ladymirth

The Kid Sister is usually a pain in the butt, but occasionally she does something that makes feel glad I have managed to stop myself walloping her over the head with a frying pan while growing up. Today, she's written a poem about her boy troubles, and a very good one at that. It bears traces of one who has been possessed by the spirit of Dorothy Parker. That woman is remarkably insiduous. Plus, that writing seminar I sent her off to seems to have paid off.

Anyway, I'm just going to post it up here in a show of sisterly pride. I'm rather gratified that the rhyming gene seems to  run in the family after all. I was worried I was some sort of genetic aberration. 

To the innocent lady
by koel18 

Lady, as you walk the streets,
The pretty boys will stare,
But there are ones you should not greet,
So lady, do beware.

When you're alone, there'll be one,
Who speaks words sweet and kind,
But when to him fair friends beckon,
To you, he's deaf and blind.

There's one to whom you are dirt,
He loves to make you cry,
Lady, hit him where it hurts,
As you pass him by.

And should a silver-tongued one say,
"I'd never lie to you",
Oh lady, do run fast away!
And find a friend more true.

There'll be one, not so bad,
(Good and handsome too!)
But lady, 'tis very sad-
He has no time for you.

Though I tell you this I know,
You will not heed advice,
For it takes mistakes and sorrow,
To make us fools more wise.

So lady, go on on your way,
And give romance a whirl,
You'll find your charming prince one day,
(Most likely it's a girl.)

 

I shall continue to be the proud and affectionate sister, right up until she next does something that makes me long for China's one child policy. Which should be in about ten minutes. 
 

Dear Flu,

It's been five godawful days. Shouldn't you have at least started letting up by now? If I have to spend the weekend in bed as well, there will be consequences.

Also, enough with the dry heaving already! I do not appreciate this forced intimacy with the porcelain goddess.  Bleaurgh, to you too, sucker!

Fuck you very much,
Me.  

SQUEEEEEE!!!!!

See that? Timmy's smiling again! And wow, Superboy sure looks pretty. Maybe he can persuade Tim to change his godawful bargain-dumpster costume. 

I think the truly disproportionate amount of joy this cover brings me is strongly indicative of the fact that I've been reading slash too long and too late. But I've always loved their friendship as well, at least before they both went emo!teen. 

Cannot. Wait. To get my hands on this. 

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.


But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.


Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself.”

- Philip Larkin.

Now compare that with this post.

We're fucked up people, Philip and I.  

Lost

This cavern just keeps
On burrowing deeper
No light at the end;
Maybe forever
Tunneling just beneath
The sunlit surface
Either way
It doesn’t matter
Because I am now
Resigned to blindness
This airy void is
All I remember
Save for shadows
In my mind
The light that cast
Them, long expired

It’s been so long since
I’ve felt my extremities 
I wonder if they
Still exist
I can’t tell whether I’m
Still alive or
Merely just a soul
Cast adrift?
I’ve missed the sun
For so long
I’m afraid it might now
Burn out my eyes
I’ve forgot the feel
Of the wind in my face;
It all almost seems a
Half-dreamt lie

I’ve been swallowed
In darkness so long
I’ve lost all hope
Of the light
I’m racing past
The core of the Earth; maybe
I’ll yet see you
On the other side.  


ETA: Oh, shit. I just realized I've written this to the tune of "The Call" from Prince Caspian.  

This may be the most hilarious wikipedia article ever.  

Which inspired me to search out the Cracked article on the subject.  Which is not half as funny as you'd expect, considering the source material. Whatevs. 

I've been reading Questionable Content obsessively for the last two days. I blame viciousberries. I also kind of have a crush on Marten Reed. He is almost my ideal man, and posesses a lot of Boy's more endearing personality traits - being more sexually inhibited than his girlfriend, charming self-deprecation etc. D'aww! 

I'm turning twenty-two in less than two hours. It figures that I've been spending the majority of today curled up in a fetal position, having anxiety attacks.

What have I done in the past year that's worth mentioning? 

1. Built a successful relationship. (Although I'm not sure whether I deserve much credit for that since I spent the greater part of the year in a depressed funk trying my best to chase Boy off)
2. Wrote two enlightening research papers: "Is pornography harmful to women?" and "Should FGC be criminalized?". 
3.Finished my transfer credits at ANC.
4. Held down a job for two months working for a creepy psychopath.
5. Interviewed an international sports celebrity in the process. 
6. Starred in a semi-professional play. 
7. Donated over a hundred of my old books and helped build a library for underaged kids. 
8. Almost got my driver's license (final test is in August). 
9. Wrote a fuckton of poetry. 
10. Discovered Batman, Christian Bale and DC Comics.

Hmm. That's more than I thought. And yet, I have yet to feel a sense of acheivement from any of them. I suppose this is because of my complex and deep-seated psychological issues. 

