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Saturday, May 23rd, 2009
12:51 am - IMPORTANT RESEARCH
Over dinner, Gloria and I got into a, shall we say, lovers' quarrel. The topic: Who has more slash fiction devoted to them, Harry/Ron or Kirk/Spock? Gloria was for Kirk/Spock, just because of their tenure as slash bait. I voted for Harry/Ron. As Ellen put it, possibly more competently, Harry/Ron fans probably have more presence online, and more of a shared, obsessive, and possibly homo-interested community.

So here we go:
Google search for the two names, followed by "slash fiction":
Kirk/Spock: 119,000
Harry/Ron: 73,100

Google search for the two names, followed by "slash fic":
Kirk/Spock: 121,000
Harry/Ron: 26,400

Google search for the two names, followed by "slash":
Kirk/Spock: A whopping 660,000, the first one of which is the wikipedia article devoted solely to the slashfics.
Harry/Ron: 73,900. Wow. Poor showing.

Fanfiction.net, M or higher rating, with the two characters:
Kirk/Spock: Only 19!
Harry/Ron: 639
There are actually more stories on fanfiction.net about Janeway/7of9 than there are of Kirk/Spock.

On the other hand, the Kirk/Spock fanfiction archive has quite a few mature stories, but still, I think, under 400.

I suspect that the fanfiction.net is too young, and the K/S audience too independently dedicated to go on an aggregate site.

I'm out. As a parting shot... did you know someone has actually written Pearls Before Swine fanfiction? WTF.

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Thursday, April 9th, 2009
1:38 pm - Ohhay.
Following a recent trend, I'm still alive. About to move in with Gloria.

But MORE IMPORTANTLY:

For anyone who used to watch the old X-Men cartoon, you NEED to go download and watch "Wolverine and the X-Men". KT, this is esp. for you: it sets up the Age of Apocalypse, bitches! It's dark, inviting, Scott is actually INTERESTING and not always a total boob. (All right, he does whine about Jean a lot, but he does it in a badass fashion. (Line from Bobby: "Dude, you losing control took out half of Sinister's guys! Maybe you should lose control at the Brotherhood?" Kitty: *elbow to the ribs*). Gambit's accent is PERFECT; so is Nightcrawler's, and he and Wanda Maximoff have a THING.

It is the BEST.

This was my first post in 6 months.

:DDDDDDDDD

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Monday, October 20th, 2008
4:23 pm - I wrote a letter to the editor of the Washington Post.
Maybe it will be published?....... Maybe not. XD

This is in response to a link I found via the RSS feed of the DCist.

As a twenty-something career woman who spent her formative years in Northern Virginia, I've had my share of relationships, and as the years have marched on, I've been dumped plenty of creative ways. Over the phone is popular, but over email, in person, even text message. Each method is heart-rending and causes that swell of emotions: denial, anger, whatever else leads up to acceptance. But never, never have I been dumped alongside my entire region on national television by a talking head.

Let me tell you a little about myself. I'm a natural-born Asian-American whose parents came to this great country for graduate school. I attended the governor's magnet school for science and technology, which US News and World Report declared was the best high school in the country. I later went to the University of Mary Washington, the happy child of Fredericksburg, Virginia. While I was there, I played the ghost of James Monroe two years in a row for our community-wide Halloween tour. I danced with Civil War reenactors at our annual Victorian Ball. I have lived in Herndon, Fairfax, Falls Church, Reston, and currently Arlington.

Now, let me tell you about us. As of September 5th, 2008, we had over 650,000 registered voters in Fairfax County alone. And let's not be dismissive of Arlington, Loudoun, and Prince William Counties: after all, people commute into and out of the city to work. We have beautiful parks, great school systems, wealth that extends to statewide projects, and we house large numbers of every demographic you can think of. All in all, I'd say that NoVA is pretty great, especially if you want a ton of work, good wages, diversity, and excellent restaurants.

