persuna: (A lot to read)
The fact that my Internet is broken in the middle of Big Bang season is very stressful! As is my flist being on ?skip=past 300 and counting. Of course I have been so busy the past few days that the only time I could spare to find wifi is past midnight at the twenty four hour university computer lab so it probably didn't make a huge difference to my reading. Anyway, I am making a half hour pit stop to save everything remotely interesting looking to my computer, download the last episode of SYTYCD and completely fail to answer my build up of e-mails and then I am going home to wish I was in bed while I do laundry.


Mar. 23rd, 2009 05:53 pm
persuna: (Dean is bemused)
So I'm trying out a new layout (which I got from [ profile] premade_ljs) but I'm just not sure. It's very very pretty, but I think I miss the sidebar. And I definitely want it to be wider. But all the free custom layouts I've found about the place have been either clunky or narrow. I just don't know! I'm so confused! I'm sick of Urban Sunset but I also hate change!

ETA This one is slightly wider. I think. *squints* I'll give it a day at least.

ETA 2 I'm unreasonably proud of myself for managing to bold the date on entry titles. Although I actually wanted to bold the whole title. But I did manage to uncapitalize titles, change the font and add my name to the header. CLEARLY I MISSED MY CALLING AS A COMPUTER PROGRAMER.
persuna: (Sam is hot.)
Criminal Minds was pretty good this week. I am such a sucker for Catholicism plots. It's an automatic sense of mystery and power with the weight of so much history and ritual behind it and imagery honed by centuries of awing peasants. It always draws me in. I blame all those Catholic schools I went to. Despite never believing in it, I've clearly been culturally brainwashed. There's also Emily Prentiss, whose face I am somewhat enamoured of.

Not as enamoured as I am of all of Jared in those stupidly hot pictures though. The threadbare grey t-shirt that is practically sheer is taunting me, I swear. You can see his skin through it, and yet you can't. And the hoodie. And the crouching. Um. All of it. It's crossposted everywhere, so I won't, but that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it.

All day I have been oddly preoccupied with my mostly dull dream from last night. It just won't fade away as dream usually do, and for no good reason. Other people's dreams are never that interesting, but I seem to be talking about it anyway. Ooops. It was a ridiculously stressful dream that I was an Olympic swimmer. But it was really all about leg shaving anxiety. I kept trying to find time to go and shave my legs in order to reduce my drag in the water, but people kept talking to me all the time and I was too polite and embarrassed to say FUCK OFF, I HAVE TO GO AND SHAVE MY LEGS NOW and then it was the day of the race and these men with guns and balaclavas burst in and I woke up in a ridiculous state of panic that would usually follow falling off something or getting eaten by a lion, but the panic wasn't about the guns, it was about how there would never be enough time for me to get to a bathroom with a razor now I was a hostage. I really do not know what my brain is on about some nights. Perhaps it's the approaching end of winter and tights season or maybe it's that every time I shave my legs my soul dies a little from the boredom of it while so many years of life and hair growth still loom before me. Life is hard, okay, and I'm washing my hair tonight.

I do seem to recall something good was happening tonight. What was that again?
persuna: (Bones)
I have been ridiculously busy the past few days and generally too exhausted to even read fluffy romcom J2 fic in the evenings. So I now have a whole window of whenboymeetsboy fics hanging about taunting me. Soon my lovelies!

Instead of reading I dropped a few notches down in concentration and energy on the weekend and finally watched the last part of season four of House. It's been a while since it aired, but I'll cut for rambling as well as spoilers. )

I did read one really awesome gen fic yesterday before falling asleep. There are aspects of it that I would not be surprised to see happen in canon (I say that spoiler free). If S4 ended like this it would be EPIC and AMAZING and I would be VERY HAPPY. Maybe there's one thing from the very end that I don't entirely love, but mostly I want Kripke and co. to read Break on Through by [ profile] paperbkryter just in case they haven't realised how cool it would be.
persuna: (Sam goes to the doctor)
Damn it. It's my own fault for wandering into the dangerous waters of BuddyTV, but I had ten minutes to kill before my dinner was ready and I was looking for some random mindless Internet quiz when I ended up on their main page and accidentally read a revealing article title.

