You know, in a lot of superhero comic books and such--whenever someone gains a superpower--they AUTOMATICALLY decide to use it for heroic (or villainous, depending on who it is) purposes. There's very little thought to it. "Hey, I woke up this morning with telekinesis. I'm going to go out and save the world!"

I like writing stories--fanfiction, mostly--where people get superpowers and go on about lives as usual. They have to adapt to having the power, which can't be turned off or gotten rid of. And then there are some who have a power, want to use it for the better of humanity, but can't figure out how, exactly, they're supposed to do it.

In one of my favorite X-men fanfics-in-progress, the cast lives on a hippie commune. They're against violence, and they've got fairly useless powers anyway (i.e., telepathically communicating with plants, growing one's hair long or short at will, the ability to make other people's bodies glow). So they find out other ways to use their powers. The girl who can communicate with plants runs Earth-based spirituality classes in the park. The guy who can make his hair grow... doesn't use his powers, but he plans a lot of protests. The girl who can make other people glow hangs around dark places at night making passerby glow so cars can see 'em. They're not THE SAVIORS OF THE MUTANT RACE! or anything like that. They're just average people with a few enhancements, who don't WANT to become superheroes. They're content to live normal lives.

In another, there are two people with fairly useless powers who want to be superheroes. So they go looking for the X-men in order to join up. One of them--Blue Star--sweats acid that eats through just about anything. The other--Camo--can make tattoos appear on her skin at will. Although their powers aren't all THAT useful, they still wanna help somehow. ("Even if it's just mailing 'donations please!' postcards at Christmas.")

It's fun to write scenes with uselessly-powered characters, too. There's much more strategy to think about. If you read some comics, they have some kind of half-assed plan, which basically consists of, "I go in. I start smashing in some faces, you start breaking knee-caps. Let's see where that takes us." Well, these characters I write about don't really have super martial arts training or anything. They're just random people off the street. They have to THINK about what they have to do to protect their asses.

I wonder if anybody would ever let me write/create/design for comic books...?

Bah! It feels as though one of the little rubber loop thingies on my braces is coming loose, with a bit of wire behind it. I suppose that's what we get, though, for not going to the orthodontist for five months. Dad couldn't be arsed to take me to an appointment in March, and we just haven't gotten around to rescheduling.

Mom had a minor shitfit about it, though, and decided she would take me whether Dad liked it or not. That's coming up... next week, I believe. August 8. Hopefully, I get these braces off soon. I want to chew gum again! I've had them on for almost two years, and they're quite straight by now. Spacing's fixed and everything.

My friend Jane keeps telling me to do what Jenna Jameson did and have my brother take the braces off with a pair of household pliers... but that ain't gonna happen. One, I don't like the idea. We don't have powerful enough drugs to knock me out for that. Two, I don't even know where my brother IS. He has a habit of disappearing for months at a time and never speaking to us for that entire time.

*pokes loosening wire*

And on my birthday--back on May 5--one of my brackets snapped off, and I've just been dealing with a loose bit of wire near my molars ever since. Pokin' into the lining of my mouth. Fortunately, Karen (my stepmother, a dentist) came home with the proper snipping tool a few weeks later and managed to cut off part of it so that it was tolerable.

*pokes wire again*

It doesn't really feel like wire. It's not sharp and it's not metallic. Maybe it's a piece of some food stuck in there, even after repeated brushings?

I dunno.

I hope I get the fuckin' things off soon, though.

I'm a toy collector.

But not like the other toy collectors--who never take their stuff out of the box to play with it or even touch it.

I get my toys--fairly expensive ones, like Inferno of the Living Dead Dolls collection--and I set them up so I can play with them a little later. I talk to them and I play with them. They're like friends that will never leave; and you know, that Velveteen Rabbit thing... love can make you real.

I once had an assignment in English to write a moral story--a page, minimum. Most people turned in less than half a page on some random half-assed topic. I turned in eight pages elaborating on the idea of "love can make you real"... but instead of the nice, fluffy Velveteen Rabbit, I used Isaac and Inferno, two of my own Living Dead Dolls (whom I actually think are living sometimes...)

The girl in the story was lonely, and so she had lonely toys who kept her company. She imagined that they were living and that they were all close, close friends. And because she had such a vivid imagination, they WOULD come alive for her. But then, the people who make her lonely and sad start turning up missing... So I added on a little bit to the moral tag at the end of the story.

"Love can make you real. But sometimes you can love too much and things can get TOO real."

I think that my friends have spirits. Perhaps they do. Perhaps they don't. But I like to think they do.

Sometimes I think that Inferno's gaze follows me around the room from atop her perch on the stereo (which is more a shelf with buttons than anything else). Seriously! I'll sit over here in the rocking chair, glance over my shoulder, and Inferno seems to be staring right at me, lookin' at what I'm typing. Then I'll move over onto my bed... and it looks like Infy's eyes have followed me!

Maybe this is just further proof that I'm finally going crazy for lack of flesh-and-blood friends. I don't really care; it'd be cool if Inferno were alive (as long as my story doesn't end up like The Girl's...)

I'm becoming rather convinced that "BECAUSE" is the ultimate answer of the universe. Every time you ask a question about life, the universe, or everything, that's what it starts out with.

"Why is the sky blue?"
"Because..."

"Why do you think we're here?"
"Because..."

So on and so forth.

And every time you hear a kid ask a parent, "Why?", they'll reply with, "Because."

And when you really look at it, we're all children of God, and wouldn't that make God's answer to our "Why?"s and ponderings "BECAUSE I SAID SO" or some variant thereof?

I had a dream that Karen drove me and The Guy With The Big Nose out to a flea market in the middle of nowhere and abandoned us there. (I wouldn't put it beyond her.) I guess his nickname was Quicksilver. A lot of people seemed to be calling him that, anyway. Anyway, he started painting and quickly earned us some money to buy some water. Then we hitchhiked out of the flea market place and moved on to somewhere else. I started making jewelry and that earned us a little bit, too. We wandered into a McDonald's and it started POURING down rain. We started just browsing the place and sat down at a booth to wait the storm out. Somebody figured out we weren't gonna buy anything, and they threw us out in the rain. Quicksilver picked the lock on a car and we stayed in there until the rain let up.

We hitched a ride from the car's owner (who wasn't mad at all) and started following a hippie band. It wasn't the Dead--there was no Jerry, no Phil, no Mickey, etc. And I don't think it was Phish, either. So I dunno who it was. There was a chick fronting it, though. Chick with straight brown hair.

The car crashed off a bridge and the owner, unfortunately, died, but Quick fished me out of the lake and we made it to another little flea market.

It went on like this for quite awhile, until we decided to crash at an abandoned church.

Do birds know when it's the weekend?

I told Dad what I did, and he congratulated me. XD It's good to have a smartass as a parent. I'm not particularly fond of his conservative-ness, but it's fun to be raised as a smartass. As he says, "Better a smartass than a dumbass."

I had a dream that I went to some beach town to watch a show. Some guy with big eyebrows, a big nose, and wearing a tophat and trenchcoat kept following me around and spouting off random deep comments at me. We went into a hotel to stay (apparently, I didn't have any trouble getting a room with no money for a total stranger and myself) and heckled the old ladies sitting around the lobby watching soap operas.

Toward the middle of the dream, I discovered I could make people glow by snapping my fingers at them. Hooray for totally useless powers! I also nicknamed myself--what else--Glow Girl. The guy with the big nose and thick eyebrows thought it was the coolest thing ever and asked me to come shoot a horror movie. But the set was REALLY haunted or something, and I got scared, so I booked it and hid in a restaurant with a guy with blond cowlick. He was friends with the guy with the big nose and called him up to come pick me up. We avoided the horror-movie set and went back to our hotel. He started being alternately Deep And Eccentric, then Fluffy and Romantic. For some reason, dream-me liked it. D: Real-me would have preferred if he'd stayed Deep And Eccentric the entire time. Because that's cooler than the kinds of lines he was chattering on about, like, "If I loved you, I would kiss you right now," and then demonstrating it. I'm not sure what my whole aversion to romance is, but at any rate, he was cooler when he was deep and eccentric crazy and chattering on about what strange things we could do to wake people up all over the town.

