The Icon Faerie

Long story short: I'm back in Iowa for the foreseeable future.

( Long story NOT short... [TW: self-harm, suicidal ideation] )

I have so much I want to talk about. But since brevity is the soul of wit and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

My sister is still in Japan of this moment. She's okay, there wasn't much damage in Nagoya from the earthquake, but she's going (I keep typing 'coming' but I'm not there) home for a bit and she'll get in on Monday. I don't know if my mom will ever let her go anywhere ever again, but maybe now at least she won't drive me crazy for a bit. I love my mother and understand being worried, but seriously. (I also understand that she is ~mother and her worry probably outshines any that I had -- and I was a bit worried but my sister is a smart girl and the Japanese know how to handle it.) I told Gretchen to grab something good when the looting started, but apparently they don't do that. Which is cool.

Sunday I went and saw Angels in America at Signature again. They changed the cast, and Michael Urie was playing Prior so obviously I had to go. As much as I hesitate to say it... Michael Urie is totally my Prior. Justin Kirk is wonderful in the film, and Christian Borle was amazing, but Michael? He was inspired. He was just the perfect combination of righteous, queeny rage, fear, awareness of the absurdity of it all, and at times, utter contempt for the world around him. And how he looks in a dress is exactly as unfair as you would think it is.

Adam Driver was a newcomer as Louis. I LOVED him. He LOOKED like a neurotic Jewboy, and had amazing comic timing. At first I thought he was a little stiff but I warmed up to him. I actually ended up liking Louis a little lot more than I usually do -- which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Considering some of the things he does, it increases my sympathy and emotional reaction when he does or says reprehensible things. Truthfully, Bill Heck puts too much ANGRY~ in his Joe for my taste. I get that he's supposed to be confused and maybe a bit self-loathing, but I don't think I should fear for Harper's safety when they're arguing. I didn't like Keira Keeley (I think that's her name) as Harper as much as I liked Zoe Kazan. Zoe was a bit younger, more ethereal -- I could believe she went flying and saw ex-drag queens in her hallucinations, but Keira went a bit more zombiesque with her interpretation at times. And there was a lot of yelling. :\ Bill Porter was still Belize and he was STILL fabulous. Jeffrey Wright is Jeffrey Wright but Bill Porter was DIVAING OUT. The angel was good. I don't know if I like her as much as Robin Weigert, but it was a different interpretation. A lot more human at all times, not just sometimes.

I didn't want to stalk too much -- stagedooring Off-Broadway is a different culture than Broadway shows, I'm finding -- but I wanted to fangirl Michael Urie a little and was under orders from occultebelta to do so. So he signed my copy of The Temperamentals and told him I'd enjoyed that play as well, I'm teaching it in my 101 class this semester (last semester wasn't so impressed with Angels), and it was in part due to that play that I want to pursue my MFA project in queer dramaturgy. I voiced a concern about identifying straight -- in my experience, cautious self-deprecation and disclaiming works out better in the end when it's genuine -- and he blew it off. He said, "You may have more to say than a queer artist." So therefore I intend to make no more apologies about it. Onward and upward. Michael Urie said so.

Last week I applied and interviewed for a customer service position at Old Navy -- so basically what I'd been doing at Lane Bryant, but I'll be able to do it in jeans. Except when they offered me the position and tried to set up a time for me to come in for training and such, they proceeded to ignore the availability I gave them when I applied and tried to get me to come in Monday during classtimes, Tuesdays when I'm teaching, and damn. I don't even. Why? So I gave him my availability AGAIN and he said he'd call back. That was Wednesday. So if this is going to be a chronic problem I'm not sure I want to work for them. Because my school and teaching job are going to come first. Sorry. The end.

I had two major writing assignments due last Monday. Of course I left them until the last minute. One was a ten minute play, which I actually ended up being proud of despite not considering myself a playwright (it's hard to give all the information the audience needs just in dialogue without being didactic or fake). I got a B+ on a paper on Elizabethan foreign policy. I probably would have gotten higher if I'd been able to bother with MLA formatting and edit properly, but no. She did compliment my handling of the history though, so I will take it.

I've sort of started using my tumblr that I made to see what the fuss was about. And when I say 'using' I mean I'm reblogging shit like it's going out of style. It's here.

I am giving serious thought as to when I want to move, and 'soon' is what comes to mind. Twice this week I have been woken at 9:30 by a roommate (the same roommate) wailing the song "Fuck You" at the top of her voice. First of all, that's a god awful song 24/7, and second, 9:30 is not the proper hour to be shouting songs.

I just have this fear of not having enough money to stay in an apartment elsewhere and getting evicted and having to live in my car. Which is stupid. But I get anxious, I get depressed about being anxious, I get anxious because I don't get anything done when I'm depressed and it piles up, etc.

