iltaru: (tyrannosaurus regina)
 So... the internet is confusing me today. What's the difference between OpenID and cross-posting?
iltaru: (Default)
...and I can't believe how much different my life is from the last time I posted. 

Seriously. Last post dealt with the immediate aftermath of a break-up for which I felt guilty for not doing sooner, but had been guilt-tripped into staying into a relationship with an emotionally abusive, depression-denying stalker. Except I didn't find out that he'd been stalking me until long after we'd broken up, at which point I promptly returned to counselling because I realised that there were many things I couldn't handle, and that was one of them.

Since several months after what I shall now refer to as 'the Dark Times', I have been with a truly wonderful, wonderful guy, we've lived together for a couple of years now (actually: we lived together before we got together, by two weeks) and he's just so kind and sensible and caring and funny and yes, I really can't believe how consistently happy I am these days. So I'm glad I logged back into DreamWidth because I am now so immensely grateful and happy for how far my life has come and how much healthier I am mentally. Growing up is nice. :')

Also I now have two degrees, and my life is in a different place on so many levels. And it's good. 

Aside from the stinking cold I seem to have picked up from somewhere. Eurgh, it's probably freshers' flu. Bloody students. Cardiff is so lovely and clean and quiet without them...
iltaru: (Default)
I was going to send a message out in the morning, but I can't sleep and I sort of need to get stuff out of my head, so hello, splurge post with news.

I just broke up with Matt. A few hours ago. )
iltaru: (Default)
I'm really not sure why I'm still awake.

I'm having a very productive week, from the essay-writing point of view: three first drafts in four days, comprising 5700 words. There's a minor issue there in that my total word count should have been 5200 and two of my essays are over the wordcount already and incomplete, but that is the next issue on the agenda.

I wrote 2300 words today, an entire first draft of an extremely difficult essay. And I am still awake, even though I've been exhausted since 8pm and slept terribly for the last few nights, which I am going to chalk up to a combination of brain-overactiveness and adjusting, once again, to sleeping without Matt. I miss the days when we lived together.

Argh, I have pretty much nothing to say through sheer brain-wiped-out-ness, and yet I still cannot go to sleep. Fail.

Anyway. It gave me the opportunity to update for the first time in an age, even if it was just boring splurging.

Now I'm going to get back into bed and sulk at my brain until it lets me sleep. Probably.
iltaru: (Default)
So you know how sometimes I have minor mental crises that are usually caused by a) the fact that I think too much and b) the fact that I panic when I feel overwhelmed?

Hello, surprise crisis over "I don't know what I'm doing, what I will be doing, what I should be doing and maybe even what I shouldn't be doing with my life".

Yes, this was caused by looking at postgraduate courses and a) wondering if I'm good enough, b) wondering if I even want to, which I never questioned before, c) wondering if there's any way I'll achieve some kind of gainful employment next year if I don't, d) realising this is all sort of silly since I ought to be working on my dissertation anyway, and e) having a crisis over whether I'm going to fail everything this year because the crisis tsunami is cresting and, oh yes, and f) feeling useless and guilty because I haven't spoken to far too many of my friends because others of my friends have been having crises of their own.

In short: it is anxiety house party inside my head and everyone's invited, and this all landed in my head in the last ten minutes, and I had wanted to have lunch, not a near-panic attack of fail.

Oh brain, you traitor. And body! You haven't been brilliant lately either! We're still on antibiotics because of you, you git.

What I wish:

I wish I was 1) happily studying (or 1a) gainfully employed), 2) feeling like I am in control and capable of life rather than wishing I could just go back to bed forever, 3) slightly less prone to panicking and 4) felt like there was nice path-ness to follow in my life. Not this big overwhelming hall of noise that is sometimes, when I least want it to be, a blank space of silence.

So. I can manage 1, and probably some of 2. I think I'll get on to the others after lunch.
iltaru: (Default)
Wow. It's quiiite a while since I was on LJ and DW - life became so chaotic that I didn't really have time to update or to read peoples' blogs.

Plus I think I got a little annoyed with the way some people relentlessly edit their lives and misrepresent the truth, or won't come out and actually confront people when there's a problem, they'll vent in F-locked posts (which I know we all need to do) but they'll then not try to solve the problem that caused them to vent. And then that got me thinking about objective reality and ethical standards and the culture of rights and blah blah blah, but that's a post for another day, probably on my other blog, Second Magpie, which I am working on other posts for at the moment.

Anyway. All of this is basically to say, hello! I haven't been here! I shall endeavour to catch up on the important parts of peoples' blogs over the next few days. 

Feel free to comment here and to tell me the significant things that have happened to you in the last few months! I would like that very much.

