By which I mean David Tennant. I wish I meant me. Le sigh.

Anywho, in response to the creepiness of what chiara_suzuka has recently posted about (see the article to which she posted here), I have decided to cure all of you by posting a short film that's one of the cutest little love stories I've ever seen. And there's no dialogue! No words, and I love it! So if you're worried about people snogging their DSes in the future, at least there are happy realistic things to balance it out. Ladies and...wait, you're all ladies. So, ladies, I present...Mr. David Tennant in "Traffic Warden." Totally safe for work. =^.^=

Right now, I'm trying to get a customs form online to work so that I can send out some books internationally for the press.  And the United States Postal Service is in the process of trying to inform me that nobody is named "Patrick Henry" (hey USPS, I am named Patrick Henry) and that the publishing manager's first name is not a legal name.  I think the postal service is out to get me.

And I'm sad because Kaylee has a weird lump on her hip the size of a marble, and there's another one right beside that lump that's a bit smaller, about the size of a bb.  I felt the first bump on Monday, and I know it wasn't there before we were at the vet on the 30th for Kaylee's shots.  And the other one, the bb-sized one, I just found this morning.  So I'm going to call the vet tomorrow morning because I'm worried about my girl.  She's such a pretty little kitty!

And she's going to be lonely because today is Thursday...bleargh...I'm at the Press from 9 to noon, print a bunch of stuff off really quickly, class from 1 to 4, Press ed board meeting from 4 to 6, run home to feed Kaylee (she's such a pretty little kitty!), run back to campus for class from 7 to 10.

Yup.  USPS still says I don't have a real name.  *fail.*

Finally back to doing some writing (skipping thesis workshop, huzzah, because I am auditing that class now and can do stuff like that! =^.^=).  Finally over some manner of plague that debilitated me last week and prevented me from getting any writing done then (in addition to other fun events that it prevented me from attending...).  Over the past hour and forty-five, I've touched up ten pages, shifted a few things around, tightened a few other things, and then wrote a paragraph.  Then.  I hit a wall.

This character of mine is stuck in a family's library.  It's 1910, it's still early in the morning, I'm trying to use the second episode of this novella to reflect on the family and "the way things were" while also showing clues building up to the big reveal (it's a sort of detective story, after all, and Miss Christine Henderson--the daughter of the family and our protagonist and avid reader--is the one whose POV pieces the entire story together).  Dear Christine, please, please, please tell me how you want to get out of this bloody library.

Oy.  It's good to be back at the grind, but I'm itching to get this thing moving again.  I've considered skipping and writing parts III and IV first, but this is the kind of issue that I need to get resolved before I can go on.  Otherwise?  It'll keep bothering me and I won't be able to do the other stuff.  So...I need to get Christine out of the library and interacting with people.  I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Well, time for me to play copycat and borrow the meme from everybody's LJs!

The meme:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal...
5. ...along with these instructions.

"He held out his copybook."
-Ulysses, by James Joyce

Umm...I think that's somewhat appropriate, actually.  Weird.

I've made a few "upgrades" to the ol' wardrobe. I can't exactly call them upgrades sans quotation marks because the garments are technically vintage. Yeah, yeah, I know. Cool, huh? Anywho, reasons for the purchases are: My standard tweed jacket has unfortunately been retired for reasons of numerous holes, lots of threadbare areas, and disintegrating lining. (It's actually been out of commission for over a year, leaving me in jacket limbo.) My overcoat, that tacky ol' green military-type thing, has no lining and doesn't actually count as a winter coat (as has been pointed out to me by one or two ladies who may/may not comment on this) because it doesn't succeed in actually adding to my warmth in anyway. Below the cut are these two purchases: A replacement to old tweedy (complete w/ a double-vent, though you can't see it in the pictures) made of real Harris Tweed from Scotland and a brown cashmere/wool overcoat with an actual lining (this one from Merry Ol' England, though I think a few of you will understand quite well why I *had* to get this particular overcoat!).

Hey all, I wanted to thank you all for your comments on the bit from Novella #3.  It's...been a long week, so I'll get to commenting on specific comments very soon, and I'll leave it up for a little longer as per a request from aloveaffair to look at it.  But yeah, comments soon, and I do appreciate the help.  I miss having good, strong, supportive, yet critical workshops.  It may be hard to believe through clouds of disillusionment and angst, but...we had a pretty good thing going at SU.  It's actually a damned good program.