Also, Galileo is going to suck. And that is an objective assessment.

The one time I actually CAN go to bed early and have the desire to, I can't sleep and end up laying there, tossing around for two hours. This is a bitch.

I had to write a ten minute play for my Play Development Workshop class, since we're holding a ten minute play festival (using the prompt "the most important thing in the world") and Steve wanted us to "understand the process" or something. I don't really consider myself a playwright, so it was an interesting exercise. I do prose, usually, where you can have narrative and a little more psychological insight whereas in a play it's all action and it all has to be in the text. Anything else the director's making up. Anyway, Chris wrote this great dark comedy about hope, and Aaron wrote these hilarious little vignettes about the invention of the wheel, and I wrote a piece about a guy who accidentally killed and then purposefully dismembered a young girl and he wants the mother's forgiveness before he gets strapped to a table. I am a cheery little fuck.

Also, I am very bad with money and nobody should ever let me have any. And you should never go grocery shopping when you haven't eaten anything all day. These two statements are related.

My last Mentalist recap was sixteenth in the top thirty hits for thetwocents.com last week! Woo! This has never happened for me before, so this is a good thing.

Steve wants to start holding graduate meetings on Tuesday mornings at NINE AM. Which would be all very well and good, I'm sure, except when you can't fall asleep until 4:30 and have to leave the apartment at 8:30 to get there on time, the morning comes very early.

Today I was very sleepy because that's what happened to me last night. I was sleepy which is different from just tired.

I started reading the next Bernard Cornwell book I have, which is The Archer's Tale, the first of a trilogy. I get through the first twenty pages, coastal English village, our hero is tall and strong, your basic Cornwell fare. We also get to hear a lot about the priest. Also pretty typical for Cornwell, as his priests tend to come in two flavors: one, holier-than-thou, vice ridden, and disgustingly corrupt, or two, not as pious and devoted as you might expect but okay guys. This one is the latter. Okay. Well we have French raiders getting all up in their grill now and kill the priest and the rest of the village as well (except for our hero of course). Okay, fine.

Hero and the priest get this wonderful scene before he expires and then we find out the hero is the priest's son, and this is treated as though we readers should have known this all along. And maybe I should have been genre-savvy enough to know, since in that moment we also hear that hero's mother is the priest's housekeeper. Okay then. But looking back though the first pages, it is pretty much implied that the priest and hero's father are two different people. I get the whole priests having kids thing, I do. But if Cornwell was going for a Big Reveal, I can only say that he failed fantastically and his editor should have beat him with a switch until he fixed it. Sometimes I think best-selling authors start getting held to a lower standard than lower-earning authors do and getting passes because they make the company money (Jesus, look at SMeyer), but I digress. I was just disappointed is all.

So I stayed up all night to marathon the writing of my Fangirl Portrait of Katie Mitchell (I'm going to stop mentioning her all the damn time now, I promise. ... Unless I find a really adorable picture of Ben Whishaw), and I finished it at seven. It is almost ten full pages and eleven and a half with works cited, so all I need to do is go back and edit and we'll be right as rain.

Anyway. I was kind of lulling after I finished my paper, because ZZZZZ but then I checked my flist for something to do, and lo, there was wank. Christmas has come early.

Ugh. I am burned out for this week and it's only Monday.

Is it Friday yet?

Some days I just really want to shoot myself in the fucking head.

I am so dead tired. I'm also at work study. Look at me, updating my journal from the Coe financial aid office! I'M A BAD KID! ::sets a bad example::

Aghhhh. I have to move my car from the overnight lot tonight because it's been there since Monday night. I hope I don't have a ticket. I was going to go to Target because I need a belt (my pants keep falling downe yay!), poptarts, and something for my face because it is so icky and broke out. Wah. But upon an inquiry at the ATM, I found out that I have about $20 less dollars than I thought in my checking account. Er. And I have no idea where this error occurred.

Chad had to leave work because he's also working for the democratic party and we all told him to get out of here and work his ass off. I don't know what he's doing, but... guh. I don't think I need to say anymore!

Oh yes, and welcome mcdigitalgumby to Ye Olde Friends Liste. It's a nice place to be, and I'm sure you'll fit right in. Or something. Not like I don't see you... yeah. Every night in my room. :P

I'm tired. I think I'll sleep through dinner and reheat the Paul Revere's pizza from Monday night because I just want to nap. ::whine:: I was so tired on Tuesday night after finishing my story that I couldn't see straight and I didn't even remember how I ended the story.

I should probably try and be productive. Twenty more minutes till I get to leave!

ETA: I have FOUR Fabdemona icons. Out of 50. This is 8%. With one more it would be 10%, or 1/10. Thank you and welcome to the insanity