So anyhoo

Apr. 17th, 2014 07:32 pm
tilly_stratford: (Blue & Gold)
Got a job as an assistant editor for an ad company, been working there two+ weeks but they're really struggling financially (and with some other major issues) so we're sort of expecting the company to go belly-up any day now.

That's you up to date, now I want to talk about comic books again.

I know these days DC are trying to sorta make Harley Quinn into their own Deadpool (off-beat comedy, insane protagonist, fourth wall-breaking gags), but I don't see why they'd need to when they have Ambush Bug. In a sense he's more Deadpool-y than Deadpool, because he doesn't have a tragic origin story and everything about him is satire about something else.

Ambush Bug started out as a Superman villain in the early eighties (created by one of the guys who went on to make Justice League International) before he became one of the good (if mentally unstable) guys. His real name is Irvin Schwab (God I love that name) and he wears a mysterious costume that came from outer space, and it grants him the ability to teleport all through the Multiverse.

This character doesn't just break the fourth wall, he moves backwards through his own comics, switches genres mid-story, visits his own creators, namedrops Marvel characters (!!), all sorts of crazy stuff. There are more jokes than plot in Ambush Bug comics.

One recurring theme is how Ambush Bug just wants comics to be fun again, so there is a lot of ridiculing grim and violent trends in cape comics. Reading the eighties' comics had me going "Haha yeah I guess that was a trope" but now I've moved to the most recent A.B. miniseries I really get to explore just how upset I still am about a lot of DC editorial mandates (I swear DC fans still have PTSD after the death of Ted Kord. I get violent flashbacks whenever a comic revisits the line "Rot in hell, Max.")

tumblr_m9vln3jIVC1rqsmuro1_r1_500
Ambush Bug really gets me.

I guess I see why DC has largely moved away from Ambush Bug. They don't tolerate anyone making fun of them anymore, not even their own characters.
tilly_stratford: (Cat: Miyazaki handle with care)
Another day, another bunch of job applications sent off. That paranoid moment when you fear that employers disregard your application because you've got an unusual name and they might think you're some dirty furriner. I mean, that might not be the issue with me at all - I've got a pretty "safe" Germanic and English name anyway. I still take care to point out on my résumé that Norwegian is my native language though, just in case.

But anyway, that's me fretting as usual. I take heart, if I don't find anything very soon I'll go back to retail or the grocery store, and I'll keep sending applications for other jobs.

So anyway; Last night I did my last shift at the cat shelter. It was a melancholy goodbye. The official explanation is that my new non-student life means I've got less time and resources to do volunteer work, and that's certainly true, but I can't deny that me and the organization no longer seem to see eye-to-eye on certain practical and political matters.

Over the course of the summer (while I've been away) there have been run-ins with the police, a lot of bad publicity in the local press, and I don't think my superiors have handled the matter in a good way. I know everything they've done, they've done with the best of intentions - to help abused animals, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for them, tooth and claw; But I believe there are better ways to do it, I don't think civil disobedience, breaking the law, and inhabiting every damaging animal activist stereotype out there will help our cause in the long run. Now my boss has to pay a hefty fine; that's money that could have been spent on food and spaying and medicines, and now it won't because my boss wanted to make a point. Not to mention the money contributors we've lost because "we're just some fundamentalist animal activist whackjobs after all".

Let me move on to my usual rant here: Why blaming the police really doesn't help )

See? I still care about important things. Politics, even. That doesn't change. It's just that writing about comics or TV shows is much kinder on my blood pressure and RAGE METER.

Honesty

Aug. 23rd, 2011 10:30 am
tilly_stratford: (Orson has had enough of your bs)
I'm working on my resumé, and I suddenly realize I'm supposed to say what my bachelor thesis was about.

I had to restrain myself from putting down "Thesis: HOW PIPPIN THE YOUNGER WAS AWESOME." (I instead opted for the slightly more formal but way less exciting "Analysis of the relationship between Church and State in Eighth Century France.")

Though I daresay the first one is slightly more indicative of my intention behind the thesis.

