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eredienYeats, "The Song of the Wandering Aengus." My favorite poem. Yeat's work is poetry, true, but if (most of) his stuff can't be classified as fantasy, I don't know what can be.
Also, I am at the library, and don't have my other books in front of me.
--
A good thing: I am looking for apartments, etc., once again and realized I can utilize the libraries for this purpose instead of complaining how my internet connection never lets me do anything.
Two bad things: my sister is moving to college, and I cannot go with her, because I have to watch the dog. Lotusblosm is moving to Washington D.C. next week.
A good thing: Even more impetus to move.
Sei and Spooniest came and visited this past weekend; we had a marvelous time. Sei kept saying it reminded her of rural Virgina, which I found amusing because I thought about New York when I was in rural Virginia. There was a small snafu where the three-hour drive back took five, but it was okay. We had a great time just sitting around, talking. I miss that at home very badly. I'm sorry if I startled you two, but I think that was about a month's worth of pent-up conversation in four days.
My grandparents (mom's side) live in the town where the tropical storm hit, but they're ok--basically, only their water, power, AC, and electricity went out. I was glad to hear it. (It's probably not right to say that you like one set of grandparents more than the other, but I do. I can't help it. I love my mom's dad, but she's so very loud and exuberant most of the time, chittering away with her friends like a bird. We don't have very much in common to talk about...I find it hard to keep up and was intimidated by her energy as a small child. Now, when I would like to go and do things with her and have the time, she can't leave because of her hip and vision problems. Sigh.)
I have been awfully grumpy lately, as for about three days I have been in one of those moods when one has immense amounts of excess energy to burn off and cannot seem to find a constructive outlet for it.
Today, I decided, "after I get dinner, I will be constructive and go to the library again and look for apartments and jobs." So I'd planned much of my evening around the library's hours--it's open until 9 pm. (Last evening I'd been planning to do the same thing, except I had to cover a news story and so that took four hours out of my evening. I was, however, able to chat on the phone with rabidfangurl. Ask her about the fanfic with the Anass.)
I got home at six, and no one was home. This is not unusual, just disappointing. Often my entire evening gets frittered away waiting for something that never shows up--like dinner--or someone to come home so we can have dinner. Perhaps I will start calling it the mythical meal.
At six, I turned on The Simpsons. I do not watch much TV, so when I can catch the show I like to watch it.
The upstairs television's reception has been getting steadily worse for the past two years, and (despite my pleas and offers to help climb about near the chimmney-pots) my father will not, does not, and has not yet put up the TV-antenna-rotator, which would enable us to get more TV channels and let the ones we already get come in much better. (We have had this piece of equipment for a year and a half, and cannot put it up in the snow or rain. I would put it up myself, but it has vanished into the Schwarzchild Radius that surrounds both our garage and basement and I cannot find it.) The TV in the living room is at least 20 years old, possibly more, and the picture tube is broken so all of the TV image is squished onto the top half of the screen.
So, my one choice for watching this show is the large TV in the den. Which my parents usually overtake when they come home, by fiat.
Except that the news comes in well on both the old TV and the upstairs TV, while trying to watch The Simpsons on either of these is...well, I'd rather play with my cat.
Dad: It's 6. Please turn the news on.
Me: I'm watching the Simpsons.
Dad: But the news is on. Go watch that in the other room.
Me: I can't. That TV doesn't go up to channel 33.
Dad: Go watch it upstairs.
Me: It doesn't come in upstairs. But if we installed the antenna rotator like I wanted to four months ago, it would.
Dad: Ok, I'll go watch it in the other room, then. [stalks off as if he has been slighted and is doing me a favor]
During a commercial break [to sister]: I wonder if we are going to eat dinner. When did this kind of conversation become normal?
Sister: I talked about pizza with her a while ago but nothing seems to have happened. [To Mom] She says pizza's ok with her, too.
Mom: That's nice. I'll talk to your father.
(Note: - My sister and I did not fix anything for ourselves, because my mother is always saving food for something. I don't know what. Perhaps we have a bomb shelter I'm unaware of. But the end result of making a can of green beans or cooking up the frozen chicken or starting water for pasta will be: "what are you doing? I was planning on eating that next Tuesday!" If we make a snack, the response is: "Why are you eating that toast? We were just about to sit down to dinner." Just about is usually an hour in my house.
- My father was in the doghouse from Monday, when he was told to buy fish and got german sausages instead.)
Six Forty-Five pm: Do you know when the first little drops of rain fall on the roof and you can tell just from the way they hit that in approximately forty seconds, Noah's flood will wipe everything off the face of the earth? I go into the other room to check, unhopefully, on the progress of the pizza.
Mother, sprawled on the sofa, looking exhausted *because she never does anything*: Hi. Give me a hug.