Between the all of us, I can't see why you would want to dump us, but I understand. Sometimes, this happens, and I guess we're high-maintenance. I understand the other guy has been courting us with much more money and effort. But hey, do you really have to call us names? First, your vice presidential pick declares an amorphous "real America," which apparently our latte-sipping arugula-eating population is not a part of. Then, your brother came out to the county I work in and called us "communist country." I'll have you know that my family is Taiwanese, and my grampa fought the communists. As a man who fought in the Cold War, would you want your grandchildren hearing someone call you a communist? I think not. Many Asians came to this country hungry for the freedoms that America would give. I don't take communist jokes or comments lightly, and neither should you.

But that's fine. It was an off-hand comment. Maybe you'll repudiate it at some point, maybe you won't. It's a busy election, after all. But having your crony declare twice, whole-heartedly on your behalf that we are not "real Virginia" is shameful. I can rattle off more facts about the battle of Fredericksburg than you would care to listen to. I can dance the Virginia reel. What's my favorite root beer? Dominion Root Beer, based in Ashburn. We support local farms, we attend local churches, we love our cities, states, and countries.

When I was in high school, my AP Government teacher, a staunch republican, told us that despite the mistakes of the Bush administration, you, John McCain, were a hero, not just because of our service to our country in war, but because of your service to our country's ideals, particularly in your campaign finance reforms. Now that my blind date is over, you go behind my back, make fun of me at rallies, then sent Nancy Pfotenhauer to judge me on MSNBC. Yeah, you may have had to leave us, Senator McCain. Sometimes, these things just don't work out. But next time, I expect you to stand in the heart of Northern Virginia, look us in the eye, and tell us that we're not "real" enough for you.

Before the last debate and the step-by-step descriptions of yours and Senator Obama's respective economic plans, I was undecided. Now, I am extra-decided to vote democrat, and I will urge the rest of Fake Virginia to do so too. Maybe come November 4th, you'll be able to close your eyes and pretend we don't exist, but trust me: our votes will be real enough.

Betrayed in Ballston,
- Josephine Fu

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Monday, October 13th, 2008
10:32 am - MYTH CONFIRMED.
I haven't posted in months. :O

OKAY.

So you know how hippies stereotypically have gross smelling farts? Well, our kitties for weeks had been waking us up with gross poops, which had been abominable smelling. Even when Quinn managed to cover it up, it was still gross for at least five minutes, and one of us would have to drag ourselves out of the bed in order to cover it up or turn on the fan. I proposed a week ago that perhaps the cause is because we are feeding our cats expensive hippie food, and they were having hippie poops.

WELL NOW.

It's true. We switched them to Science Diet on Friday, and our house smells clean and happy again. VICTORY IN OUR TIME.

In other news, I purchased an iPod Touch and almost constantly playing tap tap revenge when I'm in the bathroom. Also, Ryan's dad got married, I talked to Sandy's librarian friend for hours, and Ryan and I had an argument about his sister. But it's all okay, because Ryan is very sweet. I've been playing too much Warhammer Online, and I am (not so) secretly proud of my level 23 White Lion. I'm constantly sleepy. I'm starting a new job in a few weeks, working with David. That's kind of cool. Soon, I will do another round of egg donation again.

That's all.

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Wednesday, September 24th, 2008
3:59 pm - Mostly for Sfofie.
This was the description of a recent woot for a 700 dollar laptop:

ANTINOUS: Penelope, the time has come. You must choose a suitor.

PENELOPE: Never! I await the return of my husband, the brave Odysseus! I have kept his HP Compaq 8710P 17” Business Notebook the very way he left it!

MELANTHIUS: Penelope, see reason. No one wants a laptop like that these days. Not even that old beggar over there next to the swineherd.

PENELOPE: The one wearing strangely fashionable rags with little owl logos?

MELANTHIUS: That’s the one. Even he won’t want a HP Compaq 8710P 17” Business Notebook! Let go of your husband’s memory, to which you cling foolishly, and choose a new lover!

PENELOPE: Foolish, Melanthius? Perhaps it is you who are the fool. My husband’s HP Compaq 8710P 17” Business Notebook has an HDMI output with VGA and can easily work with an HDTV. It contains a 10/100/1000Mbps Ethernet with 802.11a/b/g Wireless LAN and 56k modem and an additional DVD RW/R, DL RW/R and CD-RW/R with lightscribe optical drive.

AGELAUS: Yes, yes, and a 160 gig hard drive he carved from an olive tree, we’ve heard all this, Penelope, at least a dozen times.

