a++ would smuggle into space again

So yesterday was PMS and tomorrow will be cramps, but today, today is the random bit of ebuillence that comes before the emotional tide that will roar and obliterate us all. Also, creativity! Although damn this play to hell for deciding to be about democracy. I refuse to have it. I will make it about the celebrity culture if I have to but I will not champion rule by the people any more than I have to, damn you Iphigenia, damn you stupid Chorus and your mob-like ways. Maybe the mob can eat Iphigenia. Maybe that would be a good endin'. All your 'g's are belong to Josh.

College essays go remarkably similar, except for that they are about feminism and not about democracy, because my mother reasonably refuses to let me write about how both Israel and their antagonists suck, and then mail it in as an actual college essay. Blast her! Perhaps I will write about where I go on the Cartesian plane today instead, like a good University of Chicago applicant. I think I am in the Mandelbrot set!

demonic9yearold is next on the friendsmême. HOORAH. I particularly encourage friendin' Zoe because she is a giant, squishy lemon pigeon. She understands me to a remarkable degree -- the number of my friends who can understand me when I'm going "But, but the gay, Zoe, the gay! *swoon*" is limited, believe me. Let me tell you an anecdote to explain the joy of this woman:

Once upon a time I was feeling low and unfortunate, due to the school year ending and my stress levels skyrocketing. Zoe left a tiny handwritten note in my box full of love and joy. (I think I drew her a ghey prawn in some sort of petty exchange? It was a sad effort and she deserved better.) We talked that night on AIM and I requested a goat, delivered to my box. There were space reasons preventing this; instead she found a little boxtop and cracked it, labeling it "CRACK, get it?" and a tiny wooden frog. I still have the tiny wooden frog. It lives in the pocket of my jean jacket and is the real reason I will never give that jean jacket to ariastar, because the frog talisman has made it holy.

On top of all this she is a charming writer (this word applies in a nonpatronising sense! Read her Rutherford! omgz.) and a really damn fabulous actor and I would never rather pretend to be married to anyone else, or have to restrain anyone else's imaginary boyfriend, or watch anyone else try to be a Teenaged Girl (with caps) when actually she is the personification of joy and should not have to go through such horrors in the name of drama!

IN SUM demonic9yearold SHOULD BE YOUR BESTEST FRIEND BECAUSE SHE IS A GIANT SQUISHY LEMON PIGEON.

... is there a store you can go to get your groove back? Like, a Mojos R Us? I would like that very much right now.

*kicks her ungroovy self, also her ungroovy uterus*

*but has just had hot chocolate, so feels better*

Hello! I ... am tired but want distracting while I try to write a paper. *ponders* Anyone up for an interview/questions même? (I ask you five to ten questions, you respond in your LJ and ask me five to ten questions which I also have to answer. It is Fun, when you are an exhibitionist, and come on, man, we're all on LJ.)

Storyboard folken: any good threads the Lady or Radmyr could get in on? (I want to hit Myrissin with a brick right now. She never ever had a groove.)

My feet are sore because I walked places. My fingers are sore from DOOM. (Wtf, fingers.) My back is sore because I hauled boxes. My head is sore because that is what my body does to me instead of cramps. My brain is sore because of stupid people in the conference and because arguing with Caitlin takes effort, hee I love having friends who are smarter than I am. My eyes are sore from computer screen. My lungs are sore 'cause I think I may have a cold.

Despite all of this, am quite happy. *beams at the lot of you* But bitching is fun. So I am. *g*

Bitch, bitch, bitch.