Also, there may be some posts soon, perchance reviewing an iPod touch (Kaylee-approved) and an... amazonkindleelectronicportablereadingdevice.  Not, fyi, Kaylee approved.  Out of its box for all of fifteen minutes, and Kaylee Cat had attempted to destroy it five times.  (Potential YouTube video:  The effects of cat teeth on electronics)  Until then, here are your previews:  The iPod touch=the most impressive and interconnected thing since chiara_suzuka's borderline encyclopaedic (yes, I'm using the archaic spelling of encyclopaedia, isn't it cool?) knowledge of film trivia.  ereader-thingamajig=the book is actually a much superior technology.  Debating on video reviews or ye-olde-texte-type-review.  All for my thesis, actually, but that's a long story.

Oy vey, I need to get the hell out of this place.  That, or take up alcoholism again.  Long stor(ies).  Not exactly inclined to go into all of it.  But I might need to drive away for Friday night or Saturday morning or something.

going to read, then sleep.

Don't think they exist either?  Well, the BBC just proved me wrong.  Wicked wrong.  Papua New Guinea is apparently the Fire Swamp.

news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_8210000/8210394.stm

Thoughts?

I took a quick YouTube/Interwebs break, and this was on "recommended videos" on my YouTube page.  It was funny enough that I thought I'd share.  It's only about a minute and a half, so even those on dial-up *coughcoughchiara_suzuka coughcough* should be able to load it up, load it up.


This might also be one of the few times that I find The Flash amusing.  Also, I can sympathize with Wonder Woman not because of one-piece, star-spangled, strapless bathing suits.  Today was kilt day, and a few yuppies looked confusedly at me and several even muttered, "What's he wearing?"

In completely unrelated news, G.I.Joe cooked a dinner for Bill Gates.  (G.I.Joe works part time at two restaurants, an Outback and an elite-ish steak house in Seattle.  I think you can guess where it happened, and I suppose something like this was bound to happen eventually with Daniel's clientele.)

So it's been a long day.  This semester, my TAing assignment is all for one prof, which means I'm still doing the work at the press but might actually do class-related stuff aside from photocopying.  Huzzah!  Today consisted mostly of working at the press from around 9 a.m. until the start of the class I'll be TAing for at 2, and then I wrote about six pages and read five stories, several of which were longish, two of which were completely unrelated to anything I'm doing for class.  Always a nice reprieve.

The three stories that I read for class are Joyce's "The Sisters," "Eveline," and "The Dead."  That's for the first of my two classes tomorrow, the Joyce seminar.  And I still have to type up the 15 pages for the fiction workshop tomorrow night; everybody has to present 15 pages as a "ticket" into the class.  Since I'm starting to get tired of my current novellas, I'm starting a new project, for which I've recently hammered out the requisite 15 pages (on the typewriter, obviously).  I'm doing some weird stuff that I'm not sure you can actually do in fiction.  Which means, of course, that I immediately believe that there must be some way of doing it.  Of course, this project will be tightly under wraps.

Also, within in the next month, look for either an email or LJ post that's a solicitation for readers of a ms of three novellas and possibly an essay (still have to think that one out).

Time for me to go hurt my fingers in an attempt to learn guitar chords and prove how much of a lamer I am by calling it a night at 9.30.

I've taken the initiative to look into a few new hobbies.  Otherwise, I'll spend the next year doing nothing but being a hermetic introvert who reads books, shuns daylight, and has philosophical conversations with a cat.

Read as:  In addition to the $300 of schoolbooks/B&N preorders I just made, I've purchased a tennis racquet (plan:  hit the hell out of something when frustrated) and a guitar (plan:  I was musical once, but a trumpet is way too loud for an apartment building), so that I have two things I can attempt to learn to do as a pastime here in Lburg.  I'll keep you all posted as things progress.

Of course, the dream would be the bright day in the future when I can post some indie-sounding and very witty acoustic guitar song about tennis, existential angst, the cuteness of fluffy kitties, and the as-of-yet-unrealized future importance of typewriters once the technology sides with the zombies in the Great Global Zombie Uprising of 2012 (also known as "Great GZU 2012").

Any of you have any hobbies you're trying to start up?

So, at roughly 3:27 EST (GMT -5.00), the Garret was surrounded on all sides by a raging tempest, the likes of which had hid the sun and left the sky a roiling black with a cavalry of clouds with rains slashing like sabres and rumbles of thunder.  Kaylee Neko hid beneath the futon.  And when she wasn't hiding, I was either carrying her through the apartment or wearing a real, live cat as a stool around my neck.  They squirm a little, just to let you know, when they're that frightened.  And at roughly 3:27 EST (GMT -5.00), the power went bzzzzzzt right while I was reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest (I have about 300 pages left of that 1200 page monstrosity.  Fabulous book, though).