PENELOPE: So impatient, strong Agelaus. Did you also know, then, about the full sized keypad? Would you dare to say that your laptop has a full sized keypad?

CTESSIPPUS: Choose a suitor, Penelope! We grow impatient!

PENELOPE: Very well, Ctessippus. I will choose. I will choose any man… who can lift my husband’s HP Compaq 8710P 17” Business Notebook!

CTESSIPPUS: What?

ELATUS: Is she nuts?

ANTINOUS: Penelope, that thing weighs like seven and a half pounds, come on.

MYSTERIOUS BEGGAR: I will try, m’lady.

PENELOPE: As you will, m’lord.

DEMOPTOLEMUS: Who said that?

CTESSIPPUS: Was that the beggar? Don’t we know that voice?

AGELAUS: Hey, doesn’t that HP Compaq 8710P 17” Business Notebook have a fingerprint scanner?

EURYMACHUS: Fellas, I think we’re in some deep crap here.

ANTINOUS: Hey, Odysseus, we were just kidding around, you know, we all knew it was you the whole time, man. Hey, how about we use that 5-in-1 Card Reader to look at the photos from your trip, huh? I bet you were doing a lot of great stuff while you were… hey, now, hang on a second with that… um, if anybody knows where my sword went I could use a little help here… hey… HEY ODIE CHILL OUT DUDE COME ON SERIOUSLY

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Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008
2:10 pm - For Ellen.
Just because I was thinking about it.

"So you think you have the yips, eh!?," he asked with enthusiastic sympathy. But Regan detected a note of question, as if John was tactfully wondering what she meant by "yips," why there was pus oozing from her elbows, and whether or not she was contagious. (She was.)

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Tuesday, August 5th, 2008
1:55 pm - Sometimes...
... Sometimes, your friends weird you out, some in the good way, some in the bad.

Sometimes, your boyfriend calls his friend for help, just so he can buy you flowers in the colors of Charlemagne's banner.

Oh, wait. That is me. Not you. Sucker.

Teehee. I has a flowers.

Happy Barfday, Georgie! Yesterday!

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Monday, July 21st, 2008
4:08 pm - Proof.
Stuff White People Like.Collapse )

Total: 48

Stuff Asian People Like.Collapse )
Total: 51

MATHEMATICAL PROOF THAT I AM SLIGHTLY MORE ASIAN THAN I AM WHITE.

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Sunday, July 20th, 2008
11:20 pm - Just something I was playing with.
"Today, my normal place ran out of both nutmeg and infant extract. I had to get a plain latte, and it just wasn't the same."

"You know, I hear that franchise uses artificial stuff. You should really try the place down the street."

"Ugh, maybe I should. If I'm paying six dollars for a latte, I want that rich taste of real infant."

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Friday, June 20th, 2008
11:28 am - Fragile Little Things
I have been in a tiny world of spaz for the past week which has made me worry, oddly enough, about how I'm going to behave as a mother.

Basically, Quinn is tiny and full of gross poops, which has made me trowel daily through her cat box seeking treasure and peace. Hint: I have found none. She's behaving in a kitten-like fashion which is good, but the degree of my worry is what freaks me out. If I hear her using the box when I'm about to go to sleep, I target lock onto it, like a science-fiction missile launcher, and I give serious thought to dragging myself out of bed in order to go investigate her latest leavings.

This doesn't bode well for me, does it?

I thought at first that she had grown addicted to sleeping near my face, but I'm beginning to have suspicions that she and my memory foam pillow are having some kind of affair. Yesterday, I was lying on my bed and playing Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. Quinn, after a bit of fussing, sat docilely at my elbow, only every once in a while getting too excited and biting the DS stylus out of my hand. But eventually, she started being a wriggle creature, and wouldn't stop making a ruckus until I let her lie on the pillow directly under my chin. Eventually, I was sleepy, my neck was sore from holding my head up so as to not crush her tiny kitten skeleton, and Quinn had watched me beat the Temple of Air. No, I'm serious. She watches. She can't always follow the action on the screen, but she's definitely tracking the little Link head on the minimap as that moves.

... Yes. I'm pretty sure it qualifies as the cutest thing ever.