I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, though. At least I'd be getting some in my dreams.

I remember that it was also Halloween and I was dressed up as a sexy nun in light blue. O____o Leiko + Sexy = Not Sexy. omgwtfbbq. Why was I wearing that instead of a floor-length black cloak with a hood? I think it's fun to wander around silently on Halloween scaring small children with your mere presence.

While I'm not happy that Dad tried to raise me as a super-conservative-miserable-beer-drinking-Republican nutter like he is, I'm extremely glad that he raised me as a smartass. Otherwise, I wouldn't have anything to do on this fine Saturday night Sunday morning.

http://www.journalfen.net/community/otf_wank/454990.html?view=27296078#t27296078 (I'm Ratt, obviously.) It's so fun. And by the way, Dad has a neat little name for people who sit around on the Internet late at night quoting their mothers and MOOing at people who happen to disagree with their opinions, which they state as fact and unalterable truth, and make up things that were never in the original post to accuse the OPer of.

Dad calls them "dull people who lack direction."

I think it certainly fits in this case.

I like churches and other religious places. I don't really like going there to hear sermons--I think one's spirit is intensely personal, and it cannot be "instructed"; inspired and helped along by others, sure, but not really "instructed"--whatever. But I like being around churches. They always have the most gorgeous architecture; there's a Methodist church in Greenville that I always liked being around. It was right next to the library, and whenever I visited Grandma, we would usually go to the library at least four times in the two weeks. It looked almost like a red-brick castle. There was another in St Pauls--probably the biggest building in that town--that had bells you could hear from all over the place. (Which goes to show you how small that town was.)

There was only one church that ever actually creeped me out. The one we actually WENT to when I was little--Cumberland United Methodist. I'm not sure what it was that creeped me out so much about that place, but I was often afraid to go anywhere in that church alone. I would always drag someone else along with me.

But all the other churches I've been around, even if they're unfamiliar, feel friendly, even if the people inside can be hateful. The Baptist church up the street is like that; I liked being there for Vacation Bible School. I went there with my friend at the time, Kristen; we would meet at her house at about nine in the morning, walk from there to the church, then hang out around Vacation Bible School all day. I remember the theme was called Climbing Mount Extreme. But as I recall, we didn't do anything "extreme." We built lamps. But that was about as extreme as it ever got. And the lady across the street who used to babysit my brother and I would sometimes take us to the Baptist church "Scouts", the Awanas. Sort of like super-religious coed Scouts. Since Josh and I weren't part of them (and, often, nobody really wanted me around to annoy them), we would wander the church for a couple of hours while Connor and Amber did cool Scouty-type things. The people in that church were kind of scary. The pastor was friendly. I liked him. But the people inside can turn a dirty eye at you if you do anything out of the ordinary.

The other church I really liked was Saint James Methodist in Greenville. The people there were pretty nice. I didn't go much--being as I didn't live in Greenville--but when I visited Grandma, it was usually nice to visit there. I liked the unusual design of the church--it was like an A-frame house with a steeple slapped up top. And it was right in front of thick forest. Always a plus!

I don't really like being in a church unless I'm feel to explore it alone (unless it's Cumberland United!) Not sure why I like being alone in churches. I just do.

I'd like to visit other places of worship, too. Just to expand my mind, y'know~?

I just got back from hanging out at Eckerd. A lot of people stopped and stared at me as I wrote stuff about love and compassion. They weren't reading it; I suppose the sight of someone my age writing ANYTHING not for school is mildly startling.

Random Things:

-Two cute black guys in dreads flashed me a peace sign as they went back to their car. :D

-There were lots of people on motorcycles today.

-It's boiling hot out here, so I had to take a couple breaks along the way. I stopped and stared at the lake for awhile, then moved on and sat on the church steps looking at clouds. A lot of people stared at me from the oncoming lane of traffic. Because leiksrsly folks, who sits on the steps of a church on Saturday humming Grateful Dead songs and watching clouds go past?

-I saw a flat cloud in the sky. Not a mere wisp or anything. It was 3D-looking, and it was like a table turned slightly on its side. Or a knife. It was like a 3D slant.

-I have a strange compulsion to kick over mushrooms when I see them. I don't know what it is. If I see one, I immediately have to trespass across someone else's yard and punt it skyward.

-I had to go to the bathroom before I left Eckerd and spent quite a while wrestling with the key to the girls' room. It was attached to a basket and the door didn't unlock when you didn't have the key turned at the same time. I HATE THAT.

-I've been in every house in this neighborhood at LEAST once. I just noticed that. When I was a kid, we would go into random people's houses when they invited us. Even if they'd just moved in or something. We'd just go in, no questions asked. XP Which, I suppose, isn't that good a thing to do, but fortunately, it was mostly old people and fairly young military families who lived here. Nothing bad happened. (Though one time, a scruffy man who lived in the blue house down the street offered to let us watch his boa constrictor strangling mice to death. Yeah. We went and watched, but it was a very morbid thing to invite us to do.)

-I saw a house that was painted an UGLY piss-yellow color... but just on the front face of the house. The sides were a pretty sky-blue color. Which made the piss-yellow all the more hideous. D:

-Some family is moving and I noticed they put stuff out to the curb. I was going to grab this really nice wavy-iron lamp, but someone else got it before I did (I was going to get it on the return trip). I hope that suitcase will still be left when I go back. I'm a dumpster-diving/scavenging junkie. XP

I had a dream that some nice gentleman procured some acid for me and I went tripping. The world did that little wavy thing like on TV when a character is dreaming or flashing back, and I met my spirit guide, who is apparently a tall, yet pudgy man with a bushy black beard. Jerry Garcia? His voice was deeper and he didn't wear glasses, though.

All kinds of weird things happened, though. It was a dream within a dream, and it was very realistic. Odd! Some little girl kept following me around during the "reality" part and asking me to help with her math. I am terrible at math. As in, "I don't comprehend anything beyond eighth-grade math." And this chick was wavin' trigonometry at me. The fuck if I knew anything about it. The nice gentleman gave me another blotter, so away I went into another dream-within-a-dream with the Pudgy Bearded Guy. I like him; he was cute. X3

I've always had a fascination with slightly chubby men. I'm not sure why. It's kind of unfortunate that I live today, because everybody, EVERYBODY, is so fucking fixated on being a twig. Some people can't help it, I know--my brother eats like a bloody horse and he's still a toothpick. He eats more than I do, but I don't think he's gained or lost weight in the past ten years.

But the people who CAN help it ruin themselves to fit the media image of "perfect beauty." I think there's something beautiful or interesting about everybody, and it's sad that few people realize that everyone is beautiful in some way or another. I think I look good; I like the way I look. Even though I'm six feet tall, weigh about 180 lbs, have a big nose, my legs are fishbelly-white, and I wear glasses. I think I look good. I don't think I'm the Stunning Portrait of Godly Beauty or anything, but I look nice. Then again, everybody does, in their own little way.

I don't like squashing bugs. I think bugs are cute, they're friendly (for the most part), and they serve a vital part in the environment. So I leave them alone. If they happen to be crossing the ceiling above my head, I'll wave at them and, if it's a spider, I'll address it as either Boris or Doris (depending on whether I think it's a boy spider or a girl spider). If it's a fly, I usually name it something mythology-themed. Sometimes a moth will get in and hang around my overhead light. I usually name them Shiori; I'm such an anime geek, that when I think "moth!" I either think "that really fucking weird scene with the cabbage moths and Kiryu Touga" or "Saihi Fenrir, Queen of Disaster". And since most of the moths I encounter are good, civil creatures, I name them after the more-or-less civil Shiori instead of the evil Leafe-sucking Queen of Disaster.