Random aside: I like how "resumé" is one of the few instances where it's us Norwegians who use original Latin (Curriculum Vitae, C.V. for short) while you English-speaking folk Americans don't. You use Latin via FRENCH. HAHA SUCKERS.

(I did not get a lot of sleep last night, due to dreading my dentist appointment today. My student card is only valid to the end of the month, so I need to take advantage of every discount I can get).
tilly_stratford: (Default)
Tiny and Morten are well on their way back to eastern Norway, while I'm slipping back into my Bergen lifestyle.

A handful of pictures from the last couple of days )

So speaking of my Bergen lifestyle - see, this is the first time since infancy that I'm not working on my formal education, where my day isn't spent on school work in some way. And for the last five years I've been extremely comfortable with the "student" label. Losing that, it's like I'm undergoing some sort of identity crisis. I mean, what other label do I get now? "Unemployed", I guess. I'm not at all comfortable with that one, so I'm going to have to fix that ASAP.

I'm a young, intelligent and educated person in the best of health, I've held a handful of interesting creative jobs (go into any major Norwegian bookshop and there's a real chance you'll find at least one product with my name on it), I'm very prepared to be an asset somewhere! My immediate challenge is to find out where I can be an asset, to find out who'll have me. I already know my degree in Medieval History isn't worth a thing, so at least that won't come as a shock.

Out into the world we go.
tilly_stratford: (Cat: relaxed)
SWEET JESUS FINISHED. I've sent off my +200 Trivial Pursuit questions to my editor and signed an important-sounding contract with Webster/Hasbro (with scary words like "whereas" and "forthwith" in it, very daunting). Here's hoping there won't be any complications further on.

It's been uphill work. I wasn't told early on that I would be solely responsible for the entire history category, and that I'd been hired to write trivia questions about Norwegian history, which has never been my strong suit (here's a secret - Norwegian history students are supposed to get the exact same education they would get if they studied in Germany or Latvia or Spain. What I know about the vikings I learned as a child).

Anyway, I'm exhausted and got a cold, I'm prepared to dive back under my blanket and play some Viva Piñata. I'm guessing it'll take at least a week before I stop feeling guilty about "not writing my daily question quota".

BRB dead

Sep. 13th, 2010 03:59 pm
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
Is there some unwritten rule that you can't escape from a convention without a virus? I've noticed that a lot of people I know get the "con crud" upon returning from DragonCon, Comic Con, PAX, all them big hitters... But really, is it fair that I have to feel like I've got the plague because I visited a measly little comics festival for a couple of hours yesterday? Uuughvhlurghaaargh.

Fever. Headache. Freezing. And two days to finish up my work for Trivial Pursuit. Jeez.
tilly_stratford: (Orson has had enough of your bs)
Nyagh. Haven't done my daily quota of TP questions today since my mind is completely occupied with my bachelor thesis (the first presentation is due Monday, you know). Ah, I guess I'll have to double my workload tomorrow.

At least I'm getting a lot of enjoyment out of my bachelor thesis. I was in high spirits when I wrote the presentations, so at the moment it bears the subtitle "Coup-d'etat á la Pepin the Younger" (French, how á propos, right?). I'll probably get a stern comment from a professor but I don't care.

In fact I first didn't intend for the thesis to centre so much around Pepin the Younger (a.k.a Pippin the Small for that cosy Tolkien feel), but the more I read about the Carolingians the more annoyed I get that historians are all gay for Charlemagne. Sure Charlemagne was pretty awesome, but they seem to forget he was the result of a pretty darn great dynasty. His great-grandfather was the stuff of legends (literally)! His grandfather was called "The hammer" and got on swimmingly despite being a bastard (you know, in the "illegitimate child" way)! And his father, our dear Daddy Pepin, he went from being mayor of the palace (pretty much a glorified valet) to a king in one asshole manouver.

He's like a Disney villain come to life! His success in battle is still evident today (just ask the Pope who they got that nice little Vatican from)! And before Charlemagne came along he was the biggest thing to happen to the Franks since Clovis.

