Girls can sometimes do funny things when they have a crush. Even when you're technically an adult you often find yourself acting like a high school kid, getting all giggly and doing some really silly stuff. I know one friend who cut out a picture of her crush from the newspaper when he was MVP in a football match, and put it in a little picture frame by her bed. I know another friend who printed off a picture of a guy from his Facebook profile and now uses it as a bookmark when she reads romance novels.
Oh OK, I'm lying, both of those girls were me. I read about girls doing that stuff in books, though.
Do guys do things like this ever?
Wednesday 15 October 2008
Saturday 11 October 2008
Dreaming of Jon
I dreamed about Jon again last night. He always bothers me at this time of year - basically from now until Christmas - because it was in October that we went to that first party, the one where he stroked my foot. I wouldn't exactly say that's when it all began, because I'd noticed him at school and in the local nightclub before then, but that party was the first time that I realised he'd noticed me, and the event that I think of as the beginning of my real infatuation with him.
In my dream, we were married, and we had twins. Michael and Mariah. And this is haunting me, because it's so unlike my normal dreams, both sleep-dreams and daydreams. In my sleep-dreams, I either have nightmares or they're filled with erotic pictures, and in my waking hours I mostly daydream about guys who are close friends, if I'm doing the comforting-happy-future thing. Sure, I daydream about Jon now and then, but they're not married-settled dreams, they're nostalgic memories mixed with a little bit of porn.
Dreaming about being married to Jon is totally illogical, because a) I don't want to get married to anyone at the moment; b) I don't think I want kids at all; c) I haven't seen Jon in years and d) I don't think I'd ever marry someone like him, I'd marry one of my close friends who knows me inside and out.
*sigh*
In a day or two, the dream thoughts will go away, and I'll be back to being the old Sati, who's generally comfortable in her own skin and doesn't yearn too much for future things - or at least doesn't consciously think about them too much. Practical, logical Sati who doesn't really want kids, because she doesn't want to pass on the genetic legacy that's travelled through her family line since the beginning of time, and who'll likely adopt teenagers if she's going to do the mother thing at all. But right now, I want those blue-eyed, golden-haired toddlers who giggle when you grab them and scoop them up, and who smell like fabric softener and baby shampoo, and who make me think of beach sand and sunny days and melted butter, just the way Jon always has.
Evidently I need sleep. I've been sitting up for most of the night, watching TV in my old black and gold clubbing dress and the gold necklace with the garnets that came from a secret admirer years ago, and that I have no reason to think was from him, but for some reason I always felt like it was. <--- Sorry for the garbledness of that last sentence - and indeed much of this post - it is 9.55 am after all, and I only slept a couple of hours tonight, which was when I had the dreams.
I was thinking about him so much I even posted the story I wrote about him to Literotica, although I haven't yet got to the sex bit, and had to post it as Chapter 1.
Right, well, I'm going to sleep. Hopefully I won't dream this time, or if I do, it'll be about something that's a bit easier to cope with. I could try putting a moonstone under my pillow, for good dreams, or a tiger's eye to keep away bad ones, but somehow I don't think that the universe counts marriage dreams as bad ones, somehow.
Which means I guess I have a slightly skewed perspective on things, but oh well.
I bought a pumpkin the day before yesterday, and it's sitting in the hall. I also ate a whole packet of Maryland cookies in the last three days. And that's basically all my news right now.
In my dream, we were married, and we had twins. Michael and Mariah. And this is haunting me, because it's so unlike my normal dreams, both sleep-dreams and daydreams. In my sleep-dreams, I either have nightmares or they're filled with erotic pictures, and in my waking hours I mostly daydream about guys who are close friends, if I'm doing the comforting-happy-future thing. Sure, I daydream about Jon now and then, but they're not married-settled dreams, they're nostalgic memories mixed with a little bit of porn.
Dreaming about being married to Jon is totally illogical, because a) I don't want to get married to anyone at the moment; b) I don't think I want kids at all; c) I haven't seen Jon in years and d) I don't think I'd ever marry someone like him, I'd marry one of my close friends who knows me inside and out.
*sigh*
In a day or two, the dream thoughts will go away, and I'll be back to being the old Sati, who's generally comfortable in her own skin and doesn't yearn too much for future things - or at least doesn't consciously think about them too much. Practical, logical Sati who doesn't really want kids, because she doesn't want to pass on the genetic legacy that's travelled through her family line since the beginning of time, and who'll likely adopt teenagers if she's going to do the mother thing at all. But right now, I want those blue-eyed, golden-haired toddlers who giggle when you grab them and scoop them up, and who smell like fabric softener and baby shampoo, and who make me think of beach sand and sunny days and melted butter, just the way Jon always has.
Evidently I need sleep. I've been sitting up for most of the night, watching TV in my old black and gold clubbing dress and the gold necklace with the garnets that came from a secret admirer years ago, and that I have no reason to think was from him, but for some reason I always felt like it was. <--- Sorry for the garbledness of that last sentence - and indeed much of this post - it is 9.55 am after all, and I only slept a couple of hours tonight, which was when I had the dreams.
