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LiveJournal for Sparks.
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| Friday, December 20th, 2002 |
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| If a lesbian were in the White House, would she be the presydent? | ||||
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| Friday, November 22nd, 2002 |
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So I'm here now, in the very same town in which I spent the first thirteen years of my young life. And I've noticed a few things. One is that, at night, when the sky is bright seemingly beyond normalcy? It's actually from this strange orb floating in the heavens that the people of this realm call "the moon." And - get this - its light isn't flourescent orange. Trippy. Another thing is this weird wet stuff that falls from the sky with alarming frequency. I've heard some locals refer to it as "rain." It's very enjoyable. Other than that, my life has become...almost a life, actually. I leave the house and go do things with other people and everything. Krystal's doing her best to set me up with a sixteen-year-old named Steve who proudly boasts chin pubes, and who I have absolutely no interest in. I've even applied for a job, of which the only bad thing is that I'll have to wear shorts. White shorts. People are going to think I'm naked from the waist down, so well will I blend in with my, ahem, uniform. Ehn. Maybe it'll be good for business. But. I'm here. The actual Getting To Here must wait until later. Presently I must look queerly at my mother as she vacuums in shorts and a poncho. o.O |
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| Saturday, October 12th, 2002 |
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I Agree. ;) |
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| Monday, September 30th, 2002 |
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I don't know why I always come here to ramble after I go for a couple days without sleep. One of life's great mysteries. Anyway. Icon. Erestor. He's my bitch. He's barely in the books and I can never seem to spot him in the movie, but somehow I've become completely engrossed with his character. He's like...Pompadour. (You KNOW you need to get your ass to sleep when you find yourself having epiphanies concerning the parallels between Babar and Imladris. Shit like this has become my insomniascience. I've got the whole "inner circle" worked out for this. Last time I did this, I was sorting Care Bears into Hogwarts houses. But then I get stolen away to grab Jack in the Crack at four in the morning, so it all turns out okay in the end.) Moving on: the Buffy premier. Funny, yes, I laughed. Xander's got the hook-up. Dawn still screams like a stuck pig. And what the FUCK did they do to Spike's hair?! What, he gets a soul and turns into Justin Timberlake? (Oh yeah, and Justin's performance at that last Mtv awards show -- he was trying so hard for Michael, but sadly, he ended up Janet.) Not liking the hair. And those "cuts" on his chest? Please. There is no way those had me believing he used some sharp and possibly metallic object. They were shallow. Very shallow. I've scratched Pearl deeper than that. Unless that soul of his can be removed by exfoliation alone, he's really Not Trying Hard Enough. Next topic: the Olde went away this weekend, down to San Diego. Took a train. The train hit a car. Glad I didn't go. Would've been bored. Fuck all happened, really -- woman's alive (got out in time and everything); car's dead. Train was aflame for a bit, but other than that... One month left ere I'm free of this urban hole. It'll be nice to see, y'know, trees again. The kind that aren't strategically placed by land developers. Yeah. Diggin' the trees. But boo, suck, I want to take people with me. Damnation. Ehn. Going to go and see if that whole "sleep" thing'll work now... |
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| Wednesday, September 11th, 2002 |
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Still pretending to pack. I don't know why I'm stalling so much. Could be that as long as I keep up the guise of "packing", I've a fool-proof excuse for my room looking like shit. "I'm packing, Ma. I need to have all my crap laid out on the floor so that I can organize it." Wank. But I've been getting away with it. Ehn. Might as well jump on the bandwagon of book discussions. What did I read as a kidlet that stuck with me... The classics, mainly. Black Beauty, Treasure Island, Around the World in Eighty Days, The Jungle Book (I and II), Little Women, The Three Muskateers, Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn, The Call of the Wild, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Robinson Crusoe, The Wizard of Oz, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, etc. Stuff like that, especially the latter seven. My head was constantly filled with Big Adventures in Strange Lands. Oddly enough, the Encyclopedia. Not the whole thing, mind, but I used to weird the other kids out by going for an Encyclopedia while they headed straight for the Judy Blume. Later on it was my history books for school. I love big, informative texts that make others sleep like they've been hit with an elephant tranq. Can read them for hours and not get sick of them. (And that's all I've got to say on the Tolkien-thing going around.) My mother's cookbooks. I can never create a character without giving them a diet that reflects their personality. Yes, I know I'm weird. I read all the Arthurian mythology I could get my grubby little paws on. Mythology books in general. Lots of influence there. The Giver and The Lord of the Flies. Strange and slightly twisted stories that very much endeared themselves to me. But my absolute favorite book as a child was Olly Onion. No contest. I actually gasped when he lost his brand new shiny bicycle. My Very First Book, and I never once tired of it. |
