"It's brown o'clock!"

"Splended!"

I can and will hurt back

In the same way that I seem to want you to rebuild this, behold the

Butterfly in its net, the bird in the rafters of where we once lived

a flutter of its wings and i am broken down in to my most basic elements

The scent of paint heavy in the air, choking like the dst that choked the canary years and years ago until he fell down. Ashes, ashes.
Sitting here while my aunt paints the inside of her garage because there's wireless connections to piggyback on everywhere, puting away the bins of shoes that will never be worn because her grand daughter's growing up and her husband can't change his shoes when he's scattered across the lake. Ashes, ashes.
Cool air blows in through the open doors and carries with it the sound of gulls over head and cars going by and the smell of freshly fallen rain and smoke. Ashes, ashes.
The step digging into my back and the cold cement seeping through my socks. Late morning/early afternoon sunlight drifting in. The air feels like automn. The leaves are all falling off the trees and the geese are flying south. Of course their geese, not gulls. What the hell am I thinking? The muscles in my shoulders ache from sitting here and from horseback riding three times this week and it's supposed to be a good sort of ache, that's what all the books says but it's just a pain, it just hurts in that way that I've gotten too used to too fast; too much time calculating physics equations in the last week. A Tori song stuck in my head. Thoughts of dreams and conversations and journal entries that are filtered from everyone that knows me and stories and articles and it's all so clinicle but I can't see the forest for the trees. But that's ok. The forest is burning down, anyway.
Ashes, ashes.

love

So, if I’m understanding this right, you don’t believe that love is real. Instead, you think of it as a word that is tossed around and miss used. Tell me. How can one miss use something if it isn’t real?

I never said I didn’t believe in love, just that I don’t understand it. It’s a barrier thing. The line. Define it for me.

What the hell are you talking about?

The line that separrates “like” from “love”. Where is it? How do you know when you’ve crossed it?

It’s different for everyone, of course. You can’t define it.

Then how do we know it exists?

It’s just something we take for granted. Some people can’t love at all, some love too often and too deeply and they end up getting hurt.

How sad for them.

Oh, don’t be like that. If you insist on having this conversation, the least you can do is take it seriously.

Alright. Seriously. Why is love so coveted? The way you put it, all it seems to bring is sadness. Am I to believe that the entire world is made up of masochists?

And yes, there are complexities in this, in us and everything between us that has remained unsaid that could create this emotional inadequacy I seem to be struck with every time we try to be emotionally open with one another.

*waves*

Hi, $family member that linked to me off of Matt's blog. What's up?
Go away now.

doom

K, k, k… So I had this idea for a story that was boardering on the verge of crackfic. I wrote about one and a half pages. Then I had to run off to do some quick research on Jewish views on same sex marriage. Then I was like, hey… so Abby wants her and Ziva to get married in her home state, but not all of the US supports same sex marriage, do they? I googled. I linked to Wikipedia, because Wikipedia is the answer to all of life’s problems (can one product place websites?). …There’s one state. *one*. …this totally fucked everything up and totally destroyed my inspiration to write the story. It was supposed to be fluffy weird cute humor. Now…it’ll be destined to rot on my hard drive, most likely forever unfinished. Fuck.

gaaaaah

's hot. *dies*
...no, seriously. Enough!!!!!
Finished the Cliché series on Friday night, which is more of a relief than I thought it'd be. I expected to want to write more after the original four parts, however; it was a struggle to get out the fourth part. By the end I was just like "...fine! Whatever!" Which landed the fic in a mess of fluf and cheese by the end. I'm ashamed, and really wished I could have ended better. Right now, the ending was more on the whimper side of things. I'd prefer to have at least landed within a few hundred feet of the bang.

I'm scared to work on One-Upmanship if this crap is all that's coming out. I can't do that to that story. I've got a lot more invested, emotionally, into it than into something like Cliché, which was always meant to be mildly fluffy, though not to the extent of the last one.
I've also started poking Abby/Tony. Though I think she'd be incredibly cute with Ziva, and that she and Gibbs are destined to be, I think it's most realistic for her to end up with Tony. Wierd, I know. ...stop looking at me like that, you've had your wierd moments, too, strange reader persons.

So. Y'all have seen this or a version of it, correct? Hmmm? Yes? ...sorry, you're sick of me posting it everywhere and would like me to stop before you rip my brain out of my skull and chop it into little pieces on the perverbial sidewalk? Oh. Kay then.