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Thursday, June 12th, 2008
8:43 am - KITTAMS: I HAZ ONE.
.... With each passing day, I lapse further and further into incoherent babbling.

Despite all that, the truth of the matter is that Ryan and I did get a kitten on Tuesday. Pictures are forthcoming (Ryan got a camera for his birthday), and she's absolutely beautiful. I thought she would be a skittish little thing, so my expectations were pretty low, but she managed to kind of hold her ground against... well, Sing, muse, about the rage of Icarus. Poor boy was just sick with "fever of unknown origin" (that's in all honesty a real veterinary term) and then a tiny thing invades his home. But she's been getting more used to gigantic folks, and this morning I woke up and she was curled up right behind mine and Ryan's pillows. To give you somewhat of an idea, she looks kind of like a Phanto. She's a calico, and her face is perfectly split between black and yellow. The best part, though, is that her paws are also black and yellow, only it's the opposite paw. Thus, her foster mom gave her the name Quinn after Harlequin, so that's kind of like destiny.

DESTINY!

Actually, we had planned on getting one of her sisters, who was a cutie named Sunny. But I got cold feet about Sunny, thinking, "Noooos! Nali has a cat called Sunny! There can be only one. 8(" Which is not why we ended up getting Quinn. Quinn was just cuter. ^^

Anyways, yeah. I'm super-happy with kittams. She's eating and drinking and playing a bunch, and I have claw marks on any body part you care to ask me about. She's gonna be a fierce little girl, and I can't wait until she starts picking fights with Icarus. XD

EDIT: Oh, I forgot. I do have this picture. Quality is low (it's a cell phone pic), but it gets the idea of how her fur looks right now. http://www.jophine.com/images/noname.jpg

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Monday, June 9th, 2008
2:05 pm - Things I learned this past week.
1) It is difficult to have certain things when your parents are sleeping on your floor, namely: good sleeps, computer game time, a sex life.
2) It is possible to acknowledge that someone is a bad husband, then insist that he's a good father.
3) People speak to kittens and babies in an identical fashion.
4) There are certain things you probably never want your parents to see. I think perhaps at #1 on this list of things is you walking into your house with your month-old child, while the father of said child has filled your house with pot smoke. This is perhaps the worst thing.

>.>

Rough week! But this week is kittams week 1994, and hopefully, I'll pay mans to get my car to stop leaking into itself. Also, Death Cab, vidar games, and Caketown.

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Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008
3:07 pm - Just an exchange...
Me: Hey, if the democrats used the republican rules of winner-take-all-delegates in every state, would Obama still be winning now?

Ryan: ... I think that's the sexiest thing you've ever asked me.

Yaaaawn! I am sleepy. How are you today?

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Thursday, May 29th, 2008
11:38 am - How my part time job saved my sanity.
I got to transcribe a speech today that summarized all of my feelings about history. One paragraph, that sieves through the mess of philosophy I have, and plops it down neatly on your monitor:

"Both of the Beards had a strong conception of history in another sense, what they called 'history as actuality,' something external to the historian, out there in the past, separate from the observer. History as actuality was the real past as it happened. Because he understood it to be impossible to represent that actuality fully, yet he felt one ought to strive to do that, Charles Beard called written history an act of faith. This was the title of his presidential address to the AHA, 'Written History as an Act of Faith.' To Mary Beard, this concept of history as actuality was an abstraction, but a necessary abstraction and very crucial to her task of recovering women’s history, because as she saw, the real past, history as actuality there, women played varied and full parts. She saw a huge disparity between the fragmentary record that had come down to her modern era and a disparity between that and what had actually happened in the past, and it was her sense of that disparity that motivated her to preserved documents and to write history herself."

That's awesome. Thanks, Mary Cott's keynote address to the Library of Congress Resourceful Women conference!

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Wednesday, May 28th, 2008
3:42 pm - And for a hundred visions and revisions.
Sidenote, while I'm still thinking of Prufrock: They totally should've used this line in Infinite Crisis: "Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, / Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?"

So I spent 504 dollars on my eyeballs yesterday. A year's worth of sleep-in contacts (360 dollars), a new pair of glasses -- with new frames (102 dollars, with insurance, otherwise it would've been something like 450) and the appointment to update my prescription (38 dollars). I reeled a little from how much I'm paying, but my old glasses were not only crappy, but -5.5/-5.5, and I'm now only -4.5 in my right eye. It keeps improving, despite the fact that it's the eye that was constantly bothered by the old contact lens.

