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(no subject) [May. 17th, 2013|04:18 pm]
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Have sent no job applications so far this wee, and IIRC none last week either.

Also I am waitressing 6am-2pm and 4pm-11pm tomorrow. Also there are at least two events that I 'ought to'/want to go to tonight and I feel massively guilty that I can't do both. Also not sure I want to go to *either*, what with my present mood of hating everything.

(On the plus side, have lovely new red blazer as replacement for the one I lost two years ago. Also, I will definitely post pictures of my birthday-presents-to-self soon. They include an MJN Air t-shirt.)
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Relevent to (some of your) interests [Apr. 30th, 2013|03:50 pm]
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My new, unbroken ereader had arrived! Which means that I can get back to A Place Of Greater Safety, which I was forced to abandon half way through, not really feeling up to reading five hundred-odd pages on the screen of my phone, as excellent as those pages were. (My increasing sense of DOOM and the nowledge it would all go downhill from that point also contributed, I confess.)
Am currently at the bit whereCollapse )
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All packed up and ready... [Mar. 28th, 2013|08:15 pm]
Well, my darlings, am heading off to sunnier climes tomorrow with my parents and C, so contract is likely to be sporadic over the next two weeks. Please nobody do anything particularly important and worthy of immediate comment in that time?
I was also going to use the "D" meme that littlered2 has assigned me in order to play Let Me Talk To You About Diana Wynne Jones, with particular emphasis on Dogsbody, Deep Secret and Dalemark, but alas, phone keyboard is annoying, and also I an bring bugged by C to finish up so that she can 'check on her dragons on my phone' so I will say goodbye here. Be good!

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Mum is reading Prisoner of Azkaban to C and they Ste at the insulting parchment scene. "Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that could ever become a professor....
~ glee~
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STOP-PRESS [Mar. 23rd, 2013|11:17 pm]
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Exclusive new episode of All The Terrible Cakes!

This Coffe and Walnut Cake with coffee icing and praline bits (om nom praline) failed in the opposite manner to last week's disastrous Red Velvet, in that it tastes perfectly good, it is just Everything Else that is wrong.

I accidently nudged the thermoneter dial from 160o up to Maximum while keeping watch over a pan of praline and within five minutes the top layer of cake became a little ... incinerated. But! That layer was cut off and everything was perfectly fine, though the loss of the crust meant that the icing got rather crumby. As you may be able to see.

Sometimes my cooking does bother me, but I think over time I've come to view it as equivalent to any other moderatly expensive and occaisionally wasteful hobby. (Which is a postive thing! That sounds really bad when I put it like that.) But then, as Cabin Pressure showed me very quickly, I do have rather a lot in common with Arthur, and the ability to create Surprising Rice and Fizzy Yoghurt (recipe for the latter: yoghurt+time) is perhaps one of those points of similarity. :P
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Hot toddies [Mar. 23rd, 2013|11:04 pm]
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So, I haz cold. This is all frith_in_thorns fault, nyah. Since, unlike hers, it has not yet evolved into Dethflu, I am counting my blessings.

The one thing that is very nice about illness, however, is my recently-evolved tradition (i.e. since I went to university and did not have to worry about my parents Judging my terrible life choices) of Spontaneous Hot Toddies. Growing up, honey and lemon, drunk as hot as you can physically bear, was the sore throat remedy of choice and household mandate. (Frith claims that sweetened hot milk was hers, but that seems a really wrong and strange practice to me. What traditional illness recipes did you all grow up with?) When I was ill and bored in Second Year, I started to ... modify the honey and lemon slightly. At first I started by trying to make actual proper toddies, but I was a housebound/poor/any student and my ingredients were limited. So!

Soon, variation became the fun of it - the recipe I generally go by now is:
Strongest alcohol on hand + most tasty alcohol on hand + fruit juice, or other citrus-based soft drink + spices. Microwave, and then breathe in the alcohol fumes to clear your nasal passages. (I DID make mention above of my terrible life choices, ne?)