(The most significant things to happen to me since February are: the play that I directed being a massive success; my boyfriend; getting straight Firsts in my English results; moving home for the summer.)
iltaru: (Default)
I burst into tears literally the second after Piers and Becky left my flat. I feel an absolute mess at the moment. I'm terrible at being on my own for weeks at a time, it makes me so unhappy. I can surround myself with people during the day as much as I like but Jesus, I've cried myself to sleep twice this week already. I hate being lonely. I hate this. I hate the person that being alone turns me into. This isn't me, this is a misery, an absolute quivering trainwreck of a woman. I feel so fucking ridiculous right now and I can't stop crying. I want to go home. I just don't want to be alone any more. No chance of that for days yet, not until I go home on Friday. I want to go home so much I feel sick. I'm almost ashamed of how upset I am, I pretty much cannot see the screen for the tears. I feel ridiculous, but I know that if I don't get it out, it'll just ferment inside, and that's no good to anyone. I need to sleep, I have rehearsals to direct tomorrow.

I haven't been sleeping lately, either, because I'm coping so badly with life because I am so shit at being so alone. Sorry about the eruption, guys, but this has been building since the beginning of the year and I have got to be able to function. I'm directing a play that's been the closest thing to my heart for such a long time and I just feel like an absolute failure as a person for breaking down as often as I have lately. I've spent most of the last couple of months in a big tear-filled hole because I am that bad at being lonely. So I've got to get it out and look at it and try to cope with it because otherwise I'm going to screw Shiver up and that, I cannot countenance. Not my baby. I worked so hard for this, I fought so fucking hard for the chance to produce this play, I am not going to let myself fuck it up just because I'm having a bad time right now. I am not willing to accept that as a reason, not even from myself. Not when this is so important.

I'm sorry to be such a downer on your flists but I need to get this mess out of my head and onto the page. It is literally just a splurge of everything that I've been choking on, I need to just get it out and then maybe I can get to fucking sleep.

God, I feel so worn down, but I can't get to sleep. I do not like this place in my head. I thought I'd managed to kiss it goodbye forever.

Still, I'll go home for the weekend and that will help. And I'll get out of the hole again, I'm sure, I just can't really see a way out right now. This is likely because it's the middle of the night and a full chorus of insomnia's demons are clinging to my back.

I've stopped feeling sick, at least. Now I actually feel really, really hungry. I'm going to go eat something, maybe drink something milky, and try to get some proper sleep.

Sorry about the rant. I'll be better eventually. I love you all.
iltaru: (Default)
Oh my God.

Over the last three days I've done fourteen hours of auditions (and auditioning people is exhausting!), twelve hours of rehearsals, an hour-long casting meeting, and absolutely no work for my course. And not enough time spent eating or sleeping. I was in the same lecture theatre for TWELVE HOURS on Saturday.

And you know what? I might be absolutely shattered, but I'm an elated and excited bunny. Ladies and gentlemen, I have a phenomenally talented cast and I've had an offer of a friend to be my minion. Pretty much the only way I could be happier would be if I had someone to hug right now, because I am so very tired I could do with some TLC.

ANYWAY. Shiver is cast, Shiver is crewed, and now I get to plunge us into rehearsals.

I am so excited.

I am so very looking forward to sleep.

How are you today? I missed the entirety of everyone else's weekend because I was smothered in Act One. I hope you are all well. Love and smooches xxxxxxxxx
iltaru: (Default)
A magical holocaust – magic users gathered in groups, sacrifices marked out with red ribbons? There was something major going on. Sam and Dean were there – had been in the town earlier. Were talking to people who were near a swimming-pool, to a mother with young children.

We had to build a shield, to channel power through people and through books (because books have power, right?) in order to protect ourselves. We were supposed to be the sacrifice/shield because somehow they thought our magical powers would absorb/appease the storm. I knew that wouldn’t happen. I snuck a pair of scissors in and sliced up the ribbons, and then, in the panic, desperately tried to find people to keep them safe – Piers and DCH, Becky, Matt, various Kilvites. Somehow we reached a nearby mansion before the storm broke; walled ourselves into a room, had to abandon someone who started attacking us all.

When the chaos was over, we had to pull down the bookshelves we’d barricaded ourselves in with – the person in the other room, the madman, had disappeared. It was late afternoon, and everything was very quiet. We started to explore the house, wondering what the hell to do next.

(Yes, I am totally turning this into a story.)
iltaru: (Default)
Tonight, my ma gave me her wedding ring, because she hasn't worn it for years and she doesn't need it any more. I've got it on a gold chain around my neck, along with a gold Celtic cross that my sister gave me a few years ago. Ma's always looking to the future, what's going on next and where we'll end up.

