THINGS!

1. I am moving house out of my flat and into a real live house at the end of the month. Hoorah!
2. I am enjoying my four-day week.
3. I liked the new Star Trek film lots! Spock is adorable now he's not a serial killer.*
4. I went to see The Sixteen in Bury St Edmunds cathedral, singing Purcell and James McMillan -- they were really wonderful.
5. Ok, you win. I'm on Dreamwidth as tadorna (my Latin name dontcha know), but I haven't really bothered to do anything with it or seek people out or anything basically.

Ok, I think the numbers are intimidating me, and also I have been corrupted by Twitter. I keep wanting to express every thought in 140 characters. Ummmm, what else? I've been feeling pretty good lately. Work is still all a bit up in the air and not great. I need to do more exercise, eat more healthily and do more work. I'm trying to get back into the creative groove, to spend more time making and doing. Not that there's anything intrinsically wrong with reading and watching stuff and noodling around on the internet. But, just for myself, I could be doing more, and I feel it would be a shame if I didn't. I don't actually include knitting in the things I ought to be doing. It is creative, but in a different way -- I love doing it, but it's a hobby. That only applies to me, though. Singing is the same, and sewing. For me, these are hobbies, because I enjoy doing them, but they're not really my 'thing' -- I'm an extremely average knitter and singer. Writing and making... other stuff -- that's work. But work in the good way, not as in my job. That's work in the bad or at least necessary evil way. If you're somebody who 'makes work', sometimes you can allow 'going to work' to prevent you from doing your real work. *ties self in knots*

Sorry, that was really convoluted. So yes, mainly I'm concentrating on taking pleasure in small things, and making a start on doing more good stuff (although I've got distracted by this moving business now).

Anyway, have I ever mentioned my damn annoying social phobia? It trips me up sometimes, and makes me worry a lot more than I really need to. I had to go to a social event with work the other day, and it made me very anxious and left me feeling low, although I made my excuses and went home pretty early. I got my hair cut the other day too, and I always hate that -- I find small talk really difficult. I can't help subjecting myself to an in-depth analysis of my 'performance' as a human being, and the conclusion is always that I have failed miserably. I am of course aware that this is unnecessary and I am much better at all this than I used to be. I do try quite hard. I'm also aware that lots of other people feel shy or out of place at times -- but this is a particular problem for me, and affects my life hugely. It has done for as long as I can remember, and is probably at the root of my problems with depression in the past. It hasn't gone away, but I think what I've come to realise is that it can be battled with. It doesn't always have to force me under. Life's just too damn short, basically.

Er, yeah, anyway. Dunno why I felt the need to go on about that suddenly, it's just stuff I've been thinking about. Have some random photos!

*This is a casting reference. There is no Spock-is-an-ex-serial killer plotline in the film, don't worry.

( random photos )

Sadly, Leonora's cake tasted of nothing.

***

Everybody stood around awkardly with their tea. Sarah said, "I'm not into poetry," and just then, her phone rang. Stephen said, "That's a dinky thing. Are you aware you're trying to contact your mother on a cigarette lighter?"

***

The difficult bit was over. Afterwards, they walked together by the river, and it wasn't very long before Henry lost his temper again, because Thomas had said the wrong thing again. He always did say the wrong thing, Thomas, he was bloody-minded that way. Words floated to the top and had to come out. It perplexed people, the way Thomas just flung those words out into the world, willy nilly. It was as though he didn't really care. Even at the end, he didn't care very much, or at least that's what they say.

Henry said, his voice rising dangerously, "What, you really think I'd do that to you? Is that what you think, Thomas? Is that what you think of me?" He was like a bulldog, square-chested, large-hearted, wound up and spoiling for a fight.

Thomas looked at Henry, and Henry looked back at him, twitching under the skin like something waiting to be let out of a cage. But Thomas was statue-still, and his face was like the blank white sky. "Heaven forbid," he said. He spoke softly, slowly, as though to himself. "Heaven forbid." A little way off, there was a soft splash as something -- a rat, a bird -- launched itself into the water and swam swift and silent into the river's brown depths.