I was thinking about him so much I even posted the story I wrote about him to Literotica, although I haven't yet got to the sex bit, and had to post it as Chapter 1.
Right, well, I'm going to sleep. Hopefully I won't dream this time, or if I do, it'll be about something that's a bit easier to cope with. I could try putting a moonstone under my pillow, for good dreams, or a tiger's eye to keep away bad ones, but somehow I don't think that the universe counts marriage dreams as bad ones, somehow.
Which means I guess I have a slightly skewed perspective on things, but oh well.
I bought a pumpkin the day before yesterday, and it's sitting in the hall. I also ate a whole packet of Maryland cookies in the last three days. And that's basically all my news right now.
Friday 10 October 2008
Surveyness
The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for?
Something edible. I didn't find anything so I ended up eating toast. My eating habits are pretty bad atm - I eat like a horse half the time and a bird like the other. I just don't have the energy to cook.
Where was the last door you shut?
Bedroom, I guess.
If science found that beer causes cancer, would you still drink it?
Ehh, depends on what you mean by "causes". Causes as in, contributes significantly to, the way smoking does to lung cancer? Or causes as in "might have some sort of link since in lab trials it's been shown to create possible carcinogens" the way cooked meat does? (See heterocyclic amines if you're interested, I'm not giving you the lecture here.)
I don't smoke. I do eat meat. The beer would probably fall somewhere in the middle, depending on the reliability of the tests and the amount that it contributed to cancer probabilities.
How old were you when you lost your virginity?
Either 15 or 18. Take your pick.
Favorite South Park character?
I was always quite fond of Stan, if you're talking main characters. Although I also liked Chef, and Big Gay Al. (Not sure if that's PC, but whatever.)
How often do you have to shave?
LOL, which part are we talking about?
Generally every couple of days if I want to stay silky-smooth. Which I usually do.
Ever sleep at work?
I've catnapped.
Ever go ghost hunting?
Are you frickin' kidding me? You think the girl who is bothered by spirits at all times of day and night is actually going to go LOOKING for them?
Actually, yes, I have. When I was a kid. And a couple of times recently when I was looking for someone in particular.
Usually if I'm ghost hunting, it's because I don't know if someone is dead or not. I figure if I don't find 'em, it's a good sign.
In the last conversation you had with yourself, either aloud or in your head, what did you say?
Something to do with second declension Latin nouns. Don't ask me why, I don't have a clue either.
If you came home and found a super hot model sitting on your bed eating chips and salsa, what would you do?
Depends how super hot we're talking.
What are your views on abortion?
Aye in theory, nay in practice.
i.e. I'm not gonna tell anyone else what to do, or chastise them for making what they believe is the right choice, but I'm not sure I could go through with it myself.
That said, I'm pretty sure I don't want kids anymore, so perhaps I could. Who knows.
How about animal rights?
I don't believe they have the right to have a line of credit and filet mignon for dinner, if that counts.
Death penalty?
Meh.
The last zit you had was on your:
Chin. Stupid, because I haven't had anything like that since I was a teenager...until recently. I don't feel stressed emotionally, but my body is obviously run-down, because I have a pimple on my chin and a shingles outbreak along my spine and the beginnings of a stomach ulcer. Yes, me, Satiana the urban warrior who laughs in the face of despair and eats stress for lunch. I don't even know what it is that's stressing me out so much, because I'm not consciously aware of it.
If you got fired from your job today...
I would wonder what the heck I'd done to warrant it, since short of screwing one of my teenagers or offering them illegal drugs (or you know, theft or murder) there isn't much that I could get fired for.
Would you rather have a tiny head and a huge body, or a gigantic body and a small head?
So basically, would I rather look like Missy Elliot circa 1996 or Christina Aguilera?
Neither, actually.
Whats the longest you have gone without seeing your reflection?
Couple hours I guess. I'm always checking myself out. When I'm out, people stare at me and it makes me wonder if I have something on my face. I never have something on my face, and they always stare, and I still haven't figured out why.
Have you ever fed an animal a jalapeno for revenge of something they did?
LOL, no.
When a hermit crab loses it shell, is it naked or homeless?
Don't know the answer to this one. However, I can tell you that in the MegaDrive / Genesis version of the game "Cool Spot", the hermit crabs are wearing white boxers with red polka dots on.
Now isn't that something you always wanted to know?
What did you dream about last night?
Having my foot stroked at a party I went to back in October 2001.
Don't know why I'm thinking about that NOW. I guess it's just the season.
What are hot dogs made of?
Sugar and spice and everything nice?
Guess not.
Do you own a pair of Uggs?
