katiefoolery: (Touch me)
The problem is that I'm completely distracted by shiny stuff. For instance (as you would otherwise be unaware of it), I am going to tell you that I just spent ten minutes between the previous sentence and this one reading over information about the new iPhone.

The shiny, I am powerless to resist it.

But it's the shiny's fault, really. It's always so tempting; so tantalising; so... emblematic of the sine qua non. Without my shiny, I am nothing.

Which isn't quite true.

At least, I hope not.

But there's always something, isn't there? Something you need to make you feel more complete or better-equipped or on the edge of breakthrough technology. Or something.

(Hmmm, too many somethings. Perhaps the shiny is short-circuiting my internal thesaurus...)

In my case, however, there's often a missing step. For instance: I want the published book to my name without the unfortunate necessity of having to write and edit it in the first place. Or I want the amazing new job without having to bother with applying and interviewing and impressing. No matter what I have, I always want something else, preferably right now.

From all of this, I can only conclude that I'm lazy and easily-distacted. I may need help.
katiefoolery: (Sleep now)
It occurs to me that this journal is in serious danger of becoming a log of vlogs. Or several logs of vlogs, which could be stacked together to make a nice, toasty vlog fire. I really wouldn't mind one of those right now, given how it's all Winter-like and cold around here. Never mind the fact that I'm sitting here in short sleeves - you should be paying more attention to the warm coat draped over the back of my chair. It is COLD out there.

But considerably warmer inside.

Anyway, in order to avoid the log of vlogness, I shall break it up by talking about my dream of bizarreness. Because everyone loves to read about other people's dreams, right?

But seriously, this one was truly bizarre. And it kept company with other bizarre dreams, yet apparently out-bizarred them all, because it's the only one I remember. This is evidently what happens to my head when I a) work far too hard, b) don't get more than about six hours' sleep on weeknights, and, c) fall asleep out of desperation at ten o' clock on Friday night.

So.

I was an Assyrian living in India. I... don't even know why. Why an Assyrian? Why India? Is there some quasi-historical cultural commentary going on in my head that I don't know about? Anyway, things weren't exactly going swimmingly and my family was attempting to flee, via the intermediary of this guy who was providing us with false papers. We showed up all innocent-like, encountered this incredibly sleazy and untrustworthy-looking guy... who then SAVED OUR LIVES by lying about who we were in some script-based language I didn't understand.

Also, there was grain. Possibly in sacks.

And then my friend from China turned up. She was a princess or an empress-in-training or whatever and a thousand people followed her around. Literally. She turned up in this great procession of people in red and I could barely work out where she was amongst them all. And on top of this, her mother had died recently and her scarlet-draped coffin had become part of the procession, complete with mourners.

So, as if a thousand-strong cohort of Chinese processioners wasn't helpful enough to an Assyrian girl trying to lie low in India, I get told off by my friend as well. "Why are you running away?" was the gist of it.

Well, I can answer this question and I'll borrow that high-horse while I'm at it. "Because my friend and his family were killed last week," I explained, from said equine of great height. "And he was an Assyrian, too."

What.

I woke up from that at about 4am, wondering what on earth was going on with my brain.

Two questions immediately occur to me, though. Firstly, wtf? Secondly, if I have a friend who just happens to be a Chinese empress-in-training, why isn't she helping me and my family to escape?
katiefoolery: (Cake)
I have been making the most of my Monday morning... by making icons. But seriously, who doesn't need more icons featuring elements of punctuation? Or cake?

Icon Icon Icon Icon

If you can't see the images, then I blame Dreamwidth* and/or my work, for not allowing me to upload to Photobucket.

This productivity has also extended itself to beta-ing (I'm doing some), writing (likewise doing of some) and this week's vlog. Which I have already filmed. You'd think this would be a good thing: fantastic, the thing is filmed and I have but to edit it before Wednesday.

And yet, you'd be horribly, horribly wrong, for I have at my disposal some thirty-six minutes of footage which must be turned into a mere four.

Somehow.

I HAVE NO IDEA HOW.

Also, the phrase of the day is "sartorial uncertainty" - for when you have no idea what the hell your clothes are doing.


* I can now reveal that my vilification of Dreamwidth was completely unjust and happily lay the blame directly on my work.

April 2011

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