Scarlet's · walk · through · the · violets
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NICO VEGA. Awesome. Amazinf band, amazing support. I've been awake for 36 hours. I do not take responsibility for what I did at the show. Also: won Bright Star soundtrack, it came through the post, it is now in my iTunes library. Tech-fucking-nology.
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glad I went | |||
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Well hello there, information.
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curious | |
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Since hearing about how it is not common to smell or taste anything in dreams, I've been keeping an eye open (yes I did just make that joke) for when it happens. I just woke up from being a kid in an incredible flower shop and confectionery. Roses and pie. I have recurring dreams. This is not one of them. This is new. In my other dream, Brendon Urie came over and we watched a movie, talked about how many awesome ties he owned, and then I tried to get him to listen to Cage- but that's more like what the fuck, brain? In real life, I just took over a bunch of new lines, and IDK an entire scene where thankfully I say and do very little but there's still blocking, for somebody who had to back out of the play. We're doing Dark of the Moon, and when that's over, it's Tobacco Road to memorize. I was supposed to be completely memorized by today, that's not happening. Otherwise it's going well. I met some nice people, I sing a song, and we all get to square dance. Tonight is Rosh Hashanah, who's excited, not me really. Also my aunt in New York just called me and that was tres awkward. Classes are nice: anthropology, weird teacher, I feel like I'm going to be arguing a lot that mostly people are dumb. Intro to Criminal Justice- the instructor is about seven kinds of awesome. Survery of music history- history! music! essentially it's the best course ever, except for having to memorize all these definitions. And voice class is okay too. I like knowing how quickly I can learn things by ear, and I picked up the German for my song pretty quickly but the melody is still kicking my ass for some reason. I refuse to be ill, and I am going to New York in December FOR REAL, and generally my life is swell even if I don't always know it. |
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Clearly I have been misinformed. Awesome exists, it's right behind you, OMG. 1. Generation Kill 2. Star Trek 3. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
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Though lacking Jean-Luc Picard (it wasn't that much of an AU) and his gloriously bald dome, Star Trek still ate my face off. Seriously, who misled me into thinking this is not the most batshit awesome film ever? |
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Booked the flight to NY. Un/fortunately am staying through Christmas and New Years'; everyone should do it once, or not, the voices and I will see how it works.
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( Boring backstory ) Sometimes it worked. As for ignoring the symptoms and possible side effects, I am now a full-blown yenta. I am almost positive that this derives from my ongoing sickish fascination with humanity as a separate species (I don't understand people, and they usually don't like me, I'm a freak, blah blah. So I hide in the foliage and take pictures) and middle-class America's/world's mundane...ness, selfishness, and complete lack of objectivity. ( ... ) So now I want to know everything about everything, but also don't really because, jeez, it's probably dumb. Tell me anyway in the hopes of making me less of a social fuck-up; don't tell me how that's counterproductive. Desperation does magical things.
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calm | |||||
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( want to see you move like you're from arizona (batshit hardcore) )
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accomplished | |
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Um. So, this was going to be about Mondays and how God spoke unto the nations and told them how Mondays were going to suck to make the rest of week phenomenally better in comparison (He left out the part about this being a deal with Satan while they were stoned)...but then I think I started shipping God/Michael. ( On one of the Sundays when God and Satan smoked up together ) |
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The whole "strength in numbers" thing is OH LOOK I AM NOT TALKING TO MYSELF IN PUBLIC BECAUSE THERE IS SOMEONE BESIDE ME, SEE, MAMA I MADE A FRIEND. I hate public places. I don't like crowds and am very possibly frightened by them (crowds, not mobs, it's different; teenagers, not adults- it's high school all over again). So I am going to be so fucking cool lookit and ignore people with my [hypothetical] Shades of Doomy Plastic. Wal-mart better have what I need, and I better get access to a sewing machine (I am badass I hem my own pants) but unfortunately, due to a large ocean separating my country from Europe both ways and lack of foresight, there will be no Pee-mates. Them Port O' Johns. Do they sell All of this AKA My Super Freakout Over Nothing, or like, Being a Free Person, because seriously? Priorities, let me go get them! I lose my shit and go comatose over what I am doing right now (I think). Maybe. No, this was going to be a clever little thing about how much I obviously suck at being normal, or normal relative to the norm, which is not so normal, and this always goes back to how much easier this would all be if, switching to plural first p. to avoid the Onwent Awkwardism, we all just, fit in, ya know? Fit into skinny pants, that is, and glued the 'do, and no, the people in my head are not scene. I think I'm babbling. Computer text babble is not so good. I hate crowds! Did I mention I hate crowds? Did I say I'm the slickest they is? Meanwhile, my mother is like, are you performing? I return a witball. Yeah, I say, I'm playing at Warped with my band, right after Underoath (which is total B.S. because Underoath will headline your ass). Me (cont.): I don't even think I'd be this nervous if I was onstage. Mom: So join a band. Me: I'll get right on that. FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME FOREVER, I AM CLEARLY DEFECTIVE. Ooh, a brick wall.