I have a pet cockroach named Pete. He lives behind the toilet in my bathroom. I would feel terrible if I squished him; he's got a busted back leg. It's kind of bent over backward. He doesn't move very fast and he's got a bit of a limp. It would be like bitchslapping some unfortunate person in a leg-brace. So, as long as he doesn't come and crawl over my feet, I leave him alone. Sometimes I talk to him while he's hanging around the base of the toilet. He doesn't seem to want anything from any other room. He just likes hanging around the bathroom.

Perhaps it makes me strange.

But I wouldn't be ABLE to squish a bug. I would feel bad! They're important, too. I try to keep them away from me, yeah; they've got some unsavory diseases. Which is why I use those Cutter bug-wipe things when I go out; it keeps ants, mosquitos, and the like away. But I don't kill the ones who don't bother me. Sometimes, though, I'll get irritated and take a swipe at a mosquito.

But fortunately for the little pests, I have lousy aim, and they just kind of take a little spiral-dive through the air from the gust behind my hand.

I took a quiz that said, out of all the known drugs, my personality was most like Ecstacy.

Wonder how that works out?

And now it's time for an obligatory dirty-creepy-fangirl joke: I'd rather be acid, because then I would have been taken by a lot of rock stars that I would have totally tapped.

[/OMGCREEPYFANGIRLEW]

I'm bored.

Right now I'm not doing much, except listening to a Roger Daltrey album and playing Neopets games (damn you, Ice Cream Machine, for being so bloody addictive! I wanna get past Double Chocolate--why must all the scoops be so close together? Bah!)

Perhaps I'll go to Mom's sometime this weekend. It'll be relaxing.

It was just storming here. I don't mind storms. It's just when they get really big. Threat-of-spawning-a-tornado-big.

Tornados are the one childhood fear I've never gotten over. I've never been in a tornado, never seen one outside of a book... but I've always been afraid of them. I'm over most of my other childhood fears--rats, bugs, the dark, stuff like that. But I just can't shake tornado-phobia. So I made myself suffer and went and sat in the living room with my stepmother, so we could watch the severe weather updates.

The storm has subsided, though.

My dad still hasn't come in. He was still out there on the deck playing poker with his friends when the hanging ferns were whipping around like ribbon in the wind and when lightning almost struck our fence. He's just still out there bitching about how he wouldn't be losing so much if he had his Savatage shirt clean. Sore loser!

In other news, I'm bored, and my tits are sore for some unknown reason. [/TMI]

I had a dream that I was in the Revolutionary Girl Utena confessional elevator. Except it was going up instead of down. And I got a white rose instead of a black one. What the hell does THAT mean, I wonder? Only ones who got white roses in the series were Utena and Akio/Dios--because they were the Prince. I'm not noble or strong of heart, so I'm not a prince, and therefore shouldn't've had a white rose. Perhaps a nice yellow one. I like yellow roses.

I also had a dream that I got to see Tommy being filmed. Watching Roger from the sidelines, I commented to someone, "I love the man to death and I know he's pretty smart... but sometimes he looks so dim in pictures."

I once saw an LJ icon with Kali on it. It was captioned "She loves you to DEATH!" People who think Kali and the Morrighan are fluffy, kindhearted mother-types make me laugh. Because, really, they're not. "Compassion is a quick death" and all that that Morrighan is recorded saying in Welsh legends.

And on another note, I'm sick of all this fucking pessimism.

That's all you hear in the world. Negativity. I'm sick of it. I don't want to hear "BUT YOU CAN'T" anymore. I hear it--it's a ringing echo from everybody I've ever met. Nobody believes in anything. Nobody has hope.

I have hope in humanity--and only God knows why--but nobody seems to have hope in me, which makes me despair.

Sometimes I wonder if it's better to close out the entire world from behind my wall and live in my own sunshiny little land... then I'm suddenly booted out by something, and I'm forced back into the world that I've grown to pity so much, because I can't merely stay away and shut up like everybody else does. I've tried being a pessimist, but I can't make it last. Sometimes I almost wish I could; then I wouldn't feel so sad when I hear "BUT YOU CAN'T!" from the entire world.

A free spirit in the state of freedom is truly a lonely person.

Sometimes I start to feel rather silly for believing in peace at all. I will always believe in it, but I feel very lonely when I start to think about how many people would rather ignore all the stuff going on in the world, or think that it doesn't involve them. They're content to just lean back and let the world throw whatever it can at them.

Sometimes I wish I had that kind of peace of mind. But then I think about what a shock will come over them when they realize that it may be the end--hindsight will kick in. Oh! That's what we could have done to prevent that gigantic nuke from launching and decimating a third of the world's population! Paranoid little nutters like me already have the jump on that, as you can see.

I often wish that more people would take an interest in peace and actively work for it, instead of merely saying "Yah, I want peace," and leaving it at that. Peace isn't merely a thing that'd be nice to have, like a television set or a gold-plated six-foot dildo. Peace is essential; it's good for everyone. But it just won't appear overnight! Jesus will not descend from on high and say, "Okay, y'all, I've heard enough prayers. Mom's heard enough, too. Here's your world peace." Until that day, we're the ones we have to count on. Every one of us has to work toward the ends.

And you don't have to be Nelson Mandela to do it, either. Do something simple--give a homeless guy a dollar, smile at your neighbors, shake hands with someone you would rather not be around, hold a conversation with that old lady who hangs around at Bojangles alone. It's very simple, seemingly meaningless things that could have the greatest impact on the world. Ripple effect, you know?

Dig it.

But seriously, World, let's see some action--will you really just lay down spread-eagle for the serious ass-fucking we shall soon receive if this trouble keeps up? Or will you work for your best interests and promote peace?

You know something I've always wanted to do? I've always wanted to call up a random phone number at some ungodly hour in the early morning and ask them a question like, "Little boys are made of snips and snails and puppydogs' tails, and little girls are made of sugar, spice, and everything nice, so what are transvestites and transsexuals made out of?" or "Suppose time disappeared and everything happened at once. What would you be doing?"

Just to confuse people.

I'm gonna try it someday, too. Just you watch. I'm gonna get bored of playing Neopets games and watching TV, and I'm gonna call up someone in Bumblefuck, Idaho, and ask, "What are they doing in Hyacinth House?" or some other weird-ass question. XP

Another thing that I've lately really wanted to do--dress up in a fairy costume, go downtown to the business district, and sprinkle fairy glitter on serious businessmen. Or whap them with a magic star wand or something. Or pass out flashcards with nonsensical sentences or civic advice on them.

It'll keep people on their goddamn feet, I'll tell you that much. Too many people go around their daily lives on fucking Autopilot, never really thinking about anything... I think doing something like that would wake them up, for however short a time.

And it'd be something to do, wouldn't it?

I'd have to do some fancy footwork to avoid the police for disturbing the peace or something... but it'd be fun.

I'm considered strange in my family, because I don't drink, smoke, or fuck. I suppose that if I ever found the proper person and built up a large amount of trust between us, I would do that last bit, but so far, nothing.

I don't like alcohol. It smells funny, and it tastes weird. No amount of fruit flavor seems able to conceal it (I've tried it twice in my life, then swore it off). It's just gross, and I can't drink it without gagging.

I don't like cigarette smoke. It fucks up my head and it makes me sneeze. Which is why I don't usually hang around smokers. My friend, Taylor, is kind enough not to smoke whenever I come over, understanding that it bothers my head. I only wish Dad were that polite.