No. If I'm gonna pay that much money for footwear they're damn well gonna be shaped like the shoes of the gods, make my legs look like I should be gracing the cover of Playboy or Maxim, and made of silk or suede with embroidery or lace or ribbons. Expensive shoes and boots should LOOK expensive, not like something you'd pick up in a costume shop.
Color of your toenails?
Right now they're dark red, but they need painting, they're chipping and one of them broke the other day.
Would you rather have hairy feet or a hairy belly button?
Unfortunately I'm pretty hairy in general. I get it from my Dad. I don't like it, so I spend a lot of time plucking and waxing and shaving various body parts.
Are drummers, guitarists, or bassists more attractive to you?
All, neither. Whatever. If a guy's attractive to me, he's attractive even if he plays the castanets. If he's not, I don't care if he's rich and famous and talented.
What words will you put on your tombstone?
No tombstone. Medical science! And Halloween decorations!
What was the nature of the last lie you told?
I can't remember the last time I lied, actually. It's not something I do often, except to telesales people and occasionally my doctor.
Views on global warming?
Do what you can, when you can, to keep things right.
How do you think we could fix our economy?
Stop spending billions of dollars on blowing up sand and camels?
You can choose to eat your weight in marshmellows or eat your weight in dark chocolate, which do you choose?
I don't think I could eat my weight in anything.
What WOULDN'T you do for a klondike bar?
What's a klondike bar?
98 percent of your brainpower is wasted on:
Seeing things that shouldn't be seen, and that I can't do a damn thing about anyway. I truly believe I could have changed the world if I'd had my RAM freed up to focus on making a medical discovery or a leap forward in quantum mechanics instead of being enslaved to stupid pictures in my head.
OK, maybe I couldn't have changed the world, but I could at least have a decent job and a university degree.
What was the last thing that you said to someone that made them go "OUCH!?"
Can't remember. Sorry.
Have you ever lied to a doctor to get a doctors note to miss work or class?
Nope, I've lied to a doctor to get a note to go BACK to work.
Last Halloween, your costume was:
Probably an angel. I'm usually an angel, since all it requires is a white dress and a pair of wings and a halo, which I already have. Plus I can accessorize with lace and ribbons, which I love.
Typecasting. *shakes head sadly*
Last time you got lucky?
August?
Depends on your definition of lucky, I guess.
Last time you binged on ice cream?
Must have been a couple weeks ago.
Why did your last diet fail?
Ear infection didn't let me exercise, and if I'm not exercising it's hard to keep up the diet. I really need to get back to the gym soon, I've been away for two weeks or more. (Bear in mind I usually go for 3 hours a day, 6 days a week - so 2 weeks is a huge gap for me.)
Favorite song, what do you like about it?
The second verse, as much as it has verses.
"You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets
Well now, I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey, what else can we do now?
Except roll down the windows
And let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's bustin' open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We've got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting down on the tracks..."
Coolest. Lyrics. Ever.
Something edible. I didn't find anything so I ended up eating toast. My eating habits are pretty bad atm - I eat like a horse half the time and a bird like the other. I just don't have the energy to cook.
Where was the last door you shut?
Bedroom, I guess.
If science found that beer causes cancer, would you still drink it?
Ehh, depends on what you mean by "causes". Causes as in, contributes significantly to, the way smoking does to lung cancer? Or causes as in "might have some sort of link since in lab trials it's been shown to create possible carcinogens" the way cooked meat does? (See heterocyclic amines if you're interested, I'm not giving you the lecture here.)
I don't smoke. I do eat meat. The beer would probably fall somewhere in the middle, depending on the reliability of the tests and the amount that it contributed to cancer probabilities.
How old were you when you lost your virginity?
Either 15 or 18. Take your pick.
Favorite South Park character?
I was always quite fond of Stan, if you're talking main characters. Although I also liked Chef, and Big Gay Al. (Not sure if that's PC, but whatever.)
How often do you have to shave?
LOL, which part are we talking about?
Generally every couple of days if I want to stay silky-smooth. Which I usually do.
Ever sleep at work?
I've catnapped.
Ever go ghost hunting?
Are you frickin' kidding me? You think the girl who is bothered by spirits at all times of day and night is actually going to go LOOKING for them?
Actually, yes, I have. When I was a kid. And a couple of times recently when I was looking for someone in particular.
Usually if I'm ghost hunting, it's because I don't know if someone is dead or not. I figure if I don't find 'em, it's a good sign.
In the last conversation you had with yourself, either aloud or in your head, what did you say?
Something to do with second declension Latin nouns. Don't ask me why, I don't have a clue either.
If you came home and found a super hot model sitting on your bed eating chips and salsa, what would you do?
Depends how super hot we're talking.
What are your views on abortion?
Aye in theory, nay in practice.
i.e. I'm not gonna tell anyone else what to do, or chastise them for making what they believe is the right choice, but I'm not sure I could go through with it myself.
That said, I'm pretty sure I don't want kids anymore, so perhaps I could. Who knows.
How about animal rights?