It is always different, which is the fun of it. However, last night I made what I feel to be the ultimate version, and going entirely against the spirit of Surprising Toddies, I am going to record my formula for posterity.
*Dram (probably a shot and a half) of rum.
*Decent splash of ginger wine
*Shot or so of lemon juice, plus a splash of weird artificial tropical squash
*Spices - cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg. Chopped ginger.
*Oregano, splash of Worcester sauce, a few chilli flakes.
Heat, stir and serve.

You, dear reader, are probably judging this combination HARD right now, I would imagine. But it was really, really good!
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Still ticking along [Mar. 17th, 2013|10:31 pm]
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Cabin Pressure has EATEN me body and soul. I have spent the last two weeks in the throes of obsession, and by this point, most of my conversations lead back to MJN Air in some way, shape or form. (It was Birling Day yesterday! And since by my Grandad’s account Wales utterly routed England, Birling would have no doubt been in a generous frame of mind. Well, if he wasn’t fictional.)

Yesterday, I waitressed at a wedding where the venue owner was into taxidermy in a BIG way. I tripped over a lion’s tail at one point; luckily didn’t actually spill any gravy. My favourite, though, was the pair of polar bears, one on all fours and draped in a large union flag, and the other rearing and wearing aviator sunglasses. I cannot tell you how badly I wanted a picture...

There was also a dodo skeleton! And each table place was set with a little bottle of vodka as a party favour. I think posh waitressing has ruined me for my expectations of weddings though; I’m not sure anything I go to as a guest will quite compare with some of these dos.

I’m still running the job interview gauntlet – I’ve been shortlisted for LOADS of things, and several of them have made a point of telling me that I was their second choice, or that I should apply again if they have other jobs going – but none of them have hired me! Arrg, it’s so frustrating!

What other news do I have? Last week was [Bad username: frith_in_thorns] birthday and I made what must surely be my Worst Cake Ever. This including the cakes I made gleefully when I was younger than Caitlin. It was supposed to be Red Velvet, and it tasted so red! The texture was so bad! I mean, I cook often enough that I’ve had a corresponding number of failed adventures, but this particular cake was truly and utterly dreadful. Though the outside, at least, looked pretty – Frith, do you have the picture you took?
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(no subject) [Feb. 17th, 2013|12:55 am]

... I have never bofore hosted a party where everyone is sitting in their own corner with an Internet connection and posting things at each other while drunk.
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No volcanoes neccesary here, luckily... [Feb. 14th, 2013|12:27 am]
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[Current Location |Ba Sing Se, Oxford]
[mood |happyhappyhappy]

So, last week frith_in_thorns and I were in between episodes of BSG (BEST SHOW EVERYONE SEE IT)...
Frith: Can I ask you what may be a silly question?
Frith: Are we in a relationship?
Me: Um. I don’t know. Probably?
Frith: Because I’ve been wondering for a while if we are or not.
Me: Yeah, same. Are we?

Upshot is, as of then, we actually ‘properly’ are. Which announcement has been greeted alternately with hysterical laughter (Z. – at least, I assume she laughed hysterically, capslock FINALLY was her actual response) and confusion (TolkSoc, various) on the assumption that we’d been dating this last year or so.
So! There’s your memo.

We went to The Mechanisms ‘Steampunk Soiree’ on Saturday, where that band of immortal space pirates debuted their latest show Ulysses Dies At Dawn. I am going to do a proper write-up of the gig tomorrow, because the Mechs are awesome and everyone should see them and be transported with rapture and give them money. They exceeded their initial Indiegogo fundraiser for this album ridiculously quickly after the show. Which is awesome.

I would, in addition, post a picture of my nails, which were gorgeous and lovely and painted in alternating shades of sparkly sea-blue and matt pink. I have been meaning to do this all week. But alas, I unthinking painted over them with slightly-less-interesting purple not fifteen minutes ago. You will all just have to imagine their awesome beauty instead. (Frith chose the polishes, gauging my taste with the criteria: What would appeal to a seven-year-old? Since she chose impeccably, I can’t object too much at being maligned.)

