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brigdh: (Default)
Okay! I have now actually caught up with mostly everything – though it turns out LJ's friendslist doesn't go back any further than skip=675, so possibly I missed some stuff. But I think I was almost caught up by then anyway, so it shouldn't have been much. But again, if there's anything you'd like to point out to me, I welcome comments!

It's good to be back. :D
brigdh: (SQUEE!)
Spren, as the lovely and kind and incredibly awesome person that she is, put together a community all for me, which she told me about to be complete surprise. But I really can't keep these goodies to myself, as other people should get to read them as well (and also leave feedback! Because I can't say 'thank you' enough by myself).

Spren herself posted a gorgeous poem.

A Hisoka drabble by [livejournal.com profile] mistressrenet. G, a dark but excellent take on Hisoka and the other shinigami, and I just adore this story so very much.

Shameless Fluff by [livejournal.com profile] ravenbell. Tsuzuki/Hisoka, PG, and it's so cute and sweet; it's really adorable fluff of the very best kind. Squee!

Man, seriously. Y'all really are too good to me.


Apr. 11th, 2007 06:45 pm
brigdh: (pretty ghetto Goku)
Currently I am supposed to be writing a paper, so of course I am making long posts to livejournal instead.

Despite it continuing to be far too cold, I've been thinking about summer a lot lately. There is nothing certain past the end of the month, but that's so soon. I can't not wonder, or try to plan; when I'm thinking about something else and my mind wanders to half-conscious daydreams of 'in June I'll do this, in July I'll do this, in August I'll do this...', but there are no details to fill in any of the blanks. And I get irritated when people ask, because I have nothing new to say, I haven't heard anything new in months. Not that it's their fault, but I'm tired of always having to say, I don't know. Everything is waiting, waiting to hear about grant applications, about dates, about plans; waiting for specifics from people who are waiting to hear from other people who are themselves waiting on other things, and meanwhile time passes and I keep feeling like I must be missing a hundred deadlines, that something's going to be too late before I realize it.

I'd like to know, for instance, if I will even be on the appropriate continent when my apartment's lease runs out, or if I'll have to move my stuff into storage months earlier and then apartment-hunt from out of a hostel when I return. I'd like to know if where I'll be this summer will have access to electricity, cell phones, the internet, letters, or if I'll be entirely cut off again for months, which seems so much less appealing than it did last time. I'm tired already of having no one nearby who I know well; I don't want to spend months starting yet again with an entirely new group of people.

I walk around, sometimes, and wonder where I'll live next year, and watch the lovely buildings. And there's a lot of them in my part of the city, the old, interesting ones, with the big windows that have carvings around them, and elegant, individual structures, and glimpses of bookcases or tables or lamps inside. That's what I'd like, but I know I could never afford it. So I think, well, I only need a tiny corner of a room, it's not like I own any furniture. And I think, I wouldn't mind not having an elevator, not having air conditioning; I make these intense, carefully thought through decisions of what I would and would not be willing to sacrifice, as though all that matters is deciding, and then there would be such a place. And then I read through apartment ads on craigslist and depress myself.
brigdh: (XD)
It's my birthday! Tell me you love me.
brigdh: (autumn leaves)
I had lunch with a girl I went to grade school with today. Grade school, elementary school, middle school: I'm never sure if other people mean the same things I do when I use those words, and that's just the Americans. So, we went to school together when we were preteens. Maybe 13 at the oldest.

She's the only person I knew in Ohio who lives in New York (well, not counting people I met on the internet), so the chances of us happening to run into each other must have been insanely low, and yet of course we bumped into each other. At Grand Central, no less, which is always too crowded. That was several weeks ago; we made plans to get together some time and had lunch today.

