New Hobby Shatters Remains of Student's Free Time

Because I haven't updated this blog in quite some time, and also because I'm too lazy to create and keep up an entirely new blog for this one topic, I'm going to place this entry here.  Approximately one month ago, my supposed friend gave me a free-time succubus in the form of a ball-jointed resin doll.  She's a Fairyland Minifee, Active Line, with a sleeping Miyu head.  What that apparently means (from research), is that the doll appears asleep unless you carve the eyes out, like she had done.  I made them slightly bigger and sanded away the seams, but there always seems to be something else to do.....

From that day I brought her home to now, she has been unstrung, cleaned, soaked (chronologically) in tea tree oil, non-acetone polish remover, Oxy-Clean, Windsor & Newton brush cleaner, and warm water, and very messily body-blushed with chalk pastel powder until she looked somewhat like my "vision" for her.  I did the face-up myself two nights ago (in pastel and watercolor pencil), around 1:30 AM, which is why she looks like a cartoon character (in my opinion).

Anyway, the point of this post, aside from putting the ramble into context, is to say that I never learned to restring this doll.  She's beautiful, with realistic shading on her elbows, knees and inner thigh areas, but no one can actually understand why some pieces are darker than others until she's put back together.  I have high hopes that someone at today's doll meet can explain what I did wrong and put me on the right path for this step, because until then, I can't even put up her photos (she's a head surrounded by lady parts... ).

Sigh.  I hope that  I learn how to be a "real" doll collector, not such a n00b, soon.  Next step, restringing!

I've fallen in love with the Annoyed Librarian

Something about Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail really hit home with me, where she reveals her secret powers as a book psychic all the way at the end of the movie. Why we, as librarians and future librarians, are unable to magically produce a book for our patron with the three vague attributes we've been given is difficult to describe. Apparently, Ms. Ryan is simply better at my job than I am.

When you wish upon a star, it really doesn't make a difference.

My previous entry was one year and one day ago, and the only improvement I have been able to make in that amount of time is getting rid of some ugly sweaters. What exactly is it that holds some of us back from having the life we could have and sticking to this shit hole of an existence we have now? If anyone out there would be able to answer that, maybe I would have some hint as to why suicide is becoming more attractive than just toughing it out one more day. Honestly, if I were in any way special and God had a "plan" for me, who's to say his plan wasn't to have my death inspire more grant money into mental illness research? Perhaps that's the big idea. Perhaps this is why I'm unable to make the simplest of social attachments- so that no one will feel exceptionally bad that I committed a "selfish act" and wasn't around for people to ignore or step on anymore.

Do not be alarmed at anything written here; I'm a terrible coward and have no intention of killing myself. I will continue to live with my parents and be abused until I am married off to someone who will continue the tradition of treating me like the dirt under one's toenails. As a matter of fact, imaginary friend, you might be the only person who actually gives a flying hoot whether or not I'm around anymore, as a person and not as property. Thank you, faceless audience, you cheered me right up to know at least someone cares. I have to go now, but it was nice being with you.

How Are You Today?

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends
It gives a lovely light!

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

P.S. Your Cat Is Dead

The above title is a really great book, and also the reason I am writing today. My roommate's cat, Pepsi, was 19 years old when her liver failed. She died yesterday at 3:30 p.m., and was buried under an apple tree. Because the ground was frozen, a drill had to be bought to officially place our beloved kitty underground in her final resting place. I love her, and will miss her. I'm staring at a scratch she left on my hand as she tried to get air. This sucks, and I want to rewind time. I want things back the way they were even more badly than when my roommate and I broke up. Blah. I'm going to go take some Advil and hopefully cheer up by the 3:00 break. Need more sugar. Goodbye, Pepsi.

Happy 2009; Happy Birthday; Happy ____ (Now I'm Tired)

When the day of my birth rolls around again, I usually reflect on the way my life has gone, and make decisions based on what my revised goals are for the year. It's convenient that my birthday is after New Year's Day, because I already did all the work yesterday.

This year, on the other hand, I want to go back to all the poetry all artwork I used to love as a child, and see how I've evolved (if at all). This following work was always fun to read out loud, especially to an easily frightened child:

The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt

Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there."
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue --
Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Cheer Up, Emo Kid!

A good time for me is gnawing on a Moon Pie and reading webcomics. One Rather cool one I found was called "Cheer Up, Emo Kid!" It actually makes me feel normal.

http://www.cheerupemokid.net/index.php/2008/10/10/truth