(The 'awesome things' tag refers to Frith and not my nails. She is mocking me in the background as I type this.)
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In the bosom of my family... [Dec. 26th, 2012|01:44 pm]
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Well, I have survived both hospital and Christmas! The latter was even rather pleasant – we had the by-now traditional my-sister-was-too-excited-to-sleep-last-night midday argument, with much shouting and slamming of doors, but it passed relatively quickly and the rest of the day went without a hitch. Bar, that is, my mum’s disappointment that C had got up at three in the morning to open her stocking and that mum hadn’t got to see her face as she opened her expensive, desperately wanted but unlooked-for presents. But we played games and C had fun with her arts-and-craftsy presents and Christmas dinner was delicious.

Hospital stuff, including brief weight and food stuff discussionCollapse )

Anyway, that is the State Of The Eleanor – I am not at home, trying (and failing, rather, but I am trying) to Take It Easy and Remember You Should Be Resting, Ellie. A District Nurse has been coming round daily to change my dressings (!). I spent yesterday writing a few last minute drabbles for fandom_stocking – the first fic I’ve written in years, literally. I’m sorry to have been so rubbish about communicating – I AM thinking of you all, my dears, rather a lot, and am really looking forward to catching up at greater length soon. Merry Christmas!

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So, Dollhouse... [Jun. 22nd, 2012|12:05 am]
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[music |Heather Dale, Hero]

A list of slightly incoherent and disordered things that are in my brain after watching the first twelve episodes of Dollhouse.

We"re pimps and killers, but in a philanthropic way.Collapse )
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(no subject) [Jun. 21st, 2012|11:59 pm]
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[Current Location |Lancaster the wet]

Wow, I haven't posted in a long time. First there was exams and finals-term crazy; and then the longer I go before actually sitting down and writing the stuff in my head, the more there is that I totally need to tell and the more News I find it my duty to impart. So, nothing gets written because there is too much to write. But I am going to try and Interact More Dammit, (I love it when I do; I don't know why I find it so hard to make the first step...)

I'm back home now, in Recovery Mode from Oxford and trying to figure out where I'm at. My plan is to tae driving lessons and do some kind of volunteering this summer before going to live in Oxford in September and find some kind of work there. Not very exact planning, but hopefully workable. The only awkward thing to plan around is that I'm having another operation on my oesophagus in October -  more thoughts to come on that, but the gust is that things still aren't great for me, eating-wise, but the only specialist in the Northwest is away from the end of May to the end of September, so unless I'd come home literally the day after my exams and been operated on the following Monday, he couldn't do anything any earlier. I think he (the specialist) is Worried for me in that respect; I infer that most of his cases get picked up very early on and get sorted out definitivly, so he's not used to conceptualising achalasia as a livable, longterm condition. He worries about me coping over the summer - but fuck it, I've been coping with this for years now, it's not like having to live with it is anything new.

I had a conversation with Mum yesterday about Things Which Make Me Unhappy (Many) with particular focus on Things I Don't Like To Admit To But Should (Various, mostly food and drink related anxieties), which was good to get in the open, but hard - it's exhausting talking about feelings you don't think you should have, and I hate adding to my parents stress by being unhappy; they've got quite enough on there plates with my inconvenient feelings. (Though I can see, objectivly, that that is a stupid way to think about it, I hate to burden them.)

Being back is weird - it's going to take some getting used to living with C without having my degree course hanging over me and the perpetual distraction of all the work I'm not doing. I'm used to holidays following a set pattern, and now I'll have to forge a new - hopefully more open - mode of communication. It's hard. I'm not good at taking Herself on her own terms. I can barely undersand her sense of humour, nor she mine; we understand the world in very different ways and I can't unbend myself enough to reach out. I find myself becoming horribly pious and humourless and hypocritical with her, as though embodying The Good Daughter would be any help at all!

I meant for this to be a post to communicate my Thoughts on Dollhouse to alll four interested parties, and most particu;larly <lj user="littlered2"> who has been waiting to here them most patiently, with a short paragraph of here-I-am-now as preface. But this has gone on long enough that I will split the post and cry mercy for your f'lists. I need to sleep now...
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(no subject) [Apr. 17th, 2012|09:32 pm]
[mood |slightly manic]

Dear CoffeeRepublic: "Iced lemon tea" is not water+lemon syrup+ice; I could make that at home for about three pence. Thank you.