I don't believe they have the right to have a line of credit and filet mignon for dinner, if that counts.
Death penalty?
Meh.
The last zit you had was on your:
Chin. Stupid, because I haven't had anything like that since I was a teenager...until recently. I don't feel stressed emotionally, but my body is obviously run-down, because I have a pimple on my chin and a shingles outbreak along my spine and the beginnings of a stomach ulcer. Yes, me, Satiana the urban warrior who laughs in the face of despair and eats stress for lunch. I don't even know what it is that's stressing me out so much, because I'm not consciously aware of it.
If you got fired from your job today...
I would wonder what the heck I'd done to warrant it, since short of screwing one of my teenagers or offering them illegal drugs (or you know, theft or murder) there isn't much that I could get fired for.
Would you rather have a tiny head and a huge body, or a gigantic body and a small head?
So basically, would I rather look like Missy Elliot circa 1996 or Christina Aguilera?
Neither, actually.
Whats the longest you have gone without seeing your reflection?
Couple hours I guess. I'm always checking myself out. When I'm out, people stare at me and it makes me wonder if I have something on my face. I never have something on my face, and they always stare, and I still haven't figured out why.
Have you ever fed an animal a jalapeno for revenge of something they did?
LOL, no.
When a hermit crab loses it shell, is it naked or homeless?
Don't know the answer to this one. However, I can tell you that in the MegaDrive / Genesis version of the game "Cool Spot", the hermit crabs are wearing white boxers with red polka dots on.
Now isn't that something you always wanted to know?
What did you dream about last night?
Having my foot stroked at a party I went to back in October 2001.
Don't know why I'm thinking about that NOW. I guess it's just the season.
What are hot dogs made of?
Sugar and spice and everything nice?
Guess not.
Do you own a pair of Uggs?
No. If I'm gonna pay that much money for footwear they're damn well gonna be shaped like the shoes of the gods, make my legs look like I should be gracing the cover of Playboy or Maxim, and made of silk or suede with embroidery or lace or ribbons. Expensive shoes and boots should LOOK expensive, not like something you'd pick up in a costume shop.
Color of your toenails?
Right now they're dark red, but they need painting, they're chipping and one of them broke the other day.
Would you rather have hairy feet or a hairy belly button?
Unfortunately I'm pretty hairy in general. I get it from my Dad. I don't like it, so I spend a lot of time plucking and waxing and shaving various body parts.
Are drummers, guitarists, or bassists more attractive to you?
All, neither. Whatever. If a guy's attractive to me, he's attractive even if he plays the castanets. If he's not, I don't care if he's rich and famous and talented.
What words will you put on your tombstone?
No tombstone. Medical science! And Halloween decorations!
What was the nature of the last lie you told?
I can't remember the last time I lied, actually. It's not something I do often, except to telesales people and occasionally my doctor.
Views on global warming?
Do what you can, when you can, to keep things right.
How do you think we could fix our economy?
Stop spending billions of dollars on blowing up sand and camels?
You can choose to eat your weight in marshmellows or eat your weight in dark chocolate, which do you choose?
I don't think I could eat my weight in anything.
What WOULDN'T you do for a klondike bar?
What's a klondike bar?
98 percent of your brainpower is wasted on:
Seeing things that shouldn't be seen, and that I can't do a damn thing about anyway. I truly believe I could have changed the world if I'd had my RAM freed up to focus on making a medical discovery or a leap forward in quantum mechanics instead of being enslaved to stupid pictures in my head.
OK, maybe I couldn't have changed the world, but I could at least have a decent job and a university degree.
What was the last thing that you said to someone that made them go "OUCH!?"
Can't remember. Sorry.
Have you ever lied to a doctor to get a doctors note to miss work or class?
Nope, I've lied to a doctor to get a note to go BACK to work.
Last Halloween, your costume was:
Probably an angel. I'm usually an angel, since all it requires is a white dress and a pair of wings and a halo, which I already have. Plus I can accessorize with lace and ribbons, which I love.
Typecasting. *shakes head sadly*
Last time you got lucky?
August?
Depends on your definition of lucky, I guess.
Last time you binged on ice cream?
Must have been a couple weeks ago.
Why did your last diet fail?
Ear infection didn't let me exercise, and if I'm not exercising it's hard to keep up the diet. I really need to get back to the gym soon, I've been away for two weeks or more. (Bear in mind I usually go for 3 hours a day, 6 days a week - so 2 weeks is a huge gap for me.)
Favorite song, what do you like about it?
The second verse, as much as it has verses.
"You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a savior to rise from these streets
Well now, I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey, what else can we do now?
Except roll down the windows
And let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night's bustin' open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We've got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting down on the tracks..."
Coolest. Lyrics. Ever.
Thursday 9 October 2008
Profiles
People fascinate me. Especially people I either a) don't know as well as I'd like to or b) knew awhile ago and want to know more about the person they've become.
