Good things!

For no reason whatsoever, my sister bought me 2000 Calories mascara and my favourite lip gloss, Silk Gloss, in a fabulous shade of peach! ♥ \o/ ♥

In other news, Mom went to her 3 week rehabilitation therapy thing to a thermal spa. Which means PRIVACY and ALONE TIME! Woooot! It also means cooking and cleaning and doing laundry and going shopping but... ALONE TIME!!!!!

And it's almost Advent so YAY! (Is it wrong to still want the Advent calendar with crappy tiny chocolates?)

Also, a very good thing is that all of the side effects are GONE and I'm feeling good. I'm SINGING all the time! Along with Lady Gaga, no less. LOL Sister's BF is threatening our lives when we burst into song simultaneously. We even take parts in duets! AND WE'RE HORRIBLE! LOLOLOLOL



Oh and a not so good thing: my stupid dog bit me. AGAIN! Like, scraped the skin off my finger and I BLED! And I was only going to pet him, FFS!

I'm not dead

And I had a whole post typed up when stupid Firefox froze and now it's gone. In any case, I'm alive and slightly less zombified.

Here's my question: is Time Traveler's Wife to girly a film to ask the Boy to come see it with me? I really wanna see it and it's supposed to come to the theatres tomorrow.

At least I won't cry (I did when I read the book) because I don't feel shit. The bad side effects are gone, but the good stuff hasn't kicked in yet, so, like I told the ever amazing sadcypress , I'm stuck in an emotional limbo at the moment. Beats being ~emotionally incontinent~, I suppose.

Zombified

My mouth is cotton dry, I trip over my tongue, I'm dizzy, and I barely slept last night. JTYSK.

Oh and my sister is giving me shit for feeling bad. I'mma tell Mom!, she threatened. And I'm like, she knows. Jesus.

I've been helped profeshunally

I feel cured. No, really. I'm cured of the delusion that one could get some actual help in this commie state. But let's go back a few hours...

'Twas night before... uh, today when I woke up. It was actually 4.55AM but it was no brighter than midnight. Grumpily Cheerfully I dragged myself jumped out of my warm, cosy bed, put on pretty much every item of clothing I own, and went into the night. Er... morning. That looked a lot like night.

Let me tell you something: there is no amount of clothes that will keep you warm at 5.50AM in October.

While on the bus, I made some grand plans of taking some photographs of the city waking up to an autumn dawn. Those grand plans? Squashed. By a very serious concern for my fingers' well-being. Where well-being equals staying attached to my hands.

Anyhoo. There I was, at the psychiatric ward at 6.42AM. Before me, there were approximately 40 other people. No kidding.

So I asked: Are they still taking patients?, and someone said, They haven't even started yet.

So that was good. I hoped. Now, crazy people... they're maybe crazy, but they're organised.

You gotta ask who came last, they told me, and then make sure you get in the line after them.

And it works! One old guy tried to get in front of me, and people almost kicked him out. True story.

I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures. I feared someone might kick my ass, so I decided against flashing crazy people. But I found these two pics just to give you some idea of what it looks like from the outside:

This is the waiting room.


This is the building from the outside. Fancy, no?

Where was I? Oh yes. So at 7AM we formed a line and they started taking our names. When it was my turn, I asked when I should come back, because, see, this was just admission - the doctor's office hours start at 8AM.

The nurse looked at the clock on the wall and said, Around 9.30.

I glanced at my watch. Awesome. It was 7.45.

So I took off. Bought two pairs of pantyhose. Bought Fornetti for breakfast. Then hung at the library till 9.10. By the way, did you know that the University Library of Osijek has altogether FOUR computers at their members' disposal? Just thought I'd throw that out there.

I returned to the ~clinic~ at 9.15 finding roughly 20-25 people still there. I knew, of course, that the 9.30 estimate was extremely optimistic, but still. Ugh. Sitting and waiting it was. Well, standing and waiting, actually. It's a good thing some took care of providing entertainment. For instance, one dude thought it was just the right time to decide on his new ringtone. In the waiting room. Amid 25 pretty annoyed, not to mention possibly crazy, people. Another, morbidly obese dude, apparently tried to cough his lung out, making sure we were closely introduced to the whole process by not covering his mouth. Fun times.

Finally, at 10.40 my name was called. I entered a room with bare walls, a desk, and a bed in it. The doctor, a blonde kid, possibly my age, hell, maybe even younger, was sitting at the desk. In front of her - a typewriter. Very mid 70's socialism. During the very productive 5-7min with the doctor, I ended up with an antidepressant prescription and a paper saying I was ~emotionally incontinent~. I don't even know, you guys. Does that mean that pills equal emotional diapers?

Take these, she said, and I'll see you in a month.

I blinked once. Twice.

Can't I get some counseling?, I asked incredulously.

No one really does that here. There's just no time or staff, she explained.

Yeah, I kinda noticed that. Oh well.

At 10.50 I was on my merry way home. And here I am, ready to pop the magic pill and have my life sorted out. There's just no way for this plan to go wrong. Ask me how I am in a month.

I dare you.

If I weren't crazy already...

... this would surely make me. Why oh why does the initial psychiatric examination takes place at dawn? You think I'm over-reacting, but I'm really not.

"Can I make an appointment?"
"No, you just come as early as possible."
"Um, till what time do you take the patients in?"
"Until a certain quota is fulfilled."
"So, uh, I should be there at 7am?"
"As early as possible."

Oh good. I'd love to get up at 5am tomorrow morning and walk around in pitch-dark while freezing my ass off. I am positively psyched about it.

So here's how it is

In short, I've been having a rough time lately, and I've decided to ask for professional help, because clearly I'm not doing well on my own. Hopefully some therapy will help, because I can't really deal with the mood swings and depression anymore. I'm apathetic or hysterical, crying or screaming, cannot concentrate on ANYTHING. I mean, I can't stick throughout a movie, let alone study for some extended period of time. Hell, the last episode of SPN? I barely finished watching it.

I'm not well, but I'd really like to be. At some point.

And that about covers it.

The longer version would start somewhere around when I was 14 or 15 but that's a lot of sadness to cover so I'm not going to be doing that. It would also include saying my sister ~doesnt believe~ in mental illness, nor does she think therapy can do anyone any good, but that's an easy thing to say for someone who's essentially content, and strong, and productive, and happy. All of which I am not. So I must choose to ignore her.

Am I scared? Hell, yes. Do I feel like not going through it, keeping the status quo instead? You bet. But I don't think it gets worse than this, so. Bel, you should be proud.

Also, thanks to everyone who left sweet comments on my latest post. You guys are all awesome, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. ♥

OT, and on the brighter hand (which is in no way a phrase, but sue me :P), the Boy ran to my help on a SATURDAY MORNING, and then he one-armed hugged me upon our meeting. Then he bought me breakfast and poked me in the shoulder when saying goodbye. Ten years from now, I'll be getting his pin, you mark my words. :P I'm holding onto the little things, okay?

I'm watching youuuu

From the bushes.

No, seriously, we had a voyeur in front of our room last night. It was around 11pm, my sister already asleep, me at my desk reading fic, mom asleep... when the phone rings. The neighbour from across the street called to let us know there was a creep on a bike in front of my window looking into my room. Then the neighbour's husband shouted out: Seeing anything interesting there?, so the creep climbed his bike and drove away.

But I mean, I sat at my desk fully dressed, reading. What was there to see? It's not even creepy - it's just sad. Personally, I think he was just watching TV.

Political WTFuckery

So our Prime Minister quit today. Out of the blue. One minute he's the Prime Minister, the next he's quitting.