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| Wednesday, August 28th, 2002 |
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Mmm. Icon. It is not known who he is. Mayhap Elrohir or Elladan. But for now his common name is Figwit. Also, mayhap I should have slept more than a handful of hours within the last...manymany handfuls of hours. *sighs* What have I done recently... Took tea yesterday with Mom. She wanted to try this Other Place, rather than the White Hart, which is run by nice British folk and has tongs for the sugar cubes and they don't forget to bring you cream. Clearly, the Other Place did not live up to such standards. Peb and I (I have Peb taking tea on a weekly basis. hee!) will stick to the familiar, methinks. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. I have heard rumors of Aries Stickers. And am reminded that I still possess the Aries Pendant. Which really doesn't surprise me all that much, as I usually end up going home with something of Kaylee's by accident every time I see her. (No, really, by accident. Serious.) The Move creeps deftly upon me. I should be packing right now, but I think I'm a bit too scatterbrained at the moment to attempt organizing clutter. It would not end well. The Hair will be dyed again this weekend for the first time in months. A dark reddish-brown, most likely. Whatever. I'm just sick of being two-toned. I am forever destined to dye. I can deal. Jeans that I could barely button awhile ago now all but fall off my hips. Can pull them off without undoing any buttons and/or zips. Strange. They now match the rest of my jeans. I need more belts. Or smaller jeans. Figwit. Heh. |
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| Wednesday, August 21st, 2002 |
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My head has become a void. The only thoughts currently occupying it are ones that either a) no one cares about, or b) I cannot speak of due to a secretive nature. So let's indulge the former, shall we? Have had writer's block for...oh, roughly a month now, which is at the very least not affecting the original work, because that's still being formed. Glad I don't have planner's block. Going to the closest university library to research UK Languages of Olde, as well as a shiteload of history, myth and geography. Is it strange of me to enjoy taking notes? Need a binder. Biiig binder to put everything in. One with those little colored tabs. A Magic Binder, with Stickers. Received lovely Legolas bookmark from Kaylee. Insert much fangirlish glee. Tip of the day: Do not go grocery shopping on an empty stomach. It only ends in tragedy. Tragedy and too many bagels. My father keeps calling me to tell me it's raining down in Florida, the bastard. Always holds the phone up to the drain pipe as proof. I tell him it sounds like a toilet being flushed, thus on a day when it was miraculously not raining, he held the phone up to the toilet. Anyway, moral of the story is that I miss rain something awful. It's actually been a bit overcast here the past two days, after a couple of months of straight sunshine. Hoping that this will be an ongoing trend. Perhaps Florida will make me more interesting, or at least kick my brain into gear. Ehn. We'll see. |
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| Saturday, August 10th, 2002 |
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...to at last branch out on one's own into the realm of original writings. I have plot, I have characters, I have settings and times, and clothing and customs and an actual drive to write it. Go me. In other news, there is of course melancholy, for my Pearl is gone, washed back into the sea from whence she came. 'Tis very strange, very quiet, without her. I wept. Mother's got this little lobster called Phil. Ori, one of the cats, wishes to eat Phil, but cannot get through the tank. Phil knows this. Phil taunts Ori. He never comes out from beneath his rock until he sees Ori sitting on the chair next to the tank, watching him. Then he moves over, waves his claws around, and silently sniggers whilst the cat leaps at the tank and promptly slides to land on his ass on the floor. The three-inch lobster is more intelligent than the cat. And I am not surprised. Florida approaches rapidly, and I really should pack. Well, truthfully, I really should pick out the few keepsake items off of my floor so I can just sweep all the crap out of here. Papers and books absolutely everywhere. It's awful. Tomorrow, mayhaps. |
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| Wednesday, July 17th, 2002 |