I love Facebook because you can easily link from one profile to another. You check out a friend's, and then you see someone on there and want to know more about them. And then you see someone else on THEIR profile and check them out too. And so it goes on. At least for me. Like a free-floating thought association.
I'm not a stalker, far from it, but I may check you out again and again, until I've read every note you've written and seen every photo in your albums. I like to watch. If you know me at all, you'll know I'm that girl who sits and watches, because watching never gets boring for me.
So if your profile is open to the public, or you're in my network - even if I'm not one of your friends - you're fair game.
Just a warning.
I love Facebook because you can easily link from one profile to another. You check out a friend's, and then you see someone on there and want to know more about them. And then you see someone else on THEIR profile and check them out too. And so it goes on. At least for me. Like a free-floating thought association.
I'm not a stalker, far from it, but I may check you out again and again, until I've read every note you've written and seen every photo in your albums. I like to watch. If you know me at all, you'll know I'm that girl who sits and watches, because watching never gets boring for me.
So if your profile is open to the public, or you're in my network - even if I'm not one of your friends - you're fair game.
Just a warning.
Ghost Stories - Updated
Bless you to the anonymous person who emailed me with details of the book of ghost stories I was looking for. (Although why on earth didn't you give me an email to reply to you on? It's not like I can reply to the phone box, y'know...*sighs*)
But anyway, it was much appreciated.
Just for any of you who were wondering, the book was called "Ghost Stories" and edited by Robert Westall - how's that for a memory? Took me a bit of research, because there were several editions released in different years, and the US editions aren't exactly the same as the UK ones, but as far as I can tell the one that I had was published by Kingfisher in March of 1988 - that sounds about right, but it means I was younger than I thought, because I know my Mom bought it when it was first out - and contained 22 short stories by various authors.
And since we're on the subject, and I haven't posted for a couple of days, I'll give you the whole story list.
My edition contained:
~ A Knock At the Manor Gate by Franz Kafka
~ Yesterday's Witch by Gahan Wilson
~ A Legion Marching By by John Hynam
~ The Lawyer and the Ghost by Charles Dickens
~ The Ghost Who Was Afraid Of Being Bagged by Anonymous
~ School For Ghosts by P'u Sung-Ling / translated by Vida Derry
~ The Little Yellow Dog by Mary Williams
~ The Piper at the Gates of Dawn (from The Wind in the Willows) by Kenneth Grahame
~ The Lilies by Alison Prince
~ The Emissary by Ray Bradbury
~ John Pettigrew's Mirror by Ruth Manning-Sanders
~ Sredni Vashtar by Saki
~ Miss Mountain by Philippa Pearce
~ Was It a Dream? by Guy de Maupassant
~ A Pair of Hands by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
~ The Boys' Toilets by Robert Westall
~ Left in the Dark by John Gordon
~ Video Nasty by Philip Pullman
~ Lost Hearts by M.R. James
~ Thurnley Abbey by Perceval Landon
~ Not At Home by Jean Richardson
~ The Shepherd's Dog by Joyce Marsh
The American editions removed the Philip Pullman story and put in something called The Monkey's Paw...I don't remember the author, although I could look it up. I think there might have been a couple other changes.
The funny thing is that although I forgot about a lot of these stories, and that even when I finally found the list I didn't remember them all, they're all coming back to me now. Not all the details, but I have at least a vague memory of every one of them, and clear memories of a couple. There were some really neat illustrations on some of the stories too, which is why I'm hoping to get my hands on this particular edition rather than ordering one of the paperback reprints, or the US one.
So anyway, thanks to Mr or Mrs Anonymous - and feel free to tell me who you were. If it was you who sent the email, and you live locally, I'll make you cookies.
But anyway, it was much appreciated.
Just for any of you who were wondering, the book was called "Ghost Stories" and edited by Robert Westall - how's that for a memory? Took me a bit of research, because there were several editions released in different years, and the US editions aren't exactly the same as the UK ones, but as far as I can tell the one that I had was published by Kingfisher in March of 1988 - that sounds about right, but it means I was younger than I thought, because I know my Mom bought it when it was first out - and contained 22 short stories by various authors.
And since we're on the subject, and I haven't posted for a couple of days, I'll give you the whole story list.
My edition contained:
~ A Knock At the Manor Gate by Franz Kafka
~ Yesterday's Witch by Gahan Wilson
~ A Legion Marching By by John Hynam
~ The Lawyer and the Ghost by Charles Dickens
~ The Ghost Who Was Afraid Of Being Bagged by Anonymous
~ School For Ghosts by P'u Sung-Ling / translated by Vida Derry
~ The Little Yellow Dog by Mary Williams
~ The Piper at the Gates of Dawn (from The Wind in the Willows) by Kenneth Grahame
~ The Lilies by Alison Prince
~ The Emissary by Ray Bradbury
~ John Pettigrew's Mirror by Ruth Manning-Sanders
~ Sredni Vashtar by Saki
~ Miss Mountain by Philippa Pearce
~ Was It a Dream? by Guy de Maupassant
~ A Pair of Hands by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
~ The Boys' Toilets by Robert Westall
~ Left in the Dark by John Gordon
~ Video Nasty by Philip Pullman
~ Lost Hearts by M.R. James
~ Thurnley Abbey by Perceval Landon
~ Not At Home by Jean Richardson
~ The Shepherd's Dog by Joyce Marsh
The American editions removed the Philip Pullman story and put in something called The Monkey's Paw...I don't remember the author, although I could look it up. I think there might have been a couple other changes.
