ink_splotch: (most days I love life [happy])


1. Kieron's speech on sex, religion and moving with the times is so incredibly lovely.

2. HANNAH!

3. I want an icon that says Gay Catholic Priest Two Times Teenage Boy with Transvestite. Oh, Hollyoaks. Don't ever change.

I have done five hours of note-taking for medieval today, which is quite impressive (for me any way). Perhaps even more impressively, I'm kind of coming around to it. Granted, it's late in the game, but I get points for showing up, right? Also, do I get points for mixing metaphors, there?

Right. Off to do another hour of work and then Feet of Clay as my reward; Discworld is still the best kind of relaxation you can find in book form, particularly Discworld books that include sentences like In which may be found the croutons of teatime, which I need to work into conversation somehow.

(And now, back to Pearl. No. Seriously.)
ink_splotch: (the turtle *moves* [oh yes. oh yes])
Death Insurance -- this is a New Year's Resolution Yuletide fic and I haven't the words to explain how much GLEE I'm getting from it. Seriously, this fic is incredibly excellent; it feature Vetinari, Death, Sam and Sybill Vimes, all in character. Like, perfectly in character. And it's a love story. No, seriously. And I won't tell you the pairing, though it'll become readily apparent, because it is just. that. brilliant. This fic needs to be canonized somehow - it's a new part of my Discworld canon, anyhow. So much love!

And now, back to my essay - almost done, hurrah, hurrah! (It's crap, natch, but it is for my supplementary subject and all I need is a 50 to have a 2.1 for the year, which I'm *fine* with. Seriously. I just want to finish it.)

ETA: Truimph! 2,342 words of English renaissance and not complete crap either! *does dance* And now - Titus Andronicus.
ink_splotch: (essays write thyself! [homework])
Okay, so it used to be the problem was writing 2000 words, right? I mean, that was my crisis about this essay. Two thousand words is a hell of a lot of writing, to my mind.

Except now I'm at 1489 and I haven't even started on why the author in is the circle of mutual identification, not to mention my conclusion and all of this adds up to me being well and truly fucked.

Fuck.

Also, there is a distinct *lack* of secondary quoting going on in this essay. It's not that I didn't read a lot of secondary sources, they just don't seem...useful. Really. In conclusion: screwed. But at least it'll be over on Wednesday - that's what I'm holding on to right now. That, and the fact that I'm seeing my dad on Friday, which means I can't kill myself over English now.

Having something to look forward to besides shopping, laundry and sleep is good. Also being able to read something not related to university or, in particular, to this essay. That'll be nice as well.

Meanwhile, Good Omens, Due South and Sherlock Holmes having being rearing their heads and asking for attention lately, which is just weird - I've been relatively un-fandommy lately (which I'm blaming on university) and suddenly, wham! dS is currently being blamed on the fact that I watched Wilby Wonderful with Ros and Catherine this Saturday - proving, by the way, that Wilby makes everyone happy, because even Ros, who's a bit of a cynic, was getting slightly teary because Dan didn't get to 'kiss the boy', as she put it - and discussing Paul-Gross-As-Fraser with Ros. Oh, fandom, how I ♥ you - and particularly dueSouth, one of the few fandoms where the original material interests me as much as the fanfiction (incidently, the others? West Wing, MASH, Sherlock Holmes and Good Omens. And then quite a few things I'm not fandomy about. But they don't count. Neener-neener)

Anyway. I should probably go figure out how the hell I'm going to make my essay work by noon Wednesday. Hm.

ETA: I'm blaming my unholy glee at the Cheers theme song on lack of sleep. That's what it is.

ETA2: I can't tell you what it is about it exactly, but this totally lends credence to my Carrot = Fraser theory. No, really. The look on his face!
ink_splotch: (the turtle *moves* [oh yes. oh yes])
I've always thought the Song of Solomon is one of the most beautiful passages in the bible. Though I was really disappointed when I got older and realized the "voice of the turtle" line didn't refer to turtles actually talking. I much prefered my own interpretation*g* found here

And suddenly, Small Gods makes a little more sense. Mind you, I enjoyed the book fine before (I *love* Small Gods, it's one of my favourite non-series Discworld books), but I suddenly *get* it.

There's something to be said for Limbo and being up at two in the morning writing Wilby!fic and reading [livejournal.com profile] ds_flashfiction. It's kind of educational! Or possibly that's the coffee talking.

Which reminds me, I kind of need a Monstrous Regiment icon. Hm.
ink_splotch: (the turtle *moves* [oh yes. oh yes])
So I've been reading Discworld today, or rather, I've read Men at Arms and Feet of Clay and for whatever reason I now want to write Ray-is-a-werewolf-fic. Oh c'mon - Carrot and Fraser? Tell me you don't see the parrallels. The voice, the ability to convince everyone of everything, the obliviousness?

Also, Ray would be an awesome werewolf. Stop staring at me like that.

It's possible that I'm still suffering from trauma related to yesterday's shopping trip. I really shouldn't go shopping when I *know* what I want, because then I won't go home until I've got it, which results in me wandering to-and-fro in Copenhagen for six hours, chasing after a pair of jeans (strangely the easiest thing to find - and I never find nice jeans), a bra (which amoung other fun things got me a run-in with H&M's assistants. "Do you have this bra in [size]?" [disbelieving gaze] "Noo - I'm sorry, but a girl of your...size...should perhaps look somewhere else." Well fuck her, because I did finally find a bra.), a pair of sandals (and why in hell am I suddenly a size 39 when usually I'm a 41?), two very nice shirts (yeah for flowy shirts!) and gifts.

Six hours. Six hours. I almost had a breakdown in Magasin (a department store); Celine Dion alternating with techno, eight million women looking for shoes, jeans, dresses etcetera at cheapest possible price, with humid warmth clinging to everything and one dressing room to share - at one point, sitting down, drinking some water and turning up Keeping the Faith on my iPod became nessecary so I didn't either breakdown or start yelling.

But I was successful and buying shoes was an experience - apparently the newest fashion is shoes-to-invade-Troy-in. I wish I'd brought my camera, because seriously, these shoes, sandals with thick straps, sort of like these. I was weirdly tempted to buy them, except sanity took over and reminded me that I wanted shoes I'd actually wear. But the sandals-for-invading-Troy were an experience.

And now I'm off to watch some Due South before I go to bed. Driving test tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me.

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