Couldn't see to do anything.  So around 7ish, I went to Sheetz to get a sammich.  On my way back, I saw all sorts of fallen branches, though the greatest sight was a stop sign that had been uprooted from the ground.  Cool enough for you?  No?  Now, I wish I (a) wasn't driving and (b) had a digital camera so that I could have a taken a picture of said stop sign, because where it landed in the soil, the red octagon was in the ground and its metal pole was sticking straight up toward the clouds.  The stop sign did a backflip!

Oh, and there were a few broken-limbed trees in the parking area, and a few limbs that fell where I used to park the Deathtrap.  Too bad I couldn't have seen that Grey Bastard wrecked....  :-\

Upon seeing these things and finding that the power had returned after my jaunt to Sheetz, I thought the responsible thing, at 7:15 EST (GMT -5.00) would be to go to the nearest Internets and whine about it.  Then, I decided to quick on YouTube quickly first, and saw that there's this really corny show that has one season up on YouTube.  It's called Forever Knight.  It's about an 800-year-old vampire who wants to "atone for his sins" so he become a police detective in Toronto, Canuckland.  I'm not kidding.  I might post a video or something (along with a fuller description) while I'm at work tomorrow.  And I did my first-ever StalkerBook note today.  But for the mean time, I hope you all have dreams of backflipping stop signs.  I know I will.

So what happens?  My Internet dies (for about a week!  How bloody lame is that?), then I end up doing cross-Pennsyltuckabama roadtrips, the likes of which make me think, "I'm never going to finish writing my book!," and in the process LJ explodes with all sorts of happenings.

That, and I actually had work to do at work while nobody else was here.  (Read as:  I rolled a one on my "doin' my own work at work!" roll.  A botch so epic that I produced work that shouldn't have been coming in.)

So in response, it seems that all y'all are leading quite exciting lives as of late.  Mine isn't exciting (ever), so we won't really talk about that here.  Or maybe we will.  Later.

But I'm back.  Ish.  Backish.  Maybe you'll see more of me, now that I have rejuvenated the power of the Obelisk of the Internets and also procured one of those midget laptops, so that I can all the time be taking the Internets with me.  No, I'll still make fun of the yuppy girls who use them to take notes in writing workshops (read as:  Who the hell takes notes during a writing workshop?) while they sip out of their [I didn't know they made them this small] 200-ml Nalgene bottles that they keep in their purses next to their creepity-looking Chihuahuas.  I made up the Chihuahua part, though it wouldn't surprise me if that were true.  But now, I don't need to beat fratties away from a library computer just to check email on days on which I don't need Elaine's overwhelming MacBook-style awesomeness.

Go for it, connect four!  Oh, and I will.  Three days of posts in a row, and tomorrow will make four.

So you don't have to answer the Voltron Ultimate Battle Royale if you don't want to.  Honestly, it's just a decoy.  I should be posting my long response with pictures, humor, and possibly lead-ins to other...*ahem* stories today, but I'm really just tired.  So it'll happen tomorrow.  When I'm not exhausted.

But seriously, Voltron.  Tell your friends.  And in 2011, there's supposed to be a Voltron movie.  I lie not.

Second day of diversion tactics from Bailey Rock.  And since it's Caturday, what better way to distract all y'all than with some good old-fashioned Ultimate Battle Royale with one giant robot versus another?  There are YouTube clips, each about a minute in length.  Now, play fair and don't vote based just on nostalgia, or I won't count your vote.  ^_^

( Caturday Battle Royale, Featuring Lion Force Voltron )

The five robot lions, or the five robot dinosaurs?  Viewers, it's all up to you!

So, chiara_suzuka suggested that I go back and read the *ahem* stories that appeared on a recent otakumeep post.  I snorked chocolate milk.

I'm currently at Bailey Rock, and I'll be housesitting until Sunday afternoon, so until I'm back at my Garret and can compose my super-ultra-death/life-defying epic response of legend, I'll have two days of DIVERSION TACTICS! to keep all of you on your toes.

And what better way to start than a mythic piece of concept art hanging from the very walls of the Mountain Fortress?
( concept art from Bailey Rock )

I'm sure those of you who were here last summer remember this piece of art.

And isn't it great that my computer has a camera in her forehead?  She's the wave of the future, and I think she's going to rule over the technology with a remarkably portable, 5-pound plastic fist.

So, back in Bellwood.  Capt. Pharmacy was going to take his OH state board exams when he was run off the road in Dayton, OH, which crashed his car into a concrete jersey barrier.  The brother is shaken, not stirred; bruised, not battered, and he's without a concussion or anything.  The car's a bit of a different story.  Accounts differ as to its fate, but there are a few known facts:  The car no longer has a front bumper, lots of stuff leaked from the front end, and the trunk won't close now.

