Стіна, Для тебе, і Мить
Gearing up for a concert that I don’t yet have tickets for… but I have THREE alarms set on my phone so I don’t miss the presale.
That’s not obsessive, is it?
I just came back from a week in Phoenix and I AM DYING.
I went on this business trip with an extroverted co-worker and even though we had separate hotel rooms and were in separate classes, she was like this huge energy vampire whenever we were in each other’s company.
I got home well after midnight last night and was just so emotionally drained that there was no chance I would be functional today.
I’m pissed and disappointed, but judging by the amount of energy I’ve had today, I definitely wouldn’t have survived. I lost $75 if they won’t let me reschedule. I don’t mind losing it; it was for the best.
I also cancelled my trip to the Putnam Den to see Black Mountain Symphony.
In happier news - here’s a kick ass cover of Okean Elzy’s “In Heaven / In the Sky” (depending on the translator, I guess)
I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…
My first introduction to music, real music, was at my aunt’s house. Bowie and the Stones were played in constant rotation. My aunt had a love for Bowie that was only rivaled by her love for Mick Jagger. She loved Bowie so much, she dressed up as Ziggy Stardust for Halloween.
Bowie’s music was so woven into the tapestry of my life that when things disintegrated between my aunt and I, my CDs and mix tapes went into deep storage. I only listened to him when I happened upon his music via the radio or tv. To willingly listen to it tore open wounds that - a fuck ton of years later - still haven’t healed properly. It’s weird how music gets tangled up in the mundane operations of day-to-day living to the point where the situation and the soundtrack are so intertwined that you can’t have one without the other. Bowie will forever be trapped in 1975 - 1992, at 26 Marmor Court, Wethersfield, CT… and the mere thought of hearing any of Bowie’s music takes me right back there. It’s not always a happy place.
Worlds collided in an unexpected way the other day when I saw the headline on the Ukrainian language version of the BBC’s website. The photo caught my eye, and I skimmed the headline looking for words I recognised. It was easy enough: Died Singer David Bowie. I was so thrilled that I understood the headline, that its meaning didn’t sink in right away.
And then the tears came…
And Ziggy played guitar…
the twelfth doctor, ladies and gentlemen
I can’t tell you what Harry Potter / circumcision rabbit hole I jumped down with both feet a few weeks ago - and fuck me if that isn’t possibly the weirdest sentence I have ever written in my entire fucking existence to this point - but there is a very nice picture out there of a totally nude Daniel Radcliffe. Who is uncircumcised. If you care about that sort of thing.
(And the voices in my head just started arguing that “If it’s good enough for the Chosen One, it’s good enough for me…” *shakes fist at anti-circ friends*)
For the record, don’t do Harry Potter fanfic research whilst trying to keep up with yet another argumentative thread on Facebook about circumcision, kids, it’s like… I have no fucking idea. Drunk googling probably couldn’t have gotten me to that picture even if it was my sole objective to turn the computer on.
Change of topic, yeah?
Hmmmm. What could I possibly say to top that little revelation?
Yeah, I got nothin’…
I like the new job a lot more now I’m able to play without much adult supervision. I’m finding a lot of things that the previous person(s?) hadn’t been doing, but that’s because I’m approaching this position from an accountant’s POV, not a dispatcher’s. That’s not a slam against the most recent person at all, because I actually like them, but they don’t have the accounting background to see these things and understand the impact they can have. They don’t care that I’m finding their mistakes, and I’m having a blast finding them.
Of course, we’ve already had to have the “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” chat, which is even more fascinating because I was told I wouldn’t like that person. I actually like them quite a bit.
You can graduate high school but you can never leave.
The best part of all this ridiculous drama is that EVERYBODY has decided they can talk to me about everyone else. It’s absolutely fascinating. I’m just sitting there, absorbing it all, and promptly forgetting it as soon as I get in the car.
I was nervous for a while that I had made the wrong choice, but eh… I’m going to be just fine there.