I put Tiger down precisely a week ago, which was sad, but in a way I put my money where my mouth was. I'm a firm believer in abortion, euthanasia, and slightly unrelated but connected in my mind, capital punishment. If I'm incapable of basic thought, basic self-sufficiency, or I can't afford to pay for someone to take care of me, then I think I should go. If I'm in a coma with no likelihood to pull through, same deal. I don't believe in the synthetic extension of one's life, to a certain extent. Pharmaceutical methods I think are okay. One or a limited series of operations or treatments, fine. If something has to pump my lungs for me for the rest of my existence, though, I'd be ready to give up.

But my vision sometimes bothers me. I'm smart, I'm worth most peoples' time in a conversation, and yet with my natural faculties, I can't drive a car, or in fact cross a street in safety. My vision, my lifestyle, is based entirely on a carefully calibrated plastic mold.

I told someone once that if I had to choose a sense of sacrifice, I think I could give up my vision. Having hung out with Sandy, Ryan's dad's blind girlfriend, I don't think I could. But thinking of the things that I look forward to, and the things that I would sacrifice if any of my senses were to go is pretty upsetting. All I want right now is the smooth, cold taste of a cucumber sandwich. Maybe smell is something I could relinquish--there are a lot of bad smells, and I'm pretty sensitive to it. But that means that I'd have to give up that feeling when you go down the escalator of Tyson's mall, and you land in Cinnabon land. And you know, whatever happens to you, you can pump yourself full of sugar and cinnamon, and it will be Okay for that duration of time.

I am full of sad things today. I got drunk and wrote some stuff yesterday. I hope I can keep writing.

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Thursday, May 22nd, 2008
11:49 am - News and a new game.
I put my kitty down yesterday. According to my mom, she cried all night. Gloria took some beautiful glamor shots of him on his last morning. I kept thinking of Angela's cat in The Office. I hope my kitty gets to kitty heaven, despite the fact that he was euthenized. My mom hopes that he can find his girlfriend cat, Crista. That would be nice. Though frankly, Tiger's heaven probably wouldn't include her. There would be a lot of hotter ladycats around, though. (Crista was kind of damaged.)

Anyways, I'm sad, but thanks for all of your guys' kind words. They will help propel Tiger into kitty heaven. Icarus is already being nicer. One day, I hope to own and wear a pair of pants shaped like Icarus' butt.

So this game. Upon evaluating last month's New Yorker magazine, Sophie and I invented a new game. Namely, like the "in bed" rule for fortune cookies, ANY comic strip (whether one-panel or three) is funnier when you replace the punchline with, "You think this is bad? I used to be a proctologist!" This worked perfectly with every comic in the New Yorker.

For your amusement, I present today's Garfield comic:



Also good, today's Peanuts:



But the true kicker was Mary Worth, which might be the worst comic strip ever:

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/fun/mary.asp

There were many lols.

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Friday, May 16th, 2008
10:43 am
In two successive evenings, I had dinner with Sophie and Dr. O'Brien and I watched three of five episodes of Library Wars. As a result of that and sleep deprivation, I am now even more determined to be a combat librarian. Okay. I don't think I'm going to be supertall and specialize in Goes Fast and Hits Hard. But I do think that I can be a combat librarian, and I really do have that kind of fanatical commitment to the written word that's humorously featured in the show. Also, maybe if I'm a librarian, I will be able to figure out the provenance of my Mysterious Byron Book, which is an off-and-on mission to find something that's not listed in WorldCat. I explained it to Sophie (drunk) (on the Metro) (loudly). I love books. The idea that another Cotton collection fire or another bombing of "that one monastery in Germany, you know, the one with all the manuscripts" could happen is a thing that I'd like to fight against. Especially since one of the manuscripts I worked with was actually colored with green ink (it was an herbal manual) and the copper used to make the green was burning through the vellum. It boggled my mind that books made out of cowhide could just melt away if no one bothered to check on it. And there was that one time I was looking up something ridiculous (a collection of 18th century correspondence) in my college's library, and discovered mildew on the pages. Yuck!