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I think I'm going to drown. It seems logical. When I was a child, I nearly drowned in my friend's pool after getting caught beneath the huge rubber raft floating in the deep end. When I was getting my SCUBA certification, I had trouble with my mouthpiece, ended up inhaling that which was not air. The friend with the pool was present at the time, so perhaps I'm mistaken in that she'll kill me before water ever does. When I was younger, the majority of my nightmares had to do with myself getting chased by sharks, or suddenly falling into dark waters and sinking, paralyzed, with only the moon above me and death below. I used to fear my bath because I was convinced that eels were slithering up from the drain. And I think I'm either suicidal or masochistic, because I used to submerge myself in the bath, pools, lakes and the ocean, and open my eyes, and let myself float, and see how long I could hold my breath many times in succession. I collected shark teeth and made jewelry out them, and am a certified open-water diver. I spent a good chunk of my youth out in boats and beneath murky waters, visiting aquariums whenever possible and never passing up the opportunity to accompany my mother when she went diving, even when I couldn't. Pools always frightened me more than open waters. I'm an Aries. Fire and water are not friends. Either Kristin or H2O is destined to be the death of me. And I've recently watched Hamlet. |
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| Tuesday, July 9th, 2002 |
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Hly hath saved me from my midnight boredom. ( Faeryquiz.Collapse ) |
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| Sunday, July 7th, 2002 |
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Ah, redundancy. Just spent the last...er...well, it was a while, anyway, dicking around with this neglected old thing. Gave it a makeover with hopes that its new look will encourage me to write in it. Meet Saint Barbie. Gotta love Ryden. So. Hm. What have I been up to...I believe the phrase "jack shit" sums it up nicely. Got a new email, since I'm too lazy to weed out my flonq address and it's pretty much useless now. Will make the appropriate adjustments to things later on today. Guess whose ass is moving back to Florida in four months? My ass is moving back to Florida in four months. Leaving on Halloween, or the day before. No more SoCal Sparkles. Gone. A continent away. Bye-Bye Frost. *sniffle* On the up side, I'd be a definite for SouthernCon, whether it be by car or train. But. Yeah. Florida. Fuck. |
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| Tuesday, April 23rd, 2002 |
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Being sick blows. Being sick on one's birthday blows more. But the gradual progression toward the sick was weirder than the sick itself. Once the true sick kicked in, it was all, "Okay, flu." whereas pre-sick it was more "WTF?!" I was lying in bed one night, feeling kind of 'eh', and the oddest thing happened. My heart starting pounding, I broke out into a cold sweat, hyperventilating, big surge of nausea, couldn't stop shaking, etc. Pearl brought me water, and after a few minutes, I was all right. Thought it was just a random weird bodily thing, until it started happening nigh-every night, longer and longer. I think the earliest I went to sleep then was about half-past four in the morning. Water helped not, and I was fine all throughout the daytime. Then the flu hit, and I started to feel lousy during the day, too. I was exhausted because I couldn't sleep (no matter what position I attempted to lay down in, my stomach would lurch), overall just miserable. But then I woke up a couple of days ago and felt fine. Chipper, even, save for one ten-minute 'episode' of shakes and a cold sweat again. So now I'm wondering, what the shit is with all that? Things just hit me and then a short bit later, they're gone. A 'hmmm' thing. In other news, eighteen is...not exceedingly different from seventeen, yet (oh, and thank you, Hly, for the e-card -- most amusing :). I haven't been kicked out of the house yet, which is good and stuff. ...I haven't kicked Peb out of the house yet, either. Left her downstairs. Oopsies. Should get back to playing hostess now (hey, I fed 'er!). More later. |
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| Tuesday, March 26th, 2002 |
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I remember this thing now. This is the thing I'm meant to update every once in awhile but haven't for a damn long time. I suppose, to counteract the dead space that's been floating around my name on other people's friends lists, I should give a reason or an excuse or something for my vanishing act just in case any weird persons have been wondering, Hey, where the fuck is Sparks? What's up her ass? Does she think she's too good for us now that Lynx is there? Huh? Huh?! That little bitch! I'll kill her! I'll-- Ahem. You get the picture. Sparks has been writing. And writing and writing and writing. Eventually, Sparks found that she had written roughly ninety thousand words. So she wrote more. Little Miss One-Shot has been writing a story that has chapters. Twelve and one-tenth to date. Those of you who have not ignored Sparks' previous writings know that, for Sparks, this is pretty fucking huge. And she's not gotten sick of it yet, and plans to continue with it until it is--gasp!--finished. And it's only a quarter of the way done. She will also be eighteen in three weeks. Big writing thing, adult number filling in the 'age' box...Little Sparks is growing up. Who'da thunk it? Oh yes, and Sparks also notes that she will attempt to show her arrogant face a bit more often from hear on out. In three weeks, she'll have been around this community for three years, and she's feeling a trifle nostalgic. Oddness abounds, eh? |
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| Thursday, February 7th, 2002 |