Dad often wonders how I get through life without chemical assistance. How I remain "sane." I don't personally think I've got all my marbles in a row, but what keeps me walking steadily on the line between the two states is my own imagination and music. Music isn't my anti-drug. Music is my drug. It takes me elsewhere; it makes me feel as though I'm floating when I listen to certain songs (Baba O'Riley, Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End, etc.) It's something that no joint or pill or needle could ever do for me. ("Remember kiddies--avoid all needle drugs! Only dope worth shooting is Richard Nixon Dubya Bush!" -Abbie Hoffman, adapted to the current time). If I've got a CD and a pair of headphones, then I won't ever need any kind of drug to help me along. A copy of Who's Next or Abbey Road or Dark Side of the Moon will send me floating for longer than a drug can. What's even better is that I can have repeated hits of it without a break. XP

And if I don't have music, I sleep.

My dreams are crazy enough.

Which is the reason I actually like Percocet. I had a bottle of it back in October after a surgery and would spend two days at a time sleeping on its assistance! The machine that they had surgically attached to my backside didn't hurt very much, but I didn't want to hear the damn thing, so I would take a Percocet and sleep for a very long time. Wonderfully wild dreams. And once, in a half-awake hallucination, I saw John Lennon's face coming out of my wall.

But that bottle's done with, and for all the foreseeable future, I won't be needing it again. I don't really miss it. I'm done with it, and good riddance to it.

On a totally random note: I once heard John Entwistle describing why he refused to get a driver's license. "I'd rather drink than drive." Silly old Enty. ♥ I just don't wanna drive. Driving makes me a nervous wreck. If I were given the choice, I'd drink myself blind to the sound of old T.Rex.

The bloody phone finally charged.

It was overcast outside. Really overcast. And ominous. Big black cloud hangin' over my head. Dad told me to take an umbrella. So I picked up my big rainbow umbrella and merrily started on my way, a bounce in my step and a smile on my face.

I got about halfway there when it started pouring. Thundering, lightning (distantly), wind whipping around through the mimosa trees.

Dad beeped me on the phone and was all "COME BACK. QUICK."

I popped open my umbrella and walked back. Slowly. I was in no great hurry. I imagined that there was a group of 400,000 behind me chanting "NO RAIN! NO RAIN! NO RAIN! PEACE, PEACE, PEACE, PEACE!" And the rain seemed to float away from me as I daydreamed. The thunder was far away suddenly, and in my mind, it was sunny and warm.

Ahh, but it was another dream.

My pants are soaked from the pockets down, my hair is sopping as if I'd just gotten out of a shower, and I can barely see out of my glasses for water-spots.

Sadly, this means no Fifth Avenue and Canada Dry for me today.

(Dad told me when I got back: "I didn't think you'd actually go!" Why not?)

I had a dream that I was an ice-fairy or something (some magical critter with ice powers anyway). I kept wandering alongside a river, then jumped over a railing and landed on a boat on its way to some city I really wanted to go to. There were some dark-haired dudes who asked me to be their bodyguard. I agreed and followed them around. They laughed uproariously at everything I had to say; I dunno why. XP Cute guys, though. One had a nose at least as big as Frank Zappa's, and that amused me.

COSMIC DEBRIS~

Anyway, the guys were making trouble at a hotel. So the management threw us out and no other hotel would take us because they were even more troublesome than Keith Moon and KISS put together when it came to the destruction of hotel furniture. XD Using my Hobo-no-Jutsu, I decide to steal some blankets from a moving-company garage and we sleep on an abandoned covered bridge over the river.

That was pretty cool. XD

Then we decided to take a horticulture class together (wtfbbq) and one of the guys magically grew a plant that grew contact lenses. O_________o Yeah, I think this is the least sensical thing anybody's ever done in my dreams... XP And, of course, he lost the seed, so everybody had to crawl around in the grass looking for it. The guy with the Frank Zappa nose eventually found it and wandered off to plant it. But first, he had to take a piss, and went to the little bathroom-block. I had to use my Ice-Fairy-no-Jutsu to magically blast this thing that tried to suck him through a paper-towel dispenser.

Then the bloody UPS guy rang, and the dogs woke me up. DAMMIT! I liked those guys. XP

Never knew Pete produced The Iron Giant. Great movie, that. I particularly liked the beatnik dude (whose name I can never remember, because I'm always busy remembering HOGARTH.) Mom says Harry Connick Jr does Beatnik Guy's voice; he has a really nice speaking voice. There are several people I could listen to for hours just chatting on about nothing. He's one of them.

I always liked that open ending that the movie had. And I'm glad it's not a Disney movie, because I don't think they'll make a crappy sequel for it then. It would be an interesting sequel if it had the high amount of quality that the first one did. I'd watch it then. But a lot of sequels... don't tend to be anywhere NEAR as great as the originals (like The Land Before Time and its HUNDRED MILLION THOUSAND BAZILLION sequels--Jesus, when will a comet wipe those fuckers out? It was cute for the first movie. Not cute anymore. Get over it!) I shudder at The Little Mermaid's sequel, and Beauty and the Beast's Enchanted Christmas (though Beauty and the Beast remains one of my favorite movies, the Christmas movie just blew--but I did like Tim Curry's voice as the pipe organ), and of all the other sequels they've been churning out. Hey, if lack of creativity is the problem, I'll work there generating ideas for FREE!

I didn't see the point in having a Bambi II. Look, folks, Bambi was cute, but it was fine the way it was. It didn't need to address the issue of single fatherhood (perhaps I do not remember right, but the Prince of the Forest had very little to do with Bambi's upbringing, until he needed to be dragged away from Mother's Dead Body, and taught how to Prance Stagfully).

Didn't see the point in having a second Little Mermaid, either. The first movie? Great. It's still one of my favorites, and I still sniffle when I see Ariel waving good-bye to her friends as the "Part Of Your World" reprise plays. But Melody and friends... just really weren't needed. You don't really have to improve on greatness. STOP IT. (Besides--who the hell designed Melody? She was painted too brightly for the rest of the movie's murkyish colors.)

What's next--"Sleeping Beauty II: What The Prince Did While Aurora Was Sleeping"? "Snow White II: Electric Boogaloo"? "Steamboat Willie: The Final Fucking Friday"?

You know--on a totally random note--I think it would be immensely amusing to see the real Grimm fairytales committed to film. The disturbing, weird fucking versions, not the Disneyfied ones. Snow White putting red-hot iron shoes on her mother's feet and forcing her to dance to death. Bluebeard. That kind of stuff.

A Japanese manga artist that I admire very much, Kaori Yuki, did a short series called Ludwig Kakumei that featured disturbing fairytales. Prince Ludwig (of Fairy Tale Land?) was a necrophiliac. He came upon a really black-hearted Snow White and, since she was so sleepy she looked as though dead, he picked her up and married her when she awoke again. Then he had her REALLY killed.

The Red Riding Hood chapter featured a poor little girl in a gray hood who wanted a red hood. Her friend Will was Prince Ludwig's servant, and promised to get her a red hood. But Prince Ludwig tricked her, and she murdered her parents with an axe, thus staining her gray hood red.

Among all the sick stuff that Kaori-san tends to write, she's pretty funny. She has a morbid sense of humor. Does that mean I've got one, too, since I giggle whenever I read Ludwig Kakumei?

I once had an idea for a fairy-tale-themed story, featuring two magical girls against a Witch Queen who ate hearts. I'd like to see that as a manga-style comic book. That'd rule.

Ladykiller amuses me like nothing else. "Stick out your tongue, say 'awwr', now cough!" XP The way John sings it just makes me giggle.

It's so baking hot in here, I can't think of anything interesting. D: Agh.

Am scribbling more random stories about vampires and other nocturnal creepy-crawlies. I like John Q Fitz's story so far. Actually, his story isn't so good so far; I just like his offtopic chatter with Luna. I just like him. He's fun to write because he's so... random. (But then, if you were to call him that, he'd say, "I'm not random, I'm fucking Zen.") Weird guy. Weird people are always fun to write about.

I BELIEVE IN THE FOOD FAIRY.

srsly.

