at school.  The school conselor found it, and it's waiting for me (iPods are allowed at my school, one of the many reasons it is much better than my last one), in fact, she found it literally as I was writing that last sentence.  So I suppose this is happier than it was, but I'm still furious with myself.

Also I spent the day on the verge of panic attack whenever in a crowd, which wasn't too often because today I stayed in the conference room and did my work in there.  So I'm just disapointed with myself for all sorts of reasons.

On the plus side, for over a week now my desk has held a fountain.  It burbles at me cheerily, and I love it.

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