I don't remember grade school being particularly bad. I don't remember high school being particularly bad either though, but lately I've noticed that every single time I tell a story to explain why I'm neurotic about something, it seems to start with the words 'so, I had these friends in high school...' so my perceptions of things are probably not always the most accurate. I do remember desperately wanting grade school to end and high school to start so I could take more classes, do more things, and most important know more people. Of course that lasted about six months and then I started desperately waiting for high school to end so I could go to college for the same reason.

I was friends with this girl back in grade school, but we weren't terribly close, so we had to spend a while doing the 'I haven't seen you in a decade, what do we talk about?' thing. It always sort of amuses me to be able to realize when someone else is feeling awkward and uncertain of what to say, because for the longest time I thought I was the only person who did that. Whenever I see someone who I think of as socially competent doing it now it makes me want to laugh at us- myself and them- for both being so worried over the same thing. But she's nice, and it's interesting to hear stories about people I hadn't even thought of in years.

The thing I remember most about this girl is when I was writing a book and she always wanted to read it. I don't think I ever wrote more than the first few chapters, but I had the whole thing plotted out, and she would let me spend the longest time describing it to her and talking about it. All of the characters were named after various people in our class, and the main character was named after my best friend. Though her personality was clearly based on myself instead of her, since my best friend was afraid to raise her hand to ask questions in school and this character had to fight off serial killers and such. (Uh, not that I've fought off serial killers either.)

It was such a cheesy horror/thriller: about a group of friends who had always teased one boy at their school, until one day they accidentally killed him. But! years later! it turns out he didn't die, and he returns (or is a ghost, or something, I don't remember) to get his revenge on their children! Who he kidnaps and hides in a barn somewhere and is planning to brutally murder, except of course the main character kills him instead. With a hair stick through the eye, I think, proving that clearly I was a resourceful child, if somewhat disturbed.

Anyway, she made some comment about "being still bitter at middle school". I didn't ask her what she meant (...today), but I thought it was interesting. Because, again, I don't remember those years as being so terrible, but I think that's mostly because they didn't seem terrible while I was living them, and I think that's mostly because I didn't have anything else to compare the experience against. It makes me wonder how much people really change, or if we just react to our circumstances. Because certainly I don't behave the same way I did then, but I'm not in the same situation. If I had to live that again for a year, for years, I think I would do the same things I did the first time.

Or that just means I still agree with my decisions. *laughs*


Mar. 1st, 2007 11:03 pm
brigdh: (you so cute)
I was tagged by [livejournal.com profile] ladysisyphus! To play, start by listing 10 weird things/habits/little known facts about yourself. When this is done, choose 10 people to be tagged and write their names at the bottom of your list. No tag backs! Those who get tagged then write their own 10-item list in their own journals. Be sure to include this set of rules.

1. When I was little, I was blonde and blue-eyed. I desperately wanted to have black hair and green eyes, as I was convinced these were the most attractive colorings. When I was around 12 or so, my eyes darkened and changed color slowly, over a year or two, and I currently have green eyes. (Well, dark green-grey.) A few years later, my hair started darkening, and has long since passed the point where it could be called blonde, though it's still more light brown than anything. If it ever reaches black, I will be convinced that I caused these changes through sheer willpower.

In retrospect, I probably should have wished for world peace instead.

2. I pretty sure I've never mentioned on livejournal that I have a tattoo. I got it last June, and kept waiting to get a photo to post, but I didn't have a camera, and once I did, I'd forgotten about it. Anyway, it's over my spine, down between my shoulderblades, in henna brown, and is the kanji for muichimotsu. But not because of Saiyuki! I'd wanted a tattoo for years and years, but could never decide what to get; no matter how much I liked something at the moment, there's just no way to know if I'd still like it in several decades. Twenty years from now, you won't be living in the same world, you won't even be the same person. So what better to get than something which means, essentially, 'changes happens'? I figure if I decide I hate it in the future, it will even be more appropriate. At the moment I answer questions about it by saying that it's a zen koan and sounding philosophical.

And by the way, getting a tattoo does not hurt At All. I was so surprised, because I'd been prepared to be macho and not mind the pain, and then it only felt like a papercut.