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No, the subject line is neither here nor there. Mmm. Indulgence. Writing insanity pleasant and cathartic. Reading badfic in between insanity-writings even more pleasant. Pearl and I narrated one aloud (pronouncing the many, many, many MANY many spelling mistakes), and I went verklempt(sp). I needed tissues, and my face hurt, and all was fun. Idiot school, telling me I haven't registered for second semester...I think I'll have to go poke them furiously with a stick, followed by much shaking of said stick and perhaps some deterioration in blunt-object-violence. Hm. Had stuff to say. Forgot what it was. Ehn. Off to bug insane document again. Ve haff vays uf makink it talk. It's three in the morning. What do people want from me, clarity? Piss off with 'em. |
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| Friday, February 1st, 2002 |
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Find out which Buffy villian you are most like! By  calophiBothersome boredom. Futile but happy quiz. |
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| Monday, January 28th, 2002 |
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Hrmph. Bored. Pearl's making what looks like a giant cupcake sitting amidst a bunch of hills in Bryce. Plane flying by above house/apartment/flat/whatever it's classified as. Annoyed at hair, which is all kinky from sleeping in French braid. HermioneHair. Eugh. Went to cinema with Peb last night, saw Harry Potter again. Noticed bunch of things second time around, and flaws, but. Sod 'em. Was fun. Took quiz. Indifferent to answer. Feeling peckish. Not hungry, just peckish. Will go inquire about peckish food. Also-- drew pretty picture. Impressed Pearl and Old People. Want scanner hooked up. Hrmph. |
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| Thursday, January 17th, 2002 |
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Shock. Surprise. Riiight. |
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| Monday, December 24th, 2001 |
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Okay, so, Christmas Eve, and since fantasies involving myself, Orlando Bloom, Alan Rickman and Joaquin Phoenix are not as forthcoming as they should be, I've gotten contemplative. Which normally I kick myself for, as it's the step right before depressive. But. Ehn. I'm too full of annual ChrissyEve TV-dinner to work up the kick-self effort. Might as well entertain this train of thought for a little while. Somewhere between memorizing lyrics and mapping out fic in my head, I got to thinking about this time of year and the way it tends to flip-flop me back and forth. I mean, there's the obvious Christmastime Yay! PrezziesFoodWarmth that usually makes me all annoying and kid-like, and then there's the part I like best -- the mellow bit. The part where I'm all cozy and drowsy with tea and a fire and a book and quiet music. When I feel like a figment in a movie and looking back think, Yeah, I did that. That was cool. That was, like, a Life Scene, something to post in the Memory Reel. Nice, simple, lacking in chaos and indecisiveness. I was just...there, doing that, and I didn't have to be doing anything else or thinking about anything else; there was just the cold outside and the warm inside and all was well with my world. And then I get so content with that that I get all hyper again and want to run outside and scream because I can't do content but for a little bit. There's always this big thing that comes after, like suddenly getting the rest of my feelings back. Like I went without for that small amount of time, and then it all welled up and I wanna cry Passion! Grief! Happiness! Sorrow! Everything! Usually I just have another cigarette, and then I'm okay. It fades, and then passes on to whatever I happen to be writing at the time (which can result in some pretty terrible fluffy crap, let me tell you). But I look forward to it, the mellow and then the screams. It makes me feel like more than everyone else, like I get to feel stuff the way I do and no one in the world has that but me. Hm. More times than not, I delete posts like this before I ever hit the update button, as they don't really make sense and give me this "God, I'm so full of crap" sense, but. As above -- effort. So it's back to lyric-learning and song-searching, maybe a snippet or two of another fic that no one but Pearl will ever know I wrote again. And then Christmas. Mellow screaming. Calling the family in Florida. Actual screaming. Whatever. Have a merry one. |
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Got money from father and grandparents -- immediately sent Mom to get cigs. Happyhyper now. Feel good, feel Christmassy. Took quizzes:
I'm getting there. I haven't done all the damage I could do but I've done quite a bit. I'm just over the border into the Evil Zone. Are you evil? find out at Hilowitz.com Cool. Now off to search for Mazzy Star song... |
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| Saturday, December 22nd, 2001 |
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Elf. *shudder of pleasure* Legolas. Oh God, elf. Elfgasm. Elf. Had to smoke. Elf. *various arrow innuendo* Elf. For Christmas? Elf. THAT elf. He was so...*claws at floor*...so pretty. Fire bad, elf pretty. Elf. |
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LiveJournal for Sparks.
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curious.
lethargic.
giddy.
discontent.
bored.
anxious.
indescribable.
irate.
mellow.