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Date: 13.7.09  Time: 10:02 pm
Security: Public
Watchoo talkin' bout, Willis?: My Favourite Treat: Strawberries.

They're red. They're sweet. They're tart. They smell like heaven and taste twice as good. You know you're in a good place in your life when you are able to gorge yourself on a whole punnet of strawberries. Just sitting there and munching on the fleshy fruit, your body is glorying in the fact that there's so much of it. I think something deep and primal glories in the bounty of a handful of good fruit. My blood sings when I fill myself with strawberries. There's nothing better, no treat better for me. Mum used to buy me punnets of strawberries when I was a wee year old bubbah. She raised me on them, they've always been my favourite fruit of all. Even the sour ones taste good to me, especially dipped in chocolate.

I always feel an afterglow after eating them too. Like I've had the orgasm of my life. Rare is the treat or dessert that you can eat copious amounts of, safe in the knowledge that it won't be an unhealthy thing to do. No worry, no guilt. (Not that I generally feel guilty about healthy food in the first place).

I have one more punnet. Tomorrow, they're gonna be dipped in chocolate. :D

::3 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

So my Mum and Dad had come back from holiday, right? Sitting on my side of the bathroom sideboard was a little tub of Body Shop Vitamin E cream. I know I'd run out. I opened it and sniffed it- it smelt similar. It was white though. I thought maybe they made it white overseas.

I bring it out, running it between my fingers and rubbing a little in my jaw. My sister Helen comes over, notices what I'm stuffing with and starts rubbing it into her skin too. I walk up to Mum with the jar and say, "Mum, it's all right if I use a bit of this, right?"

"Yeah," she says, "go right ahead." She watches me and Helen rub it into our skin and starts cracking up. "I'm sure Dad won't mind either. It's his brylcreem."

The motherfucker had put some brylcreem into the moisturiser jar for the trip!! Cause it was much smaller than the brylcreem jar! Helen and I cracked up (after I smacked Mum playfully), but fuck me if my skin didn't feel great. I don't know what the hell they put in that stuff, but it softens your skin like nothing else!

::6 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I just saw an add telling us how good for us sugar is cause it gives us energy. (O_o) Advertising has gone past the bottom of the barrel. It's hitting the earth's layer of molten mag-mah.

In other news, I went shopping for the yummies for my party. I cannot, absolutely cannot, have a party without all the trimmings. Chips, nibbles, lollies, LOTS OF LOLLIES, dance lights, FOG MACHINE, bubble machine, BLACK LIGHT, mirror balls, glow sticks, decorations!

And my wig arrived! I shall look fucking awesome!! :D I just hope I can find some light pink stockings. :T

::8 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I just started my period. TWO DAYS BEFORE MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY PARTY.

I can only hope I hit my Super-Lull where I feel like a million dollars and stop bleeding for a day before finishing off with a cramping, bloody climax.

::2 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I missed my anti-migraine medication for a couple of days, and now I have a migraine. I don't have time for a migraine, I have a party to plan!!

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

War of the Worlds is NOT ABOUT ALIENS.

It's got aliens in it, but it's not about THEM per se. So the next time some motherfucker decides to make a movie about it, let's get someone who GETS WHAT THE BOOK IS ACTUALLY ABOUT.

::11 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

So I was reading about the Uncanny Valley. As an artist, I really love to fuck with the Uncanny Valley concept. I used it heavily in a digital painting of Voldemort I did, though I would have liked to have made it more realistic. It's the same basic principle behind making the most scary CGI characters or horror movie freaks. Think the girl from The Ring. She's a moving corpse, basically. She's a normal girl, but somethin' ain't quite right. It's freaky.

This phenomenon has been the main reason why I haven't bonded with my Sims 3 characters. They don't look right. When their eyeballs move about in their heads and they move their heads around, twitch their mouths - it kinda freaks me out. I made a Doctor in it and he looks like a moving Doctor doll. He's close but I don't *like* it. The Sims 2 sims are more like moving comic characters. There's an exaggerated warmth in them that I identify with and I love them so damned much, it's frightening.

Which brings us to Companion Cubes. <-- TV Tropes link! WARNING!

It occurred to me that we all have beloved anthropomorphised inanimate objects in our lives. I have plenty. What are yours? Here's a list of mine:

- Rob the Radio.
- Big Yin, the Main Computer.
- Athena Cortana, my laptop.
- Nina, my casio keyboard of awesomeness.
- Kate, my Rode mic.
- Zebra, my stuffed Zebra toy.
- We loved our old kombi-van like a member of the family. It was just called "The Kombi".

