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POTC fic, written after POTC II when the idea was really original, and The Sequel. FIRST: A Day's Head Start Rating: General Characters: Norrington, Gillette, HMS Dauntless, Ocean, A Big Damn Storm, Groves. Warnings: A Big Damn Storm, weirdness, allusive pomposity, a bit of death and the fact that I have no idea what I am doing with ships and also the eighteenth century. Summary: Not much is known of how Norrington came to be Scruffington, save the passing mention of a hurricane, i.e A Big Damn Storm. AND SECOND: Catching Up Rating: General Characters: Post-POTC I Norrington, Barely Appearing in this Fic Groves, Confused Gillette, Several Made Up Ships, A Surprising Amount of Made Up Characters Warnings: Scheming, Original Characters, limited knowledge of what, exactly an EITC ship is. Summary: Picking up where A Day's Head Start left off, Norrington finds himself on a ship which is not his own, headed for what he is positive is an apocalytpic reckoning. Little does he know, his loyal lieutenants are alive, he is a wanted man, and the EITC is moving in on his home and his job. Here, some people are ill-informed, some are scheming up Big Capers, and some have far too much faith in justice. They all work together to lay the groundwork for about eight hundred sequels. | |
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I think my Livejournal gene is fading or has gotten buried or something, because obviously I haven't updated the thing in a long while. Frighteningly, The Internet has moved on without me. I have a dim memory of making a big post on my birthday last year, or ruminating on The Sad State of Life, or something. So, here I am again, a year older, and frustratingly, no wiser. I am still have no idea what I am supposed to be, exactly (human, girl, asleep). Or why I feel like I am on the very outer cusp of a purgatorial waiting period; someone who will very soon have a life and identifying characteristics, but it only currently a bored thing without a personality. Or something. Or the ability to make coherent Livejournal ruminations. Basically, I don't really make sense to myself. I wonder if that will lessen with time, or if that's actually the issue lurking behind The Human Condition, or if I'll get to know myself too well and we'll stop speaking. Understanding things is hard. This is such a bad entry. How are you? | |
| I think I could learn to like spring. | |
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About every third post, I mention my Incredibly Mysterious orginal fiction. The original fiction that will bring the world to its knees and allow me to retire to Aspen. That orginal fiction. Anyway, I think about two chapters are missing because I wrote them sporadically in legal pads and on hotel phone paper and...I can't even remember where else. If anyone finds these chapters floating around, please tell me. And since I said this was a list, I'll add some more things (quickly): 2. neckties 3. the flowers on my desk, because they are wilting | |
| Do you ever feel as if you're right there, at the very precipice of understanding the human condition in its entirety, moving your arms to keep your balance one way or the other, with shale slipping from beneath your heels and then someone makes you go to bed? | |
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Q: How many icons did you make? A: Four. Q: That's kind of...not a lot at all. A: Thanks. I made not at lot of Secret Garden icons. I'll just stick them here, rather than under a cut, but if you want me to cut them, please say. I. II. III. IV. Images from the film, lyrics occasionally from the musical. This is all! | |
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I have never cried over a boy before! I must say it's unpleasant and I wish it would stop... ... and that I could be pretty and talented and not psychotic about making unhappy livejournal posts. How are you all? | |
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So, first I was blithely ignoring LJ, then I broke my skeleton but now, I really have no excuse to be bad at livejournal. I'm not even that busy. And, truth to be told, I feel terrible about it, since I love you all so awfully much. I'm trying to remember what brings people out of the woodwork...is it your long overdue fic? Icons? Cheerless blather? ...what have you been up to, anyway? | |
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I was doing some Sort of Boring Yoga last night (where "sort of boring"=hatha), and I was doing a lot of wheel/shoulderstand/spine is bent backwards sort of things, which is Nothing New at All. And then I woke up today, and, at some point posed the following question to myself: Are ribs supposed to feel like they're scraping over various bodily things? No, I realized, and whipped out some chart of skeletal anatomy (on wikipedia). So, apparently people have two small (useless?) ribs that don't touch anything, called "floating ribs" and I think that somehow one of mine has...gotten tired of floating and is seeking more fun from life, namely moving oddly and threatening to puncture my organs. I blame yoga, if this kills me! | |
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I am blithely ignoring my livejournal! I am blithely ignoring my livejournal! I am blithely ignoring my livejournal! Your regularly scheduled whimpering and fic will resume shortly. | |
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Unfortunately I don't do anything cool in LJ for New Year. But I would like to thank The Entire Friendslist for being such a wonderful friendslist. I could not have asked for a better one. And although it is past my bedtime and thought is a big foggy, I will resolve: 1. Be actively nice to people, rather than simply apologetic 2. Cultivate "dog skills" 3. Become good at something There we are! Happy New Year! | |
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So, gift-fic tends to be the only thing I actually want to deliver by the deadline, but it always gets pushed to the bottom of the Stuff to Do pile, and I end up writing it late at night and then it's bad! I am currently floundering in this very quandry, but I am floundering very earnestly. This is still, technically, a secret. So, Christmas was vaguely nice, but only vaguely. The materialistic rewards however, were good. My favorite present by far came from an Unusually Thoughtful Boy, who gave me a stuffed baby seal. I have since tied a ribbon around its neck and named it John. John and I are now best friends. On a similar note (the note of fluffy pets I want), I have decided that when I graduate from however much schooling I require and live (inevitably) sadly alone, I will need a puppy. I am inspecting types of puppies, because I like to plan ahead. My top option so far is an Irish Setter, although they are generally trimmed very oddly in photographs. Primarily, this type of puppy and eventually dog would give me a legitimate excuse to romp in public places. ( Puppies are Cute ) | |