And on the flip side of that coin, I: 
1) Failed to maintain some promising friendships. 
2) Got one "incomplete" and and one (completely unfair) D, thereby tanking my GPA. 
3) Only made the Dean's list one more time after my first year. 
4) Failed to apply for and transfer to Canada and am now grappling with the fact that I don't even want to study or read or do much of anything anymore. 
5) Failed to hold down the job for more than two months; failed to find another job after leaving the place or even kick-start my freelancing career. 
6) Tanked the closing night performance of the play (Holy hell, I forgot I never followed up my post on that) and came out of the experience thoroughly disillusioned with acting. 
7)Failed to keep a long-term involvement with the library-building charity because of depression-related issues. 
8)Failed to get over my depression. 
9)Failed to re-take and this time complete ballroom dancing classes.
10) Failed to maintain the needful exercise-and-diet regimen. 
11) Failed to write any fanfic or anything much save the aforesaid fuckton of poetry.

Failed, failed, failed, failed. 
 
And to cap it off, Christian Bale flipped out, Batman turned out to be a manipulative asshole and then DC Comics killed him and proceeded to completely fuck my favourite characters to shit. 

No wonder I'm depressed. 

I think I need a stiff drink so I don't start thinking about what my next birthday might be like. Maybe I'll be depressed, alone and single. 

The Other Woman

She keeps a-coming to see me
Though her eyes detest my face
When they rake over me I know
How graceless be my visage

She looks at me in fury
Her cruel mouth a-scowl
I look back in reciprocity
With a grimace just as foul

Sometimes she catches me alone
And watches me rail and writhe
In the face of my distortion
She seems to satisfy

I have seen no kindness in her
No compassion for my fate
That I must ever endure
Her unreasoned hate

If only she would loathe me less
Just enough to stay away
I’d rather nonexistence
Than be belittled day by day

I throw her moods back in her face,
Matched every snarl and tear!
We’ve drowned together in seas of rage;
Each other learned more to fear

If free will I could summon,
To ask what wrong I’ve done!
For I am just the mirror-woman,
And she the real one.

You know who this was inspired by. =) Feedback is, as always, welcome. 

I am very, very sad about David Carradine dying. Kung Fu: the Legend Continues was one of my favourite TV series' when I was growing up. And then I grew up and watched it and was appalled at how hammy and sexist the whole thing was, but then that was pretty much true of most eighties TV fare.

RIP David, long live Kwai Chang Cain.

So, some lolariousness to get over the blues:

A cartoon about the special love between an emo teen girl and her sparkly vampire. 

"Packing up and moving on" blog post by the producer of the recently defunct Terminator: The Sarah O'Connor Chronicles, which full of lulzy lols in a resigned, gallows humour, freakingly funny kind of way. I wanted to pat him on the head and buy him candy, and I've never even watched the show. 

the_dark_cat presents Father's Day for Batman and Sons. God, I wish for puppies, happy children, rainbows and for this strip to be officially made canon. 

On the other hand, it is canon that Judd Winnick and Grace Choi ships Nightwing/ Arsenal. So the man can't be all bad. 

Thanks to cleolinda and scans_daily for the links!

In other news, I watched Prince Caspian today and am now furiously shipping Peter/Caspian, although I think I'm going to keep Edmund and his awesome snark to myself. I have a feeling that C.S. Lewis would not approve of this, which is an added bonus. Oh, I am going to miss Peter and his Magnificent...sword...in the next movie! 

Here, have a parody. 

 This is my first attempt at:
a) writing what is intended to be a song
b) based on a completely impersonal experience
c) that deliberately emulates the simple, non-profound lyrics in pop culture
d) that anyone should be able to relate to.
So please tell me what you think. 


Getting Over You

You've been gone a long time
I've been trying to move on all this while
Trying to pack away my feelings
To sort through and understand;
Which I still don't, but I'm dealing
With how it is as best as I can

(Chorus)
Sometimes I think I still love you
Sometimes I think I hate you 
Like I've never hated anyone before
Sometimes I think I've broken free
But then I know deep inside of me
That I'm not over you at all 

But when you visit me at night
Your face shining like a light 
Against the dark of my dreaming eyes
Then I can ask you finally
Why you did what you did to me
Was it love for you or just another lie?

(Chorus)

Did you hurt too when you hurt me?
Do you understand or won't you see?
Are you so wrapped up in your head
That why I left is still a mystery
Or is it a story you tell differently,
That makes you right with no regrets?

Now have you moved on, left me behind?
Am I just a memory, brushed aside? 
If I wasn't worth loving, even a little hate will do
I hope I haunt your days and dreams long
After I'm done writing silly songs 
Trying all this while to move on, and get over you... 

Courtesy of Blue commenting on this hilarious blog:

WHAT PETS WRITE IN THEIR DIARIES


Excerpt from a Dog's Diary........

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk Bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Excerpt from a Cat's Diary... Day 983 of my captivity....

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. 

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Bastards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now .

Thanks topgwfolc for linking me to this blog. Also, can you figure out why these products never made the end product catalogue?