I mean, I understand the guy. It's a tough gig nowadays. The country is in some deep shit. In the words of the man himself, U BANANI SMO. (We're in a banana. = We're screwed phrased in an extremely informal way, so very unfitting for a Prime Minister to use.)

You know the recession? Well, first the guy claimed THERE WAS NO RECESSION IN CROATIA. Because obviously, we know better than the rest of the world. Then he was like, OH ALL RIGHT, there might be SOME trouble ahead. The government then came up with some anti-recession measures that were NEVER PUT TO WORK. Of course, people are being fired all over the place, plants getting closed and what not, people are demonstrating in front of the Parliament almost every day. This is not a good time to be a Prime Minister, yanno? So the guy just QUIT.

He held a press conference where he said he was quitting for ~personal reasons~. I'm sorry, WHAT?! What does that even mean?!! So a journalist asks him what his reason for quitting just now was, and he says I GAVE YOU THE REASON! She goes UM, NO, YOU REALLY DIDN'T, and he starts yelling at her I'M NOT GONNA ARGUE WITH YOU HERE!

Also, he said: MY WORK HERE IS DONE AND NOW I GET TO STEP DOWN AND LET OTHERS TAKE OVER.

THE FUCKING NERVE.

Hitting Too Close To Home

It's funny how I came expecting lulz with Fat!Jensen. Instead...


“You said you don’t have sex. Why not?”

This time it’s Jared asking the question, and Jensen wants to stab himself in the eye for letting that fact slip out. Because the last person he wants to discuss his unfortunate celibacy with is Jared.

But Jared just waits for a response.

Jensen snorts derisively. “It’s not like I can just decide to have sex.” He was hoping it would come out bitter but instead it sounds pathetic.

Thank god for Danny, who takes pity on him and makes a joke. “Well, for a hundred and fifty grand you can apparently pay Chad to Vaseline up and—”

Jensen barks out a laugh and holds up a hand. “Don’t even finish that sentence, please.”

“You want to know what I think?” Jared’s voice is low and clear over the laughter of the group.

Jensen’s internal response flip-flops between not particularly and more than anything in the whole wide world.

“I think you’re being unfairly judged as sexually undesirable. I think someone is making you feel invisible. Someone is trying to convince you that you’re unworthy of physical affection. That you’re not sexy, or maybe even unlovable.”

All of those things ring pretty true to Jensen.

And then Jared finishes with, “And I’m pretty sure that person is you.”


You're damn right I broke down and cried.

Lost and Found

This is not about Watchmen

Long story short, boiling oil exploded all over my kitchen (not an exaggeration) and burned my arm.

Me: If you look closely, this burn looks like a tank.

Him: ....

Me: Well all right, it's not exactly Rorschach...

Him: Haha, I did actually think of Rorschach as you said it.

Me: I knew you would.

Him: *implied facepalm* I'm so professionally deformed...

Let me take you to the movies. Can I take you to the show? Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow?

So today we had another non-date.

You know, if he's not into dating me, he should at least have the decency to not look so fucking adorable when meeting me! But nooo, he shows up looking like a million dollars, reducing me to a giggling moron. AND it's probably not even for me because he's off to a birthday party after the non-date. Can you tell it's highly frustrating?!

Anyhoo. Had it been a date, it would've been a perfect one. We met, then had coffee in a nearby café, and then I said I had to go because I had a train to catch. Then he asked when was the next train and I said it was in an hour and a half and then he suggested I stayed. After some serious consideration that lasted full 10 seconds or so, I agreed. We left the café and went for a walk along the river. Sun is shining, it's warm but not to hot, the sky is ridiculously blue, and we're walking side by side, hands brushing off one another every few seconds... Pure perfection.

We make a huge circle going back through the city, chatting and laughing, exchanging glances... We pass a newly wed couple on their way to photographing and we talk about weddings and stuff, then a girl hands us some pamphlets about AIDS and condoms. I give him mine and he says he doesn't need it and I say he might since he's on his way to a party and he laughs. Its fun, it's comfortable, he's adorable...

Then it's time for me to leave and I say "See ya!" and he says "When you ask me again." I say "Ooh no, I won't ask you again!" and he says "Yeah, okay, my move it is." and we part ways. DID HE MEAN IT?! UGH.

Then I walk past a random guy on the street and he says "Whoa, doll, you just made my day, for real!" Eh, I'll take it.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now

Just turn around.

~ Holy shit, SovCro postcards are hideous. True story. I apologise in advance.

~ Oral presentation postponed till next week. Oh see me weep.

~ Sons of Anarchy. NEXT TIME FORCE ME SOONER. Seriously.

~ I think one can totally tell just by looking that I've lost weight. V. happy.

~ If I never hear about Star Trek again, it'll be too soon.

~ Fuck you, PB writers. Fuck you up your ass and... and... something not nearly as pleasant, I just can't think of it right now.

~ Krk, here I go again apparently. Yes, it's hard w/o my awesomeness, so I must grace you with my presence.

~ Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - surprisingly SPN like in the beginning, not so much later on.

~ 30°C FTFW!

Tren kada riječi prestaju

I want to crawl under the covers and cry, cry, cry.

Of course, I can't because I share the room with my sister. Who is, of course, here with her boyfriend who's watching a football game on TV.

I can't even watch "Vanished" in mute and feast my eyes on Mr. Harold. Speaking of, I finished QaF last night and... well, I cried. (Silently, of course.) That was NOT a happy ending so fuck you whoever wrote it. FUCK YOU UP YOUR ASS AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY.

me: I can''t believe you let me watch QaF when you MUST'VE KNOWN how it ends

Christel: what?8:52 AMwhat season are you watching
me: 5I'm not anymoreI saw it allit's so stupid
Christel: what, I told you only S1 and some of 2 were goodhaha
8:53 AM me: yes but you said to gloss over everything to see how Brian and Justin end up
Christel: they didn't die:P
me: WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN???Buffy and Angel didn't die either
Christel: I only warn of character death
me: and I still haven't recovered from thatI am very very sadI cried8:54 AM it's all your fault

I lost interest in pretty much everything. I don't feel like anything. Everything requires so much energy. I want to lay down and die. Hibernate, at least.

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Everything sucks. Everything aches. Everything's suffocating.

I need... something. SOMETHING. My fingers itch for... words. For something with meaning. But I don't feel it. It's like... something's bubbling underneath the surface but I can't get it out. I am apathetic and restless at the same time. I need something big. Or...

Here I go again on my own

WHYY??! o.O

I had a productive afternoon - I saw episodes 1-5 of season 1. And it was good.


Tomorrow should be interesting - the Ministry has decided the classes are to be held according to the schedule, but the students refuse to give up on their demands. There could be police involved... I'm only going at noon, so I guess it'll be over by the time I get there. Of course, we got nothing, even though even Noam Chomsky expressed his support to the Croatian students. LOL

A friend of mine said to me today: Last night I was set up with a girl with no life. But I don't mean like you, with no life for real. LMAO Was it a compliment?

I was going to see Wolverine but people say it sucks. I'm finding it hard to wrap my head around it - how can it suck when it has shirtless, bulked up Hugh Jackman? Someone explain this to me.

Is there anyone here willing to write a paper on Croatian Realism? Yeah... didn't think so. Well then, I'll take a really, really good fic rec. KTHXBAI.