Oh, don't get me started on Clovis.
tilly_stratford: (Fops with canes are teh sex)
Starting to run slightly out of steam on the Trivial Pursuit gig. I'm roughly halfway and doing good, but it gets slightly harder each day to find things to ask about. But then suddenly I can remember some thing I LOVE WITH THE FURY OF A THOUSAND SUNS and I have to stop myself from writing half a million questions about them.

Like the Kristiania bohemians. They might just be my favourite chapter of modern Norwegian history.

In the Nineteenth Century you had this group of bohemian artists slumming around in Oslo (named Kristiania back then) and there were scandals and political uproar and unhappy love affairs and masterpieces (Edvard Munch was one of their members, as was Christian Krohg). And they wrote the marvellous Nine Bohemian Commandments, which I will attempt to translate because nobody should be denied things this cool:

  1. You shall write your life.

  2. You shall cut off your family roots.

  3. You can never treat your parents too badly.

  4. You shall never hit your fellow man for less than five kroner.

  5. You shall hate and despise peasants, like: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Kristo-fer Kristo-fersen [sic] [journalist/writer - not to be confused with the singer/songwriter] and Kolbenstvedt [politician].

  6. You shall never wear celluloid cufflinks.

  7. Never refrain from making a scandal in Christiania Theatre.

  8. You shall never regret.

  9. You shall kill yourself.

Don't you just adore them?
tilly_stratford: (Darkwing: not convinced)
I've been to the info meeting, fired off an e-mail to my student councilor, bought dinner for the next three days AND written more than my daily quota of TP questions. In summary: I've calmed the fuck down for now. Time for stupid observations.

You know that new movie of Polanski's, Ghost writer? I haven't seen it yet but I've noticed the Norwegian title is Skyggen - "The shadow". Which makes me want to see Ewan McGregor running around with a swanky hat, guns and psychic powers and vigilantin' all over the place.


I'm guessing these two are not very much alike.

Also completely unrelated but there'll never be an excuse to casually mention this:

The picture of the month on my lovely Star Trek wall calendar is Chekov screaming in pain in 'The Way to Eden' and it just keeps on amusing me every day! All the other images so far has been this or that character looking noble and brave and pretty but when it's Chekov Month you apparently can't define him better than with his eyes screwed shut and in the middle of a loud nasal whine.

I don't think any other character in TOS ever screamed quite as much, and I'm including Nurse Chapel here.
tilly_stratford: (LS: Please run)
Hah. Like there's any chance I'll catch a full night of sleep tonight.

God I wish I wasn't wired this way, where every tiny little uncertainty keeps me up at night. Tomorrow's just the information meeting for this semester, for chrissakes! It's not like I'm freaking out, it's just... nagging in my head. It's officially the start of the semester, and I'm already a bit overwhelmed by the stuff I've got to get through:

- Writing two hundred questions for the next Trivial Pursuit Genus edition. In one month. I have to admit it's thrilling to finally play in the big league but Jesus that's daunting.

- Writing my bachelor thesis, which it turns out can't be about the Middle Ages because, uh, the degree I'm doing, Bachelor in the Middle Ages, doesn't exist anymore. Except it sorta does, because I have to finish it.

- Taking some other 200-level history course. Both the thesis and the course wouldn't be so scary, only I have to:

- Take the HIS102 exam over (and very possibly the HIS115 exam too - I've delivered a complaint to the University about it and it would lovely if they could ANSWER IT SOMETIME). And I'm still so ashamed that I failed, even though I know I shouldn't be. On the HIS115 exam I honestly thought I did a good job, but apparently I didn't. That has never happened to me before. It's... scary.

But I keep telling myself that I'll have to deal with these when they come to pass, right now I should really just... get some sleep. I don't want to start the semester this way.