I walked out to the freezer to see if she visited and gave me some good vegetarian food--when, to my great surprise, I found a veggie burger in the door! Yayz! *does a dance*

Other than that, today has been tolerable. Not good or bad, really. Karen's been bitching at me to learn to drive and that Gram and Mom have this seekrit agenda to keep me eight years old forever (tin hats much?)

But they don't. Mom and Gram have actually been trying to help me get the fuck out of Fayetteville. They know I don't like driving, and so they've offered to help me get to the FTCC if I should ever want to go. They help me do research on that fucking GED thing. And, might I add, Mom trusted me to stay home alone for a week in the middle of nowhere, knowing I'm slightly paranoid when I'm alone. Something, I might add, that Dad and Karen don't allow me to do.

I'm beginning to regret moving to Dad's house, but then, it had an interesting outcome.

Obviously.

In other news, my neck really itches. I'm not sure why.

RAGNAROK

Far and away a long time ago
In the land of ice and fire between time and space
Three women, weird sisters, gazed upon the fate of Migard
That happy, peaceful world just above their heads

Fenrir was loosed and he roamed the world
Gobbling up the women, the children, the men
Metallic fangs rending flesh and bone
Each stroke of his paw means another hundred dead
Vigrid of Midgard
A peaceful world once painted with dreams
Now flooded with blood

Army upon army of once-honorable men
March to war
Zombies, Einherjar, one thing on their minds
Blood and more blood
In God's name they kill

Valkyries fly about on their aerial horses
Picking their victims for the slaughter
Laughing and dancing among the corpse heaps
Dressing themselves in the skin of the dove,
Promising peace, bringing fire from above

Fenrir howls, needing more food
The Einherjar wail and shriek
Their strange slings and arrows bring down the hofs
Women cry and children scream
As Ragnarok begins
And carries on without end...

The wolf ate the gods
The just ones and kind ones
Leaving naught but the dream in the wake of the ruin
Odin the Wise is no more
Nor kind Freyr, nor Rainbringer Thor
Nothing could stop Ragnarok
And where are we now?

Fenrir runs wild, crunching up buildings and trees
His steel jaws tearing the world
War is the wolf
There's no stopping it now
The gods themselves could not escape
Tyr could not bind him
Einherjar could not kill him

The wolf runs wild, howling and bringing down the fury of the heavens upon the world
There's no more to eat
And Fenrir is dead
Because no one here got out alive
Churches, schools, civilizations, and kings
No one escaped this most powerful evil Thing

The world has no sun
It turned to cold ash
Crumbling under the weight of the wolf and the serpent and the dead

The Fates looked 'round and drew a sharp gasp,
"We must stop this from coming!" Past declared
"But Sister!" Present cried, "We cannot unsee what we've seen!"
"Aye, the well never lies," Future.
"But surely, it must!"

The Three Fates despaired
But what they failed to see...
Hidden behind the leaf of the ash tree
Lif and Lifthrasir, the new Adam and Eve
The hope for humankind would never die
But it was too late...
The damage was done
And the world was not saved.

I don't remember much from my dreams last night.

That could be because I jerked out of a sound, dreamless sleep to write a poem about Ragnarok.

I'm a mythology geek, and Norse mythology is my first love. There's a legend that says the final battle between gods and giants is Ragnarok--the terrible wolf Fenrir (Fenris) will be loosed to swallow the sun and the great wise god Odin. The Jormungand Serpent will drown the rainbringer Thor in its venom. Odin's and Freyja's war-dead, the Einherjar, will rise once more to fight, with nothing but bloodlust on their brains.

I'm not sure why I jerked out of a sound sleep just so I could write a three-page poem linking Ragnarok to the current shit blowing up around the world.

I think it's the best poem I've ever written. Which isn't saying much, as I tend to be a terrible poet, but I enjoyed writing it, and I quite like it, anyway.

I watched part of Tommy on the TV movie channels. X3 Ufufufufufu. But I like watching it on the big-screen television better, because in the beginning of the Acid Queen, you can see Keith in the background a lot clearer, and he's chatting with someone in a very animated manner. XP Tis funny! Or maybe I just watch the damn movie too much. (I've also noticed that, when he's doing all that panting before dialing the phone, his tongue is quite yellowed.)

Then I switched over to a special about Jimi Hendrix's Band of Gypsies. Because Jimi Hendrix kicks everyone's ass. I love Pete very much, I love Robbie Krieger, Keith Richards, George Harrison, the guys from Rammstein... all great, GREAT guitarists. But Hendrix blows 'em all away.

Still, I've got my bitcheries--I'm cool with him being named #1 Guitarist of All Freaking Time by Rolling Stone, but how the FUCK did Pete end up at #50? That just ain't right, I tell you! Just ain't right. Wrong. Just wrong. Bah!

On John Entwistle Fan Radio, I heard "Window Shopping," and now it's decided--Leiko shall embark on a mystical quest for solo-Who albums! Except, y'know, Keith's. As much as I love the man... I think I could sing better. XP And that's sayin' something. Love you anyway, Keef!

"Window Shopping" just about slayed me laughing. Because, really, how many songs do you hear about peering into strangers' windows while they undress these days? Not fuckin' enough. :P You hear too many songs about bling and hoes and bitches and OMG MY GIRLFRIEND LEFT ME AAAAAAAAAANGST. Whatever happened to writing music because it was fun? Nobody seems to be having fun these days in music; it all seems to be for money or for bitches.

I'm not good at singing and I don't know how to play anything besides harmonica. I'll admit that. But I write lyric-type-poems and daydream that I can sing. Because it's fun! I think it's great fun to write goofy poems and set them to music. I only wish I could read/write music, or at least tabs. I can't even read tabs. D:

At any rate, nobody seems to be having fun in music. Whatever happened to that? I suppose it went the way of good metal when Nir-fucking-vana came onto the scene. Everything had to become SRS BIZNESS after that. Ugh~!

You know a commercial I actually LIKE?

That one Orbit gum commercial with Snoop Dogg. I'm not particularly fond of Snoop's music, but I dunno--I like him. He's pretty cool by himself.

The commercial opens and he's talking at some kids' career day thing. "And that's what it's like to be a gangsta." The kids are staring at him with mouths hanging open.

Suddenly, a column of flame envelopes him and he's taken to Hell! The old devil ladies tell him that because he's such a dirty person, he'll be spending eternity with them. Then the Orbit Gum chick shows up and Snoop's dirty mouth is cleansed by Orbit, and he gets into Heaven with some hot angel chicks.

Best thing about this commercial? Look at the bottom of the screen next time. There's a disclaimer: "Orbit Gum will not get you into Heaven."

I find it so FUCKING HILARIOUS that they need to put a disclaimer there. Because, seriously. WHUT?

Dear Stepmother:

I don't get it, honestly.

So... You can listen to cooking shows, literally, as loud as the television AND the surround-sound will go. And Dad can listen to disco at the same volume. And Snotleigh can listen to his shitty My Chemical Romance at that volume as well.

But I can't listen to the Doors beyond a volume of "Hey, what's that sound? Is there a fly buzzing in my ear?"

Jesus, I don't mind being asked to turn something down, but BE CONSISTENT! If I have to turn "People Are Strange" down, you have to turn down Emeril, Dad has to turn down "Jungle Boogie", and Snotleigh has to turn OFF his music. Either that happens or I can listen to the Doors at whatever fucking volume I want.

Consistency is love.

Okay?

Frustration,

Leiko

P.S.: Clean the damn sink yourself. I nearly sliced my hand on a submerged steak knife.

I had a dream last night that I had a long conversation with Krishna about the future of the human race. I don't remember much of what was said, aside from that people needed to shape up. He took me to a gym where unhappy people milled around and pointed out that they needed to be taught how to love, rather than just told.

...And then I noticed that a man with an afro was picking on this very pretty, quite chubby black girl, so I picked up a piece of ice and held it to the man's head until he got brain freeze.

Yeah, I dunno.