The funny thing is that although I forgot about a lot of these stories, and that even when I finally found the list I didn't remember them all, they're all coming back to me now. Not all the details, but I have at least a vague memory of every one of them, and clear memories of a couple. There were some really neat illustrations on some of the stories too, which is why I'm hoping to get my hands on this particular edition rather than ordering one of the paperback reprints, or the US one.
So anyway, thanks to Mr or Mrs Anonymous - and feel free to tell me who you were. If it was you who sent the email, and you live locally, I'll make you cookies.
Sunday 5 October 2008
Because I Never Wanted To Be The Hive Queen, Anyway
I am not just here for sex.
It seems to be that I'm primarily here to blog. This comes as something of a surprise to me, because who joins a sex site just to keep a journal about non-sexual things? I could have joined livejournal, I could have continued to write in my msn space or to use my facebook notes page for blog entries.
And yet somehow I ended up here.
Even as far as my blog choices go, they're not primarily or even secondarily focused around sex. I neither write nor read about it any more than I would be doing if I'd chosen a different site. The blogs on my watched list are not all by men of my own age in my own area: they're a mixture of male and female, from all corners of the earth, between the ages of 19 and 49, and cover all sorts of subject matter. About the only things that my watched bloggers have in common is that they're all smart and they all have interesting things to say - or at least things that *I* find interesting.
I was trying to pinpoint today exactly what it is that attracts me to this site so much. It's certainly not the reliability of it. It's not the possibility of meeting sex partners, although I may take advantage of that at some point. The anonymity would be closer to the mark, but it's not even that entirely, because I know that many people who check out my profile - and by extension, my blog - are people from my own town, who would know me if I put up a picture, and who may know me even without one.
I think it's very possible that the thing I like about being here is not so much that nobody could possibly know me, but more that nobody will care too much. Not so much that I can make up a false personality - because I can't really; I'm not someone who can be fake for too long - but that I don't have to give out too much of my real one. People on here don't ask a lot of personal questions, and if someone asks one that I don't want to answer I can just ignore it. We're sort of on a need-to-know basis, and people on here simply don't need - or feel like they need - to know the same degree of things that people in the real world, or even on other social networking sites, do.
So many sites out there seem to be collections of people that are brought together by secrets. A lot of people join websites so they can confess things to strangers that they don't feel ready to say to their friends. I never really got that, because my friends know basically everything there is to know about me. I don't talk a whole lot about myself, but I don't keep secrets either. This site, for me, is the opposite of a confessional: it's one of the few places where I don't have to be That Girl, but instead can just be one of many.
I like having one place where I don't have to give too much of myself.
Well, this good little worker bee is heading off to bed now. Enjoy the evening.
It seems to be that I'm primarily here to blog. This comes as something of a surprise to me, because who joins a sex site just to keep a journal about non-sexual things? I could have joined livejournal, I could have continued to write in my msn space or to use my facebook notes page for blog entries.
And yet somehow I ended up here.
Even as far as my blog choices go, they're not primarily or even secondarily focused around sex. I neither write nor read about it any more than I would be doing if I'd chosen a different site. The blogs on my watched list are not all by men of my own age in my own area: they're a mixture of male and female, from all corners of the earth, between the ages of 19 and 49, and cover all sorts of subject matter. About the only things that my watched bloggers have in common is that they're all smart and they all have interesting things to say - or at least things that *I* find interesting.
I was trying to pinpoint today exactly what it is that attracts me to this site so much. It's certainly not the reliability of it. It's not the possibility of meeting sex partners, although I may take advantage of that at some point. The anonymity would be closer to the mark, but it's not even that entirely, because I know that many people who check out my profile - and by extension, my blog - are people from my own town, who would know me if I put up a picture, and who may know me even without one.
I think it's very possible that the thing I like about being here is not so much that nobody could possibly know me, but more that nobody will care too much. Not so much that I can make up a false personality - because I can't really; I'm not someone who can be fake for too long - but that I don't have to give out too much of my real one. People on here don't ask a lot of personal questions, and if someone asks one that I don't want to answer I can just ignore it. We're sort of on a need-to-know basis, and people on here simply don't need - or feel like they need - to know the same degree of things that people in the real world, or even on other social networking sites, do.
