News
I haven't kept up with the news in at least three days. I don't know what's wrong with me...but I'm less stressed. Yay!
Battlestar Galactica
Frankly, I won't watch it if Starbuck stays dead. I'd rather them have some sort of cheesy she-escaped-at-the-last-minute deal rather than not have her at all. How do you have Battlestar Galactica without Starbuck? You just can't. That's like having Smallville without Skippy. It's just stupid.
So yeah, I'm really angry. Why did they build her up so much only to shoot her down? It's not competant story telling and I am quite put out by it. And offended. I'm offended, Ron Moore. You hear me? Offended! I had faith in you, dammit, and you betrayed me and all other BSG fans. Loser. Grr.
I'm soo sick to death of show-runners making moronic decisions regarding their shows. Like Tim Kring making Peter and Claire uncle and niece on Heroes. We're all thinking "what the fuck"? Because in Homecoming and Fallout, they obviously wanted to jump each other's bones. And then Claire's little speach to the Haitian about "Let me go live with Peter; he cares about me!!" Gah, give me a break.
So yeah. Ron Moore, I'm mad at you. But your wife is cool. She posts on boards, last time I checked.
Instant Star
Since this is the year to kill off characters (every show's done it, just about, the sheep), they killed off Patsy, which is a shame, because I liked her. She counteracted Karma's pop-crap. And she was a good friend to Jude. Jude needed a female friend after Kat mysteriously disappeared never to be talked about again. But I always knew it'd be Patsy to get the axe. Everyone else is too important and since Ron Moore's not in charge of that show, that particular detail was taken into consideration.
The episode was nicely done, which was a slight consolation. At first, I was surprised that Kwest took it so hard, but he's sensitive, so it makes sense in retrospect. And Speed annoyed me less than usual, so yeah. I liked the episode in many ways, despite the fact that I didn't want Patsy to die.
And I absolutely love Darius. He did right by Patsy in the end and didn't even want to take credit for it. He officially rocks.
Walk the Line
I'm so lame, I only just now got around to seeing it and it's amazing. I'm in love. It's one of my new favourites. And I'm making it a point to watch it again before it goes off of On Demand.
Random Thing I Think I Noticed
Are people in general getting getting married and engaged younger than usual? I'm not trying to be judgemental or nozy -- it's just an observation. I mean, I've known sixteen year olds to become engaged. Why can't kids be kids? Love is love. If you love someone (and they are a stable, non-asshole who loves you too), they'll still be there for you five years from now. Heck, if they really care, they'll be here ten years from now.
The world is not ending, even if it feels that way. You're not old. You're not over the hill. There's time to be old and tied down later. Be a kid, dammit. I mean, I'm eighteen and suddenly I'm expected to be an adult. Knowing what I know now, I would've tried to be less of an adult while I was still a minor.
My great-great grandmother was married when she was fifteen. She didn't have much of a choice. That's just what was done at the turn of the nineteenth century where she lived. And she was pregnant by the time she was sixteen. And do you know what her doctor caught her doing while she was extremely pregnant on one frigid winter morning? He caught her ice skating and had to berate her to get her off of that lake. And why was she ice skating when she could have a baby at any moment? Because she was sixteen and she wanted to have fun.
Oh and that marriage didn't work out. She ended up divorced with several small children and not really a way to support them. Then she remarried and was widowed with even more small children. But then she married a nice man and they were very happy for the rest of their lives.
And there was a girl in my ex-stepgrandfather's family who was married off far too young -- she was only twelve. And she would still play with dolls.
My point is: children don't need to be married or even engaged (for the most part; as with almost everything, there are exceptions). When you're eighteen and up, it's your own business what you do and you probably have enough life experience and maturity to be engaged/married by then. But until then...why not want to be a kid? Especially if you have parents who take care of you. Eat it up while you can. Like I said: there's plenty of time to be old.
And I know my advice/observation hasn't been asked for. And I know a lot of them would probably ignore it...but still, it's something to think about.
Moi
I've been going through a lot of familial drama, so if I seem out of sorts that's why. I think I've been mean to people/grumpy lately, but it's not their fault; it's mine. And it's stopping. Other people shouldn't get crap from me because my life is like something off of a bad soap opera. (Or Reba. Either way.)