3. I memorize things very easily- I once took over the lead role in a play I was in when the lead actress was sick, because I knew all her lines just from having been at rehearsals. On the other hand, I'll forget it just as quickly. This is pretty much as annoying as it is useful, as most things you'd want to memorize are only useful if you can still remember them much later.

4. I try to keep my fingernails painted, because otherwise I'll pick the nails down to the quick.

5. I'm an Aries, a Rat (both the first in their respective zodiacs), and a first-born child. All of these agree that people with these signs should be leaders, aggressive, passionate, short-tempered, and possessive. I am none of these things. But, uh, it's pretty neat that they match up, even if they match up to someone who is not me.

6. I am actually really excited to see the Reno 911!: Miami movie. Shut up, Reno 911! is an excellent TV show which is way more funny than anyone gives it credit for. Forget Borat, these guys improvise too, and do a better job of it.

7. I only very rarely ask people for specific things, such as a favor or if they would like to go do something together, and will even be cautious of sending an email or calling someone, because it seems so personal, and to require such attention to be paid to me. I do this because I am secretly convinced that no one likes me, and don't want to turn into the person who hounds you and doesn't understand personal space and never goes away. I am pretty aware that the main consequence of all of it is just to make me seem avoidant though , and so I give everyone permission to ignore me if I seem formal or unfriendly; most likely I'm just trying to spare you from me.

8. I can put my foot behind my head! But only my right foot, which makes it a bit less impressive. Also, my thumb is double-jointed.

9. When flying in an airplane, I think the best moment is when the plane comes in for a landing- just as the wheels first touch the ground, the whole plane sometimes sort of bounces back up before settling down. That little skip is awesome.

10. Man, coming up with ten things is hard. Um. I hate how my voice sounds in recordings; I had a lisp when I was little, and there are still faint traces of it in how I speak. Most people (of those who hear it at all, a lot of people say they don't notice anything) end up asking if I was born in England or Australia- those two places far and away get the most guesses for the source of my 'accent', but I personally think it sounds like I am mentally handicapped. Which is the main reason why I won't make a voicepost reading one of my stories like I've seen other people do.

I tag: [livejournal.com profile] esrafil, [livejournal.com profile] kessie, [livejournal.com profile] mistressrenet, [livejournal.com profile] parallactic, [livejournal.com profile] redshoeson, [livejournal.com profile] shes_unreal, [livejournal.com profile] veleda_k, [livejournal.com profile] weirdquark, [livejournal.com profile] wesleysgirl, [livejournal.com profile] wolfpilot06!
brigdh: (Ow.)
My bag was stolen today.

I did not think, at first, that it had actually been stolen, mainly because I could not imagine anyone bothering to sneak into a supposedly-secure classroom building, wander around the upper floors until discovering a lab full of noisy people, and dig through a pile of coats and purses to steal only my battered, ancient, plastic bag with a broken zipper, but apparently this is what someone would do.

I still didn't mind much once it became obvious someone else hadn't picked up my bag by accident or kicked it behind a chair, because I'd had less than ten dollars in cash in my wallet, only one credit card which was easy enough to cancel, and I'd needed to buy a new bag anyway.

It wasn't until I started having to fill out a report with the security guards that I realized just how much stuff I've lost. A lot of it is little things; annoying to replace but not worth much: hats and gloves, an umbrella, articles and notes for classes, notebooks of half-written stories and ideas, the expensive lip balm I bought just this morning in an attempt to break the habit of biting my chapped lips until they bleed. But other things are harder to get by without: my passport (along with every single other piece of ID I own, but the passport's what will be hardest to replace), the keys to my apartment. And things that I can't replace, because I couldn't afford to buy them the first time, things that were gifts: my digital camera, my ipod. Clearly I should just not own an ipod, because my first one broke in barely a year, and I didn't even have this one for that long.

