A trip to the dentist

Why is it that some people can Never be satisfied? Every little occurrence has to be of epic proportions in the screw up department.

I can think of two people who are on holidays right now - and having a simply awful time. It isn't that they don't have enough time to do everything or see places or meet new friends, its more so that they are disappointed with how things aren't going to plan.

I wish I had 5 cents for every time things didn't go to plan. I would have millions of dollars to take my own holidays with.

In my humble opinion, if you've gone away, with a mission to have fun, your One and Only aim should be to ensure you have fun. Especially considering you've spent hundreds and thousands of dollars to get to where you are, not including money to ensure you return home with great stories about how much fun it was, and all the new things you did, saw and learnt.

If your going to stay in your hotel room or wherever and have a constant whine about how boring things are, or how you aren't having any fun, how sad for you that no one will be showing you any sympathy.

Its called a holiday for a reason. You go away, get lost, get sore but come home and brag about all the fantastic things you did and saw. Its a new experience, embrace it. Not whinge about all the things you couldn't because no one would take you out and about.

Their called travel books? Say it with me now, Tra-vel Boo-ooks.

When things don't go to plan, grow up, find a different way and please, for the sake of everyone sanity, stop being so melodramatic.

If you insist on whinging, I suggest you pay for my next trip and take yourself to the dentist.
I hear their great for a relatively cheap whinge session.

Faith, Hope & Trick

No more blog page name changes I do solemnly swear on this day at 6:20am AEST time.

Its like finding the comfort zone with a good cup of coffee. You don't just drink it on any old table or chair, there is always that special place where you go with the steaming mug to enjoy a some RnR.

Not that there has been any of that in my recnt past or future few days. But Im sure, we'll get there eventually.

This Buffy episode is up there in my top ten. Faith arrives, Angel returns and Trick causes chaos as usual. What's not to love?

Similarly, Ive got faith that chapter one shall be submitted today. Day. During daylight hours. There's some shred of hope left that I will get to complete that impossible list of aims below this post. And I swear, if Trick was to appear right now, Im fully equipped to deal with whatever chaos he can throw my way.

Way to challenge my karma there. Just throw out the gauntlet and let it fall, let it fall..

Hey, I may be a cold-blooded jelly doughnut, but my timing is impeccable.

25 days to deadline

Not quite a whinge, more a physical note of what this week should bring, apart from hammers in my head and steam trains through my heart.

Two finished chapters
An essay
Between one and another films'
A blog post
Crumplette wages
Some warmth
and a partridge in a pear tree

Im looking forward to writing the third chapter of thessy. Its scary, almost as scary as the first is right now. I finally know what I want to say, just a matter of saying it clearly now. Ahh, structure, how you elude me.

The essay will be interesting. Something else Im looking foward to writing. It isnt about vampires. Its about freedom from oppression under the face of adversity, perhaps through adversity. Cliche a little there, yet..

Flights shall be booked this week. Officially meaning I can escape Christmas yet again. I wonder how many more I can miss before my mother puts her foot down.

Have already started planning next years' holiday. Im sure Lucifer's reserved a special set of chains and hots rods for me by now, I figure why not get a few nine inch rusty nails for my fingers while Im at it.

May just be me, but Im cold. Feels as if a chill has seeped into the tips of my fingernails and trailed its way up through my fingers into my palms, up through my forearms, past my elbows, through by body, shooting straight down to my knees, to settle in the creases of my feet, at the very tips of my toes.

The best laid plans are the ones that lead us unto temptation and misery. I wonder which end of the spectrum I shall be in come next Sunday.

Abra-Kadabra!

If only things would materialise when that word is uttered. Though if Harry Potter has taught me one thing, its that magic isn't simple either.

Kinda sucks when we are oh so human and have so many things to do and see that time just will not cooperate.

Case in point: thessy. Elusive, liminal, monster that she has become. I feel my world being consumed, my thoughts being subsumed. Overwhelmed is perhaps the right word.

Im having trouble finding the words. It isnt so hard when I write a story or tell a tale. Those are my words, to play with and set out as I wish.

Thessy has her own language, her own rules. Games aren't allowed. There is to be no play. I must be to the point. Metaphors must be explained. Adjectives are allowed within reason. The rules are strict and clear upon this.

Borders and fences were never my thing. I can cross them. Leap across them. But adhering to a boundary is not in my programming. I wasn't built that way.

Just wasn't.

Chapter One submitted today.

30 days till deadline.

Must be done atleast a week before the 23rd.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Counting toads, dresses and glass bottles

I suppose it comes from not developing better study habits as a child.

Do I blame Mother for this? Flashback. Im 7 years old, in the second grade and eager [scary child that I was] to do my homework. Something along the lines of maths mentals and basic english skill textbooks comes to mind, oh bright coloured covers how I miss thee!

Mother's input: "Great film this was, fond memories.." *sighs contently* And that dear friends, would be the end of that. I would watch the film / tv show and homework was left till the morning before when I could rush through it and still whoop serious 2nd grader butt.

*Glee*

But really I think the habit building [ or non building] occurred earlier than that. Distinctly remember reading borrowed books and eyeing homework wistfully, thinking with all my 1st grade innocence that since it was so easy I could do it later and still be okay. Not until grade 6 did I realise the point of homework: to challenge and reiterate things we had learnt in class. Sadly, I had a slow attention span in class, only ever heard two-fifths of whatever was discussed / explained.

Homework to me had always been the teacher's way of giving us that day's lesson on paper. This way, if I didnt pay attention in class it didnt matter. When I got home, there it was! On paper! In textbooks! To be read, understood and enjoyed at my leisure. Bit late by the 6th grade to alter this whole mind set, not to mention get my head around the actual aims of homework: torture. Specially designed for little people under the age of 16.