I would say that I bond to inanimate objects far too easily. It's a part of my hoarding problem, I think. I get attached to things and imbue them with a spirit, even though it's all in my head. It's a strange human behaviour, something that's hard-wired into our heads and as much difficulty as it can bring me, it can also bring me a lot of joy, strangely enough. I like having an active imagination!

::7 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

One thing I'm really sick of, as a chronic pain sufferer? People feeling they can comment on my intake of pain relief medication. It really is starting to get my goat. I hear it all the time, from people I know and from people in general (on the internet, on the radio, etc). Hysterical people pointing the finger at doctors and pharmacuetical companies. These are the same people that cling to 'detox' programmes, even though we have perfectly good filtering organs for that. You may have heard of them - they're called your liver and kidneys.

Look, I know it can be scary to see opioids or some exotically named chemical going down the throat of someone you love on a regular basis. But generally, that person will have seen a doctor before taking that pill. Questioning that person on their pill intake or telling them that the very pills that give them a breath of relief from the unrelenting agony of their unasked for condition is straight-up FUCKING RUDE.

So quit it. Making it harder for people to get the drugs that help them cope with a debilitating condition is like walking up to someone with a broken leg and kicking the crutches out from underneath their arms. Giving them a hard time for using the pills is, sticking to the metaphor, like telling a person with a broken leg that using crutches is somehow weak or indicates that they're not making enough of an effort to "get past" their health problems. Pontificating on how dangerous the painkillers a person might take are is like pointing to the bruises or stiff muscles one might get using a set of crutches as a reason not to use them, blatantly ignoring the fact that the injured person would have NO MOBILITY without them.

It's also intensely infantalising and fucking patronising to tell someone else how to manage their own health issues.

Let me put it this way for those still concerned about the drug intake: I hate taking drugs. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't even have cups of coffee cause I hate the buzz I get. I miss getting blitzed on a good vodka, but I just can't do that stuff anymore, my body isn't cut out for it. It gets used to a chemical very quickly and then makes things very difficult for me. So alcohol makes me puke, caffiene makes me have anxiety attacks and marijuana makes me freak. the. fuck. OUT.

I take opioids and anti-inflammatories because I HAVE TO. I look at that yellow pill as a blessing and a curse. Here are some lyrics to a song I wrote called "My Old Self Again":

"I don't want to stop for a minute.
But my body is crumbling to dust.
I just want the world in my fingers,
Oh but the pain is too much!

I smile through the pain, I know I'm not the same
I cradle that pill till I'm my old self again.
I wait for the hit - oh God, I live for it.
Just so I can be my old self again.

...

I know that it's hurting my body.
It's eating me up from within.
But without it I am just nothing!
I ache for the relief that it brings."

The simple fact of the matter is that I resent needing this pill. I resent being differentl abled from other people. I hate that pill and I hate being pitied by other people. But what I hate more is having the one tiny point of relief in my life turned into a shameful habit just because some people take pain relief pills and turn them into drugs, or misuse these pain relief drugs in the first place.

I groan every time some celebrity kills themselves off by indiscriminate prescription drug use, cause I know I'll be on the recieving end of "You'll end up like _____!" jokes. Har har! Like I haven't heard that one before! Except I have! And shit, from what I can tell, most of those celebrities were surrounded by enablers and went to multiple doctors, not telling each new health professional what they were taking in concert. Where-as I am a responsible adult who talks to her doctor about *EVERY* pill she puts in her body, right down to my fucking vitamin supplements and natural remedies, because people mistakenly think that natural herbal remedies aren't things you need to be careful with. You do. They are full of chemicals, the things you put in these magical pills that doctors tell us to take.

I actually go beyond the call of duty and read up on the behaviour of the drugs I'm taking on the internet, so I know what to expect if something goes wrong. I also know what NOT to do, like not drink alcohol and so forth.

So, what if you're an able-bodied person (temporarily so, might I point out) and you have concerns about someone you love and their pill intake? There's no harm in asking how much they take, or what their doctor says about it. It's none of your business, but there's no harm in it, I don't think. But stupid jokes or harping on about how BAD for you those horrible pills are? Yeah. Dick move. Don't do it.

::8 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

It just occurred to me this morning as I sipped at my morning decaf mocha, my cats make me intensely happy. There is nothing about a cat that I hate. I will look at Rogue, curled up in one of her sleeping spots, and just looking at her sends me into paroxysms of glee and delight.

I have three cats. I love every one of them. Lenny is a stocky old tiger boy who is a streetfighter. He gives strong cuddles and purrs deeply. He also loves his cheese. Rogue is a little silver shadow, intensely curious, a little too human for her own good and hopelessly clumsy. Melma is a sweet old dear with a tenacious spirit and an unmissable charisma. She's also deaf as a post but it's pretty funny, really. Especially if you're wasting your time shouting at her not to piss in the corner.