I'm starting to think Canada needs a 'Bath And Bodyworks'. Mmmmmmm. Of course, I also think Keith Hamilton Cobb, Pauley Perrette or Josh Holloway should come to my town, that Hot Topic sucks for not stalking fingerless gloves while my aunt was down in the US, that I should own at least one glittery eye pensil and that there should be a Starbucks within walking distance of my house. So. What do I know?

And! And! And! I know I could be linking to much more disturbing and anti-government reports and articles, but with everything that's going on I need to do a lot more reading before I make any conclusions. So :P. I'll leave all the good links up to Malcolm.

More in my lj, minions. Not...that you care. Because I don't. *g*

Real Player sucks

Have I ever mentioned how much Real Player sucks? No? Well. It does. I'm running version 10.5 (the free one, duh), and last night tried to burn a CD because Windows Media Player sucks at that.
All was going fine. I had the playlist. I had the songs organized the way I wanted them. I put a blank CD in the drive. I went to click into the file menue, and got a runtime error, a Beer comercial and a dead JAWS.
I fought with my computer until it restarted, took out the blank CD, opened Real Player and right away, recieved a runtime error and a Listereen comercial. I clicked 'debug', and got a Microsoft Script Editor (or something) error. I sent the report, and closed everything. Tried once more and JAWS crashed again.
I redownloaded Real Player. Same shit happened.
So I'm trying to fight with WMP to make my CD. It's...not working, so much.

apparently

words are meaningless
and unforgettable

Kate treats Abby like glass. Tainted, strange glass, yes, but there’s still the hesitation in the physical touches, the hurried and meek compromise in the verbal interactions that makes Abby acutely aware that Kate considers her fragile and in need of protection.

Tony does not.

I never forgot it, confusing as it was

I want to live in the space between loving and lusting.
and between caring so deeply I end up breaking, and not giving a fuck
and in a million little coffee houses owned by sweet Italian men who put chocolate on the lattes
Yeah, like the one at White Rock
And all the commercialized coffee shops that try to gain popularity with the artsy crowd by setting up shop inside of equally commercialized bookstores
Them too.
I want to live there with a laptop and write about all the people I see.
Not in the sun, with the mosquitos and the greasey food and the people who know everyone.
I don't belong here.
Five, ten years ago, I would have. Yes, I was young.
Possibly naive but they all said I was a smart girl and I believed them.
I've grown and changed and someone told me flat out that it was not for the better.
That was over a year ago.
Imagine what I've become now.

la

My boredom knows no limits and no restraints.

kthxbye

what if I fall

What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?
...
...
...
...
He said, "where's my tractor?"
It shouldn't be funny. It really, really is, though.

...they made the time changey thing unavailable again. Damn them.

midnight

A million sunsets
A billion miles away
If you were to move back
Or away
Or perhaps start existing.

I could make things
So much easier on the both of us
As I do not love her
Yet feel no more for you
Than for a favoured pet.

I can not believe
In God and the Devil and beauty in all things
As you
So clearly
Do.

The white and the nothing
Scarred soul, yes
But not black
Take me back.

It’s a miracle I made it
Through the million department stores
Of life
All lined up in a row.

I will meet you
On an empty street
At midnight
And the only way we kiss
Through a shared cigarette.


(c) Thought

I'm easy come easy go

You walked into the room and asumed
That the whole world spins for you
Like all the other stars in your yard
I'm just singing for a getaway car.
All the headline news
Just gives me the blues
And so do you
I came here out of love
But it ain't enough
You're going on and on and on...

And you say times, they've changed
Everything's so messed up and strange
And you say times, they've changed
I said yes I know but some beautiful things remain.


That's an old song. Well, relatively old. Old enough that I remember recording it onto a mix tape in grade five or six. I could sing it then. I can still sing it now. Therefore it's a good song.

Ran away to help EV with technicle issues. He...didn't need my help, so much. We had about five minutes of NCIS-like banter before I decided I wanted to come back to the lab and screw around.
Currently v. v. caffeinated. Yay!
Also? I find out when I'm getting my braces off this morning.

Guy Beside Me is failing this class. I...am not, so much. 95% in spreadsheets. I just finished taking all the exams for MS Word and MS Excel. Well, did two of them yesterday, one today.

I need to go to the movie rental place. I need 'Eyes Beyond Seeing' and 'The Price Of Kissing'. Because yes, I am an obsessed little fangirl and Keith and Pauley are love.

Frell, I'm bored.