Thomas's pale hand was still curled like a comma over his heart. He looked down at it, as though noticing it for the first time. Then he turned and walked on ahead down the path. He'd made up his mind now, and all things would follow as they were meant to. As they were always meant to. The difficult bit was over.

***

Stephen said, "You have to look a bit for their graves, but when you find them, they lie side by side, as in life. And as in life, there is Imogen, peeping between their shoulders... Have you ever seen a picture of her? I saw her once, she popped up very suddenly from some shrubbery, tall and thin, with the little round specs, just popped up like that. She was like a heron. Sort of like a Mr Bean, like a Miss Bean coming up out of the shrubbery."

***

When terrible things happen, someone has to be to blame. Stands to reason. Like the time Robert was killed. Just a boy, Robert was. You know who was to blame, don't you? We all know it. Who even knows what they get up to, that lot? They don't belong here -- they never have. They've probably been getting up to all sorts. Richard ought to have sent them packing, years ago. But Richard's not here, is he? He's never here. Not even sure where he is half the time, always abroad somewhere, on some crusade or other. Well. If he won't take care of things back home, somebody'll have to. What they did to that little boy... We've been too soft with them -- I've said it before. They'll have to go. They'll have to get themselves gone, them and their nasty ways. Nobody wants them round here. If they don't take themselves off smartish, it'll all kick off. You mark my words. I won't answer for what'll happen. They've only themselves to blame, haven't they?

***

I has got my Firefox back! :) Now to fix the rest. But not tonight.

Just time to note the following:

I think Kirsty Young is secretly a Timelord.
I like Sue Perkins in a turban. But Giles Coren has no actual brain.
They gave me a Biggins story at work! I have to write a headline about Biggins! :) Sadly, nothing pornographic would fit the space. :(
The Biggins story is about him visiting the Pauline Quirke Academy of Performing Arts. No, seriously. I am not even making that up.
I award myself a prize for 'lamest headline of the week'.
I'm listening to Vivaldi's Gloria, having acquired it a while back for choir nostalgia reasons. I can't believe I was actually allowed to sing this stuff. In Notre Dame. And what was going through my mind at the time? How can I subtly let F know that I don't even care that she doesn't want to hang around with me any more? Just because she's discovered S now, whose brother auditioned for Cats. Like that makes her so much better. What she doesn't know is that S slags her off behind her back all the time anyway and complains to everyone that F followed her all round Paris and she couldn't get rid of her. Why must they play Vanilla Ice and Jive Bunny at the disco? I have no friends.

I'm going to Dorset for the weekend, maybe forever omg! But in reality for the weekend.

Not that this will make the slightest bit of difference to anyone, seeing as I have apparently watched too much of BBC4's Sacred Music series and entered a period of monastic silence.

Anyway -- laters, friends.

My iPod appears to be completely dead. I've never seen a deader piece of machinery. I don't think it liked all the Bach.

I can has new iPod?

NaNoWriMo -- I have written the grand total of 20 words. GO ME!!!

I have still not answered all the comments I meant to answer -- sorry, everyone. *smacks self in head*

I've got to go back to work tomorrow. I want more holiday! :(

I signed up for Yuletide. Um.

The Two Lines fic -- is going to go on forever, but at least it's going on. I think.

Inspired by some of the requests on Yuletide, I went searching and found, you know, one of them bad 'n' wrong fandom places (well, it was for me anyway) and am still trying to scrub myself clean.

dandywalker and I went to see The Divine Comedy last night and it was purely magic and wonderful and fab. :) And it made me very happy. (Apart from the two most annoying people in the world, who stood in front of us). And the support were the great Duke Special, who make very effective use of the cheese grater and whisk, and should be checked out most immediately.

I spent three hours looking for boots that would zip up over my calves. It made me want to cry. In the end I caved and bought ankle boots.

20 words... Oh, I do suck. Still, at least I know what it's going to be about now. It's the story of a cat who lives in a cage and plays the blues on his saxophone and tells creepy stories to his visitors.