And people kept telling me how sorry they were, and what could I do but shrug and smile and say, "it wasn't your fault"? Because it's not like anything I lost was vital, or irreplaceable; none of it's really anything but spoiled middle-class toys. But I am upset. I want my things back, and I want to say how not fair it is that only my stuff was stolen, though I know how utterly inappropriate the concept of 'fair' is to the whole thing, and it's not like I want anyone else to have been stolen from too.

I was terribly calm and amused all through the rest of classes today, but now I say to you, o livejournal people: God! I am so upset and pissed off! I shouldn't cry over an ipod, but I really, really want to.


Dec. 31st, 2006 03:59 pm
brigdh: (What Would Koumyou Do?)
So, it's the new year. Well, almost. It will be the new year in about eight hours, in my time zone. I like how that works; that it's still 2006 here while the year has already changed in other places. I first got the internet just a little before the new year 2000, when I was 15, and there was all that panic about the computers failing and Y2K and civilization collapsing and whatever. I'd been on a message board talking to people the morning of New Year's Eve, and the rest of the day various relatives kept bringing up the imminent doom and I would just say, "Nah, it'll be fine. I was talking to someone in Australia earlier, and they already passed midnight."

Too many things happened this year. I lost my virginity and got a tattoo, graduated from college only to immediately start graduate school, and moved far away from everyone I know. I had multiple family members die; I had my faith in humanity (what little of it there was) shaken by meeting crazy racist guy; people I know got married (!) and had babies (!!); I met people off of livejournal and had strangers be terribly nice to me. I'm probably forgetting a large number of equally important events.

Last year, for the holidays, I got a lot of people presents, or wrote them emails letting them know how much they meant to me. I didn't do that this year, because I am poor and I ran out of time. But everyone here has been even more important to me than before, particularly in the last several months. Things have been hard, more so than I like to admit, and everyone who has done something as small as leaving one comment or an AIM message or an email has helped me keep my sanity. If things have been bad, they would have been very, very much worse without you all, I can't say how much I appreciate that, or how grateful I am. Love you all.
brigdh: (Bring me that horizon)
The question of the moment is whether or not I want to go to the party I've been invited to tonight. On the one hand, social interaction would probably be good for me. On the other hand, I'm not certain I can pull off "not having a breakdown" yet.

Either way, I have to decide right now, since it's not polite to shuttle everyone into voicemail and then refuse to call back until five minutes before the party starts. I've already put it off for four or five hours.

What I really want to do is go back to bed for a while, but I'm sure that it is just so healthy not to leave my room all day.
brigdh: (Ow.)
So. My grandmother died this afternoon. That's all I know right now; I don't know when the funeral will be, or what days I'll be going home, or how exactly it happened or how people are dealing. (Me, I'm dealing by having produced the first 400 words of an incredibly angsty fanfiction, which I'll likely think better of posting, but which seems appropriate at the moment.)

I've been in so many airports these last few months. I don't mind flying, and I always get through security without a problem, but it all seems so drudging and tiresome. I hate these little details more than anything, I think. I want everything to stop and be shocked at death, I want the world to shake; all the normalcy of it is terrible. It makes it seem inevitable. Which it is, but it feels wrong that we would let it be like that.

I don't have much to say, but if I don't post now, I never will, so. Now you know.
brigdh: (trust no one)
God, why do I do these things to myself? AIM is supposed to be for entertaining diversions while I work, not epic chats with high school friends who make me alternately furious and upset while in public. Also, why am I incapable of ever coming out and saying anything directly? I hate that I dance around everything, I watch myself do it and I hate it because I know how obvious and blatant it is and that if I really didn't want to talk about it I am perfectly capable of changing the topic, but I do it anyway, waiting for someone to notice.