In other news, Emily and I took some awesome pictures at sunset yesterday, some of which can be seen at my myspace. I'm very pleased with them. I don't look angry or drunk, which I'm told I often look in pictures. See? I can be slightly photogenic at times. And if someone could take more good pictures of me, I'd like love them forever and give them a cookie. Seriously. *needs more good pictures of self*
Aaand...I looked for shoes for forever last night. And I looked for shoes for forever the night before (at least I think it was the night before...days run together lately). And the day before that as well. But today (meaning yesterday, because it's half past two and I haven't gone to sleep yet), I finally found The Shoes. They're black ballet flats and they're as comfortable as all get out, so I'm so incredibly happy.
And I'm not a vapid twit for being so happy about shoes. I really needed those shoes. My other flats have all been destroyed (stupid story) or worn out. But these aren't getting destroyed. I refuse to let that happen. But who am I trying to kid? I live in my house, which means they'll probably be destroyed most viciously by someone little, evil, and furry the first second I begin to think they're safe and stop being paranoid about their safety. But thus is life. And what's life without uncertainty?
So, it's like 3am now. (I took a break from writing this blog to have some English Breakfast tea and Rasinets.) And I have to get up at like 6am (so I picked a great night to be an insomniac), because I have to get ready and go to the doctor and get lab work done. And then I get to leave to take my mother to her appointment about her broken ankle. Then, we get to kill a few hours in Florence somehow, before my appointment for my broken hand. And no, my mother and I weren't in a wreck or attacked by muggers. She fell and rebroke an old break and my hand unfortunately collided with a door rather hard.
So, in the words of Arlo Guthrie, I will be injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected, and selected. Well, maybe not selected, but you get my point! Which will probably do amazing things for my mood. lol And I'll probably need consolation, so if any of you are available out there, that'd be steller of you.
And I still can't sleep. What the hell is wrong with me? It's like...I can't be late tomorrow, so I can't sleep tonight. wtf? Is there no justice? (Don't answer that. It'll only upset you.)
Because I can't sleep, I'll tell ya'll a little more about yesterday. Emily's still trying to set me up with this boy I have absolutely nothing in common with. Nothing whatsoever. The only thing we have in common is that we were both at my house yesterday. And it was kinda funny, because he had a girl on the back of his motorcycle and Emily was all offended on my behalf. But seriously, I could care less. Good luck to him and random girl on back of bike.
And I meant what I said about having nothing in common with him. Once, to get Emily to shut up, I agreed to talk on the phone to him...and he didn't understand half of what I said, bless him. (To clarify, we both speak English...just different English, apparently.)
I couldn't go out with someone I had nothing in common with. I couldn't even go out on a single date with someone I had nothing in common with. It's easy to accidently lead guys on...I'm not willing to do it on purpose. I'm not a bitch.
And you know, I don't need a man to validate me. I'm not going to date someone because I desperately need a boyfriend. Because I don't desperately need a boyfriend, even if certain other people think I do. That's not to say that I wouldn't date someone I was attracted to/had something in common with if they were into it. But unless that happens, I don't care to have a boyfriend, as that's really the only time having a boyfriend is worth it.
But whoever I date next should feel special. I dated them because I wanted to. Not because I felt some ridiculous social pressure to have a significant other or because of low self esteem. (In case ya'll haven't noticed, my self esteem is ridiculously high. So, yay me.)
The clock is rapidly approaching 4am and I can't sleep. I'm still wondering what's wrong with me. But I'm prone to insomnia, so meah. And what's bothering me is I'm running out of things to talk about.
*gasps* What is the world coming to? Maybe it's ending after all! Maybe hell has frozen over and pigs are flying and Seinfeld is funny. *gasps again*
Oh, I think I broke some sort of record for posting myspace surveys. I posted like a gajillion as my next door neighbor is apparently more obsessed with them than I and I copy and pasted a ton of them from her from Emily's bulletin board as I'm not myspace friends with her, funnily enough.
Yep. I was so bored, I was looking for surveys. It's not the first time and probably not the last. I think I'm so addicted to them because A) it's just another chance to run my mouth off, so to speak, and B) it's an excuse not to do any actual writing, which apparently I'm really good at working my way around writing lately. But...you know...anything I wrote in this state would be utter crap.
Drama is not good for my creativity. I know artists are supposed to be tortured, but damn...anything I wrote about would turn into some out of character angry tirade or some garbage. So, my book is better off if I don't touch it until I make peace with life.
And if you're still reading, you're probably wondering when this post will end, right? Well, it ends right now at exactly 4am.
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