Dear Oxford: I don’t know enough about how your disciplinary procedures generally work to pass judgement, but I am not impressed with the way the Proctors’ investigation into my late coursework was entirely between the proctors and the College academic admins. If you’re making decisions about my work, having said final decisions forwarded onto me from intermediaries without any direct contact seems a little ... off.

Dear Proctors: If I could receive your judgement fining my £50 earlier than THE DAY BEFORE I HAVE TO PAY BY, it would be appreciated. Because telling people they have to pony up by the next day OR ELSE is more than a little off. Luckily I had the money to hand; I can’t imagine every student, at the start of term, would have spare fifty pounds to fling around.

Dear French Oral on Thursday: I wish I had motivation to revise for you. Please be over soon.

Dear World: Hello! I am back from miolidez and generally pretty okay!  I have lots of nice things to eat! (Including a supply of American confectionary which I bought for the lulz with my remaining dollars at the end of my time in the Virgin Islands. Peanut butter-based chocolate is nom.) I had a delicious bowl of soup and two slices of toast earlier and it all stayed down! I have books and lots and lots of TV to watch! (Korrrrrrrrrrrrrraa!) I also have stress and exams and angst! I have far too many exclamation points! If they are used sequentially, is that still the sure sign of a diseased mind?

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I Aten't dead. [Mar. 27th, 2012|11:43 pm]
Ai. Tomorrow I'm heading off on Adventures with La Famille, and so today has been filled with frantic download-all-the-PDFs ever; get-everything-I-possibly-can-from-the-Uni-library, because if I don't have access to every single paper ever written, I might fail my finals! I'm really looking forward to the holiday though - seeing it as a chance to do two weeks solid work surrounded by sea and sand. Let's just hope it actually turns out like that...

This last week or so's been great - a much-needed recovery space from the traumas of the two papers I handed in 9th Week Hilary; both of which went absolutly fine up until the last minute and then suddenly got awful on me. There was a chain of very minor organisational things that went wrong, all of them my own fault and all of them in isolation completly insignificant that, added together, came up to Doom and Despair and Woe. I'm really frustrated by the fact that, on all three of the hand-in papers I've done so far, my organisational imcompetance overshadowed the work I've put into them all, and will probably -at the least- lead to penalties for lateness.

I haven't much of interest to impart - I keep doing things and thinking 'ooh, I should post about that', but then I never quite get 'round to it until they seem to have faded into irrelevence. Owing to lack of internet on the boat (boat! excite) we're staying, I will probs remain incommunicado. It is Woe, though less so for my than for C, my foster-sister, who will very sadly be deprived of TV and girlsgames.com for that time! (feorseonde bidrorene? At least half of my day has been spent up to my eyeballs in Old English, going though old lecture notes and whatnot to figure out what to take...) Still, I'm sure she'll learn to cope - somehow or other....

I did think that after Hilary was done my posts would be less tinged with Work! Doom! Work! than before. Guessing that won't actually happen until it's all over though....
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Oh my. [Mar. 2nd, 2012|06:25 pm]
[mood |slightly boggled]

There are Natalie Barney naked pictures on Tumblr.

I am ... not sure how I feel about this.
My main feeling, I think, is definite DNW.

(Though seriously, of all the fin-de-siècle lesbians, I am on one level not at all surprised that Natalie's naked pics should be googleable. Oh, Natalie.)
(Also, I was looking up pics of her to put with this Softer World comic. Ahaha.)
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Ugh. [Mar. 1st, 2012|05:19 pm]
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Just found out, while totally virtuously working on my essay (well, for about five minutes at least...) that one of Renee Vivien's girlfriends, Hélène de Rothschild* (de Zuylen de Nyevelt and probably several other names too) had all her papers that she'd kept about Vivien and her art and stuff looted/destroyed by the Nazis during the occupation of Paris.
Seriously, fuck the Nazis.Collapse )
And this half been your daily history lesson about early 20th Century lesbians! I am totally not plotting out High School AU fic or worrying about characterisation of obscure poets, no, definitely not.
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Worky stuff [Feb. 20th, 2012|06:14 pm]
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[Current Location |Cowley]
[mood |totally not stressed!]