And I wonder where my problem lays. Clearly, these habits must be broken.

Have procrastinated a lot today, but tomorrow shall see GMan recieve my first chapter, and I want to be happy with it. Proud of it, even. Maybe even a little too proud?

That might have to come later.

*Le sigh*

On the topic of le sigh, have picked that up from JaJa Binks : similar to her taking over of my dear oh dear moments [taken from Edward].. Friends, such a tradition of verbal exchanges is what binds us. Wicked last night was pretty...Wicked. It blew my expectations, which weren't sky high, but definitley tree branch high. Elphalba was played brilliantly! The others were great too, but Elphie took the cookies and cream from everyone's cake by far. The ending was happified. Fieryo and Elphie are shown to dance [skip?] off into the sunset together.. which some thought needn't have happened.

Me? I like happy endings. As MJ well knows, I begin to melt like the Wicked Witch from Oz when a film ends in depressing or cliffhanger-y ways. I like to go home /to bed / wherever knowing the characters have learned a lesson, found some peace and or are smiling and looking to the future with a grin. Or teary eyes. Either works.

There are exceptions to this, that shall be discussed later. For now, Thessy requires serious slayage.

Today's muddle: When does one outgrow discovering new modes of procrastion?

Wash, spin, rinse. Repeat.

"When will they stop? The voices have now become loud and and fused. Its hard to hear individuals, are there any singularities? No. They are all repeated. Appropriated from one another, stolen from her mind, his book, this film and those songs.
Originality has died, yet again.
Only to be ressurected tomorrow, and destroyed once, twice. And repeat."

Its become a cycle now. Tradition even. I take on some of you, you take on some of him, he takes on some of her and she steals much of it from me.
My head hurts. The cycle continues. There is far too much of a lack of individuality in this smallishly connected world.

So go on, be some more of me and I'll be some more of him and he'll..

Unimaginatively, yours.

I love it when people say "wow, thats unique."

That's so inidividualcrazymindblowingnewandfreshawesomelyyou and different are also favourites. How much of this new, really has never been done before? Green, the deep emerald and Irish green have become seasonal colours this year. Is it the first time? Or are we revisiting some years ago?

Blue. The edgy and vibrant blue, not quite royal, not quite navy, in between with a tinge of metal.

I like the blue.

Though I suspect, this time next year there shall lamenting going on when I have an overdraft of the same blue in different dress formations.

Last year it was black. Somehow Ive come to own between 20 and 25 dresses in the deepest of blacks. No, some of these cannot be mistaken for navy. There is a whole section dedicated to navy too. And don't get me started on the red/black combo.

There is a point to this, I can just see your eyes rolling..

Why do we buy the latest and greatest of fashion labels? Ive made a consistent effort this year to not just buy what is in' or new. Its hard, but somewhat do-able. Which leads me to today's wonder: why can't others just come up with their own-ness?

Its a tad driving-me-round-the-bend ish at this point. Its all well and good to claim individuality, but if your unique factor comes from me [or someone else], Im afraid its making us two of a kind. Much like cliches, overused and largely abused does not make for a great line.

Be different, be [or wear] what works for you.

Whatever. Lets open those doors and windows, and allow some ingenuity to seep in. Something that is all you and none of me.

Today's muddle: when does a human child become adult? And how does one stop this process-

The Prom Disaster

Prom. The word incites fluffy pink taffetta ball gowns, shiny shoes with nail sharp edges and an overall sense of the sparkly end to official teenagerdom. If your Buffy it conjures images of hellhounds, vampiric dumping and an all out battle before getting ready for the big dance, where you will be dateless.

Ah the joys of being a Slayer.

My past few weeks have been much like the dramatic battle Buffy deals with pre her prom. It all starts off so well. B and Angel are all snuggly post a night of slayage and beheading. Then we cut to a conscience crashing Angel faced with Mrs Summers making clear and definitive points about our B and the beautiful Angel can never have a future together.. blah blah blah.

As if authors worldwide have made millions proving simply the opposite.

Angel breaks up with Buffy. Cue tears. We then cut to a scene where the ever sparring Cordy and Xander are attacked by hellhounds. Violins. Upon reviewing footage of the attack we see the hellhound aiming specifically for a boy in a [albeit] hideous tux. Justice prevails! Well, the Scoobys dont see it my way. Buffy realises she must first destroy the hellhound if there is to be a prom ala prevention of tux boys being eaten by evil, hairy dog-monster. But really, is there any point? Her boyfriends' just dumped her, everyone else has paired off, the chances of her getting the highly prized and overrated last dance with her soulmate stand at zero and Giles + Wesley are chaperoning the entire night of disaster.

Ofcourse there is! she says.
Well, more like :Your all going to have a nice, happy, 80s teen flick kinda prom if it kills me. But you get my general gist.

And you know, in the end she arrives at prom, a little late, a little out of breath, but she gets there. Jonothan gives her an award, an official recognition plaque / umbrella of silver that says thank you for giving Class of 99 the lowest mortality rate of any Sunnydale graduating class.My favourite moment? Angel arrives [looking absolutely yummy] in a tux to hold her for the last dance. What do we learn from this: Fight those hellhounds and have yourself a largely altered, but equally [if not more] awesome night.

Today's lesson: Once the evil of Thessy has been slayed, there shall be a high amount of partying and fun to be had.

Pow Wow'd and Plundered

Its been one of those weeks. Or perhaps fortnights. At the moment, the world is blurred and hazy through my sunglasses. This picture will speak a lot louder than anything I am able to verbalise? Write out. Write out now. Here it is, in all its multi dimensional beauty.