Or, y'know, there's always Brian Kinney. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Und doch hab´ ich Flugzeuge in meinem Bauch

Well... I wrote it. The timestamp to my "fic". I can't help but to add these quotation marks to it because... well, it's not exactly fiction if it happened, right? I mean, yes, it didn't happen to the characters in the story but it happened to me. More or less. Of course, I changed the names. Hell, I changed the genders even! But it's still pretty much what happened (or at least how I remember it. They say it's how most fiction writers work anyway, so there). So the original story was pretty much easy to write. It was already in my head (and for years, too) so I just let it out. It was sort of therapeutic. *nervous laughter*

Now, the end to the story was completely made up, obviously, and then it was sort of unfinished. People who've read it kept asking if I'd be writing more. I guess they wanted a more satisfying end. There's not much fanfic out there ending tragically and honestly, I like it that way. Happy end for the boys is pretty much given. So I started toying with the idea of writing a small timestamp to the original story. Round it up, in a way. And then, about a week ago the first sentence shot through my head and the rest... just sort of followed.

And now it's complete. I'm going to link it, but be warned - it's slash. That is all.

Flugzeuge im Bauch

The following parts are linked at the end of each chapter.

I WROTE A 20 000 WORDS LONG STORY. I still can't believe it.

When we grew up and went to school...

... we decided WE DON'T NEED NO EDUCATION. UNLESS IT'S FREE.


EDUCATION IS NOT FOR SALE.

Croatian students are on strike. We want free education.
This is us and we voted YES:



On what, you might ask. UNI BLOCKAGE. It started in Zagreb, then spread to Osijek, Split, Rijeka and Dubrovnik.
No classes, no quizzes, no partial exams until our demands are met. Students actually invaded classrooms in which some professors tried to hold their lectures and made noise to obstruct them.

At the students' meeting one girl, who wants to have classes said: I don't want to be oppressed by the DICTATORSHIP OF THE MAJORITY.
The crowd roared: THAT'S CALLED DEMOCRACY!
LOL, idiot.



IDEK. Mostly today I just played Boggle. *shrugs* Good times.

Some things are better left unsaid, but...

There've been too many tears falling,
And there've been too many hearts
Breaking in two.

There are things I cannot write about here and it's really fucking annoying. I locked this place for a reason and then I fucked myself up with letting people in without thinking it through. Oh well. I have LJ. Speaking of, if it seems like I'm not blogging as often as used to, I actually am. Just not here.

My grandma's funeral was actually pretty amusing. No, wait, let me finish. Yes, my family behaved completely inappropriately but guess what? It's who we are. And it's sure as hell who my Grandma was. First of all, when we arrived to the cemetery hours before the funeral, and we approached my aunt, Dad's sister, she was just about to start crying when my Dad hurried to say What's with you? You look as if someone had died. She laughed. Then later on, when my sister and her BF and my Mom's sister had arrived, we sat on a bench in front of the funeral home and just joked around. My Mom's sister, who is 70 years old, was a bit uncomfortable with the way we were all acting until my Dad said Oh don't worry. Your funeral will be much more cheerful. YES, I KNOW. Inappropriate behaviour is inappropriate.

So, this next bit requires some background info first. My Grandma's husband is not my Dad's father. He died of brain tumor when my Dad was 7. Oh hai, cancer, why don't you kill EVERYONE in my family! Anyway. My Grandma became a Jehova's Witness at some point and in 1981 she married another member of that sect and moved to another town with him. Now, they all like to boast about going straight to Heaven and being pretty much saints on Earth. Let me tell you, this guy? Anything but. He is cheap, he is cold, he is dumb as a post, and he's above all selfish. I'll never know how my Grandma managed to stay married to him for all this time. To illustrate, let's just say he wanted to kick us out of their house during the war when my village was occupied and my Dad was on the front fighting for the freedom of my country. Then my Grandma issued an ultimatum and told him if we left, she was going with us. He caved. He never loved us. Hell, he never liked us. The feeling was mutual.

He is a cheap bastard. The heating in their house has always been kept at the minimum. The lights had to be shut down the moment you left the room, even if you'd only go to the bathroom. When my Grandma's mother (who's also a horrible, horrible person, a bitch, really) had to be placed into a nursing home (where she lives to this day, mind you), and my Grandma had to give her pension to pay for it, he forbade her to phone us or anyone else, since now it was him who was paying the bills. No, I'm not making this up. When my Grandma had the stroke on Sunday afternoon, it wasn't until Tuesday morning that he called an ambulance. And then he didn't even let us know. Some random neighbour got our number from the book and called us. That's the kind of person this man is.

So when we were sitting around her casket, my family sat at one side and he sat at the other, alone. Well, he had his brothers Witnesses, but we stuck together. Judge us if you will, since then we've heard even worse stuff he did, so whatever. Anyway. At one point he uncovered her face and started wailing and lamenting in a very theatrical way. We may have rolled our eyes once or twice, but mostly we ignored it. Sayin shit like Why did you leave me now when I need you the most? (because she's selfish like that, how dared she die?) and You were always good to me, cleaning and cooking for me. (way to appreciate the woman she was, asshole) only showed how selfish he is, thinking about himself even at that moment. But then he said I was good to you as well. Never did I wrong you, never did I do you harm. and my aunt and I caught each other's eyes and we burst out laughing. God, that was embarrassing! We sat next to my dead Grandma and we couldn't stop laughing. But here's the thing: I could see it in my head - I could see my Grandma rolling her eyes at his theatrical mourning. And she would've been the first to laugh at him. So I think we made her proud.

The funniest thing that happened was when my aunt's friend sat between her and me and solemnly received condolances from uknown people. They didn't know she wasn't family ad she sat right there, taking their hands and nodding, picture perfect of grief. I mean, who does that?!

And then, on top of it all, the neighbour that informed us about Grandma having a stroke apparently tried to hit on my Dad. I kid you not. The woman would not back off. It was ridiculous. She kept following him around and my Dad asked me not to leave him alone. Unfortunately, when we first got to the cemetery, I had to use the bathroom, and by the time I got out, she already dragged him away to show him the grave spot. When they returned, my Dad looked pretty damn upset. And it had nothing to do with his dead mother. Later on he told me she'd pinched his thigh. At the cemetery! At his Mother's funeral! Who does that?!

Afterwards we went to a restaurant and she said to my Dad: You just sit wherever you want. and I could tell she was ready to follow him and sit next to him. So I backed him into corner and sat in front of him. I was seriously prepared to fend her off with my purse. Woman, just beacuse you knew my Grandma, doesn't mean you get to inherit her son when she dies! Seriously. P.S. Her late son was only 6 years younger than my Dad. P.P.S. My Dad is happily married to my Mom (so much so he told her about this woman advances immediately). P.P.P.S. She too is married and her husband was there.

Well, I think that about covers it. Lulz at a funeral. We has it.

There's a songbird who sings

I might be little bit in love.

Please, check this guy out. He's one of the candidates in Cro Pop Idol and he's just ridiculously awesome. I hope he wins. Not enough to actually pick up the phone and vote, of course, but I cheer in front of the TV. I DO WHAT I CAN, OKAY?

Anyway. He's singing "Here I go again" and "Stairway to heaven". How could he not be made of win?

In loving memory

It's funny how they said "six months to a year" a week ago. ONE WEEK is not SIX MONTHS and it's certainly not A YEAR.

But.

She had lung cancer as a starting point and it spread to all of her bones and to her brain. So I'm calling a blessing.

Yes, of course it's sad. My Dad now has no parents left (he lost his Dad to brain tumor when he was 7 [my Dad, not his, cuz that would be... it's pretty obvious, I think]) and she wasn't that old anyway (74). But with the cancer and all, her leg was immobilised with a cast because the bone has... decayed or something and she never would've gotten up and out of bed again. And if you ask me, that's no life for a person to live.

Especially for someone like her.