They make me very, very happy. I've said many times that Lenny has been there for me longer than a man ever has. I'm well aware that they're just animals, that they're not like having kids or a proper partner. But does it really matter in the face of how happy I am to have them in my life?

I've often been self-deprecating when it comes to my cat ownership and single status. I intend to append that with pride and joy. Cause I have three good cats. Personable, clever, beautiful cats. I look after them and they look after me. Where's the shame in a good friendship, even an interspecies one?

ETA: How can one resist it when this tells you they love you every day?

::9 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

This dickmunch laments at how fat and disgusting Serena Williams has become and how she's totally shit at tennis these days because she's eating her way to an early grave-

Wait. Didn't she just win the shit out of some titles? And this doesn't look like fat to me.

Conclusion: The world has far too many assholes in it. There are assholes wandering about without people attached to them.

(I'm linking to Jezebel and not the original article because I don't want to drive that fucker's page views up. Plus the snarking is pretty funny.)

::15 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

::whisper in my ear::

Man, my wounds are starting to itch. I can walk around now, that's good. I will have to go shopping for my party soon. I'm more tired than I would expect of myself, though. Damn that's annoying!

::whisper in my ear::

( Details Under Cut! )

http://avatars.imvu.com/naceygirl

Add me as a friend through IMVU and we'll get this party started!

::5 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I am totally behind the 8-ball on this, as I'm tired, getting over drugs, riddled with post-op pain and spending all my time healing and ignoring the pain. But I thought I'd put this thread up in case you wanted to wish me a Happy Birthday. :) For convenience's sake!

Yay, I'm 30!

ETA: Okay, this made me cry. I haven't been there for a while and it was totally out of the blue. Oh man, I'm all verklempt!

::32 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Oh this gas pain is kicking my ASS. I can deal with the post-op pain, that I can cope with. But this overwhelming pain from the gas in my stomach - OW. Can't they let me down like a balloon once they're done? FUCK.

I just went to the toilet, went into the kitchen, heated up my own heatpacks, got some full-on pain-killers, got a drink and came back into the lounge. I am starving, but I don't have the energy to go traipsing into the kitchen again, nor the ability to withstand the gas pain that I suffer if I move around too much.

I just can't wait for these ouchie days to be over. I am looking forward to those days where I feel invincible. I remember feeling like that post-op a couple of years ago at Pride. Damn that was awesome. I partied so hard. *sigh*

If I get well enough, I'll go for walks again. I miss walking.

::6 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Ten Canoes.

Oh my GOD, it's awesome. It's just so enthralling and exciting and funny and horrible and brilliant!

ETA: This young man is really gorgeous. He's stunning!

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Hey everyone.

Well, I'll be sitting in at home this weekend due to having sore guts and shit. And I had a great brainwave. I figure - why not have an online birthday so all my online friends can be there?

Let me know your preferred chat platform. I was thinking maybe throwing the party on IMVU, but I don't know if you all have the computers or patience for that. (IMVU is free, but to get additional clothes past a certain point you need credits, and the only reason I bought stuff on there is cause I wanted to make custom clothing. Which I did.)

Aaaaanyway. Help me plan this guys! We can have some fun!

::3 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I'm home. I am so damned doped up right now. I am basically touch-typing this. It's really weird, I just can't keep my eyes open but I"m so bored that I don't want to sleep. It's a weird drugged sleepiness.

They gave me oxycontin. I don't think I like it. I feel a bit nauseous (Nearly wrote sauseous which is funny). Gas hurts as usual. Was on morphine this time, not pethadine. Hd some fun in the theatre before going under. The team there are hilarious, good people. I sang as they put in the drip again, but singing is my coping mechanism when I"m nervous or in pain or both.

Mum's currently watching Doomsday. I hate the sound of the movie. Booming, shouting, screaming, stupid bitches being hysterical and a trite soundtrack.

So anyway, what they found. Lots and lots of what they call "superficial" growths. Shallow growths. They only like me for my clothes and my good legs, apparently. So if I get ugly and fat, maybe they'll fuck off. Hahaha! But uhm, seriously, it was everywhere. On my ligaments, all around the uterus in between organs, and yay of yays - on. my. BOWEL.

I've heard about what endo on the bowel can do. Needless to say, I am very unhappy about that news. Well, not unhappy. Disappointed? Pissed off? Scared? Good news on the other hand - my organs are not stuck together. And apparently, my ovaries are fine. THANKS BE TO GOD! My baby-maker is safe for now.

Oh, and I've been scratching myself silly all afternoon. I was too high to stop it. Now I have scratches all over my face. Fucking opiates.

