vanitashaze: Superman kicking off a... boot? Duck? (In with the new and out with the ducks /)
I AM DONE WITH HIGH SCHOOL!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!

In celebration, a meme:

Ask me one fandom-related question in the comments. This can be fandom specific, general, or about fandom/lj stuff/fic writing/etc. in general.

Just one question, please, but it can (and perhaps should) have sub-parts.

Question can be as wacky as you want. Ask me about tv shows, characters, fanfic in general, fandom issues/meta, anything about any of my stories specifically. Whatever you want.
vanitashaze: Kirk throwing up his hands. (Jazz hands!)
I have this rare affliction among teenage girls: I think of myself as more attractive than I actually am. I don't know how this happened, exactly, or why, but usually I'm pretty good with it, and it allows me to tell my friends - who are inevitably moaning and groaning over how awful they look, how they're fat and disgusting - no, if I'm attractive than you're really attractive, shut up, you're gorgeous, you know it's true. And that's great. But man, when this is true, there is nothing like seeing about ten thousand pictures of yourself from really bad angles (because they're shot from the audience), making scrunched-up, sour faces, because the character you're playing in the play is a simpering, abusive mother who wants her daughter to wed Demetrius or DIE. (Seriously - why?) It is not so helpful for the affliction; in fact, it is almost a cure.
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (girl if you're a seascape i'll be a boat)
1. Insta!rec: Hanna Is Not a Boy's Name. Magnificently cute supernatural webcomic with fun characters, great art, an incredibly sweet burgeoning friendship between the title character and the narrator (who is a KIND-HEARTED ZOMBIE, OMG), and storylines that are not only amusing, but intriguing.

2. Bought Richard Siken's Crush. I'll let you all know how awesome it is after my heart starts beating again. (And, yeah. It's that good.)

3. Voice meme! Here's how it works: Comment with as many questions as you want, on pretty much any subject. And I'll answer it in a voice recording! Fun for you, and fun for me, 'cause I get to hear myself talk, which is a SURREAL experience. ♥ And now, answers!

For [profile] stubbel:

Question #1: How Did You Get Into Fandom?

Question #2: What Fandom Do You Love the Most?
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (it's just been that kinda day /)
I AM DONE WITH ALL MY COLLEGE ESSAYS AND APPLICATIONS OH YES HALLELUJAH ETC. ETC. THANK YOU ALLAH, YAHWEH, JESUS, AND/OR FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER.

*collapses*
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (dear miami you're the first to go /)
Look what I found!

SHANKILL BUTCHERS [Vanitashaze's Basement Acapella Remix]


Wow. That's a trip. Mostly I'm sort of proud of it, but just - ignore the third chorus, okay? I'm not sure just what I was thinking. And it's a bootleg in-my-basement recording, so there's random whirring noises, thumps, and the sound quality is not that great. Desktop speakers, be warned. But seriously: wouldn't this be a great song to do a lounge remix of, strings and piano and female voice? Man, I wish I played stuff other than my vocal chords. Though maybe I could get a friend to do that; God knows I've got enough piano-playing friends, and I need some good songs for my college auditions tape. What do you guys think?

(Or the Dead Weather's "So Far From Your Weapon". Or Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's "Berlin". That would be awesome with a female front, though she'd really have to belt it out. Or - well, you get the idea.)
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
1. Good news: I won a writing contest.

Bad news: I have to fill out a W-9 form to collect the prize money.

Can you say "confusing"? Because I can, and I bet whoever created this damn thing can too. It's sitting in my inbox, now, but I swear I must have been just sitting there staring at it for an hour, capped pen in hand, too terrified to write anything less I screw it up, which I will. In fact, I'm not going to touch it at all. I'll make my mum fill it out.

2. I have purple hair! Or at least, streaks. Vaguely purplish ones. Actually, they're really more of a burgundy color, and not very noticeable unless I'm in the right light and have parted my hair to the left, but hell. I like them anyway. Whoever invented Special Effects: Atomic Pink should be given a medal, just as whoever invented Special Effects: Burgundy Wine should be shot. The former lasts forever; the latter lasts for about a day. If you're lucky.
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
1. And ah, the saga of the second dog continues with a great mess of crap on the rug, crap on the floor, and crate-training advice from my English teacher (was weird). What really kills me is that Tess is such an absolute darling, and you can see that it just kills her when she does something wrong. Only, she doesn't know a lot of things are wrong. And so, there is a lot of wrong stuff going on, and damn near nobody's happy.

2. Poe's "Haunted" seems like a very John Sheppardian song. I don't know. Give it a listen. That whole album is pretty brilliant, anyway.