Sweltering

Jul. 27th, 2010 02:50 pm
tilly_stratford: (Fred and Cyd: Don't mind you watching)
It's one of those days. It's too warm to do anything but I'm still too restless to do nothing. I've finished rereading Watchmen (over the course of a week. This is the first time the whole story has really clicked into place for me, pirate bits and all), I've strolled through the park, I've taken a walk along the pier (not Bryggen, which is crawling with tourists these days) but even the breeze felt too hot. It's actually colder here in my room, but the laptop is working at glacial pace and I haven't got the peace of mind to read novels.

Well I guess it's like my dad has told me, "There are few things as healthy as being bored once in a while." I admit it's nice being this free to experience boredom. The funny thing is it really isn't all that hot, I'm just so unaccustomed to Bergen being anything but slightly too chilly.

Oh yeah and it seems like I've got a job! Writing questions for the next Trivial Pursuit game, no less. I know I've said "quiz-writing is too much work on a professional basis and I'm never doing it again", but - money is money, work is work and I have to admit I'm excited to think about that bit of glossy paper in the Family Game Numero Uno with my name on it. I'd say something about prostituting myself for glory but I can't think of a snappy punchline.
tilly_stratford: (Jon sporfle)
Easy now no need fi go down
Just walk it gently and no break nah bone
Cool end-it-ly, you have a style of your own
Me never kno you saw ya master the saxaphone


Ah, what a brilliant day this turned out to be. Woke up in a good mood, long shower, ate breakfast watching clips of Daily Show tosses (I wasn't aware they were called tosses until last night. Already my mind has transformed the word into tossers, toss-ups, toss-offs and other puerile things. THE HEAT IS KILLING ME OKAY, I get the mind of a ten-year-old in this weather). You have no idea how funny I find corpsing. Which is why I'm watching the tosses, you see.

I then found a CD I had long thought lost, which meant I could rock to The Beatles' version of Money (that's what I want) on my way to work. I love that live rendition. I don't know when it was recorded, probably after their big break, but you can hear they've still got the attitude from their early days, when they played rock and wore leather at Der Kaiserkeller.

You know what? Here. Listen to those drums and that guitar, and the way John shouts out the lyrics. This was what the Beatles were like before the matching suits and Love me do.

It was my last day at work, somewhat melancholic. I hate saying goodbye to people. Awkward things, goodbyes. Everybody expects them to be so meaningful and worth remembering, when they're just a ritual you go through with who knows how many times in your life. Can't the time we spent together every day be the meaningful part?

Anyway, time to do some wrestling with Brownie. A trip to the vet revealed that he's got an infection in one paw - appearantly it's a common problem among rats, but it means I have to rub some antiobiotics on it twice a day. He's not too happy about the arrangement.
tilly_stratford: (Time war)
Make my bed and light the light
I'll be home late tonight
Leave your perch and take the sky
Too-da-loo, farewell, bye bye


Well, I'm off on a good start, at least. Got the whole Nitrogen cycle down before I went to bed last night, and today I learned the Hardy-Weinberg principle by heart and all its deviations.

Big Finish has gotten hold of my monies today, oh yes.

Ooh, I'm letting an old acquiantance listen to my Invaders from Mars audio. Well, we got talking about War of the worlds and it sort of went from there. Poor guy will probably quite puzzled with the Charley business. Not to mention with the alien guy travelling the universe in phone box business...

Stayed up last night to watch Jabberwocky. Oh dear... It's not like I was one of those people expecting Monty Python part two (though some scenes struck me as quite The holy grail), or even something along Brazil which I love, but it really wasn't that funny, was it. I mean, Michael Palin did a wonderful sort of hapless bedraggled hero in a cute way (so I had something pretty to look at for one and half hours), and there were all sorts of wonderful accents to listen to, and well, the monster itself was done in a quite lovely way, but everything else? Ugh. And a silly scene in a certain audio play kept popping up in my mind...

The scene in question with geeky bits of trivia )

I imagine I'd have so much to write here today, but really, all I've done today is studying, having a couple of breaks listening to the ending of Zagreus of all things, and a meeting at work discussing the new children's books campaign.