She would've loved us laughing and joking like we did this evening because she laughed at all times. During the war, when my sister and I lived there, the four of us, my sister, my Mom, my grandma and me would play cards. Then I'd be paired up with her and she'd bluff and I wouldn't know and then we'd lose. I'd pout and she? She would laugh and laugh and laugh.

She'd curl my hair so when my Dad would come for a day or two from the front, I'd wear his beret on my curled hair and march around feeling like Lili Marleen.

When I was first starting school, she made me a sleeveless shirt and a skirt, white with huge red polka dots. The skirt had frills, of course, and the shirt buttoned in the back. Oh and the buttons? TINY SHEEP. I was a total princess.

She was Hungarian and she always spoke Croatian a little funny. She'd even make up words, especially pet names for us, words that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

My grandma was one of a kind. And she will be missed. R.I.P.

Nan's Song

You said when you'd die that you'd walk with me every day
And I'd start to cry and say please don't talk that way
With the blink of an eye the Lord came and asked you to meet
You went to a better place but He stole you away from me

And now she lives in heaven
But I know they let her out
To take care of me

There's a strange kind of light
Caressing me tonight
Pray silence my fear she is near
Bringing heaven down here

I miss your love I miss your touch
But I'm feeling you every day
And I can almost hear you say
'You've come a long way baby'

And now you live in heaven
But I know they let you out
To take care of me

There's a strange kind of light
In my bedroom tonight
Pray silence my fear she is near
Bring your heaven down here

You taught me kings and queens
While stroking my hair
In my darkest hour I know you are there
Kneeling down beside me
Whispering my prayer

Yes there's a strange kind of light
Caressing me tonight
Pray silence my fear
She is near
Bringing heaven down here

The next time that we meet
I will bow at her feet
And say wasn't life sweet
Then we'll prepare
To take heaven down there

Just a perfect day, problems all left alone

Today my hair isn't stupid.

My sister, on the other hand...

So I'm watching Gilmore Girls and surprise!, there's Dean. Well, it wasn't much of a surprise since I only D/Led episodes with young Jared. Anyway. This convo ensues:

Sis: Dean! And it's our favourite one, too!

Me: Yeah, about that... *awkward pause* He was the only one.

Sis: What? No!

Me: Yeah.

Sis: Really?! You sure?

Me: *rolls eyes* From the pilot to season 5.

Sis: Huh.

I could totally tell she wasn't convinced. Well, I tried. From now on, this rat has left the failboat. She's on her own.

You're a butterfly and you want to be in flowers

I took pictures today. I'm sorry I bore you but they're so PRETTY!!!

These things remind me of

Christel sent AJ, MT and me a Gilmore Girls fanvid of Rory and Dean because MT's been having Gilmore Girls marathons for a while now, and I'm almost done with Dark Angel so I'm gonna start with Gilmore Girls. Don't judge me, I'm pretty sure they're both legal in those.

ANYWAY.

When we first watched Gilmore Girls, my sister and I kinda sorta crushed on Dean. From his very first appearance on screen. She said, "Huh. This Dean is kinda cute." and I said, "Yep. Uh-huh." Since then, an episode without Dean was made of fail. Little did we know, so were we.

Because when Gilmore Girls returned for season 2 (or maybe it was 3, I cant really tell, it was a century ago), my sister said, "Oh noes! It's a different Dean!" and I said, "Oh noes! It is!" I have no idea why we thought it was a different guy. Was it the hair? Did he grow taller? I don't know. I just know we spent quite some time mourning the loss of the "cute Dean from the beginning". Because that one was, like, way prettier than the new one. I don't even know.

When we fail, we fail like a family, I guess.

So I was re-watching the first two episodes last night and I don't think my poor old heart can take it.
P.S. He may have been 17 at the time. *facepalm*

Yes, you

I love you.

For oft, when on my couch I lie / In vacant or in pensive mood

"Daffodils" (1804)

I wander'd lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Wish I was too dead to cry

I wish I could talk about everything that's on my mind and in my heart but I can't. It just makes me wanna cry.
If you've noticed my gmail status says Busy all the time, it's just because I don't have it in me to talk right now.
I read your posts. I just don't really feel like interacting.
Instead, I'm just watching How I met your mother and ignoring the world.

I miss my hair

You can't always get what you want

Dear movie theatres in Osijek!

The both of you suck ass. I hate you. GIVE ME FRIDAY THE 13TH! I was promised Jared Padalecki on April 2nd months ago. You, apparently, do not deliver.

Oh and did you know that IMDb says it should've been here on FEBRUARY 26TH? Yeah, NO.

I just want to go to a theatre all alone, sit at a perfect spot with a huge bag of popcorn in my hand, maybe some pumpkin seeds just for the hell of it, and watch Jared Padalecki breathe wearing that T-shirt. Is that too much to ask?

Not only did I not get to see it when the rest of the world did, now I can't see it when Zagreb can? Instead, we get Inkheart, Duplicity, and Monsters vs. Aliens. Brendan Fraser. SERIOUSLY?!

DIAF, theatres in Osijek. Literally.

Kris

Nothing left to lift me up

You taught me kings and queens while stroking my hair

Oh my God. I actually finished what I now think of as the first half of my story. It has a prologue and a title and warnings and a summary, it's been beta'd by Christel, and there's even a little shout out to the demanding hors (you know who you are).

I'll be posting the link to it as soon as I'm completely happy with what it looks like.

Writing this stupid story is one of the ways of avoiding the real issues. Like the one that my Grandma is anything but better. We're actually waiting for THE call from the hospital all the time. She had another stroke last night, and the other day she went through a series of epileptic seizures. It's not looking good. My Dad is having trouble with accepting it. Maybe it's a male thing, I don't know.

We're going to see her today and I just... I don't know if I can take it. The fact is that I am the most sensitive one in my family and I can't deal with sickness. I can't even imagine someone dying. I have to go see her because she's conscious and she's aware of who's there and who's not even if she can't talk. Oh God, she can't talk!

But I need her to see me, I want her to know that we all love her and that we all care. If she doesn't recover...

One of these days I'll tell you all about her, how she taught me to tell time, how she made me the most beautiful clothes, how she always gave and gave and gave. Just not today.

The chaos of our lives

My Grandma had a stroke this morning. Dad's at the hospital and he's seen her as they brought her in, but he said he didn't think she recognised him. He says she seemed pretty bad, but people usually do immediately after the stroke, right? I mean, they often recover, right?
My aunt's coming in from Germany tomorrow.

Dad just got home. She'll live. Phew. She's pretty bad, though. She doesn't speak. But she did signal to him they took her earrings. LOL Women! That's my Grandma for ya.

I guess it's hard for me to really worry about her because I'm still thinking that people I love are indestructible. Immortal even. It's so very wrong, I know, I just can't help it.

In other news, I'm still writing. Heh. I have the middle of the next scene, the fun part. I need to write the beginning and the awkward end. Awkward. I love that word.

This has been a very long day.

And if theres someone you can just shove out, do so.

Oh God, ahahahahahahahaha! These Pop idol auditions are always hilarious! There's a guy who sang one of the judge's song and in the FIRST LINE he sang a non-existent word. What the fuck? You can't do that! Then there was a guy fully dressed as a cowboy: the boots, the plaid shirt, the hat... He said the ladies in Osijek look at him funny for the way he dresses. Um... This is not Texas. You're not... I dunno... Tim McGraw. Seriously. Reality check.

Writing. It's hard. I have the complete story in my head, but when I try to put it on paper... well, screen, it just doesn't come out right. But I'm working on it because I can't keep it inside of my brain anymore.