But the nice black girl tagged along after us. I liked heart. ♥ She was cute and friendly and had a great sense of humor.

Krishna was all, "That's not really the way to go, forcing brain-freeze on people..."

I apologized and Nice Black Girl decided we would live by example to teach the world to love once more. Krishna patted us on the head and vanished in a poof of blue smoke.

Then I woke up.

I got out of my chores today due to Karen's laziness. Bahahaha~ She told me to unload and reload the dishwasher and wash the sink out. But she didn't run the dishwasher, so I had to turn it on, and our dishwasher takes a bitch of a long time to wash.

So I get to laze around for the day. X3 Yayz!

But I did do my laundry; my sheets smelled like wet dog for some reason. O________o Ignoring the fact that my dogs are too small to jump up on the bed. I have no idea why it smelled that way nyan. But I rolled right out of bed and threw them in the wash, then turned on a Who CD and sat around reading for awhile.

Hee~! I hadn't heard anything on the Kids Are All Right soundtrack. My Wife makes me giggle. X3 Silly old Entwistle.

Happy 200, everyone! XP

There are few simpler and greater pleasures than pulling on very warm jammies fresh from the dryer. *nods*

I've got more jammies than any other article of clothing. Seriously. It's because back in October, I had surgery that kept me inside and in the bed for quite awhile. I couldn't wear jeans or anything because it would have restricted the tube that was stuck under the skin on my back. (Yeah...) So my folks bought me tons of pajamas.

Sometimes I still don't change into normal clothing. Sometimes I stay in my pajamas all day, particularly on rainy, cold days. If I hear thunder rolling outside, I curl up in my blanket fort in my Rice Krispies pajama pants and a T-shirt and don't come out until there's nothing to watch on TV.

Quite fun nyan. :3

Dear Yahoo Launchcast Radio:

FUCKING STOP IT WITH THE "DRIVING FORCE"COMMERCIALS, THANK YOU.

I turned on the radio so I could listen to music, not to hear some hick babbling about how he wanted sons and how some chick's sister has a new boyfriend every week. I don't freaking care.

Seriously. This commercial plays during every commercial break they take, which is rather awesome--after about every five songs or so. I'm not exaggerating at all.

Look, Launchcast, I turned you on so I could hear the Who, the Beatles, the Doors, Pink Floyd, and all those other people. Music. Not the same fucking commercial every 10 minutes.

Annoyance,

Leiko

P.S.: Another thing--I'm listening to John Entwistle fan radio. Why have I not heard a single thing involving John Entwistle or the Who? Well, I take that back--I've heard about three Pete songs, and I love his music. But... I'd also like to hear some John Entwistle on his fan station, if it ain't too much trouble, y'know?

I'm still listening to Fallen Angel. What an awesome song. :D

In other news, I had couscous with a dab of Greek vinaigrette dressing for dinner. Twas good. :D I like couscous, although Karen and Dad hate it. Then again, I like a lot of food that nobody else seems to like--veggie burgers (Dad says it tastes like cardboard, and I wonder when he chews on cardboard), artichokes, spinach, broccoli, anything green really, so on and so forth.

And then I've got my weird tastes--I could understand people not liking, say, green apples with BBQ sauce on them. XP But spinach and broccoli! Who could hate spinach and broccoli, I wonder? I think it's great. X3

Just heard Love Reign O'er Me. Wow.

All I gotta say. Wow. :D It's a good "wow."

In some old cartoons, you'll see a rock or tree in the background inscribed, "Kilroy Wuz Here." Who was Kilroy? Why did he feel his need to write that all over the bloody place? Try as I might, I've never found an explanation. Gram said it was some soldier who wanted his friends to know where he was, but I dunno how reliable Gram is; she also told me that Batman was straight as an arrow when I was little. XP

I'm obsessed with this song lately (Fallen Angel, Roger Daltrey).

Then again, I'm obsessed with angel mythology and legends ANYWAY. I'll read a lot of things about angels. Sometimes just to point and laugh about how they got things wrong (Doreen Virtue is one notorious offender). Seriously, folks--Biblically, angels are not handsome blond men in white loincloths who run around saving people from bad dogs.

Biblically, angels are really fucking creepy. They've got a few hundred eyes, extra arms, wield swords with their mouths, and stuff like that. Angels weren't meant to HELP humanity directly. They were meant to keep things away from humans or to slay demons (hence, St Michael). Over the centuries, though, angels were watered down a bit into friendly guardian spirits. I like the idea of everybody having a friendly guardian spirit--someone that cares for them and protects them from cosmic nastiness.

I wonder if I've got one, or whether he/she flew away a long time ago?

I think I may go to bed early again. I'm bored, and I've played all my Neopets games for the day.

In other news, I've heard "Exquisitely Bored." Aah, I've gotta track down some of Pete's albums. He's got a lovely voice, and, of course, BEST SONGWRITER EVER. (I love all four of the Beatles' songwriting skills... but even they aren't as great as Pete. Man writes about EVERYTHING. Singlehandedly. :P)

In other other news, I've got a new blog just for my Deep Thoughts. 'S called Wheat Germ's Medicine Bag, under the name Romaline. Just in case anybody actually likes reading my Deep Thoughts beside me. XP Which I doubt. But just in case, I don't want it cluttering up all of my random ramblings about the Monkees, how hungry I am, and what I'm doing at the moment. XP

I found that Dad had the first season of Highlander in a boxed set. OMG YAY. :D It's got an episode with Joan Jett (Joan Jett is awesome by herself, but even MORE awesome when she's being an ass-kicking Immortal with a sword). Because it's a proven fact--already awesome woman + sword = +1000 sexiness.

There's also an episode with Roger's character in there, but my attention span stayed for only about half of the episode. Fitz is such a dork. XD

My newest obsession = The Porpoise Song. The hell?

The sequence in Head where it plays is funny. Micky falls off a bridge and mermaid twins fondle him in the wavy briny depths. XD Lucky Micky!

I liked Peter's parts in Head. Like where he was hanging around with a swami in a sauna. And the part where he had melting strawberry ice cream in his hand that he didn't want anymore.

"...Then why don't you throw it away?"

"There are starving--"

"Starving people in China, got it."

I want the soundtrack to Head. I liked Circle Sky, Can You Dig It?, and that little part that played after The Porpoise Song in the beginning. XP

The Magic Mystic Food Fairy saw fit to visit us today, leaving behind some lovely cheese pizza. :D Hooray for the Magic Mystic Food Fairy!

I was just watching the Brady Bunch. Cheesy show, but I like it. I like a lot of cheesy things--bad scifi/fantasy/horror movies, dumb TV shows, Wings, Sailor Moon. XP

A thought occurred to me--Carol Brady is a housewife. She stays at home all the time.

Why the fuck does she need a maid, housekeeper, and cook?

Seems, being a housewife, she'd do that on her own.

Maybe she and Alice have seekrit lesbian flings during the day?

The fuck if I know.

But it does make me boggle. XP

I got a good twelve hours of sleep today with no interruptions. :3 That was cool. And I had an interesting dream in which I once more filled out the middle of a Mitch/That-Dark-Haired-Guy sandwich--MWAHAHAHAHAHA.

I stayed up so I could see an episode of Boy Meets World that featured 3/4 of the Monkees (sans Nez). X3 I r nerd~

Peter's costume reminded me of the guy on the Oatmeal box. o_O

"Thanks for the lift."

"I didn't have much of a choice, did I? You were sitting in my car."

Then they argued over whose house Davy's character would stay at. Micky's Character didn't want him around, so he tried to pawn him off on Peter's Character (who, up until then, had been the Model of Quaker-ness). But Peter's Character was all, "If you even drive down my street, you're a dead man!" XD

Quakers are pretty cool.

In other news, I'm hungry. D: I hope they went to the bloody store while I was sleeping. Or, at least, that there's peanut butter so I can make a sandwich.