And now I have to say something. Spoilers for Supernatural 4.19. )

After that, I discovered my dinner was slightly burnt.
persuna: (Dean is having one of those whisky days)
Ugh. Today sucks. For one thing, I seem intent on burning off my own hands recently. I go through most of my life perfectly capable of using an oven mitt and operating a hot stove, but the past week or so I have burned my hands three times on the oven. I have one shiny pink patch, one about to be shiny and pink scabby patch and now one long thin blister across the back of my hand that just looks bizarre. I'm starting to think it's a sign of a secret tumour that is forming in the very specific part of my brain that controls my proprioception when I bend down.

Worse, I finally got an e-mail back about some office type work I did for a while back in December saying the reason I still haven't been paid is that the 'hours worked' section on my form wasn't filled in. And apparently I've been e-mailed about it. Of course I never got any e-mails and I remember specifically going on my last day to tell the secretary how many hours I'd done while she wrote it down on a post-it to fill into my form later. I should never have trusted a post-it. I'm sure I'll get paid eventually but I'm still annoyed. I can't be annoyed at anyone because there's a new secretary who's only a temp. Plus, I'm incapable of berating strangers. But they're being all relaxed about it, "Oh it shouldn't take too long now. We've got all your bank details filled in and I'll get it in by tomorrow so I'm sure it will be soon" and completely failing to recognise that I am a starving student on a shoestring and it was actually a crucial part of my budget and not a lucky bonus. How long is "soon"? Can no one give me any exact dates? Ugh. It's very frustrating. I was a little tempted to fudge and give myself a few extra hours since they've apparently got brand new staff and are willing to take my word on it, but I resisted.

But don't they know that I was planning to go to the cinema at least twice next week? Except now I think I'll have to buy food instead. :( So Friday the 13th had better do well enough to stay in cinemas for a few weeks! Or till "soon" whenever "soon" may be.

To cheer me up, the hash brown casserole has turned out ridiculously delicious, in a very rich and creamy way. I'm writing the recipe down and never making it again. Or saving it for a large gathering of people at least. Still. Mmmm, creamy cheesy potato goodness. The memory of you will have to sustain me through an unspecified period of plain rice and baked beans.

Also cheering me up is Shake The Leaves Off The Trees which may be the exact fic which I have been longing (in that guilty way in which I want RPF that relates closely to real life events) for since Jared and Sandy broke up. It's kind of amazing.
persuna: (Dean is having one of those whisky days)
Today I managed to get properly lost like I haven't in YONKS. It was sort of stressfully hilarious. I was wandering about, knowing that I live here and yet seeing nothing familiar, on the verge of just getting a bus to somewhere I recognised when I dropped my box of tic-tacs, had to turn around to pick them up and realised that I had been walking a route home I walk ALL THE TIME for about ten minutes. Well, two songs anyway. It was oh so cunningly disguised by me being on the other side of the road and facing a different direction than I usually do when walking it, but nonetheless, I am an idiot. I do normally go that way at night and it was daylight at the time (which is why I never noticed that the badly lit park is in fact a graveyard) but still. Fail, self. Serious fail.

In other whiny news, I kind of want to wash the Kripke and Gamble interview in the new SPN magazine from my mind. It's made me a little bitter. It's not spoilers, just something I wish I didn't know to regret. *sigh*

Life Lesson

Feb. 1st, 2009 03:26 am
persuna: (Black Books bitches)
Here's some advice I wish someone had given me yesterday: don't get into drunken headbanging competitions with no warm up and no training, even if you do clearly have the best hair in the room for it. It only leads to so much neck pain the next day that you can't even think of a metaphor for the sensation. *lies very flat*
persuna: (Dean cannot believe this fuckery)
Recently I have watched too many SPN vids and have started making mental ones to every song I listen to (it doesn't always work) and this evening I had nothing to do, so I thought I'd try bringing one into reality. But I am SO incompetent. Seriously, it is not happening. And it's not any complicated editing effects stuff. I am unable to even get the footage into the program. First it was that all my episodes of SPN are .avi files and iMovie didn't like that. So I downloaded a program to convert them to .mov files. And iMovie can read those. Except they keep coming out at about 10 GB per episode when they used to be 350 MB and it also takes forever to do just one ep, let alone seventy. So then I though I would just save small selections in Mpeg Streamclip as .mov files, and I did. But iMovie will now not accept these either! It imports them, and copies them into its files, but then it insists that there are no actual videos in the library. From forum browsing I suspect that "codecs", whatever they may be, are involved. But I thought all .mov files would be fine. DAMN YOU IMOVIE WHY WILL YOU NOT COMPLY WITH MY DEMANDS???