I was very impressed with Iron Man. Tony Stark is the kind of deranged but socially brilliant genius that I can really relate with. Yeah. That's what I want to be when I grow up. He reminds me of Ariana Huffington, a lady whom I really respect not only as the founder of The Huffington Post, but also because she's beautiful, charismatic, outspoken, and most importantly uses her powers for the good of the people.

So here's my new, elaborate librarian daydream.Collapse )

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Friday, May 2nd, 2008
12:28 am - All of these paragraphs are really about my cat.
One of the greatest comforts of my life is that my cat constantly craves attention. That's a really beautiful feeling, to have someone always wanting you. It's actually kind of upsetting when he spurns me, like I am no longer his provider-of-things-and-cuddles. And yet, it makes me pleased when he looks for attention from other people, and they lift him up and make him fly and stuff. He is a very good cat.

I am out of the old house 100% now, and that's a comfort too. I had a good cry tonight about it. I was just thinking, if my dad liked me more and my friends liked me less, I wouldn't be here right now. But things worked the way that they work, and I've got a beautiful house, a humongous room, and a cat who won't shut up right now. I got my own inaugural bookshelves. It is My Place full of My Things. My Postcard of Leonidas. My Giant Beanbag. My Friends.

I'm glad that I get along with most of Team Arlington. Somehow, fitting into Ryan's life makes me feel more comfortable with myself. The few hitches that I have, nevertheless, really get to me. I want to be a Part of him; I don't want his friends to dislike a part of who he is becoming with me. I'm glad my kitty likes him. He sleeps between our legs when we share a bed, and that is both invasive and horrendously funny.

I'm not eating very well. I keep telling myself that I need to eat more leafy greens and salads and such. Maybe I should learn to cook kale? I don't know. As much salad as I eat, I just feel inclined to eat more gross stuff. I should go work out again--I promise I'll start next week. Fuck... no, I can't mention my cat. Oh, wait. I wish I were like my cat: no matter what he eats, he never gets fat. Of course... he's also dying.

Today, I played through all of Portal, and he sat on my mouse arm, sleeping. That was a good feeling.

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Thursday, May 1st, 2008
3:38 pm - NoVA kids!
Let's go see the Forbidden Kingdom tomorrow!

I have dinner plans, so someone else can make those!

The Lee Highway Multiplex has two relevant times, one a 7:10 and the other at 9:40! Let's go out to the mooovies! Let's go out to the moooovies! Let's go out to the mooovies! and have ourselves a snack!

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Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
11:07 pm - Homemaker.
Today, I moved my Faulkner novels.

I'll say that again.

Today, I moved my Faulkner novels. I put them on a new set of shelves that I purchased for more than I wanted. But my Faulkner novels (all except Absalom, Absalom!) are living on my own shelf, in my own room. Every time I look over there (it's an F author, so it's on the top shelf), my eyes start stinging a little. Even though I'm surrounded by wonderful people, even though my adoring boyfriend is down the street, I feel isolated, alone. I feel a little Quentin-ish, you know, committed to not going back whence you came, but too lonely to advance forwards in life.

There's something about moving my Faulkner collection that really makes me sad. Everything else I've lost control of. I don't know what comics I have, what genre books I have, but I've got precisely nine Faulkner novels. I know exactly which novels they are. The most beautiful collections of words in the world, and I have them, right there, just for me. If I think about it really hard, it's breathtaking. All of these people, captured in my folding wooden shelves, between Brett Ellis' American Psycho and Ford Maddox Ford's Good Soldier. Beautiful, fertile Lena. Passionate, steady Byron. Lonely, loving Quentin. Smart, caring Gavin. The painful goodness of V.K.

I want to love these people forever. I want them to stick around, to teach me what it means to love.

I'm afraid my job will destroy the passion and the vigor I have for life. I'm petrified that my honeymoon period will die, and I won't jump and light up when my phone does its tiny text message buzz. I'm afraid I'm going to be moving my books or whatever, and I'm going to lose a book. I'll lose Eula. Or Dewey Dell. Or god, even Flem.

I'm in a new house, with almost all new things. Sometimes, I really wish I weren't.

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