You know a name I really love? Romaline. It's so... pretty. :D

In other news:

I already know what I want for Christmas. I want Head. ... The Monkees movie. Yeah. XP

Head, The Kids Are All Right, Help!, and various assorted Who, Monkees, Zeppelin, and George Harrison albums.

More music to bury myself in, since it looks like it's gonna be awhile till I have my braces off (and then, freedom!)

I'm scribbling down various outlines for The Nightlife, the vampire bit-of-(un?)-life stories. So far, the ideas involve a lesbian vampire topless dancer who investigates the appearance of other dancers at night, a vampire who reflects on his current wife and children as he watches the moon rise, a bunch of vegetarian hippie vampires who hang out on a commune outside King City, and the Mary, Frank, and John bit.

I like the lesbian topless dancer vampire. She's cute, confident, and she's got a drag-king-bartender "boy"friend. Because, my friends, drag kings are hot. :P leiksrsly.

I figure, with all the vampire tales out there, there have to be some vampires who don't get into ANGSTY PASTS and VAMPIRE SLAYING and all that kind of stuff. I figure there are some vampires and other things-that-go-bump-in-the-night that simply live halfway-normal lives. You know, aside from the drinking-blood thing.

And I wonder what happens to a vampire when he makes mortal friends or meets a mortal significant other... what goes through his mind when they start getting older and he stays young forever. What a decision that must be! Either fang your friend into the same monotonous eternal life as you have, or let them go although you love with with all your heart... tough call.

Seth was originally a portrait of that. Lucy was a lot meeker than she is now, but she made friends with him anyway. He knew that she was mortal and he had to decide whether to turn her into a vampire to keep her around forever.

But now, Seth drinks blood from the nice little packets he steals from blood banks, and Lucy has no interest in being a blood-sucker ("I'm a vegetarian! What would a vegetarian vampire do!?")

Am watching Vampirella.

What a cheesy movie... it's cheesier than macaroni. XD And the props and sets look so low-budget! I think Killer Klowns from Outer Space had a higher budget.

But hey--Roger's in it, and I'm such a shameless fangirl that I'd watch him even if he was sitting around doing nothing.

He rather resembles Dee Snider in his Jaimie Blood costume. O_______o

Dee Snider with Ziggy Stardust's haircut and Roger's gorgeous grin. XP

And that, friends, is all kinds of hot.

Yeah, I have no idea what I'm talking about.

Vampires kick ass. I love vampires; I'll watch just about anything involving them, read a lot of comic books about them, and even own a very large encyclopedia of vampire lore that I read cover-to-cover some weekends.

I write a lot of vampire stories, but Carpe Noctem is the only one I ever share with anybody else. Most of them share the same world and just happen to have different circumstances, different friends, but the same connection--their vampirism.

I'm pondering whether I should give them all their own series and just make Carpe Noctem un-supernatural; it's been awhile since I thought of anything really supernatural for Carpe Noctem (which was originally a story about an angsty vampire and his runaway friend). It's become largely un-supernatural; the only event that's still in from the original is... well, I won't spoil that for you.

I enjoy writing about those other vampires, though.

A couple of them are superheroes, fighting crime for different reasons; some are hippies hanging out on a vampire-hippie commune and draining the juice out of vegetables and fruits; some are just aimless friends wandering the world (like Seth and Lucy originally did); some actually settle down for some period of time. They often interact with one another, but I like peering into their individual lives as well.

My particular favorite non-CN vampires are Mary, Frank, and John. Mary is a descendant of Mary Magdalene and is thus appointed the guardian of the holy treasures; Frank and John are her Saint Knights (supposed to protect her from demons and vampires). Except Frank and John ARE vampires. They're trying to repent and become angels. But it's really not going so well, because they keep giving in to human vice. XD It's quite silly.

("Saint Frank!?"

"It's better than Saint Doobie...")

They're fun to write about. XP

My best-real-life-friend Taylor (I actually had them at one time, though I live about half an hour away from them now, and that's driving at full speed) has really pointy front teeth and he's really pale. I wonder if he's really a vampire!?

I've started writing a bit of Starwitch and I've forgotten all about making it the dead-serious, touching story I wanted it to be. It's just too fun to write conversations between Mitch and Lilly.

Mitch shows up on her doorstep.

"Hello there. Lilly Nesmith?"

"Yeah."

"I'll put a long story short--you've got magic powers. Make use of 'em. Can I come in? It's hot out here, and I wanna take my coat off. So where am I going to stay?"

"...The wha?"

"You know. Where am I gonna stay? I need someplace to crash after a day of fun and lessons with our mighty Starwitch."

"What?"

"D'ya have a spare room or something, or shall I be rooming with the dog?"

"Back the hell up. What's going on, now?! Magic? Lessons? Starwitch? And what's up with that eight-foot rainbow scarf you just took off?"

"It was a present from my mum."

"It's very lovely."

"Thank you."




It's just far too much fun to write cute, silly chatter between the two. X3 Mitch is too silly to be serious, and I don't think any one of us would immediately take it seriously if we suddenly got magic powers. God knows I wouldn't. I would abuse those magic powers. Which is where the story came from--another dream, like Carpe Noctem. I was a witch of some kind, and Mitch was my magic knight/servant. Since I didn't need a protector, he just tagged along on powers-abusing trips through time.

Kind of like a magical-girl superheroine version of Doctor Who... crossed with Nurse Witch Komugi, crossed with Head, crossed with Yellow Submarine.

Which is why I've sworn off drugs. I've got enough of TEH CRAZIES on me.

I've just discovered unpub_ficrants on Livejournal. It's so fun! XD It's basically a daydream community--what if your stories and books were published, and fanfiction was written for it? What would happen? What would you get sick of seeing really quick?

I've been a member less than a day and already, two rants about Carpe Noctem. XD

Carpe Noctem is my pet project. It's constantly changing and growing. It originated in a dream--a handsome, mysterious vampire showed up and started following me around for several dreams from about 2000-2003/4. So I thought it'd be fun to write a story about it. It's gone through several incarnations, from a superhero-style series where Seth is an antihero who's only protecting humans because they're his food to its current incarnation, wherein Seth is a hitchhiking vampire who hooks up with two hippies who live in a Microbus.

I get the feeling, though, that if it were ever published, I would soon have a flat forehead from bashing my head on the esk in frustration... because, Dear Lord, fanfiction.

I love fanfiction, don't get me wrong--I write a lot of it, read a lot of it. But some of it is the most gawd-awful mess to ever be committed to print medium. It makes Anne Rice look like bloody Shakespeare.

I especially fear what Mary Sues and songfics they would attract... XDDDDD

Letter to Cynical Bitchy People Who Complain about John Lennon's "Imagine":

Dear People:

Yeah, John was a bitch sometimes. It's the truth. But he didn't sit around on his ass just talking about peace, like so many people do today. He DID STUFF. He and Yoko bought tons of bulletproof vests for the NYPD while they lived there, they donated a lot of money from record sales to charity, they staged protests, the Bed-in...

Yeah, he had a lot of stuff. But that doesn't mean he was a greedy Scroogey person. He genuinely cared about peace until the day he died, and he was pretty generous with his wealth.

No, you don't have to like John. (I personally love him, and if I had the chance, I would go back in time and save him, even if it cost my own life for his.) No, you don't have to like "Imagine". "Imagine" isn't my favorite John song, either (that's Instant Karma! which is my favorite song, period).

But I would like you to stop whining that "Imagine" was so OMG SIMPLE and not COMPLEX like the other songs--that's the point. Simplicity.

I would also like you to stop whining about how he had a lot of money. Come on, folks--he was a Beatle and a highly successful man in his own write. There isn't really any way he could have dropped from sight like Jim Morrison to live in a cardboard box to promote peace.