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So what do you all do when you are really, really, really upset? Like, when sobbing in a knot on your kitchen floor just isn't cutting it, and you end up making angsty Livejournal entries around Christmas which no one wants to see? Also I will be finished with your Big Surprises by Sunday, no worries! | |
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A bit entry about dreaming, because I have what we like to call Interesting Dreams. Most memorably, the one with the rough puppies destroying Andy Warhol's things. In a fit of boredom, I decided to look up some of the recurring symbols on dumb dream interpretation websites, but either I am taking myself too seriously, or everyone else's dreams are less cool than mine. See, I tend to think that the plot is more important than the symbols. And they all have plot. But usually I forget it. So, the last two weeks have brought the following: First Interesting Dream: I dreamt that my sister died (in a car accident). I was just diddling around with homework as I usually do, when my parents told me that my sister was dead. I told myself that I could react however I wanted, and could technically just set aside the whole "grief" thing and go back to my homework. So I popped open my laptop and couldn't. Next Interesting Dream: Dreamt I (somehow now a forensic analyst or lawyer?) needed to talk to this Crazed Psychopath Killer to get some information about fingerprints. I was at my grandmother's house. I convinced her to leave us alone in her sitting room, which had this lovely etagere full of crystal glasses and such. Then I suppose I switched narrative positions from first to third person, and when she opened the door the Crazed Psychopath Killer had left, and I was literally splattered all over the etagere, very very killed, and it was terribly disgusting. ...Fell asleep during film in German class, and dreamed that I was wearing more comfortable shoes. Next Interesting Dream: Dreamt that my mother died (in a car accident). Much the same scenario. Was like "phooey, I don't have emotions", and later found out that I did. Last Night: I forgot most of it, but I remember racing down a huge stairwell. Supposedly dreaming about "sister" means some domestic disturbance, dreaming about "death" means "someone is pregnant" (why do I always dream that my family members or myself are dying? Because I do. Like once a week). "Car" means "journey", and "Crazed Psychopath Splattering Your Blood Around Your Grandmother's Crystal" means "nothing". So there is going to be a domestic disturbance caused by pregnancy and I am going on a journey! | |
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First, I have a Rather Daring idea for Christmas fic. And so I ask, without any direct correlation to Christmas Fic other than to excuse the randomness of my question, What is your favorite Christmas carol? Oh come on, just tell me; Christmas carols are cute. In other news, I'm beginning to wonder if humans are capable of being motivated. Does anyone have Great Motivational Techniques? I find myself at a loss to inspire dedication in large groups of people, or to make them stop being selfish for bit of a moment and work for a team, or some other trite concept (like a...team). How do you motivate people to work? Is it possible? Or does one sort of watch and hope? | |
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I know that I am annoying and self-righteous and feel, somehow, justified in wanting you all to listen to me complain all the time, every day. I'm almost two years in the journal business, however, and when I was still exciting people would make me fell less pyschotically depressed when I wibbled at them. First the interview, then the analysis. ( Interview ) ( Analysis ) | |
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Well, I have gone and not conquered and...come back, somewhat whole. But deeply distressed at this development, as I'm sure I'd find living with myself much more tolerable if I'd at least lost a consulation limb. Or two. But anyway. The plane in was delayed, say it with me, three whole hours! Apparently Wednesday night was excessively windy, and we weren't allowed to take off for an hour. While sitting on the runway the steward (male stewardess? Steward? Yes?) fearing riots, popped in a movie (Must Love Dogs) and the pilot occasionally made wisecracks. Finally we took off, but were then forced to circle the NY airport for two extra hours, for no apparent reason. During this time, it became evident that I know very little or nothing about New York's geography. DROSTON: Look, it's the Brooklyn Bridge! DROSTON:...look, it's the other, less-well-known Brooklyn Bridge! DROSTON:...I swear, there are actually three of them. Very few people know this. I still do not know why there were about thirty bridges. Finally we landed, got off the plane, scampered to the hotel, where I want to live. It on Park Avenue (which is a street...in New York...probably) and had loads of pillows. I was especially fond of the pillows. After The Interview, which I shall not recount here, I was able to wander a bit down Fifth Avenue, to the Rockefeller Center, where a crane was setting up the biggest Christmas tree you've ever seen in your life. That was pretty much it. And although I stopped in Duane Reed sixteen hundred gabillion times to buy batteries, my CD player ran out of batteries sixteen hundred gabillion and one times. Did not see | |
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Is there one? Am I getting it? Because if so, I'm getting rather frostbitten where it's touching me... In other, slightly less upset news (and in order): I am doing NaNoWriMo (until I grow tired of it) The Big Interview is on THURSDAY. I haven't been desummoned due to LNAT scores (yet) so um, we'll see how that goes, yeah? Anyone here? No? Okay. | |
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The deed is done. Test full of vagaries. Am not very smart. Used word "fallacious" in essay portion to describe counter-arguments. "Fallacious" sounds like "phallis". Shall retreat to Wibbling Cave for whole week. | |
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I am taking the LNAT tomorrow and--omg--I don't care how you do it/how much you like me/how much you want me to succeed but please spare a thought to my performance, in the hope that whatever Supreme Being governs my testing results takes well-wishing into account. Omg. OMG OMG AAAAAAAAh AAAAAAAAH. | |