And speaking of Zagreus (I swear, someday I'll stop talking about it because it interests no one but me, but this is not that day), people can aim a lot of critique at it, but the ending! There's not a single thing wrong with the very ending. I love the sort of Casablanca farewell scene between the Doc and Romana. "I'll miss you, Doctor" - "You'll get by." And here we go on about Charley again )

What? I've been reading about Mendehl's pea experiments all day. I need to do a bit of fangasming to reboot my mind.
tilly_stratford: (Fops with canes are teh sex)
Some people say Jesus that's the ace in the hole
But I never met the man so I don't really know
Maybe some Christmas If I'm sick and alone
He will look up my number, call me on the phone


If you've been reading this blog for a while, it should come as no surprise when I admit that I'm really rather shallow when it comes to certain things. I'm not in a particularly bad mood now, so we won't mention the serious parts of my shallowness, but just one particular silly bit: Clothes.

I'm in love with nice articles of clothing, especially when it comes to formal wear (well, men's formal wear. Women's formal wear are so hit-and-miss I'd rather not think about it.) I've watched through entire drab TV-series because of a nice suit. I've scavenged for pictures of one day in a Beatles tour because Sir Paul was wearing a particularly dandy jacket (this day, I found out, was the same date that years later would become my birthday).

So I was rather shocked yesterday when I noticed that David Tennant not only wear different ties in Doctor who, but that I've watched an entire episode with the greatest tie in the world and not noticed.

Look at that tie. Is that not a god among ties? Isn't that the prettiest piece of fabric in the history of fabric pieces? How could I miss it?

Okay, I'll stop. Shush, Tilly. It's undignified.

I finished the questions to the quiz book yesterday and sent them off today. Yes!! With this done and finished maybe I can finally stop most of my stressing. It's done, Tilly. Just sit back and wait for the money to come in. Now I only have one job again. It's not like I look forward with glee to every day in the bookshop, but being as tall as I am, I could hardly have picked a more suitable job.

Gah, I'm tired. I'll sit back with my newspaper and wait for Snooky to arrive.
tilly_stratford: (The Doctor would like his tea now)
Os ska bu ti Sonsteinheilla
Bli du dærfor intje ræd
Stuge mi æ hole fjella
Mæ guld å sylv åro klæd


Today's quota: filled

That brings you back, doesn't it? It's actually much easier making questions this time around - the lovely people at NRK have already decided which categories I have to use. Although some of them quite puzzles me (Norwegian opera?), I save a lot of time when I don't have to wrack my brain for every little category.

I'm a little bit more clever this time around too - just move everything into the Deichman library, and the world's at my fingertips. Well, eventually people began to look at me strangely as my desk got completely hidden behind high stacks of books - Ibsen, Harry Potter, the French revolution, Grieg, The Hobbit, Roman emperors, anthology of children's books of 1989...

But, as I said, today's quota: Pwned.

After a few hours of mental exertion, I thought to myself that if I didn't find a spot of grass to lie in, I would surely die. But I glimpsed the tops of trees over a building, and decided to walk towards it. And I walked. And walked. And walked even further.

Oh, so it was a cemetary. A nice cemetery, though. Huge.

Turns out I had walked all the way to Vår Frelsers Gravlund - the main honorary cemetary in Norway. I could swear it was in another part of Oslo, but no - so I went exploring.

All the Norwegian big shots are buried there: Bjørnson, Fearnley, Munch, Øverland, Krohg, Prøysen and Ibsen (with a weird hammer symbol on an obelisk - I thought it was some communist sigil or other), my guess is, if you've heard of them and they're Norwegian, that's where they're buried.

The big one, though, and the only one I actively searched for, was of course the grave of Henrik Wergeland (some day I'll sit down and figure out my unfounded love for Wergeland. Is it the hedonism? The poetry? The sex scandals? The aftershave? I just don't know). It's in a shaded grove, some way from the other famous people, and not easy to miss when you know what you're looking for: A not entirely attractive green metal steeple with gilded herons on the side, with a bust under it.