The parents went out to Ohio last night in case they were needed and asked me to drive back for an indeterminate amount of time to look after the kid sister, to get her to work, and to make sure there's no inappropriate canoodling between her and her Boy Scout, though I really don't give a rat's posterior of what they're up to; they're old enough to make their own decisions, whatever those are.  So I'm here in Bellwood, after driving last night during Kaylee's dinner time (made for a very angry kitty, but she's happier now..

Sacrastovoyance, at its best (worst?):  Capt. Pharmacy called me yesterday, about two hours before his exam, after I just spent about $70 on food b/c the parents were originally going to be out in Yuppyshire yesterday.  He expressed surprised at the fact that the parents actually made plans to visit me (never happens, seriously), and I said, "Yeah, I still don't expect it to happen in real life."  I think sarcastoyance inadvertently cursed Capt. Prescription-filler into a barrier.  And now he's w/o a car, though the insurance will get him a rental for a little while.

And Father Fiction just emailed me and asked if I could housesit more, until the 23rd.  >_<

oy fucking vey.

Apparently I'm housesitting for Tom Bailey, so still driving back and forth between S-grove and Yuppyshire at least twice a day (it's okay, the big woofies can run outside and fight groundhogs, as they apparently now do).  But right now, I'm at work.  Doing...um...not...work?

Good idea:  Reading for fun.  Bad idea, reading a 625 page novel in the course of two days, especially when one has misgivings about it.  Not the "this is a terrible book" kind, but the "This is well written but I'm not so sure I care about the story/characters" kind.  That being said, I present a book review, since I haven't posted one in about, well, since I first started this journal:
( In a family album, snapshots of a thousand words or more )

So it's the end of the second night of the workshop.  The usual array of insanity has ensued, with photocopying, keeping kids quiet, making sure everybody gets a chance to talk, and--of 6.5 hours in the classroom--leading 4.5 hours of workshop.  It's been okay so far, a pretty good workshop environment, overall.

At lunch yesterday, the Memoirist greeted me with, "Hello, you."  We also reminisced about a Walt Whitman gathering last summer.

Mostly, I feel bad for my cat, who I've only been seeing twice a day, with these little secretive escapes (one at 5 a.m. and the other between the end of workshop and dinner), and she's obviously been antsy during the days.  Poor girl.  I get back to see her and it's like Purr-fest twenty-aught-nine because she's been there all alone.

Also, I have been devastated by the fact that Strong Bad has blown up another computer.  Actually, some punk asked him what explosion he remembers the best and, having concluded that the best explosions came from his computers, Strong Bad blew up Lappy!  >_<

Being anywhere between six to eight years older than the high school kids has been a bit weird, and I feel very...in between the groups here.  It's remarkably odd.  But then again, I've spent the past year hanging out in my apartment on my lonesome or with my cat, so I'm sort of used to the odd/frequent bit of isolation.  Seriously, though, you can't go home again, and this place just isn't the same without my girls.

Tomorrow, more of the same, then more of the same on Thursday and then on Friday.  I suppose it's worth the line on the CV and the money.

Additionally, I saw the most awesome professor to ever don black jeans today, and he called a recent project that aloveaffair and I did, and I quote, "brilliant."

So here's the background:  Student was supposed to be working with the Grand Old Man of Fiction, but he had a summer class and couldn't TA the workshop.  So I, apparently the official second string for the SU Writers Institute, was asked if I'd be willing to come back and do this thing again.  Since I graduated, I had to go through all of the paperwork to become an official hire, and so I'm now officially a member of the Susquehanna faculty.  Cool, no?

This has been the typical first day.  No weird antics to report quite yet, though I imagine there will be a few before the week is out.  Parents couldn't figure out that a room numbered 319 would be above the first floor, so that produced some problems that made me run from Deg to Apfelbaum in order to guide people.  (Love the running, love the running!)  Also, there's a kid from my old high school here, and he's in the Grand Old Man's section, to boot.  Could be awkward, could be interesting.  I'll just have to see how it goes.  It was a usual start, though, lots of mispronounced names from the usual source of mispronounced names, a few awkward interludes during the student orientation session, and then a giant tour (which turned into yours truly talking very loudly to 60 students and perhaps yelling "Allons-y!" several times to get the group moving again).  And like the Doctor, I had to explain, "What?  It's French!  It means 'let's go!'"

Also, I believe in dressing your family in corduroy jackets, wool caps, and blue jeans.  By the end of the tour and the torrential downpour, I was the only person without an umbrella to be remotely dry.

I may not update everyday, just because the schedule is always packed and I still have to make two surreptitious disappearances a day to check on Kaylee Cat.  But she's been really angsty with me the past few days, so maybe she'll appreciate my time away... :-/