3. You know, it's quite funny. I haven't watched the show since the second season or even given it much thought, lately; in fact, I'm definite in my certainty that Heroes has jumped the shark. Possibly several. Because, wow, bad. But looking back through what I've written - what I continue to write - it seems I'm mostly a Heroes writer. And when I say "mostly", I mean predominately in a big way. And it was my first real fandom, too, the one that actually got me writing and speculating and spinning their lives in my head. I suppose I just can't let go of that, even though these days, the canon bears no resemblance to those characters I loved. (In fact, I've gone so far in my denial as to pretty much create an alternate canon in my head - something that, if you look closely, strings all my stories together into some weird commune future.) And now there's the [livejournal.com profile] heroes_exchange, and I'm left thinking, didn't I used to really like these characters?

I don't know, you guys. It's weird to have such a big part of me belong to a fandom I don't even like anymore.

4. Meme time!

Anyway, let's start the new year off right; The problem with LJ: we all think we are so close, but really, we know nothing about each other. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

More than one question is allowed. I'll answer happily :)

Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don't know about you!
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
...For she has gotten me addicted to these things. Somehow. The use of alien mind-control is not currently being discounted.


The Fandom Appreciation Meme: My Thread



On a related note: TGIF, my friends, TGIF. I am so ready for the weekend, even if Hell Week follows directly after. Which, you know, it does.
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
1. Poetry recitation today. I'd forgotten how much I love voice work. Not just singing, but speaking, hearing your voice fill the room just as it fills your throat; the indentations of it, crests and waves. The way it breaks on the last note, just a little, and how crowd-speaking is not that different from music. At the end there is a moment, always: a vacuum space that lingers as the words roar away, that sudden and dizzying lack of gravity. I who whisper in my sleep, I who sing to empty streets - I see the shock in their faces and I think, don't you know the power that throbs beneath the skin?

2.
cozyup!
You know you want to.


ETA: You know what I really want for Christmas? More icon space. Gack.
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
1. First item of business: ow. Daughters, never take your fathers' advice about pyramiding weights at the gym, because if you do you'll end up unable to move your arms more than a few inches, and spend Thanksgiving wrapped up in ibuprofen and frozen packs of corn.

Frankly, I'm a little disgusted at myself. I mean, I'm sixteen, not fourty-five. Why am I not immediately bouncing back from this?

2. Deck the other shoppers at Best Buy, fa-la-la-la-lalala, tis the season to take Westerners hostage in Mumbai, fa-la-la. That's right, people, it's that time of year again, and I'm feeling like doing a card exchange. So if you want one, comment below with your mailing address and - if you want a fandomy-type card, 'cause those are always fun - what you want to see. Comments will be screened. Oh, and if you want to send me one, just put CARD EXCHANGE~ in the topic box (thank you [livejournal.com profile] crippled).
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
So, I finally get around to reading Your Cowboy Days Are Over and Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose tonight. I'd been avoiding them because someone had described them as too traumatizing for words, and I'm not usually one for heartbreakers, but in the end I'm thinking something along the lines of why not or perhaps need to do this and go ahead, open the window, scroll down. Read. I am reminded of something Annie Dillard once wrote: You can't picture it, can you? Neither can I. Oh, the desk is yellow, the oak table round, the ferns alive, the mirror cold, and I never have cared. I read. In the Middle Ages, I read, "the thing of a thing which a man framed for himself was always more real to him than the actual thing itself." I read the words, but I do not see what the writer dreamed of seeing, I do not feel what the writer dreamed of feeling. In this sense the dull has for me always hurt more than the sharp, when I am beat down by the weight of words. No catharsis of blood. I read Cowboy Days and retain nothing; I read Another Word and feel brushes of feeling, like words whispered so that nothing may be heard but the movement of air.

These days everything I read seems to be motorized, sterilized, I look at the human wreckage projected up at the screen and do not look away. My blood-and-bones teacher, the paramedic EMT instructor, he once told me that the people who faint during his gory slideshows were the ones who make a living from these things. Do they feel more or perhaps, less? Is the dread-sickness they feel the dread of these things happening to them, their own dermis rent & subcutaneous fat splattered? Do they do these things to forstay this dread, to delight in the foreigness of it? These dead and dying - these things do not resemble us. Meat does not drive our own mortality any deeper; the dead never look like they do in the movies, and nothing is crueler than the morgue camera. In the photographs he shows, skin is yellow, body hair like grit, and every limb ends in a bouquet of black gobbets. Ikibana of gore. My blood-and-bones teacher, my paramedic EMT instructor, he tells us stories of faces blown off by shotguns and I think, will I ever find anything beautiful again?

PSAT time!

Oct. 15th, 2008 07:08 am
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
...Yuck.
vanitashaze: Girl on a dark beach. (Default)
Shopping is hard when one has no money;
shopping is hard when one has no car.
Summer shirts are hard to find
in sizes to fit an armored tank.


Watching television with my parents is an interesting experience, to say the least. )

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