You don't have to be a poor leper on the streets to preach peace. It works for some of us. Some of us could do without money and material things. Some of us use our money for good--like bulletproof vests for police officers who keep the peace, or organizing large protests, or saving forests. Yeah, John made a few frivolous expenditures (renting out an entire airplane for himself and Sean so that Sean could set up his model train set... *facepalm*), but hey, are you Mr Sensible ALL THE TIME?

In short--John might've been rich, but he put his money where his mouth was. Stop saying he was a hypocrite who only wrote peace songs because it was IN at the time. You don't have to love John, or the Imagine record, but Jesus, get off your high horse--I imagine it's pretty cold up there.

Shine on!

Leiko

I feel sick. Probably this past week's poor diet.

I'm almost never sick. The last time I ever threw up was in sixth grade, usually, stomachaches only mean "Hey, it's time to bleed!", and I don't think I've had a cough for about five years, since I visited the emergency room for severe bronchitis (that nearly stopped me breathing for several minutes at a time).

I don't take a lot of medicine, either. Unless I'm so fucked-up I can't see straight, I figure my body can do its job and fend off viruses and bacteria. I think that's part of why everybody is so sick--using too many antibiotics for such minor things like the sniffles makes for very resistant bacteria and virus mutations, and we pass on weakened immune systems to the next generation. Which would certainly explain all these obscure allergies nobody ever seemed to have had before this century rolled around--peanuts, latex, that sticky stuff on Bandaid pads (no, seriously--at school, even if we'd sliced our finger open on glass in the lab, we weren't allowed to have Bandaids because some kids were allergic to the sticky stuff on the Bandaid pad--we would just have to suck it up, wrap our finger in a paper towel, and keep constant pressure on it the rest of the day).

My immune system's pretty strong, though. Like I said, I'm rarely sick. I sometimes have allergy-sniffles, but that's about it. When the weather changes suddenly from very dry to very humid and wet, that's when I start sneezing so hard I can't see straight, then I need to lie down. Sleep is like my natural first-aid. If I just flop down on the bed, eyes sore after a long round of sneezing and wateriness, I'll wake up feeling better than ever and ready to do my work!

Which is why I'm really hating today.

I'm feeling sick, but I get the feeling nobody would believe me if I told them I was.

And so, no nap for Leiko. Leiko has to force herself to stay awake, even though her body says "Go to sleep and you'll wake up with no stomachache and you won't feel like you have to hurl!"

Unless I do throw up, in which case I'm going to sleep in the bathroom.

When I was little, I spent a lot of time sick. I still didn't take a lot of medicine, and I suppose that was a building block for the strong system I've got today. But I had wrenching stomachaches weekly and would spend a lot of kindergarten and first grade in the bathroom feeling like breakfast was coming on its way out.

I've noticed that since I adopted a vegetarian diet about four years ago, I've not had any of those kinds of stomachaches though. Perhaps it was some kind of animal protein that I couldn't digest properly? I dunno.

I wanna go to sleep. *whines*

In Which Leiko Bitches and Moans:

Thinkin' that it's about time for another trip to Mom's. Or perhaps Grandma's.

I'm sick of being near Karen. It was such a peaceful week without her. The dogs were quiet, I could sleep in at a decent time, and I could listen to my own music without being shouted at to turn it down.

The pity of it is is that she used to be pretty cool. Now she's just bossy, rude, and nosy.

She woke me up about an hour ago. Look--I dunno about you, but I LIKE sleeping in on the weekends. Just because you can't sleep doesn't mean the rest of the world developed insomnia in sympathy. Shit, I usually stay up till 6 AM because I can't get to sleep normally. If I could sleep, I would sleep from 11:30 PM onward. But I can't, so I don't. If there's anybody in this house that should be allowed to sleep in, it's ME. On top of this insomnia, I've got sleep apnea--I stop breathing several times during the night, nearly smother myself, wake up, roll over, can't get to sleep again, and end up staring at the ceiling while trying to force my eyes to stay shut.

Perhaps I should seek help. I'll have to ask Mom about it when I visit her next (which should be probably tomorrow or Monday).

Dad and Karen on the other hand, sleep from about 9 PM on. They get tons of peaceful sleep. I don't, no matter how hard I try.

So, I think I'm understandably cranky when I'm awakened. And it's not even a nice "Emily, could you wake up, please?" She bangs on the fucking door like there's an emergency. Not so much as a "wake up!" Just BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.

And why did she wake me up? To take out the trash! There are three able-bodied people in the house besides me now--DO IT YOUR DAMN SELVES. You're awake, you're dressed, and you've got shoes on. It's much less work for you to do it than it is to stand around catching flies while I shower, dress, strap my shoes on, find my glasses, find the door, stumble out, throw the trash away.

And she forbids me to take a nap now, too! Not fair, I tell you. The daylight hours are the only time I actually feel tired. When it's dark, I feel energized. Like I can't fuckin' calm down unless I take some NyQuil. So not allowing me to nap, and making me subsist on only two hours of sleep, is rather rude. At LEAST let me doze for ten minutes to rest my sore insomniac eyes!

I should start watching Tommy or Woodstock on the big-screen TV right outside their bedroom door. Just out of spite. And I'll keep it on Uncle Ernie or I'm Free just to make sure it's loud and obnoxious.

I suppose part of it's my fault for wanting to stay up and watch Head.

But I've got an excuse as well--I was sick. Undoubtedly from the cookie dough. No more of that for me... anyway, I was up rather early being sick anyway. My stomach felt like it was in a vise, and my throat's drier than a bone.

Then again, who the hell needs sleep? Maybe I'll have some really cool hallucinations like the last time I went without sleep for an entire weekend! That'd be pretty cool. Last time, I saw John Lennon's face coming out of my wall. XP

Proof of my total nerditude:

It's 3:03 AM.

I'm staying up until past 5:45 AM.

Why?

So I can watch Head (the Monkees movie).

Shaddap, the Monkees kick ass. :P

I hear they all got baked (along with Jack Nicholson and some other person) and started pitching random-as ideas into a tape recorder. AND THUS THE MOVIE WAS BORN.

I think the only movie that could be weirder is 200 Motels (Frank Zappa's movie). I caught part of it. I think that even if I watched it from the beginning, I would still have no idea what's going on... but I woulda enjoyed it anyway. XP I got to see Ringo-as-Frank and that was cute... would've liked to see Keith-as-a-nun, too.

I've got really bizarre, trippy movies I'd like to make. Unfortunately, I don't have a videocamera, I don't have money, and I don't have any friends to cast.

So until I've got any of those things, my filmmaking career is rather sunk, isn't it?

I don't think anybody would fund any of my movies. But that's cool--I could probably make a movie on the budget of "bring your own costumes and props".

The kinds of movies I think up:

Zombies--dead from various causes--sit around bitching and moaning about their lot in the afterlife (subtitled, of course, for human consumption).

A girl locked alone in an abandoned and supposedly haunted house. She has a very vivid imagination and her mind plays tricks on her. OR IS IT? [/cheesy]

Hitchhiking eccentrics abound.

Vampires.

Zombies.

Ghosts.

Creepy-crawlies.

I write about such odd things. It's a wonder anybody ever wants to read it. XP

What, exactly, is the logic of making a refrigerator with a television in the door?

Seriously.

Was somebody stoned when they pitched that?

"Ohhhhhhhh. Man. I am so fucking high right now. Airplanes couldn't touch me. Angels would have trouble reaching me. Dude.. dude. You know what, dude? I could totally go for some ice cream. Or Twinkies. Tacos maybe. Ohh.... But I don't wanna miss Shining Time Station or Sesame Street. (Pass that joint, Frankie. Dude, don't bogart! Gimme!) D-du-dude! Dude! I know, I know, I know... we should, like, put a TV on the fridge. Wouldn't that be the coolest thing ever?"

"Jim, stop bogarting my joint! Puff puff pass pass!"

"Fine... but we got to go to GE and pitch that."



More proof that we're all slaves to fucking technology.