my epiglottis needs to start working properly.

In the absence of the matriarch, I made dinner.

Now I feel like a ~real woman. *succumbs to society*

it was acceptable at the time.

Reading too much on l4d at night gives me the willies.

Not sure if can bring self to play MW2 (or any game involving human nemises). I mean, you kill people! and dogs (which is especially =(, since humans are bastards by defult)! I have been told I should try not to humanize my games, but I genuinely can't help it. This is why Prototype scares me so much. What if it happened in real life? What if massive wanton destruction could be possible on a scale even wider than it is possible now? (I hear you, people screaming IT IS JUST A GAME. Jeesh. Lemme retain my ~compassion).

Was also terrified by Catch-22, although it is commonly heralded as the inspiration for the term "black comedy". What is so funny about seeing the war effort trivialised by bureaucracy, I ask you. I was terrified for the chaplain when he was being interrogated re: Washington Irving/Irving Washington. I dunno why I always choose to concentrate on the gravity of the situation rather than the fluff.  But come on. The sheer inability of the Group (and it's commanding subordinates) to make rational decisions about a war that is putting lives at risk is. Ugh. I can't even. War makes me queasy in the stomach and sad in the brain.


Chocolat was fine, if slightly heavy handed on the anti-religion stance. Well, anti-religious intermediataries rather than the actual religion. But +10 for the chocolate porn (not literally, although that would be... eh, interesting). Also now I want to name my next pet Pantoufle. Maybe one of the hammies? Hmm.

"You think too much" is a popular refrain re: my tendency to think to much. So what? Have to fill the hours somehow. Plus it stops me from... it stops me.

Y'know, I should start writing again.

~REAL LADIES DON'T GO FOR GIGOLOS~

Oh I have terrible, terrible taste in music.

So I was just cleaning out my ipod (NO NO I HAVE TO DRAG MY PRESHIOUS SONGS OUT KICKING AND SCREAMING), and I found this lovely tune by a Eurovision winner (I think?) anyway she's Greek, and I suspect this was a line dancing song my mother guilted me into downloading, and I found myself inexplicably addicted to it.

Now with such scintillating lyrics as: "I'm not your average bimbo, lost in limbo". Indeed.

Anyway this lovely lady is like two artistes down from Grayceon

Schizo much.

Also, what the hell is Good Charlotte doing on my ipod?

History assignments. ugh. Yes I know they are good for me and I wouldn't study otherwise but still. Ugh.

Disaster.

Aww, you think. Sho pwetty.

Well unfortunately they're all mushy and weird inside.

At least I made them look decent.

Oh and I forgot to use unsalted butter for the caramel, so it reeks of butter. Yech. And now I have a bowl of it in the fridge, because again I end up with less cupcakes than the recipe suggested. Hmph.

Gtfo cupcakes. I'll stick to muffins. They've never failed me yet.

Oh and I melted a spatula. This is fun.

ETA: my mum thinks they taste fine. And they are surprisingly delectable. No trace of coffee at all though. Damn you weak free trade coffee. Oh well.

THIS IS HOW A HEART BREAKS

I know that song is old, but I still love it.

My dreams've been pretty epic lately. Note to self: don't run away from ZQ. It's not rape if I want it.

Oh, history was, umm. We'll see.

It is late (early) and I am hungry.

PS Am amazed at juvenility (juvenileness?) of people my age. Seriously, guys. Courting isn't that hard.

Utter disregard

D=

ohnozohnoz.

This isn't good at all.

it's what you do, not say.

so despite my love of being low key, I still would've liked to feel like a celebrant. Wouldn't you?

But oh, it was only a few days before a (major, future-determining) event.
bloody crap, di-anne, don't be selfish.
(inner child demanding attention)

sigh. Hello, adulthood.

but it would've been so nice if--

nevermind.

Occasionally, regardless of my abhorrence for tack, predictability, and the seeming childishness of certain rituals, ... well, let's just say I was wistful, and leave it at that.

PS Obvs I want attention because I would not be posting this publicly otherwise. But truthfully I know well enough to not be an idiot tyvm. Just complainin' to the world.

PPS At least I had you. Of course you were stymied by my reluctance to share (or, as most people would call it, selfishness), but then you just accepted it and moved on.

Note to self: That's what people do. They move on.

This post brought to you by the letter V for Vague, and W for Whiny.