Basically, even more respect than ever before to anyone who makes one of these damn things. They made me wish I had a PC for a few moments, which has never happened before. Though I suspect most people are not foiled so early on.

I am going to step away from my computer and go and make dinner. It's late and I'm starving because I have somehow been wrestling with iMovie for several hours, but I am not at all violently frustrated. Oh no. *deep calming breath*

I did discover rewatching episodes for clips that I do like this season. H&H made me think I didn't, but I do! Sam and Dean are not anywhere near as distant as I thought they would be from interviews and foreshadowing. There are secrets, but they're still always looking at each other to make that little connection, showing that they know each other better than anyone and trusting each other's plans. They are still never going to fight each other to the death without mind altering influence. Also, setting aside the whole sanity after all that torture thing, Dean does sometimes look shiftier than I remember when people mention hell. Whatever. I am trying to retcon. It still does not make sense, but I do love you anyway Show. At least you're still pretty.
persuna: (Opheila)
Despite the fact I have felt like I was doing things all day I have somehow managed to achieve next to nothing. Well, I cleared out my message settings on LJ, but I don't think that had any functional purpose, they were just so messy. When I first started using LJ I didn't realise that you would automatically be notified if someone replied to a comment, so I tracked every comment I made, hence the mess.

I just saw that my post to spnstoryfinders had been accepted by it appearing on someone else's flist as I read it. Oddly disconcerting. And now I'm worried I screwed up my message settings because no one told me yet and there's normally a notification.

I also discovered a white hair. One long, white, fragile looking hair atached to my scalp. It's not the first one I've found, but I was kind of hoping the one I found over the summer was a freak accident where someone else's hair fell on my head and then got tangled in a way that made it feel like it was attached to my head. I'm only 22! My mum went white in her early twenties, but my dad is still only streaky with a little grey and I thought I was safe because while my mum's hair is thick, straight, luxuriously frizzless and black I have my dad's temperamental, flyaway, curly-on-a-good-day brown hair. How is it fair that I have the worst of both worlds? I realise it's going to be a slow degeneration that probably won't be noticeable for years but still... *pouts*

However to console myself I bought nice shampoo and conditioner. You don't know how awful your hair can look until you have used the cheapest own brand shampoo and conditioner you can find for 6 months or so, triggering a slide into dull frizzy formlessness that is slow enough that you don't realise it's happening and forget your hair used to look better. And then you fail to buy more and are forced to sneakily use your flatmate's Fructis shampoo and in only one wash you're confronted with the shocking proof that some shampoos actually are better than others. It's not all advertising hype! I'm still skeptical about the worth of the truly extortionate designer ones, but I am so shelling out an extra pound or so for brand name from now on, student budget be damned. Of course, if I hadn't started admiring my hair I could have lived in blissful ignorance of my impending old age a while longer, but there's no going back now. And apparently my new shampoo is going to smell of cinnamon. Mmmm.

I can't believe I have written a whole post about my hair and boring lj minutiae. Apparently today I am dull and somewhat vain. But it's written now, so it's going up anyway!
persuna: (Dean says "Then let it end!")
So I'm currently staying short term with some friends of a friend until my actual flat for this year is available. The people are lovely, the flat is gorgeous and decorated in a charmingly offbeat, dilapidated grandeur way... but my skin is constantly crawling.