Context involves a long AIM chat under the cut )

Poem Spam

Nov. 13th, 2006 01:14 am
brigdh: (Konzen plays with butterflies)
You know, I am smart enough that it really shouldn't have taken me this long to make the connection that, if I keep getting upset and depressed on Sundays, it probably has something to do with the fact that all my social contact is on Mondays and Tuesdays. Even I don't like to be left alone with my thoughts for quite that long.

I'd say the problem would be helped if I had more schoolwork to do, but I certainly don't lack for that.

Regardless, I need to think of something to do about it; these days where it takes until after 5 in the evening before I manage to get dressed aren't helping anything. Though I suppose I could blame it all on the rain and chilly weather instead, as it can't really be November unless I've already made quite clear to everyone in range of hearing exactly how much I loathe the winter. I mean, it's dark by 4:30! The hell kind of day is that? I don't appreciate needing to turn on lights when it's that early, o seasons, or the turning of the earth, or whoever I can accuse of doing this to spite me.

I could quote poetry to make my point, too, as you all would probably appreciate that more than my whining (IMPORTANT NOTE: do you realize I could legitimately have Alec and Richard quote poetry in a story?! Clearly I have to stay in the fandom until I've made use of that at least once. I mean, come on, Hisoka and Sanzo would scoff at the very idea of poetry). Though I should lose my habit of posting this poem at the beginning of winter, as it's so much better suited to February or so.

My Worst Habit

My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I'm with.

If you're not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.

How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.

When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can't hope.

The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.


Don't let your throat tighten
with fear. Take sips of breath
all day and night, before death
closes your mouth.
brigdh: (Ow.)
I feel weird making this post, but I'm having a hard time judging how I come off to other people and I figure that it's only fair to give a warning if my behavior is strange.

I'm having a bad week. They've moved my grandmother from the hospital back home, and there's a nurse to help take care of her, but they're not intending on doing any sort of treatment. She doesn't always remember what's happening. Sometimes she does, and then she seems very accepting, almost eager, for an end, which upsets me. Sometimes she's confused and doesn't understand what's going on, which is worse. The doctors' estimate was that she has three to six months, but my mom is of the opinion that the time is better measured in weeks, if that. I don't know how to guess these sorts of things. I'm going home on Thanksgiving; for now, I'm just afraid every time my phone rings.

I haven't been steady. It's not that I'm constantly down; it's that when I'm happy, it's more like a maniac phase than anything else- I'm jittery, talk too loud, laugh at things that aren't funny, and write excited, over-enthuastic comments with slowing down enough to make sure I've spelled things right, or even managed to include all the words in the sentence. I'd almost rather be depressed, because I don't like watching myself act so far off normal.

I still don't particularly want to be social about it, because I can't guess at when I'll swing back to wanting to be entirely alone, and it's usually abrupt switches from one side to the other. I don't want to come on IM for the same reason. But comments and emails are nice, because they're easy to walk away from when my mood changes, and it's good to have other things to think about that nonetheless don't require much effort. I like being distracted, and when I'm in this sort of mood I think I'd go crazy if I didn't have some sort of outlet to be excited at. So I want to thank anyone who's talked to me lately, and say that- I don't know if I'm acting strangely enough that it comes off as weird. It feels weird to me. Just please don't take offense at anything I've done recently.
brigdh: (Ow.)
I just found out that my other grandmother- the one who didn't die last month- has a massive 'mass' on her brain, and they can't even biopsy it, they're not even going to try, they're just going to send her home.

And oh god. I don't know. This hurts so much worse than the last time. This isn't fair, not to her, not to anyone. I hate this. I don't know. She raised me, a lot, because both my parents worked fulltime, so she picked me up from school and kept me till they came home, and I spent the summers at her house.

Please say nice things to me. But I don't want to talk about it; maybe later, but not now. And isn't it stupid, but I'm so glad my roommate is gone, because I'm being noisy as I cry and I wouldn't want anyone to hear.
brigdh: (jesus fuck but Konzen is pretty)
Man, I am way too tired, considering that it's only 8 and I haven't done much today. Maybe I should take a nap or something. I have so much stuff to do- a paper to write, and reading to do, approximately five million emails to respond to, a [livejournal.com profile] 31_days prompt I've been meaning to do a story for since the 26th- but I never seem to actually do any of it.