OMG OMG OMG! The chick that's singing "If I were a boy" is TERRIBLE!!! One of the judges is about to fall off his chair. God, I hope the video will be up on YT soon.

I'm meeting Puki on Tuesday. He ordered me to prepare at least 5 jokes and 5 funny and happy things to tell him about when we meet. He claims that his charm and goofy smile top my sarcasm and he's adamant in having me cheered up. It's like it's his mission in life to make me happy or something. He's adorable. He's bound to fail, of course, but he's adorable nonetheless.

In other news, Steve Carlson is now following me on Twitter and Chris Kane apparently freed my country from occupation.

Feeling very small underneath the universe

I need to write, so bear with me.

I dreamt of The Boy. We were sitting in a bathroom stall in some school, down on the floor, and we were talking. But he wore a metal box on his head. You read it right. He had a metal box. On his head. As in, his head. Was. IN. The box. There was some sort of locked door in the front so he opened it so I could see him. It was really weird.

Wow, this was one hell of a long day. Got up at 6.10, left home at 7.05, returned at 6pm. Dead. Beat. I had PE, okay? Which wasn't even that bad, considering. Before that we had the Croatian lit class that ended with a quiz. Which would've been fine, had we had any fucking clue what the TA was talking about. Hell, when he asked us one of the question, we were all like: BZUH?! And he goes: Do you understand the question? And we all went: Uh... NO?! Then he "explained". But not really. So that was that.

Then there was PE. Where we were measured and weighed and had our BMI calculated and various other shit. And the professor says to me: You have too much fat tissue. And I make my trademark DUH face and grab my boobs with both of my hands. The boys laugh and the professor says: Fair enough. FUCK YOU, I AIN'T FAT! I'm not skinny and I have a belly (I don't think you're ready for this jelly...) but I most certainly ain't obese!

Then it was fun tiems! We picked up Maja and went to lunch. I ate healthy! Grilled chicken, mushrooms and mixed salad. Fiiiine. And grilled cheese. And a coke. Shut up. I'm curvaceous and I'm staying that way! It was so great to spend some time with Maja again! I love her. And she kept saying: I miss you! We miss her right back. She moved on to the 3rd year, we got stuck at the 2nd. She even said she's considering taking a year off just so she can have classes with us again. LOL

Afterwards we had three periods of Croatian Morphology. Oh. Fucking. Joy. It felt like a really slow, particularly painful death. Only worse. Because in the end I wasn't dead. I'm going to have to rinse and repeat over and over and over again. For what feels like forever.

Remember my need for writing fiction? Well, it's gone. Turns out, all it took was writing the beginning and the end of the story. The total of 786 words was enough to beat the will to write right out of me. Once you realise you're terrible at something, you don't really wanna keep it up.

Could today's (yesterday's) Supernatural be any more depressing? Made me wanna throw up a few times. Could be my general state of mind making me feel this way, but I don't know. As happy as it makes me that it's FINALLY back (because the withdrawals are not fun!), the way that it's headed is making me dread what's to come.

At least I'm not the only one feeling depressed. Remember Faye, the comic girl form my avatar? She's been pretty down herself lately. Is relating to a drawn character unhealthy? Oh hell, I'll just add it to the list. Right under the grilled cheese.

Remember those walls I built?

It's been brought to my attention that my friends have sort of been on a suicide watch for me.

Well, DON'T.

I'm not gonna kill myself. Hell, I'm not even gonna cut myself - I imagine it hurts like a bitch, I even hate paper cuts, okay? I'm not into hurting myself. Or others, for that matter.

What I'm trying to say, stop putting extra effort into "maintaining" me. Yes, I need it. Yes, I demand it. Yes, I'm fragile and needy and co-dependent and depressed 350 days of the year. But it still doesn't mean I want you here if it's a chore. It still doesn't mean I need people talking about me behind my back trying not to upset the crazy person. "Just nod and smile", I can hear them say.

My friends are not a chore for me. I don't want to be one either. Therefore, I declare DEFRIENDING DAY. Go ahead, knock yourself out. I promise, no hard feelings. DO NOT FEEL OBLIGED TO KEEP ME ON YOUR FRIENDS LIST. It's the worst thing you can do.

Twitter

I'm weak! I caved in! Add me.

TWITTER

Yes I'll find you and cut you down, friends and neighbours

So it looks like no one reads this blog. Which is fine. I'm most likely not reading yours either. I would totally shut it down and move completely to LJ, it's just that I love this layout so fucking much! I know, what a reason to keep a blog, eh?

Anyway.

Wow, my life is boring. I could be reading the book I'm supposed to read by Friday but Oh. My. God. Why are Croatian writers so uninteresting?

In other news, I have a story that's been bugging me for a few days that I may or may not write. Yes, it might be fanfiction. Only not really. There's a story I wanna tell only I'm not comfortable writing in first person. About me. So I might borrow some characters from elsewhere. But I don't know. Writing fiction, even if it's half-fiction, seems like a chore, and God knows I'd be better off writing in Croatian, a language in which I actually know the words I'd need to tell a story. So yeah. I'm not optimistic. Besides, if I put it off for long enough, the urge to write will probably go away. Oh and this, blogging about nothing? Short-term solution. This is me writing without actually writing.

No one talks to me anymore. There'd be times when I would juggle 3 or 4 chats at the time. Nowadays? Silence on all fronts. Clearly, everyone is bored with me. But that's OK because I'm mostly bored with everyone as well.

So I'm watching TV shows. The Big Bang Theory! \o/ It's so hot in here, it must be Summer! Oh Howard, why so lame? I love love love that show! I swear, I go through withdrawals without it. Then there's Leverage which, okay, may not be the smartest show out there but Eliot? I love him! And that's purely character based, because the actor? UGH, NO. I also finished watching Merlin. Speaking of stupid. But it's kind of endearing in its simplicity AND the fic is really fun. Often much smarter than the show is. So there's that.

I saw Slumdog Millionaire. Seriously, what the fuck? Now, I haven't seen the rest of this year's Oscar competition but if that's the best that's out there? Jeez. It ain't THAT good. Changeling was totally better, for one. And it wasn't even nominated. Pfft. I loved the mass dance scene at the end. Of Slumdog, not Chageling. No one danced there. (Btw, why so depressing, movies? I also saw Revolutionary Road and God, did I wanna slit my wrists.) I love mass dance scenes. Best part of She's All That (yeah, yeah, tough competition there) was most definitely the scene at the prom dance. To this day I love that song! Heh, for someone with so much hatred for everything and everyone, I sure do love a lot of shit today. Like Wall-E! Oh Wall-E! Well, the first part of the movie anyway. With no talking and just that atmosphere and just the general feel of the movie. The chase on the ship was meh. But I suppose there had to be some kind of plot or something. Whatevs.

Thirteen of my "friends" are online on various chatting services right now. THIRTEEN. I'm bored out of my mind and not one is talking to me. Screw you.

'Cause then came you, then there's you

breathe in, breathe out
and smile
effortlessly

step one, step two
in line
effortlessly

tick-tock, tick-tock
in no time
effortlessly

don't even know how
a part of my life
effortlessly

A friend. Or a new love. Take it as you will. They're just words.

Sometimes I forget to love you like I should

Picture postcards from L.A. to hang on my refrigerator door

From Tiffany and Christel, respectively. Because they're amazing like that. I love you, ladies!