I'm not a fussy person. Personally I like things kind of clean, if not always tidy, but I'm flexible to the habits of others and I'm not too squeamish. I accepted long ago that any flat in Edinburgh over 100 years old will inevitably be visited by mice. Even if you are clean enough that they don't stay, someone in your block will not live up to this and even when exterminators come round and stop up all the holes they can find, the mice will find a way in again eventually. So I can live with the shadow that scatters across the floor every time you turn on the kitchen light at night, the fact that all food has to be stored away in airtight containers and the occasional rustle and scamper in my room at night. I am not prevented from sleeping by the fact that there are two penny sized spiders on my walls. It doesn't bother me too much that the bathtub is for some inexplicable reason always filled with leafy detritus, the oven and the hot tap on the sink are broken and that my room is the only way through to the garden so that my floor is constantly a little muddy from people tramping through to the compost heap and unsuccessful vegetable patch, but when you are standing in the shower, wet and naked and vulnerable, trapped by the conditioner remaining in your hair and you turn to the rack of shampoo to find a slug oozing its way from out behind it mere centimeters from your face it's a bit much. How did it even get in there? I realise that the slug couldn't hurt me and that it was probably physically incapable of detaching itself from the wall and hurling itself at me to slime my bare skin, but apparently my fear and disgust have almost surpassed their threshold and now I am losing my grip on my calm, rational acceptance of the mild squalor around me. I'm not sure if I rinsed my hair enough and if I see a cockroach I may scream and throw things in an uncharacteristic show of girlish hysteria.

Only a couple more weeks to go...

*pulls bed slightly away from the wall and tugs edges of duvet up from floor*


Sep. 20th, 2008 09:06 pm
persuna: (Sam facepalms)
4.02 title spoilers. Apparently. )

Also, life is somewhat miserable. I am unexpectedly and urgently flat hunting and rotating between two friends' floors till I find a new room somewhere. They're desperately lovely about it, but the intrusion guilt and lack of privacy wear me down somewhat... I want to curl up in bed and read 4.01 fic and I can't! Someone in Edinburgh must have a room at a vaguely reasonable price, right?
persuna: (London Bus)
So, I'm in London, which in great for several reasons. It's London and my favourite place on earth. I can see all my friends who didn't escape to a different country (Scotland is totally a different country. I keep getting weird looks when I use the money, especially as the new stuff looks like Euros. And since my old job paid in cash I still have a steady supply of pseudo euros trickling out into the local economy) for university. I can buy some clothes before I go back to Edinburgh, where you have to go all the way to Glasgow before you can find anything cheap and acceptable to wear. It is also great because I am not in Libya like I have been the past month, and things like the phone, and the Internet, and public transport and rain actually work again. Most of the time.

But it is not all good. Because I am staying with my dad. And his mid life crisis has taken the form of... composting. Indoors. And I don't think he's cleaned much since I moved out four years ago. And I am afraid (make that, disgusted) to go in the kitchen because there are fruit flies everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

We don't have a garden. He buries the organic material in public gardens and flower beds in the middle of the night. He has a little plastic spade. He calls them "biodumps". Last night, I was lookout. I don't think it's illegal to fertilise outdoor public spaces. A little eccentric maybe.

I am not fussy about housekeeping. I lived with a single man most of my childhood. I can put up with a lot. And I admit the second "everywhere" I used above may have been a tad dramatic. We're nowhere near How Clean is Your House level, because you can still see at least part of all the surfaces, there are no serious smells and nothing furry or larger than a fruit fly has appeared to me. Yet. But this is still really gross. I may have to succumb to gender stereotypes, kick my dad out for a day and scrub all the way to the walls. I already ineptly hemmed my dad's suit trousers and sewed all the buttons back onto his favourite shirt, so I may as well go the whole hog.

Nevertheless, I am going to be kind of glad to escape back North in a few days to try and catch some Festival action before it's all over.

Also, normally I like Jensen a lot, but for whatever reason am not all that attracted. But. Um. Especially the first one. I may be in love with the photographer. I wouldn't have thought a flower in the mouth would do it for me. But apparently I don't know myself that well.

Coming across things like that is why I missed the Internet so much this last month.

*hugs the Internet and sobs in happiness at the reunion and wistful sadness at all the little things that have probably been missed*
persuna: (Dean's blood)
I am using my most unironic icon of MISERY (and I so need more of those) for a reason. I wish my TV from the Internet skills extended beyond 66stage and alluc. Where is episode 12 of Supernatural? WHERE?



persuna: (Default)

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