Me [disinclined to hug with actual loving intent and hating it, wishing she'd come right out and say it's my filial duty like the Greeks did because it'd be easier, and my heart would feel lighter, hugs her]: Hi. What about the pizza?
Mom: I was going to ask your father.
Dad [comes downstairs, burned from the sun again despite his doctor's warnings about sunscreen and his benign cancer]: What? *looks at mother, as if her mere presence makes food spontaneously appear*
Mother: We've been through this. Please go and get some meat.
Me: Oh goody. He was asked to buy meat earlier today and didn't get it. I wonder if he forgot, or if we really don't have enough money to get meat tonight. That's rather pathetic.
Something is said. I hear the raindrops and leave the room.
Sister, on phone to new roommate [mouths]: What about the pizza?
Me: I dunno. I'll meet you at 10 at the restaurant to get two-for-one appetizers because I can tell I'm not getting fed here tonight. I could go get something to eat out. Oh wait, I can't, because almost all my last paycheck is already spent from student loans and that unexpected doctor's bill my parents just now told me I had to pay. I hope I don't get picked for jury duty next week and just have to call in, because I really need to make up the work I missed over vacation and $15/day is a really bad paycheck and will delay my actually saving enough money to make moving possible until even longer.
As I get in car, mother screams out window to father: Well, are you going to get meat?
Dad: Who cares?
Mom: "Who cares?" That's a bitchy thing to say.
Me, as I leave: I hope I am never so petty. I am so glad I decided to spend most of my evening planning on how I am going to move. I'll be in a much better mood when I come home, which I hope is as late as possible. I feel like I'm in highschool without all my friends being around to turn to.
So I'm a bit angry, and not entirely in a good mood. What I can't figure out is--we are their children who need food. Why don't they feed us?
At least I requested some books on alchemy from the library.
Also, I am at the library, and don't have my other books in front of me.
--
A good thing: I am looking for apartments, etc., once again and realized I can utilize the libraries for this purpose instead of complaining how my internet connection never lets me do anything.
Two bad things: my sister is moving to college, and I cannot go with her, because I have to watch the dog. Lotusblosm is moving to Washington D.C. next week.
A good thing: Even more impetus to move.
Sei and Spooniest came and visited this past weekend; we had a marvelous time. Sei kept saying it reminded her of rural Virgina, which I found amusing because I thought about New York when I was in rural Virginia. There was a small snafu where the three-hour drive back took five, but it was okay. We had a great time just sitting around, talking. I miss that at home very badly. I'm sorry if I startled you two, but I think that was about a month's worth of pent-up conversation in four days.
My grandparents (mom's side) live in the town where the tropical storm hit, but they're ok--basically, only their water, power, AC, and electricity went out. I was glad to hear it. (It's probably not right to say that you like one set of grandparents more than the other, but I do. I can't help it. I love my mom's dad, but she's so very loud and exuberant most of the time, chittering away with her friends like a bird. We don't have very much in common to talk about...I find it hard to keep up and was intimidated by her energy as a small child. Now, when I would like to go and do things with her and have the time, she can't leave because of her hip and vision problems. Sigh.)
I have been awfully grumpy lately, as for about three days I have been in one of those moods when one has immense amounts of excess energy to burn off and cannot seem to find a constructive outlet for it.
Today, I decided, "after I get dinner, I will be constructive and go to the library again and look for apartments and jobs." So I'd planned much of my evening around the library's hours--it's open until 9 pm. (Last evening I'd been planning to do the same thing, except I had to cover a news story and so that took four hours out of my evening. I was, however, able to chat on the phone with rabidfangurl. Ask her about the fanfic with the Anass.)
I got home at six, and no one was home. This is not unusual, just disappointing. Often my entire evening gets frittered away waiting for something that never shows up--like dinner--or someone to come home so we can have dinner. Perhaps I will start calling it the mythical meal.
At six, I turned on The Simpsons. I do not watch much TV, so when I can catch the show I like to watch it.
The upstairs television's reception has been getting steadily worse for the past two years, and (despite my pleas and offers to help climb about near the chimmney-pots) my father will not, does not, and has not yet put up the TV-antenna-rotator, which would enable us to get more TV channels and let the ones we already get come in much better. (We have had this piece of equipment for a year and a half, and cannot put it up in the snow or rain. I would put it up myself, but it has vanished into the Schwarzchild Radius that surrounds both our garage and basement and I cannot find it.) The TV in the living room is at least 20 years old, possibly more, and the picture tube is broken so all of the TV image is squished onto the top half of the screen.
So, my one choice for watching this show is the large TV in the den. Which my parents usually overtake when they come home, by fiat.