This afternoon, my dad was showing me pictures of the school he went to in India when he was a little boy - where his dormitory was, his classrooms, all of the things that he was worried he'd forget but are still important to him. Dad's always so worried that the past will be forgotten.

This seems a terribly appropriate time to note that I'll be 21 tomorrow. A symbolic age more than anything, I guess, since I don't have a juvie record to be wiped clean, or anything. It just all seemed satisfactorily significant. One parent looking backwards, the other looking onwards, Conor and me in the middle - Conor about to go off travelling, and it my birthday tomorrow.

Funny old world.
iltaru: (flower on the branch)
I dreamed of a sailing ship, and it crashing, and something like Narnia. I remember my friend Matt Winfield climbing into a lifeboat, and Becky and me searching for a different lifeboat - only Becky ended up floating ashore on my friend Alex Mann's guitar. I don't remember how I got to shore, except that I did.

There were large flashlight/spotlights on the shore, and we had to search for people. MJ had fashioned a blowpipe and poison/sleep-draught darts from some bamboo, was attempting to hunt down some wildcats, though I'm not sure why.

I kept going in and out of this layer of dream, though, because every now and then I'd dream that I was reading the actions of my dream in a notebook. And be in my next-door neighbour's house reading the notebook, and then return to the beach, and the starry skies, and how using the flashlights was dangerous because it revealed our position.

Hi, subconscious. I have no idea what you're trying to tell me, but it was an exciting ride.
iltaru: (tyrannosaurus regina)
So far today I've managed around 2500 words on my Nanowrimo. This is good, because I want to get as much done this week as I can, and I also wrote a few hundred words of my Robin Hood essay and planned out a few things.

The plans were all to do with wordcounts, though, which was interesting - I've never really considered a story in such purely mechanistic terms before, but now I'm conscious of how many words I've spent on each thing.

I already know things that I'm going to cut from this draft of Passion - a couple of the current scenes are pretty much just exercises in character-building because I couldn't particularly think of anything plot-relevant to write. But that's the point of Nanowrimo, right? Just to write and write and write with wordy abandon, and not worry about quality.

I am worrying about quality, of course, but I'm making notes on what I'm going to do later rather than thinking about what I need to do now, which is probably the most useful thing I've got out of Nanowrimo so far. To just get it out, even if I don't particularly like it, even if I think it's useless, is an achievement in itself. Dough to be shaped rather than flour left on the shelf.

Anyway, I'm quite tired, and I haven't got particularly much more to say than a ramble about Nanowrimo. Today's been pretty quiet. Marc came over and cooked us an utterly amazing meal: prawn tangiers (prawns, tomatoes, spinach and onions cooked with lemon juice and cumin), with butternut squash roasted with thyme, and cous cous. It was so delicious that I nearly cried. And Lisa made amazing muffin-sized chocolatey things that were also amazing. I have had such an amazing culinary week. I'm jealous of two-hours-ago self who was just starting that meal, om nom nom.

But now I am going to debate with myself whether to do the washing-up now or in the morning, and possibly curl up with a book. Or maybe Stronghold 2.

iltaru: (lighthouse)
I feel a bit bad for not updating more (LJ or DW).

Today there has been a lot of talks (and the cuteness and angst that come with DMCs) with [info - personal] shanaqui, and absolutely no settling down to write, as I had intended, but that's okay - I recorded a couple of plot points for 'Passion', and thought of a couple more shortfics I could do, so that's okay.

Very, very strange things happened in my dream last night, including Extreme Sexual Tension with someone completely surprising and inappropriate (because of the capacity in which I met him). It was extremely strange. And there were weird intrigues and strange wars and it was kind of unsettling, but I can't remember much of it.

And a couple of my friends have been incomprehensibly difficult lately. I'm not sure whether I should tell them that they're driving me crazy, and how and why, or not. I feel like that would make me selfish, or a bad person somehow. (Piers tells me off for this, and tells me it's behavioural conditioning from bad times that I should ignore and try to get over.)

If I go below the surface, so many things are worrying me, but I refuse to acknowledge them. Or things would be upsetting and angering me, if I thought about them. Maybe I ought to, I don't know. I'm getting so cross with a couple of people lately, and I want them to leave me alone, and I feel so unfair asking that because I don't even think they realise why I'm fed up.

But I've been told to stop and examine every time I feel like I'm being selfish, and work out whether I am actually being selfish or whether it's just a point where someone would previously have told me that I'm being selfish in order to shut me up.

I'll ponder it some more, but not for too long, because I don't want to give myself frustrating dreams. Having said that, I've spent so much time on TVTropes today I'm probably destined for trope-soup dreams anyway.
iltaru: (stars)
Last night’s dream was strange. There was a bike ride (and I think I fell off... again) and that the actors and the cast of Merlin were there (this probably because I sent myself to sleep by wandering around Merlin-land where all drama is not mine).

