aceofkittens

I am in a particularly foul mood as of late, for a number of reasons that I don't want to get into in a public entry, especially since — as always — I am keenly aware of the fact that this is the first entry for the month, and thus subject to the "End of Year First Lines Meme."

Unfortunately, doing a full re-read of my beloved Lymond Chronicles is not helping. If anything, it's just making me more cranky, melancholy, and wistful. Yes, all three! And I'm barely into the second book... it only gets worse.

And from the hornes of Unicornes Lord safely me deliver.

I am so glad it's Friday.

That is all.

Ok, I know it's lame and irrational, but I'm actually starting to get jealous of the new couch! Chip has stopped sleeping with me at night and just spends most of his awake and asleep time on that couch.

So now I'm competing with furniture for my cat's attention. Oh what a world! I was going to pile some books and clothes onto the couch to prevent Chip from sitting on it, but was told that this is "mean."

*Sigh*

Oh, and my phone is broken. AGAIN!

Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?

If I could find the CD containing my photo editor program, I'd post some groovy photos.

I'm so tired.

Can it really be that five years have gone by? I worked quite a bit as an extra on the first season of Angel -- if you squint hard enough, you can probably see me, running around Wolfram & Hart as a lawyer or a secretary or on the street or in a club scene, in some episodes that season. I worked a little on the second season, too -- by then, I was stepping away from the whole extra thing, so I can't really remember much about it. The last time I ever worked as an extra, though, it was on Angel. I wore my fun fur skirt, for the first, and only time. That $9 purchase paid for itself.

Working as an extra cured me of my love for TV and movies. It cured my wide-eyed fascination with the "Biz." Most importantly, it cured my "fandom" and any hero-worship type emotion I ever held for any actor, ever. All of those feelings drained away as quickly as my financial security (I'm still reaping all the benefits of that high paying career choice). Do I regret going that route? No, I don't. Do I miss doing that work? God, no.

I do miss that initial sense of wonder I got from being on a set -- of seeing, in the flesh, actors that fans would squee over. It was fun to know spoilers for my favorite shows long before anyone else. Then again, I miss having "favorite shows." Angel was the last TV show that I still watched with any regularity. And now it's over.

Надоело барахтаться все время.

That is all.

I'm so antsy right now. I don't like waiting in suspense to find out how something's going to turn out. This is why I read the ends of books: to avoid the stress.

Here's a bit of irony: my webmail is almost full. Every day, I get deluged by automatic mailings from the ISP telling me that my mailbox is almost full. Invariably, that barrage of mail is what ends up making my mailbox overflow.

Yet another blow:
Best black hoodie lost its string.
I had not noticed.

I was going to stay offline tonight for a change of pace, but I just had to get back on to rave about October Project. This is yet another defunct band I listen to. That is to say, I listened obssessively to their second CD, "Falling Further In." I finally picked up their self-titled debut for $3 about a month ago, but my CD player in Crunchy II (my laptop) is kind of busted, so I haven't listened to it. I'm weird about music like that. Anyway, I finally popped it into the big CD player.

It probably says something that I burst into tears before the first song was even halfway through. Music, the knife without a hilt.

( Here are the long lyrics to that song, which is called 'Bury My Lovely' )
...

Yeah.

There's not a single track on this CD that I don't like.