Have I ever mentioned my love of tombstones? My main reason for loving cemetaries are the tombstones. Just imagine a life, fleeting thing it is, carved into stone, adorned with flowers and candles. Who says ancestral worship isn't practised in Europe?

The best tombstone in this particular cemetary, though, is that of Herman Wildenvey. Nothing fancy, just a bust, and poem underneath it: "Hark, you whose young heart creates wondrous melodies / to my words so that the poem speaks when I am quiet" (or something like that, I'm translating from memory).

So. Hungry. I might die. I'm boiling potatoes right now. Foooood.
tilly_stratford: (My favourite obsession - Frank)
One sting
And you can say goodbye to all of your friends
One sting
And you’ll be singing as your spirit ascends
All's well that ends


Right, so John Simm is playing Elling at the Bush Theatre, both Simon Pegg and David Tennant voice acts in Free Jimmy - let's face it, England, you're being pwned by Norway. *Mumble mumble Ibsen mumble*.

Had a bit of a disorienting morning. Woke up when my phone rang, it was from the Norwegian broadcasting corporation, wondering if I was willing to make a accompanying quiz book to Kvitt eller dobbelt, the board game I made last year. I was too sluggish to decide then and there, so I said I was going to decide when I recieved an e-mail with a fleshing-out of the job.

Now, of course, I've decided to take it. I just hope I didn't sound to negative on the phone. Hoping for that e-mail.

The reason I was so dopey, was of course, because I stayed up all night watching movies. Well, initially I was watching Young Frankenstein at a sensible hour (I swear, it was the first time I'd seen it), and then, at IMDB, I got a series of startling discoveries:

"What, there is a movie version of The little prince?"

"...And Stanley Donen directed it?"

"Oooh, Gene Wilder plays the Fox!"

"What, Bob Fosse is in it as well? Ooh, and Victor Spinetti!""

"What, the whole thing is on YouTube, you say?"

"It's a MUSICAL?!"

So yeah. That's what I did last night. It was pretty meh, American and creepy in the bad sense of the word, with a pretty cheesy and heavyhanded soundtrack. And I really, really tried to enjoy Gene Wilder as the Fox, as I love that part in the book where the Fox asks the Prince to tame him, but... there's something about a child meeting an adult man in the forest (however smashing that man may look in a red suit), going on about how nice it would be to touch.

That being said, it has dawned on me over the last couple of weeks, what with all the early Mel Brooks movies, that Gene Wilder was really quite sexy back in the early seventies.

Like, mad sexy. And that really bothers me, because I can't figure out why I should think that (and God knows I have a thing for men with eyeliner, but then I only saw Young Frankenstein last night). I feel I've gone slightly insane.

Anyway, as soon as I get an extra hard drive I'll get Sherlock Holmes' smarter brother. For obvious reasons.

Snooky is having his hair cut today. Not really for cosmetic purposes, other than to get all of that paint off. And then, a swim!

In the meantime, I'm waiting for that e-mail.
tilly_stratford: (Doctorgasm four)
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
I really need you tonight
Forever's gonna start tonight


Most love songs are best performed in a mellow, hum-volumed way. And then there's the few best delivered shouting at the top of your lungs, terrifying children, animals and boyfriends alike. This is one.

Who's my little laptop? Who's my precious darling laptop? You are! Oh yes you are!

It's fixed, my darling computer's fixed! And it's like it always was, sound files, unfinished short stories, Hugh Laurie wallpaper and all. One minute exception though: My welcoming screen is no longer in cyrillic (and Hugh Laurie I have now replaced with John Simm. Oh yeah.)

Oh, but it's back!

Quite a quiet day at work today. I had a great day though - I think this might have been my first day of work where I didn't do anything colossaly wrong (anyway, if I did, I won't find out for another week. So, yeah, all is well). And while I was giftwrapping George's marvellous medicine for a grandfather who couldn't wait for his grandchildren to discover Roald Dahl, I thought to myself, "Wow. This is a great job! At the grocery store people never asked my opinion on anything. If it was quiet I had no reason to go read the ingredients of tomato soup. Kids were never so jazzed about buying a popsicle as they are when they get their hands on the latest Phenomena book." I love it!