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anxious | |||
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Things are looking up already, how nice. I am putting words on a page and Doro is coming to Phoenix in September. Doro. I love when the U.S. lags five thousand years behind everyone else, eating cake.
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( = why the fuck am I going to Warped, again? ) I could've gotten this shit out of my system in 2005. UGH JESUS I HATE MY FEELINGS I'D EAT THEM IF I COULD. FUCK LA JOLLA, FUCK HIGH SCHOOL, FUCK MY LIMITED FRIENDS, FUCK MY CO-DEPENDENCY ISSUES, FUCK THE FRIGHT, FUCK THE PUBLIC ARENA. Be sore from all that fucking. I need to go find pants.
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confused | |||
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So Friday kicked off with a member of the Jewmunity flagging me down and handing me a [skinny, orphaned, five week old, male] kitten (in short), and my sister and I toted the poor thing around and the Petsmart clinic poked and prodded him, and he fell asleep on me about five thousand times... ...and then I cried like a little baby this morning when I handed him over to Halo Animal Rescue because we just can't afford another cat, and also the [adorable wonderful] two we have will hate us. But the volunteers were sympathetic, and totally not new to the crying, and we can call to check up on him. If someone doesn't adopt him in about five seconds, I will be very surprised, but they'll call us first, so.
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costume drama time | |
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I'm a kind of crazy visual person. I love movies, I love the idea of movie-books (book-movies?) It's just that this idea has been poorly executed about 4893409560939342453 times- through poor casting, poor directing, suck-ass writing, cheap sets: it's your call. Inevitably, it's some fucking executive or whatnot somewhere saying "I don't give two shits about the seventy five million of you who read this book and fell in love with its glorious characters and decadent prose, I just want to make money. So I'm going to cast Britney Spears as [your beloved heroine here] and Dane Cook as [corresponding beloved hero here]. There will be sexual content. There will be 'brief nudity'. There will be fart jokes, titties, and swear words. The American audience wants what I have to give, little bitches, so bring the kids." Of course, it's never actually that mindbendingly vomititious. Itty adjustments, we assure you. A subplot here and there. Entire scenes. Characterization. What happens in the book, like, at all? But, as many a self-congratulory, asscrack discussion board troll will tell you, they MUST change stuff. Not EVERYTHING EVER can be translated to the screen. That bit wasn't even IMPORTANT. No one wants to watch a FIVE HOUR MOVIE. Fans of oh, just about any decent swatch of scribble will say otherwise, because guess what: the books were actually that fucking good. Bitches. And if you weren't so keen on fixing what isn't broken and making money, actually pulled the industry out of your ass, that sort of thing, something beautiful could occur. Beautiful things have occurred. As far as my film interests are concerned, these beautiful things have been handed to me on polished silver platters by the BBC, who I may want to service, so the balls I'm aiming to kick are a little closer to home. Like Hollywood, CA. Not like it A poem. ( gleaned cuisine? ) ...There are more verses, I am burning them. |
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IMHO, Adam Lambert shouldn't even have been on American idol. Adam Lambert should have been fronting the big gay arena-rock lovechild of Twisted Sister, The Misfits and Queen like, yesterday, and this loss is saving him and those entertained by him from a mediocre career in mediocre pop music that, by the Googled looks of it, he is far too interesting for. Then again, I don't watch American Idol. I don't have Tivo, so I can't fast-forward through the commercials, O DR4M4 and Ryan Seacrest talking. I do really hope this Kris Allen has the chops, and doesn't just end up like all those other Idol winners who we never hear from again. But if anyone can pull a Chris Daughtry and perform big sparkly circles around the so-called American Idols, it sounds like it's this Adam kid. Of course, I'm partial to drama kids, scene hair, and eyeliner- or anyone who looks like this, really- so. We all know who had my vote.
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I think I want to have the sex with David Tennant's eyebrows.
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-Timur Bekmambetov: awesome. -Nightwatch movies: awesome. -Must read the books. Movies may become less awesome. -Russians: clearly superior -Everyone needs a Madame Soupeau. Despite what you've read, you've done the same thing. Perhaps not with Nazis. - Drama dept.: bunch of freakin' procrastinators -College. Not working for it. -Life: I live in Phoenix. After nine p.m., there is none. And apparently I can prance about on a stage in front of complete strangers for two hours without breaking a sweat, but five minute presentations make me want to Michael Bay something.
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Oooh, everything sucks. Oooh, don't tell stories that aren't yours! Tippy-toe around everyone's sensibilities! That's mine. You can't have it. You can't show any interest in it. It's never happened to you, so you can't care about it! You can't talk about it. Put down your signs. Stick to your goldmine corners of the world, and keep your sympathy out of my misery. Whoosh. There goes the world over your heads. Oh my. |
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