Most importantly of all, I want to say ~~~HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to sophrosyne31!!!~~~ Because she so very deserves it. Have [ETA: I mean, hope you had] a lovely day, my sweet soph, and I will see you at the weekendyay! :)

In day 3 of PEDW, nothing much happened really. I meant to buy the job paper but forgot and bought the NME instead, for the first time in about fifty million years. How odd it is! It's all full of bands I'm not sure whether I've heard of or not. It maybe made me feel a little bit old, but that's mainly because I associated this rag so strongly with my formative years. It hasn't changed all that much. I mainly bought it because there was an interview with Jarvis Cocker, which ought to be reason enough for anyone really. Oh, that man is a tonic. A tonic! He says (amongst other things): "If a plumber came around to mend your toilet and started telling you about his spanner, like, 'Yeah, I've had this spanner for about 20 years,' you'd say, 'Shut up, you boring bastard.' But music people think it's all right to talk about guitars and computers. That's nothing to do with music as far as I can see."

In other musical news, I have tickets to see The Divine Comedy on 17th May at the Cambridge Junction! Oh, so excited! :)

Had a driving lesson this afternoon. Hmm, was ok. I was tired.

Made a risotto, which was rather nice.

Oh, oh, I know what happened today! We do this advert for farm recycling bins which come in different colours. S said, "Hmm, looks like a TARDIS with a chimney." And A did a picture with them as beach huts at Felixstowe seafront. But I made her turn one of them into the TARDIS. Only she wasn't sure what a TARDIS looked like, and she was trying to give it some sort of weird dome or something. So I Googled and printed a picture of the TARDIS for her, enabling her to replicate the TARDIS beach hut with some degree of accuracy. And when she'd finished I was able to cut out the original TARDIS picture and stick it on my Andrex puppy calendar next to my computer (pls do not ask me why I have an Andrex puppy calendar).

First, lookee look at my icon from shanalle! How cool is she? How pointy!

Second, do you like art? If you like art, put up your hand. Now put it down again and go and join novanumbernine's new artalert community. Go on, do it. It's going to be fabulous. jcsynthetics, I'm looking at you here. And you, galactic_jack. Come on now, you know you want to.

Third:

Answers to the lyrics quiz

1. I read your manifestoes and your strange religious tracts. You took me to your library and kissed me in the stacks
Magnetic Fields - Swinging London

2. Capp Street is an underwater cave filled with crutches and canes
American Music Club - Over & Done

3. The smell of leaf-mould and the sweetness of decay are the incense in your funeral procession here today
Pulp - Trees

4. See this watch you gave me - well it still ticks away
Eels - The Medication Is Wearing Off

5. I'm not a hostess waiting to fuck you. I'm not a waiter - I wanna be served
Six by Seven - My Life is an Accident

6. Every tongue will wag if you want it. Every lung has a shadow on it
The Divine Comedy - Mastermind

7. Heard voices in dial tones. Last traces of her zones
The Paradise Motel - Derwent River Star

8. She puts the weights into my little heart, and she gets in my room and she takes it apart.
Interpol - Obstacle 1

9. Hand over hand up the lifeline, luckily the knots stay tight.
Morphine - Rope on Fire

10. Regret that you fell or be damned to hell, one more chance
The Real Tuesday Weld - One More Chance

Well, that's random for you.

Now for the Yuletide bastard. Anyone who sees me online, give me a slap.

I just posted a link in u_send_it to download One April Day by Stephen Merritt, because it just came up on iTunes and I was bowled over anew by its fabulousness.

In other news, a whopping two whole people decided to humour me and wrote drabbles including the line "I'm sorry, Martha, I forgot you were booked in for today." I bring you:

Intact - the tragic story of a tragic moose.

Martha Stewart Prison Fic Drabble Aphid Canon Tait Harrington Shock! - from the hot new writer in the aphid expert fandom.

and, as a bonus:

a dribble drabble - incorporating not only the line, ""I'm sorry, Martha, I forgot you were booked in for today.", but also the line, "I'm sorry, Archbishop, I'd forgotten the space-beast ate your legs today." That's some fine drabbling.

Pity me for I have a cold.

He was ACE!

Has anyone noticed that my brain is no longer in use?