Except that the news comes in well on both the old TV and the upstairs TV, while trying to watch The Simpsons on either of these is...well, I'd rather play with my cat.
Dad: It's 6. Please turn the news on.
Me: I'm watching the Simpsons.
Dad: But the news is on. Go watch that in the other room.
Me: I can't. That TV doesn't go up to channel 33.
Dad: Go watch it upstairs.
Me: It doesn't come in upstairs. But if we installed the antenna rotator like I wanted to four months ago, it would.
Dad: Ok, I'll go watch it in the other room, then. [stalks off as if he has been slighted and is doing me a favor]
During a commercial break [to sister]: I wonder if we are going to eat dinner. When did this kind of conversation become normal?
Sister: I talked about pizza with her a while ago but nothing seems to have happened. [To Mom] She says pizza's ok with her, too.
Mom: That's nice. I'll talk to your father.
(Note: - My sister and I did not fix anything for ourselves, because my mother is always saving food for something. I don't know what. Perhaps we have a bomb shelter I'm unaware of. But the end result of making a can of green beans or cooking up the frozen chicken or starting water for pasta will be: "what are you doing? I was planning on eating that next Tuesday!" If we make a snack, the response is: "Why are you eating that toast? We were just about to sit down to dinner." Just about is usually an hour in my house.
- My father was in the doghouse from Monday, when he was told to buy fish and got german sausages instead.)
Six Forty-Five pm: Do you know when the first little drops of rain fall on the roof and you can tell just from the way they hit that in approximately forty seconds, Noah's flood will wipe everything off the face of the earth? I go into the other room to check, unhopefully, on the progress of the pizza.
Mother, sprawled on the sofa, looking exhausted *because she never does anything*: Hi. Give me a hug.
Me [disinclined to hug with actual loving intent and hating it, wishing she'd come right out and say it's my filial duty like the Greeks did because it'd be easier, and my heart would feel lighter, hugs her]: Hi. What about the pizza?
Mom: I was going to ask your father.
Dad [comes downstairs, burned from the sun again despite his doctor's warnings about sunscreen and his benign cancer]: What? *looks at mother, as if her mere presence makes food spontaneously appear*
Mother: We've been through this. Please go and get some meat.
Me: Oh goody. He was asked to buy meat earlier today and didn't get it. I wonder if he forgot, or if we really don't have enough money to get meat tonight. That's rather pathetic.
Something is said. I hear the raindrops and leave the room.
Sister, on phone to new roommate [mouths]: What about the pizza?
Me: I dunno. I'll meet you at 10 at the restaurant to get two-for-one appetizers because I can tell I'm not getting fed here tonight. I could go get something to eat out. Oh wait, I can't, because almost all my last paycheck is already spent from student loans and that unexpected doctor's bill my parents just now told me I had to pay. I hope I don't get picked for jury duty next week and just have to call in, because I really need to make up the work I missed over vacation and $15/day is a really bad paycheck and will delay my actually saving enough money to make moving possible until even longer.
As I get in car, mother screams out window to father: Well, are you going to get meat?
Dad: Who cares?
Mom: "Who cares?" That's a bitchy thing to say.
Me, as I leave: I hope I am never so petty. I am so glad I decided to spend most of my evening planning on how I am going to move. I'll be in a much better mood when I come home, which I hope is as late as possible. I feel like I'm in highschool without all my friends being around to turn to.
So I'm a bit angry, and not entirely in a good mood. What I can't figure out is--we are their children who need food. Why don't they feed us?
At least I requested some books on alchemy from the library.
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*hugs*
18/8/04 20:40 (UTC)I'm sure things will get better. In time, you'll feel like these things are important parts of your youth, but right now, I'm certain you're hating it all.
Maybe, given some time to get things (is: finances) straigtened out, Purr and I can get to Anthrocon and help you kill a giant pizza for dinner. };=*)
Gah.
18/8/04 20:46 (UTC)Here is a cybernetic llama to keep you company through your travails.
**hands you a llama**
--R
(no subject)
18/8/04 22:49 (UTC)(no subject)
19/8/04 04:10 (UTC)I'm glad you are looking for apartments & such. In Boston? *looks hopeful* (Only because we like you and having you nearby would be yay, but it seems like the important thing is just for you to move out.)
*hugs*
19/8/04 07:10 (UTC)(no subject)
20/8/04 04:01 (UTC)I can also relate to the event horizon in the garage. We can just about fit two motorcycles in ours, which is deep enough for two cars. In absence of a basement, we make do with putting our junk in miscellaneous spare bedrooms -- not much of an improvement, really.
So yes, I can definitely understand your desire to move, and hope you manage to do so soon.
(no subject)
22/8/04 15:15 (UTC)Breimh--I hope you can get to the con sometime. I'd be really happy to help with that pizza!