And I discovered another perk: Bookstore editions! Publishers gladly thrust not-yet-published books into my hands so I can read and recommend them when they arrive. For free!

Okay, finally saw The sound of drums. I watched it yesterday, today it's gone. BBC sure are quick on the trigger. Nice episode though. The Master is awesome as always, and the Doctor totally wants to be his little Gallifreyan wife. Not sure I really want to see The last of the Time Lords now, since I'm 100 % convinced of how it all will end. Boo.
tilly_stratford: (Ten evils)
Her eyes had the fire of surrender
And her touch it was tender
And I guess in a moment as that
You forget about your hat


So yeah, time for a major update!

Naw, I still haven't gotten hold of my laptop, but now at least the place that's repairing it is letting me borrow another one. Crappy though it is, it's possible to logon to the net with it in my room.

So, let's do this thoroughly. Yes.

My new home )

My new job )

School and such )

So; Internet, you shiny shiny temptation. What to do? I think I'll catch up on some Doctor Who. The last episode I caught was the Shakespeare code, you know. And even that's as far as I've gone, I already adore the new Master. Aww. Evil Timelord, you cutie you.

Final hijack: I had this wacky dream a few weeks ago, I just remembered it. You see, I was playing on this swingset with John Barrowman. Easy as that. He asked if I wanted to come to this party he was throwing and I accepted because, dude: John Barrowman. (Though I have to admit, even in my dream I was thinking, "Whoa, hang on. Isn't he married? And gay?") It turned out it was a big family party with kids running all over the place, and I found out the only reason he had asked me was so I could do the dishes. And I did them, getting increasingly furious alone in his big kitchen while everybody was in the next room having fun. Eventually he came back carrying a big plastic bag and said it was a present from his old Austrian uncle. It was full of gooseberries, most of which were squashed. I smacked him and ran out.

That Barrowman. What an asshole.
tilly_stratford: (Cello in the rain)
Oh gods I miss my laptop.

It seems reparations will take even longer since the place that was going to fix it went banca rupta. Oh yes. I don't even get to see it until this other place has gotten hold of it. Oh no.

I only got cash for another half hour at this internet café. Woe is me. Woe I say.

But, in other news, I got a job! A real, honest, money-handling job. At a bookshop, nonetheless. Aw, it's nice to earn money, but I still royally screw up now and then.

I'm going to work tomorrow, and you know what day it is. Uh-huh. I'm certain that by tomorrow night, I'll be sick to death of handling that massive black book.

Well, who knows when I'll be online again. See you then.

Woe.
tilly_stratford: (Melancholy doctor)
She make me go so wrong
My conscience is clear and strong
She makes me do things I don't wanna do
I don't know why I should be telling you
I know that you want her too


I've been home at my mum's for a week. It's nice to sleep in a silent house at night, and of course I've missed my mum, but things are going pretty much as I expected: I'm itching like mad to find a place on my own.

But first things first, I have to find a job. I've visited a handful of animal clinics to see if they needed extra help, mainly because I'm
a) looking for two years as a veterinary assistant if I have to go to school in London, and
b) I really, really don't want to work in a regular shop.

No luck yet, but I'm negotiating with at a slightly different job. There'll be dogs. More information if I get it.

This weekend has been pleasently spent in Trysil with Snooky at the luxurious cabin we visited last year, care of my mum (it's her company's cabin, after all, and she graciously let me borrow her car to get there). Nobody ever visits the place after the snow's gone (except us, we like the quiet atmosphere), so we've watched loads of movies and played board games.

I finally got to destroy the ring in the Lord of the Rings board game! God, all that time me and my sister has spent on that game, and finally now, after two whole years, the ring was destroyed! Oh yeah!

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This game? My bitch.

I'll return to reading Martin Chuzzlewit now. God, what a dreary book! Charlie, what were you thinking!

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tilly_stratford

March 2015

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