I am taking a break from 'pretending to work' to calculate just how much work I have to do. My awesome maths skills are telling me that if I write 5000 words/week for the next three weeks, I will get everything done and even have time to edit and stuff in 9th Week. 5000 words. I can totally do that. Really.
Even more wildly optimistic: I have so far written just over 2000 words on Vivien. Most of it is disjointed, random half-paragraphs on something that struck me as interesting spread over about 50 documents of notes and scribbles, but it exists. If I can write another decent 5000 words this week, my essay will be pretty much finished and I can let my tutor see it and offer suggestions while he actually has time and I can concentrate on my translation portfolio! I live in hope. The fact that I have written 300 words - at most - today and considered it real progress, I will gloss over.
Sitting in Ricks, an awesome French cafe down Cowley which has lots of expensive French pastries and really good coffee and hot chocolate. And macaroons.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic<-(disclaimer: Not actually the same macaroons and probably less delicious.)

I think looking at Google Image pictures of macaroons and macrons is one of the most soothing things possible, particularly when you can also SMELL THEM.

15,000-16,000 words to write before Friday of Ninth

  • <8000 on Vivien
    • 2500
    • 2500
    • 2500
  • Portfolio task 1:
    •  1000 words
    • 1000-1500 word commentary
  •  Portfolio task 2 <2500
    • Translation
    • Commentary
  • Portfolio task 3 1500-2500 words
    • a balanced critical analysis of the theorist’s ideas in the form of a well-structured argument

2325 / 16000 words. 15% done!
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(no subject) [Feb. 5th, 2012|12:42 am]

So, I started to write this, and it suddenly took a hard left turn into medical TMI and a long-winded attempts to get My Thoughts On Achalasia*, And Specifically Where I Am Now, a year after my operation, down on virtual paper - as such I wrote it mainly for my own benefit, and it is very stream-of-couciousy and rambly and tl;dr.

Seriously, begins with digestive TMICollapse )

*Achalasia - a condition I've had for several years. The name means 'failure to relax', which I have just discovered and find rather hilarious; it apparently affects about 1 in 100 000 people a year.
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(no subject) [Feb. 1st, 2012|11:51 pm]

Today, I bought rainbow glittery feather earrings from Claire's.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

I think they are rather fabulous.

(My happiness at having pierced ears and never being obliged to go to Claire's again was short lived. I just can't resist the tacky.)
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(no subject) [Jan. 31st, 2012|11:17 pm]
I've been distracting myself with Victorian porn magazines; whichRead more...Collapse )
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(no subject) [Jan. 30th, 2012|01:32 am]
I have just spent far too long when I should be sleeping and/or working reading the first mina_de_malfois set of stories. I must have passed them by when they were first written, so I've spent the last few hours playing 'spot the reference' and sniggering desperatly as the tale of pseuicide, heds pasted on and online intrigue unfolded, (complete with a full chorus of BNFs, Snapewives, tinhats, closeted ant-slash crusaders and other such internet denizens)  .. I'm not sure I've ever read a character who is, entirely intentionally, Cassandra Claire as played by Bertie Wooster before.

" But at about the same time this grumbling began from the Voices, a new player appeared on the Sanguinity landscape, and I sensed at once that here was a powerful emergent force. Well, just the fact that he’d come to my notice at all was telling, really. He’d dashed onto the scene with a handful of fics that were accomplished enough to briefly float a rumour that he was my sockpuppet, a charge Josh promptly denied, all the while charmingly professing himself flattered by the misunderstanding. ‘Mina can’t have a sockpuppet,’ the Mean Girls sneered. ‘She puts her name to everything, even things she hasn’t written.’ That was an unfair reference to an honest mistake from eons ago, and my friends once again lost no time in leaping repeatedly and energetically to my defence, occasionally accidentally lying in their well-meant enthusiasm."  

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