So many sites out there seem to be collections of people that are brought together by secrets. A lot of people join websites so they can confess things to strangers that they don't feel ready to say to their friends. I never really got that, because my friends know basically everything there is to know about me. I don't talk a whole lot about myself, but I don't keep secrets either. This site, for me, is the opposite of a confessional: it's one of the few places where I don't have to be That Girl, but instead can just be one of many.
I like having one place where I don't have to give too much of myself.
Well, this good little worker bee is heading off to bed now. Enjoy the evening.
Saturday 4 October 2008
I Hate Lodgers
So I was wrong about the Italian guy being pretty good in most other areas of hygiene. He sucks. In general, he's a very annoying person to have around.
Since I'm having a cranky day - blame it on PMS, or just say that I'm a bitch, I don't really care - I'll share a couple of the most annoying bits about him with you.
I know I've mentioned this one in the last note, but he speaks NO English. Nor does he seem to WANT to learn to speak English. I really don't get this, because I can't fathom the idea of moving to a country without making some attempt to learn the language, at least enough of it to communicate with people. Hell, when I take even a week's vacation I try to learn enough for basic communications. Even if college courses are expensive, you can buy a book, or talk with a friend who speaks the language. (And you can guarantee he knows SOMEONE who speaks English.) But it seems that he just cheerfully packed his stuff and moved here, with no preparations whatsoever. I've told him about the Italian society in St. Albans, where he can go to talk to people in Italian and through them, get an idea of where to go to learn at least the basics, but he doesn't seem at all interested. Personally I think he likes not speaking the language, because it allows him to ignore you when you ask him to do something. Like...
Flush the toilet, put the seat down, and WASH YOUR FLIPPIN' HANDS. There is no excuse, EVER, for not flushing and not washing your hands afterwards. Or...
Keep the house tidy and basically clean. It's not rocket science. When you use things, make sure you wash them afterwards. I don't care if it's dishes or the cooker or an ashtray or the bathtub.
Ugh, the bathtub. I can't even speak about the bathtub.
Well, maybe I can.
He doesn't clean it. No surprise there, since half the time he doesn't even clean his dishes. It would be bad enough if it were just normal bath stuff (although "normal" is a relative term - what kind of man takes two bubble baths a day, really?). But it's not. It's other stuff besides bath foam that I find in there.
Male stuff. Excited male stuff.
In case you're a little slow, or just find it too weird and disturbing to contemplate, I'll put it bluntly: he whacks off in the bathtub and then leaves it for me to find. And although I've asked him half a dozen times to clean out the bathtub, and pointed at the tub and the cleaning products and even the residues that he leaves behind, he just shrugs his shoulders at me like he hasn't the faintest clue what I'm talking about.
So every time I take a bath I have to put on rubber gloves beforehand and scrub the bath out twice, once with bath cleaner and once with Dettol. And I still don't feel clean.
Unfortunately, the shower doesn't work, and the one we ordered from B & Q hasn't come in yet, otherwise I'd forgo my baths - even though they're one of the few things that helps with my muscle cramps - and take showers. At least that way I'd know there wasn't anything lurking in the water.
Those aren't his only horrible habits, they're just the worst ones. He never gets up to his first alarm, but lets it go off four times every morning, with music louder than I usually play mine in the daytime, and he won't turn it down. He never turns lights off. He begs for food and drink, because he's too lazy to go out and buy his own, and if you say no he keeps asking and pleading until you give him what he wants. He seems to be angry most of the time, either because his sister won't give him any more money (although she's already paying his rent and his phone bill) or because she won't answer his phone, and he walks around shouting curses at her. On the occasions that he actually does wash his dishes, he leaves them out for us to put away, and sometimes you have to ask him four or five times before he'll deal with them. Which means I usually end up doing it for him, just so Mom doesn't get pissed and take it out on me. (Which is something she's been doing a lot lately - there's a lot of anger going round this house.)
It's like having a spoilt, selfish child living here, and frankly I'm sick to death of it. I am so so tired of taking care of grown men who are too lazy to do anything for themselves and too selfish to care that a girl who's a) younger; b) no relation to them; c) disabled and d) working longer hours than they are ends up having to do it all for them. First the Marshall woman, then Paul, then Martin and now Narcissus (that's not his real name, but it works) - all from different walks of life, but all of them spoilt selfish brats who strut around with this sense of entitlement, like they're owed a great deal from life and they're damn well going to get everything they can from everyone, no matter who it hurts.
He'll get his notice soon, but not until we can get together the deposit money to give back to him.
I hate lodgers. I'm not too keen on men right now either.
That said, Brian - he's the guy from South Africa - seems to be working out pretty well. True, I haven't seen him much, but he's friendly and helpful, and keeps things in good order. I wish we could find another lodger like him.
This shouldn't be my business. If I could, I'd take off to my own place, where I lived blissfully alone, or at most with one roommate. But even if I could get the finances together, I couldn't leave Mom in the lurch like that. Every time I've mentioned moving out, she's made it very clear that to do so would put her in an impossible position, and I don't have the heart to do that.