I have, however, been making my way through all the classical music I can find, in an effort to put together a playlist for [livejournal.com profile] fst. This is incredibly unusual for me; I've never listened to classical music. I'm amused by the strangeness of my last.fm page at the moment; all those indie and trip-hop songs next to Mozart. Though, I can't help but wonder what my roommate thinks. I don't know for sure, since she doesn't seem to feel the need to speak to me or open her door, or generally interact with me at all. Hopefully she hasn't, I don't know, died or something.

[livejournal.com profile] esrafil is coming to visit me over the weekend though (or, more truthfully, to visit the city)! I am excited for that; she's the first person to come see me.


Sep. 26th, 2006 12:37 am
brigdh: (My Hero!)
...did someone recently buy me paid time? Because, if so, thank you! And I am terrible for not having noticed sooner!

(The only other explanation I can think of is that when my time expired, livejournal automatically charged me from my old, now empty bank account. And so I have multiple reasons for appreciating the gift, which will mean I don't have to pay overdraft charges.)

I will repay you however you want, if you have a request!
brigdh: (I'm posting this from a coffeeshop)
Oh god, the people sitting at the table next to me in this coffeeshop are killing me. Two of them are deliberately isolating the third: doing that thing when you ignore anything they say except for a direct question, and even then leave a pause just a little too long before answering with a dismissal, body language turned away, randomly laughing to yourself when nothing funny has been said. And the third guy realizes they're doing it, but keeps trying to fix things- "So, will you call me later?" "Hey, want to go get something to eat?" "What did you do last night?" "Do you promise you'll call me later?"- which just makes it more painful, because, dude, they are obviously assholes. You don't need to go begging after their attention.

It would make me furious if someone did that to me. It would make me furious even if I was in the group not being isolated, because I loathe people who amuse themselves on cruelty. You are neither bored courtiers nor high school girls, so if you dislike someone you have an obligation to not take them places with you for the sole purpose of insulting them.



Sep. 15th, 2006 08:50 pm
brigdh: (whatever)
Hmmm, I can't decide if I want to go out tonight or not.

On the one hand, I've got a little bit of a cold, and I'm not entirely certain that I feel healthy enough to dance for a few hours.

On the other hand, I'm already in the sort of bitter, nasty mood I get when I haven't socialized enough (but my roommate apparently never leaves her room and I haven't yet reached the level of accosting acquaintances in my classes with "Please spend time with me!!"), and I know it'll just get worse if I don't go do something. Plus, I am bored.

And that, really, is why I feel the need to share this dilemma with livejournal.
brigdh: (Ow.)
My grandmother died last night. It's not really a surprise, because she's been sick for weeks now, but then, how is death ever not a surprise?

I keep thinking that she could have lived if she had wanted to, if she had tried, because she obviously wasn't, everytime I saw her for the past month she's been talking about funerals and endings, even before she got sick. And then I think of what it must take to drive someone to that point, of how tired you must have to be before life can seem not quite worth it. I can't imagine that. Death terrifies me; I can't understand how this happens, how it is possible for anyone to be sick enough or old enough or depressed enough that they wouldn't want to live, if just for one more day, or more night. I can't understand how there can be so much in the world- all the cheesy things, the sunrises and stars and tall buildings and grass and little girls on skateboards and old men playing saxophones- how you can have all that, and no longer want it, be willing to give it all up for... who knows. Whatever else you believe there to be.

I'm flying home over the weekend to go to the funeral. I'll some most of my orientation on Friday, but it's not important; it all seems stupidly ironic to me: the old excuse of skipping work to go to your 'grandmother's funeral'.
brigdh: (dotdotdot)


brigdh: (Default)

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