What I do on Livejournal:
1) squee about really awesome things
2) rant about my friends
3) intend to post creative shit that I write but then don't because it's usually too fucking disturbing
4) make pointless lists
Not that I've done anything on LiveJournal in a while. Since Cobra Starship, practically. I don't know what to do. I would rant some more but it just makes me want to punch stuff. And I've had it with punching stuff; it really hurts after the first few blows. I would write reviews for all the random shit I watch, play and read, but I just can't fucking be bothered.
It's a bit alarming, really. I can't be bothered to do anything creative or intellectual lately. Even schoolwork is done with an effort. I just want to sit around and take shit in, you know? But no one seems to think that's a good use of my time. Why? It's my time, right? I can do whatever the fuck I want with it, and at the moment, I just want to fill up the memory warehouse with awesome books and movies. Yet, sit around in one chair all day and read a great book, get in a good mood, then your parental figure comes home and indirectly says you should get more of a life.
Well, too bad. I'm content with just absorbing at the moment. (and I don't need no stinkin' life)
I totally haven't even bothered. You know why? Cause I start stuff and don't finish it. Except for books and movies. But even then, sometimes.
However, I am going to rant!
It hasn't happened once or twice, it's happened three. goddamn. times already. Just today, that too. What the fuck is up with people and not respecting taste*? I fucking like Cobra Starship, and I'm going to go see them. You don't need to kill my happiness by judging me for it. So just shut up.
* exceptions made if you like anything or anyone that can be likened to Miley Cyrus, because there is no respect in that.
: Investigate into/find out something weird about myself.
So. This week, I'm doing the fact that when I think of a colour, I think of a smell I've associated with the colour before I picture the colour in my mind. I've been doing this (as far as I remember) since I was about 13. The smells I think of have hardly changed, except for a few. (one of which surprised the hell out of me when I found out). Here is a list! With pretty colours because I am bored as hell and have nothing better to do.
the smell of salt at a beach
the smell of grass after a night of rain
the smell of sex
the smell of spicy curry being cooked
I'm not entirely sure what this smell is, but I think it's the smell of a fabric, probably velvet
the smell of newly purchased leather items
the smell of just-cut lemons
the smell of the earth after a night of rain (not mud)
the smell of a new car
* this is the new/sort of really embarrassing in a way one :3
Why I keep starting writing projects and almost never, ever finish them, aaaargh dunno.
You know what I love?
* I love the smell of fresh bread in the morning.
* I love being warm.
* I love the wind in my hair.
* I love the smell of the ocean.
* I love being full.
* I love to read in a cozy armchair.
* I love lying down in the grass.
* I love the sun on my bare back.
* I love silence.
* I love the cool, starry nights.
I love the little things.
I love being alive, day after day.
I love the thermodynamic miracle that I am; all beating heart and firing nerves and existence.
I fear death. There. I said it. I'm terrified of it. Some nights, I lay awake, thinking how long I have left- thinking about what it'll feel like when I die. Wondering if I'll ever be me again. But I know I won't. I'll stop existing. I'll be nothing. I'll never breathe again, never think again, never feel the wonderful things that we take for granted in our fast-paced lives.
Today, I've been thinking and I've decided that no matter what I'm doing, I'm going to stop and smell the metaphorical roses every single day. I'm not going to let a single moment slip by unappreciated, because tomorrow may never come.
Two pieces of good news in the last two days:
01) I'm now a New Zealand permanent resident- i.e. I can stay and not have to pay exorbitant school fees!
02) My visa for the UK has been processed and my passport will be mailed back in the next week. I don't know the result yet, but I'm hoping it's good.
So, yeah. Not a bad two days. Except for the weather. <_<
Nothing feels different, or special, or anything. It's just another year. I don't see why people get so excited about it.
Sam Neill: 62 years old and still made of
awesome spectacular fabulous win spectacularly awesome fabulous win.
Also, he has officially joined the list of great actors that have played
dirty old men hobos. And he's still sexy.