And they've been known to pick a song or two

A while ago my sister came to me with something that has been bugging her. Every morning, while she was at work, a certain radio station would play the same song. A familiar song, a song she sort of knew, but not really. She wanted to know what the song was. This was where I came in. But... Yes, there's a but. But she didn't know who sang it. She didn't know the title of the song. She didn't remember any of the lyrics. She couldn't even hum it.
"Wow," I said. "This won't be complicated at all."
But I didn't give up. I went to the said radio station's site and checked the most played charts. Let me tell you, I clicked on MANY songs. Many random songs that might've been the one she was looking for. Songs that were most often played, and then songs that were played a little less often. And then random songs you could listen to on the site.
None of the songs was THE song. Clearly, I ran out of options. Her only hope was to hear the song while we were together so she could point it out. It never happened.
That was a month, or two, or three ago. I forgot about it in the mean time.
Then, two nights ago a new show started on TV. "Croatia is looking for a star". You know, the Pop Idol thing. So we're watching it and there are candidates and there are judges and they sing and they talk, yadda yadda yadda, and then there's a montage of different candidates with a well know song playing in the background. At that moment my sister points to the TV and yells: "That's it! That's the song I was telling you about!" And I turn to her and I give her this incredulous look, and I can't believe she didn't know what the song was.
Because the song is Sweet Home Alabama.

She sits alone by a lamppost

When I was 13 or 14, I had three friends. Sort of. They all lived in the building next to mine and we would hang out. Mostly.
But from time to time I'd go to my balcony and see the three of them outside, playing or whatever. The first time I asked why didn't they call me, too. They said they had forgotten. The next time I also asked. They said they were gonna go home in a minute anyway. The third time I didn't even say anything.
We used to go to church every Sunday morning. We'd all get up, meet in front of the building and go. Except for the Sundays when I'd get up and no one would come. Then I'd ring someone's door bell and they'd tell me that oh, didn't I know? they decided they weren't gonna go.

During the war, my sister and I lived at our Grandma's. There were a lot of kids living in that street. It was the time when age didn't really matter, we'd all hang out, aged 7 to 17. Except for when this one girl would bribe everyone with candy into not being friends with us.

For the better part of my life, people were leaving me out. It's how it's always been. But I still haven't learned how to deal with being let in and then kicked out. It's still feels like standing on that balcony looking down.

Still I bleed

When I was 16 going on 17 we returned home. I never had a big circle of friends before, but somehow, in the next year I met a lot of people that had also returned home, just like we did, and we started hanging out. Suddenly I was out every Friday and Saturday with a group that varied from 8 to 15 people. And I loved it. The year between 17 and 18 has been the best year of my life. Suddenly, I mattered. people actually paid attention to me. I belonged. I had friends. I was one of them.
Then, my sister somehow started hanging out with us. My two and a half years younger sister. My gorgeous, friendly, charming baby sister. Before I knew it, she was the one that would get the text messages and I was the one tagging along. She was the one who started dating one of the guys, the one who confirmed her status in the group with that. I felt like I've been robbed. I felt like I've been kicked out. I didn't matter anymore. I was outshined.
One New Year's Eve we all went to a party as a group. Until it turned out that everyone had a pair except for me. After midnight all of my friends disappeared to make out or have sex or whatever, and I was left alone. I didn't want to go home because my Mom would ask about my sister and I couldn't say she was with her 5 years older boyfriend because it was a secret. So I sat at a bus station. In a dress. With my hair up. In high heels. In the early hours of the New year I sat at a bus station because all of my friends had abandoned me. The lowest point? A police car pulling over asking me if I was all right and if I needed a ride home.
Another memorable event was when a guy I liked, really liked, asked my sister to go out with him. And she considered it. It didn't matter how I felt, she was just trying to make that ex of hers jealous. At my expense.
Then she played match maker and set her best friend up with her boyfriend's best friend and slowly but steadily the group fell apart. I lost the best thing that I ever had because someone stole it away.
So yeah, I am needy. And I have issues.
The Internet came into my life bringing back that feeling of belonging. At WFW's I found a group of people that I had things in common with. People who laughed at my jokes. People who could cheer me up when I'd feel bad. People I shared things in my life with, easier than I could ever share them with people in real life. Once again, I belonged.
And then ~she~ (not my sister, obviously) showed up and swooped my friends away. Once again, I felt invisible and unimportant. When she shows up, everything revolves around her and no one talks to me anymore. And you know what? I don't need that. I really don't. So if I want to keep ONE PERSON just to myself, is that so horrible?
Call me a bad person. Call me a drama queen. Call me a bitch. I don't care. I just want to hold on to something for once and not lose it to a shinier new toy.

Everybody just say ahhhhh (ah ahh ahh ahhhhh)

Holy shit, Jared Padalecki!

*ahem*

In other news, YAY, I'm alive! Turns out, the girl, Marina, is NOT a homicidal maniac, but is, in fact, a very nice girl. \o/

Horror movies scare her, apparently. I LOL'd. So did the kids up at the gallery, they sounded like they were having the time of their life. Sadly, we've only got the lame 2-D version. Y SO LAME, SOVIET THEATRE? *chagrin* But still, HOW AWESOME WERE THOSE JENSEN CLOSE-UPS?

I kept saying: Shoulda brought my camera, shoulda brought my camera...

Afterwards we had some coffee and we discussed fic! FIC! I discussed fic speaking Croatian to someone in person!!! It's such a relief being able to say "slash" and not get "Oh, I know Guns'n'roses!" in return.

So I came home and my Mom asks how it went and I say it was great and she asks if we had things in common apart from "that actor" and I say sure and she asks what else and I wave my hand around and say: Oh, you know... this whole thing. and she asks which whole thing and I say it's kinda hard to explain.

Because I doubt she'd react well to me saying: SUPERNATURAL GAY PORN.

Like, open the fridge and stuff, and there'd be foods laid out for us with little pre-wrapped sausages and things.

I'm at R+ forum, as I often am, and this one guy politely asks the others to resize their pictures before posting them by suggesting they hit resize image in imageshack. It's a perfectly reasonable request. Or it would be, if most of the people there weren't complete idiots that have no idea what he's saying. (I was a noob once, too. I know what I'm talking about. Before I went and did anything anywhere on the Internet, I ASKED people how to do it. I didn't just randomly do fucked up shit all over. Mostly. *ahem*) So I say: I love how much faith you have in the users of this forum. To which he replies: Oh, are you trying to say that people on this forum are stupid? And I retort: I'm so not limiting it to this forum.

I got a surprise B yesterday in Syntax of phrase. The professor showed me my exam and I involuntarily went: Whoa! I was actually afraid I might fail. So the professor asks: Surprised? And I say: Totally. I was mostly going on a hunch here. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the smartest thing to say, but what the hell.

On Tuesday I had some sort of exam on that renaissance poem thing. We had to answer one question in writing and then add to it orally if it wasn't enough. So I answered the question, but not completely and my grade was leaning more to a B than to an A, and she asked me to tell her what happens in the introduction to the poem. And I haven't exactly read the poem. *ahem* But I read the other one that has pretty much the identical introduction, so I start rambling about this Gypsy that had lost all of her children except this last son, and how she complains about him, and I say: But this remaining one wasn't all that. and the professor bursts out laughing, repeats: Wasn't all that? and gives me an A. Turns out, this year the way to good grades is turning off any filter I might have.

Tonight I'm going to see My Bloody Valentine. Yes, yes, I said it already, but I haven't said I'm a tad scared. I mean, I DON'T KNOW this girl at all. And as we were setting our "date" yesterday, she asked how we would recognise each other, so I sent her my picture, and then I asked: But how will I know you? And she goes: Oh don't worry, I know you now, so I'll approach you. *creepy music playing* Seriously, I heard creepy music playing in my head. Apparently, my life comes with a soundtrack.