So I stay here, feeling more and more trapped, in a house that contains several very angry people, and just try to keep my head down and get things done.
This is a pessimistic note. So shoot me, I'm not having the greatest of weeks.
Since I'm having a cranky day - blame it on PMS, or just say that I'm a bitch, I don't really care - I'll share a couple of the most annoying bits about him with you.
I know I've mentioned this one in the last note, but he speaks NO English. Nor does he seem to WANT to learn to speak English. I really don't get this, because I can't fathom the idea of moving to a country without making some attempt to learn the language, at least enough of it to communicate with people. Hell, when I take even a week's vacation I try to learn enough for basic communications. Even if college courses are expensive, you can buy a book, or talk with a friend who speaks the language. (And you can guarantee he knows SOMEONE who speaks English.) But it seems that he just cheerfully packed his stuff and moved here, with no preparations whatsoever. I've told him about the Italian society in St. Albans, where he can go to talk to people in Italian and through them, get an idea of where to go to learn at least the basics, but he doesn't seem at all interested. Personally I think he likes not speaking the language, because it allows him to ignore you when you ask him to do something. Like...
Flush the toilet, put the seat down, and WASH YOUR FLIPPIN' HANDS. There is no excuse, EVER, for not flushing and not washing your hands afterwards. Or...
Keep the house tidy and basically clean. It's not rocket science. When you use things, make sure you wash them afterwards. I don't care if it's dishes or the cooker or an ashtray or the bathtub.
Ugh, the bathtub. I can't even speak about the bathtub.
Well, maybe I can.
He doesn't clean it. No surprise there, since half the time he doesn't even clean his dishes. It would be bad enough if it were just normal bath stuff (although "normal" is a relative term - what kind of man takes two bubble baths a day, really?). But it's not. It's other stuff besides bath foam that I find in there.
Male stuff. Excited male stuff.
In case you're a little slow, or just find it too weird and disturbing to contemplate, I'll put it bluntly: he whacks off in the bathtub and then leaves it for me to find. And although I've asked him half a dozen times to clean out the bathtub, and pointed at the tub and the cleaning products and even the residues that he leaves behind, he just shrugs his shoulders at me like he hasn't the faintest clue what I'm talking about.
So every time I take a bath I have to put on rubber gloves beforehand and scrub the bath out twice, once with bath cleaner and once with Dettol. And I still don't feel clean.
Unfortunately, the shower doesn't work, and the one we ordered from B & Q hasn't come in yet, otherwise I'd forgo my baths - even though they're one of the few things that helps with my muscle cramps - and take showers. At least that way I'd know there wasn't anything lurking in the water.
Those aren't his only horrible habits, they're just the worst ones. He never gets up to his first alarm, but lets it go off four times every morning, with music louder than I usually play mine in the daytime, and he won't turn it down. He never turns lights off. He begs for food and drink, because he's too lazy to go out and buy his own, and if you say no he keeps asking and pleading until you give him what he wants. He seems to be angry most of the time, either because his sister won't give him any more money (although she's already paying his rent and his phone bill) or because she won't answer his phone, and he walks around shouting curses at her. On the occasions that he actually does wash his dishes, he leaves them out for us to put away, and sometimes you have to ask him four or five times before he'll deal with them. Which means I usually end up doing it for him, just so Mom doesn't get pissed and take it out on me. (Which is something she's been doing a lot lately - there's a lot of anger going round this house.)
It's like having a spoilt, selfish child living here, and frankly I'm sick to death of it. I am so so tired of taking care of grown men who are too lazy to do anything for themselves and too selfish to care that a girl who's a) younger; b) no relation to them; c) disabled and d) working longer hours than they are ends up having to do it all for them. First the Marshall woman, then Paul, then Martin and now Narcissus (that's not his real name, but it works) - all from different walks of life, but all of them spoilt selfish brats who strut around with this sense of entitlement, like they're owed a great deal from life and they're damn well going to get everything they can from everyone, no matter who it hurts.
He'll get his notice soon, but not until we can get together the deposit money to give back to him.
I hate lodgers. I'm not too keen on men right now either.
That said, Brian - he's the guy from South Africa - seems to be working out pretty well. True, I haven't seen him much, but he's friendly and helpful, and keeps things in good order. I wish we could find another lodger like him.
This shouldn't be my business. If I could, I'd take off to my own place, where I lived blissfully alone, or at most with one roommate. But even if I could get the finances together, I couldn't leave Mom in the lurch like that. Every time I've mentioned moving out, she's made it very clear that to do so would put her in an impossible position, and I don't have the heart to do that.
So I stay here, feeling more and more trapped, in a house that contains several very angry people, and just try to keep my head down and get things done.
This is a pessimistic note. So shoot me, I'm not having the greatest of weeks.
Meh, Again
I love you, because I'll probably always love you.
But I sure don't like you very much right now.
But I sure don't like you very much right now.
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