There was something to do with secrets on a research base in Antarctica. The man in charge of it, and the narrator of my dream, recognised each other, but I don’t know from where. For some reason Merlin and I had to infiltrate the place, in disguise. This make marginally more sense than the cast of Merlin on a Moulton bicycle ride. (The ride was much larger than ones I’m used to, and Bradford was deep in snow. Oh, yes, and then a giant panda erupted out of the snow and catapulted me into Merlin-land, rather than the rest of the cast of Merlin into me-land.

There was also something very, very strange to do with escaping a castle that was in a river or a lake, but the sunset behind it and two clouds of smoke made it look like some horrible face was glaring at us over it, and the face kept expanding, because of the pattern of the smoke and the shape of the clouds, like it was oozing out of the castle and getting nearer. That was grim.

I’m trying to remember other stuff, too, but it’s not really flowing.

I think I married Merlin (for Plot Device reasons... yeah my dreams have plot devices) while on the base in Antarctica. Because otherwise he was going to be mind-wiped for knowing too much about whatever was going on down there in Antarctica. (Still, marrying Merlin. Not a bad plan, brain.)

Oh, and then I had to dress up in Business Clothes and kick the executive asses of a load of conservative old company men. That was fun. And then we had to go rescue Arthur.

There was also something to do with three women – one in purple, one in red and one in orange, elaborate shimmering dresses, and wearing masks – riding through the countryside asking people odd questions to do with love and loss. But they only did it to certain people, and they did ask me. Which was strange, because that bit was (random of randoms) in my home village.

There were a few other random bits and pieces, like someone commenting on Arthur dressing up in a curtain as a child, and something to do with candles, and then I flew somewhere. But y’know. Dreams. Who can say?
iltaru: (umbrella of love)
Today, I tidied and cleaned three rooms of our flat (because Nikki's sister, Simone, has come to stay) and I sorted out all the erroneous junk (700+ messages, 150 of which were unread) in my e-mail inbox. There are now no unread messages, and all read messages have been archived. Whee.

I also slept far too late after Piers left, worked on re-writing a story, and had a long discussion with Dom about evolutionary biology. It was fun times.

Sean came over to Flan again today. He even helped us in our obsessive cleaning frenzy, bless him. And helped us wield our rubbish bags out onto the pavement, where we pray that Cardiff council workers (who are rubbish collectors in all senses of the phrase) will take them away soon. SOON.

Anyway, it's pretty late and I'm listening to my 'Lullabies' playlist, which indicates to me that it's time I should be tucked up in my bed.

I meant to start sorting my sleeping patterns out today, but I don't seem to be having much luck with that, huh.

Ah well. It's nice to have some time in which I can do pretty much whatever I like. Holidays are looovely. So is [personal profile] shanaqui :D

And now, to sleep, perchance to misquote the Bard. Good times.

iltaru: (lighthouse)
Watching Due South with [personal profile] shanaqui and Jamie. They like to put the leading man in either red clothes, or leather ones. I am not complaining.

I really ought to post to DW more. I pondered whether I should post synaesthesic rambles here, I've been thinking of recording them for a while.

Oh Lord, there's some form of trope-subverting anti-James-Bond-esque sledge-and-huskies chase going on on-screen. Good times.

iltaru: (gin and tennant)
I actually finished some books! Hurrah!

Since I last posted (ages ago... whoops) I've read

New (floor to knee)
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Seth Grahame-Smith
Smoke and Mirrors - Neil Gaiman

Anything (knee to hip)
Night Watch - Terry Pratchett*
Going Postal - Terry Pratchett*
Making Money - Terry Pratchett*

Serious/Sirius Stuff (hip to shoulder)
Amadeus - Peter Shaffer

Millionaire Cowboy Seeks Wife - Mills&Boon 

...And I have a further pile of exciting books to launch myself into. Should be fun. :)

iltaru: (stars)
So [personal profile] shanaqui soundly berated me for not having updated either my Dreamwidth account or the Dreamwidth
[community profile] readheightetc . In my defense, I have been very busy.

So, hi hon, I'm getting on it now. Though I don't exactly have much to say :P 
iltaru: (Default)
DreamWidth is a synaesthesically pleasing name. It's layered red, pale gold and rich brown, like ploughed soil under autumn trees.

I haven't really got alll that much to say at the moment, except that I'm promptly going to post on here: mine and [personal profile] shanaqui's challenge comm, for mad challenges like our current quest, which is to read our own heights in books by February 1st next year.


iltaru: (Default)

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