I'm sick, sort of. My throat feels like it's been ploughed through. And not in a fun way. But my voice is all deep and sexy. Hah.

My funny valentine, sweet comic valentine

That's this Friday, people. That's Jensen Ackles. On big screen. In 3-D. Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

I'm glad he set you free from sorrow

DEBELI

2002-2009
R.I.P.

I, I, I will be fine

Here's a song that keeps me smiling. Pure joy. Have a listen.

SKY

These are the days to not be having no fun

Dear new boiler!

I know you're new to the family. Welcome. I hope you're enjoying your stay so far. Here's the thing, though. You're a little boring. You actually provide us with warm water. It's not that I don't appreciate your hard work. I do.

But see, we used to have a boiler that pretended to be doing its job, but wasn't really. I'd get into the tub and it would mislead me into thinking there was warm water, and suddenly and unexpectedly the water would go from warm to freezing. That was fun. In that hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-suddenly-drenched-in-freezing-water kind of way. Every shower was an adventure.

You seem like a nice boiler. Really. But where's the fun in that?

Love,
Kris

~~~~

Dear computer!

I love you. You're awesome, quirky and fun. You know what I love the most? It's that little thing you do lately. You know what it is. That ridiculously entertaining random shutting down you do. That? I think that's my favourite thing about you.

Remember when I was recording that long ass story for Ashley today and as I recorded 42 minutes of my speech, you suddenly and unexpectedly just shut down? And nothing I recorded was saved? Yeah. I loved it.

Don't ever change. I'm sure you'll be happy to shut down once and for all when I THROW YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF THE WINDOW!

Love,
Kris

~~~~

Dear February!

How I love that you've arrived! You just might be the most wonderful of all months!

Already we are flooded with the announcements for romantic comedies on every TV channel available. How great is that? I can't wait to watch endless number of beautiful people being in love and having sex on my TV. That is why Valentine's Day is so awesome - you can watch people rub their fabulous relationships in your face not just on that one day, but every day for two weeks long and then some!

You know what else is just to die for in you, dear February? FINALS. Oh my God, aren't they just the greatest? I love them. My favourite is probably the one in literature. You weren't there, but we had a quiz every single week from October till last week. And then, most of us ended up with not enough points to avoid having taking the final exam, even though the whole idea of having a quiz every single week was to not have to take the final. So isn't this exciting? It doesn't matter that we worked our asses off throughout the semester, because now we get to do that all over again. I'm simply thrilled and overjoyed with what's ahead!

Sweet, darling Februrary! If I could take away even more days from you, I WOULD. DIAF.

Love,
Kris

Meet me by the entrance of the tube, we can talk things over little time

This may never happen.
But.
This MAY happen.
Aarika might come to Croatia in November. And if (when) she does, I'll be there to meet her.

How far is Split from where you are?, she asked.
As far as can be, I said.
But it's not far enough for me to miss this.

Keep your fingers crossed.

These mean streets are meant for none

Last night, around 6.30, as I was walking home from the train station, down my dark, half a mile long street, a car, a huge pale yellow Mercedes, pulled over next to me. The passenger side window was down and, as I looked into the car, I saw a guy, my age, maybe a couple of years older than me, saying something to me. I shook my head indicating I hadn't heard him, so he repeated: Are you going to the centre? Can I give you a ride? I gave him a disbelieving look and managed a no, so he moved along, leaving me on my toes, waiting for him to change his mind and stop once again. He didn't, though, and soon the car was out of my sight.

And now I ask you, who does that??! Who offers a ride to an unknown girl on a dark street with no one around? People you do not want to get in a car with, that's who. And what does my sister say? She said: Why didn't you accept?!

Call me cynical (after all, maybe the guy was just trying to be nice) but sometimes, living in this world makes me wanna crawl to some place safe, and never come out. Much like this:

OMGWTF??!

PRE-ORDER NOW!!!

Personally, I think I'll wait for the movie.

Early in the evenin just about supper time

It's 5pm and I just printed out my paper! Woot! I am very proud of myself for NOT reading fic when I came home and turned the PC on. Instead, I actually wrote the paper first. Yes, yes I did. I am awesome and responsible.

If you disregard the fact that due is tomorrow and I had the entire semester to write it. *ahem*

But in my defense, it was fairly easy to write the paper after a whole semester of learning about that particular type of poem, so it was actually wise to leave it for the very end. Yes. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Now I'm gonna watch some Big Bang Theory.

ETA: Oh BBT, how I love you! LOOK! My Freak Sisters are not alone!
That's right! COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BOOBS! o.O

Someday never comes

Overwhelmed. That would be the word of the day. Hell, of the week. Not surprisingly, really, seeing how it's the end of the semester and finals are knocking on the door. They're one foot in, really. And me being me, leaving everything for the very last moment, is now swamped with work. Yet here I am, blogging. I'm letting off steam, okay?

Ashley asked me to record a podfic for her. Why, I'll never know. I slur when I read English, I can't pronounce certain words, I read way too fast (hence the first two problems, I suppose) and stumble over words (much like actors in Šokica, UGH), and I just can't hit that English sentence intonation. I actually went and recorded first three chapters (there are eight - ambitious of me, I know), but then deleted chapters 2 and 3 because there's weird buzzing that I just don't know how to get rid of. I'm not that unhappy with the first part, but since it went downhill from there, I doubt I'd be finishing it.

I haven't been having the best days lately, as you may or may have not noticed. Could be that I'm PMSing, but it's more likely the stress is kicking in, my usual not all that fun I-can't-do-this attitude overflowing me, when by this I mean living. Christel would ask me to stop being emo, Erica would suggest professional help, but I don't think I'm capable of following either of the advice. What I really want is a magic wand to wave my life away. Which, I guess, can also be done with a carefully dosed amount of sleeping pills. But then, where's the fun in that, right? Row, row, row your boat... When I'd really, really prefer drowning.

Life is full of misery

Today is not good. Today I feel a lil' sad. Today I feel ugly. Today I feel useless. Today I feel weak. Today I want to bite somebody's head off. Today you can't make me laugh. Today you can't make it better.

Yesterday was just as bad and tomorrow ain't lookin' up.

Stand by the stairway, you'll see something

It's Sunday morning and my Mom comes (WTF? I just paused for a second to think about whether I spelled "comes" correctly.Seriously, brain, what gives?) to our room to tell us about a phone call received. A friend of theirs called to inform them that his son came home with a girlfriend, possible future wife. Um, should we call people to let them know that our children are seriously dating people? So I was like, OMG Call him back and say sister's BF was here last night! AND he will most likely come by again tonight. I mean, the world should know, right? People today... *shakes head*

I managed to collect the music from Kauboji. Actually, I'm missing one song that just doesn't exist. Seriously, I googled the parts of lyrics I remember but all I'm getting is some religious hymn and that's just not it! And it's an awesome song. Why doesn't it exist on teh intrawebz, why?! What a cruel world this is...

But for the music that I do own, I have a new mp3 player to play it on. Well, you know, music and audiopr0nz. AND BOOKS! Normal books, like this Dean Koontz's novel I'm listening to right now, Forever Odd, the second in the Odd series. But the mp3, let me show you it. Isn't it the cutest thing ever?

Enough love to go round the world

Or at least from you to me.

AJ, you are so awesome! I can't believe how well you chose, I wouldn't have picked a more me set myself. I can't wait to wear it! Thank you so much! I love it! And you. xoxox

These boots were made for walking...

... and that's just what they'll do:
One of these days these boots are gonna
Walk all over you!

For those who may or may not have boot fetish *coughtheboycough*, here's my newest pair.

Kud bih s tobom, osim u teatar?

Holy freakin' shit, Kauboji was as awesome as the first time I saw them, only better because I was closer and Živko was right there in front of me. *sigh*

But a month ago I saw what has to be the worst play ever. Seeing how it was a class requirement, we're supposed to write a review. And so I did. In Croatian. I don't have the time to translate it now, but maybe I'll do it at some point tomorrow or later this week. Anyway, I'm sure some of my readers would appreciate some quality bashing so here you are:

Šokirana Šokicom

Najnovije uprizorenje igrokaza Šokica Ilije Okrugića ponajprije je veliko razočarenje. U pitanju je možda najgora predstava koju sam imala prilike vidjeti. Nekoliko je razloga za ovakav moj doživljaj predstave.

U kazalište sam došla s predznanjem o značajkama hrvatskog romantizma uopće te drame istog razdoblja. Upozoreni smo da obratimo pažnju na pojavu poznatih nam elemenata u predstavi. Zadatak nije bio nimalo lak budući da se romantizam u predstavi pronalazi tek u tragovima.

Tema je, naravno, zabranjena ljubav prožeta domoljubljem, tako tipična tema onodobne drame. Ovaj put je u pitanju bila zabranjena ljubav dvoje mladih različitih vjeroispovijesti, katolkinje i pravoslavca, uklopljena u prizore ratnog stradanja koji imaju zadaću doprinijeti tragici priče. Kao da izvanbračna trudnoća i prisilno razdvajanje nesretnog para nisu dovoljno patetični sami po sebi.

Sljedeći element romantizma koji upada u oči jest namjera predstave da prosvijetli publiku, da ju nečemu poduči. Opet, posve tipično za romantizam. Nažalost, to je izvedeno nadasve nespretno, gotovo grubo. Glumci se obraćaju direktno publici i govore joj o razdoblju u kojem se priča odvija te što će se dogoditi, kako na početku, tako i tijekom pa i na samom kraju predstave. Čini se da se time htjela postići komika, no smatram da je krajnji rezultat nešto posve drugo: narušen je kontinuitet priče i, kao najgore od svega, posve je izgubljena bilo kakva ozbiljnost izvedbe. Teško mi je zamisliti da bi autor to odobrio.

Osim općeg izmirenja zavađenih strana nad mrtvim tijelima dvoje nesretnih ljubavnika, to bi bilo sve od viđenih elemenata romantizma.

Velika zamjerka predstavi svakako je i izbor glumaca. Sandra Lončarić (Janja) i Mario Rade (Božo) jednostavno su prestari, posebice u odnosu na Vjekoslava Jankovića (Pero). Možda bi se to dalo i zanemariti da im izvedbe nisu bile toliko nenadahnute, toliko lišene života da je bilo upravo naporno gledati ih kako se spotiču preko svojih rečenica.

Ne mogu se nazvati kazališnim stručnjakom, ali smatram da je režija bila izrazito loša. Koja god da je namjera redatelja Dražena Ferenčine bila, čini mi se da nije ostvarena. Imam dojam da se nije mogao odlučiti želi li prikazati priču u tradicionalnom obliku ili ju modernizirati. Ako je htio unijeti svježinu i novost u priču, zašto su onda kostimi toliko nalik izvornim nošnjama, nimalo stilizirani i modernizirani? A ako je htio zadržati izvorni duh drame, čemu onda već spomenuto direktno obraćanje publici i moderna glazba (da spomenem samo Brothers in Arms Dire Straitsa kao glazbenu kulisu rata)? Povrh svega, u cijeli taj miš-maš stilova i razdoblja, ubačeno je i kazalište sjena.

Teško je reći koja je svrha ovog uprizorenja Šokice. Znam samo da se publika u kazalištu komešala u stolicama, a vjerujem i da se Ilija Okrugić okretao u grobu. Potpuni promašaj predstave prepoznali su čak i osmoškolci koji su loš doživljaj upotpunili svojim upadicama koje su dobacivali glumcima, za što ih nimalo ne krivim.

In other news, I was completely shocked today when Tajana and I got a B on our oral report on "Female Writing". Three other today's reports were all graded with Ds. Not that I'm complaining or anything, I just think the professor was rather unfair. It was just... uncomfortable to be there.

You guys, it's so fucking cold here! I want to cry when I think about going out in the cold. I want summer back! Heat'n'sweat, that's my thing. This snowy, icy, frosty crap, I'm so not cut out for.

I finished listening to the fourth and final (so far) part of the Twilight series and I think... God help me, I think I miss it already. The lulz that it brought was fantastic! Can you recommend equally crappy audiobooks for my listening pleasure chagrin? I also saw the movie and OMG, how horrible is its score? I don't think I've ever heard worse music in a film. It almost drowned the awfulness that the acting of the ~stars~ was. Almost.

I found a Croatian fan of Supernatural on LJ by pure accident. And she (*squee*) is from OSIJEK! And she's two years older than me, not some fangirling 14 year old! AND we are supposed to go see My Bloody Valentine together! She, just like me, needs a hand-holder while watching a horror film. And if that goes well, maybe we'll go see Friday 13th together as well. You guys, I am so excited about meeting another Supernatural fan in real life! There's no one in my life to share that with, no one. But now, now there might be. *flails* Also, my boys are returning to TV this Thursday! *flails more* Oh, life. You suck mostly, but on occasion you reedem yourself.

Testosterone boys and harlequin girls

As I was walking to the train station from Uni tonight, freezing my ass and various other parts of my body off, I kept thinking "I can't wait to come home, I need to blog!" See, I felt this need to write, to just let the words out, to create sentences. I didn't necessarily had a theme in mind and God knows nothing particularly interesting happened. I just wanted to make the words flow.

And then I came home and... nothing. I'm making myself type this even though the need is long gone. It's not that I couldn't come up with something to write about. It's just that I don't think I have the energy needed for shaping the thoughts into an entertaining form. So would it be okay to just ramble incoherently?

I spent most of my class fantasising about giving a blow job to that guy. TMI? Okay, yes, maybe, but that's actually not my point. (Yes, I actually have a point this time.) See that first sentence there? The thing is, I could never ever write it in Croatian. It would sound too crude, too dirty, too vulgar. It's liberating, writing in English. I love it so much, but I am detached from it nonetheless. Words I say in English are just that, words. They're not... How do I explain it? It's not that they're not my thoughts, because clearly, they are, but they're not inherently a part of me. Am I making any sense? I believe I could describe having sex in minute detail as long as I'm doing it in English. (Doing it as in writing about it, not doing it as in, you know, doing it.) Another reason for this is probably all the slash I've been reading. I've become desensitised when it comes to body parts and sex acts in writing. They're just words. They don't mean anything. In English. In Croatian, even thinking about writing the words down squicks me.

Recently I read The Time Traveler's Wife. The main characters have a lot of sex. And it bothered me! Just because I read it in Croatian. The author writes about sex without hesitation - not clinical descriptions, but no prettifying it either. She calls things with their names instead of using metaphors Harlequin way. And if it was in English, I'd be totally fine with it. This way, I felt uncomfortable. I have no problem with reading lines like these:

He tongues Jared fiercely for endless minutes, stabbing in deep, using spit and Jared's own precome to get him good and wet inside. It's a tight fit, when he slides a finger in to test; Jared clenches hard around him, groaning down low in his chest, every vein and muscle standing out in sharp relief on his arms as he grips the altar. Jensen works in a second finger, sliding his tongue in between, and smiles when Jared jerks at the first touch to his prostate.

But when I just think about translating it, I turn into a blushing fourteen year old. So stupid, isn't it?