Oh THANK GOD. The movie Mum was watching is over. I swear, that woman's voice was so fucking annoying that even her laugh made me want to punch a cunt. Fucking hell.

I'm mean on oxycontin. Isn't that what House is supposedly hooked on? This would explain a lot.Aaaanyway:

Thank you all so much for your well wishes in the last post. It means a lot to me! I really do have some wonderful friends :).

::18 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Well, I'm going into surgery today. I'll be leaving in a couple of hours. I'm already fasting (have been since midnight). I stuffed my face royally before that, but damn, I wish I'd had that icecream. I'm starving now. STAR-VING. I should get all the heat packs ready, I suppose. I'm gonna need 'em! Dad built me a stand for my laptop so that its heavyness doesn't squish my healing tummy. He's a good dude.

Argh, my broiling belly! It wants foods!

I better go shower. Helen gave me a new haircut yesterday. It's just the same-old feather, layer and trim. I will have this haircut till the day I die, probably. You can't take the funk out of the woman, I tell you.

::11 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

OMG MR. ISAAC IS SIR LANCELOT! SCHAAAAA-WING!

::2 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

::6 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

The tragic story of the Malu Sara, an unseaworthy vessel that sank in Torres Strait, taking the five people on board with it.

It was a matter of what I consider aggressive negligence. It was criminal negligence. These people didn't just die because those that were supposed to help them were incompetent - they died because people HATED them for their skin colour. What else could it possibly be? How else do you describe leaving someone to drown in a raging sea other than hate? Phoning someone up and making jokes about the emergency beacon? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE!?

Fuck. I was so mad by the end of Four Corners. Fucking incandescent. I don't know how these motherfuckers sleep at night, I really fucking don't.

I ache for the people who lost their family because of this. I know how close kin can be. I have an absolutely HUGE family, over 100 people in it all told, and we're a clan. Grandpa was Scottish, Granny was Maltese. You combine those senses of family and you have a damned tight-knit group. Even if you're not related by blood, they're your people. They're a part of you, damn it. I couldn't imagine losing family members like that, knowing people cared so fucking little.

I want this to end, damn it. I want people to stop treating Indigenous Australians like crap just because they're a different colour! God, we owe them SO MUCH.

Fucking hell, it just breaks my heart, people. And I'm really fucking mad it took watching Four Corners before I heard about it. Why wasn't this all over the freakin' news? When one rich son of a bitch gets lost on his boat due to going out there on his own, the Navy gets called in and it's all over the fucking news. When a black family is out on the ocean, doing a VERY important damned job in protecting our waters, and they're left to drown in horrible conditions? Not. A. Fucking. Peep.

I fucking hate you, Mainstream Media.

::3 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Merlin. I know, I know, it's a silly show. But I love it. I don't know why. It's magical, it's not reality TV, it has Anthony Stewart "Scrummy-pants" Head in it, there's a dragon sometimes and Arthur is hot. And oh, it's not Crime TV. I love things when they're not CrimeTV!!

SO! Which way to the Merlin/Arthur porn?

::22 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Fair shake of the sauce bottle, indeed. There are a lot of things he's not doing that I would have liked for him to do in power, but damn, he does have a good sense of humour. Howard was never this amiable or accessable.

::whisper in my ear::

So, as many of you know, I'm turning 30 this week. The nostalgia has been choking me. I can't hear the songs I used to listen to in my early 20s without getting misty-eyed. It's odd, because I was fucking miserable in my early 20s. I was seriously horribly depressed. And I get angry at myself, because I didn't really have that much to be depressed about. Not compared to today. But damn, I had a clinical depression - you can't help that shit. I had to have had a clinical depression, who willingly mopes most of their way through their twenties?

I get a horrible feeling when I try to go about my usual fan business. I'm feeling guilty. I get to writing Xena fanfic, or my X-Men fanfic, or any fucking fanfic and I ask myself the following set of questions:

- Who is going to read this fanfic?
- Why am I writing it if barely anyone is going to read it?
- You have been writing this fandom for "____" years now. Why are you still doing it?
- Where have all my old mates gone? The ones I chatted to for hours. The ones that made me laugh and forget my troubles? I guess they grew up, they got families. They started on their own work instead of fan work and now they're reaping the rewards.
- What the hell have I accomplished in the past ten years of my life?

I can get pretty fucking hard on myself, as you can see. The thing is, I am way, way better at my art, my writing, my songwriting and singing than I ever was ten years ago. And I was really good back then (except with the writing, now I've finally come to the point where I'm passable, though Mum reckons I'm great).

Being sick sucked five years of my life away. It really did. It seemed all I ever did in the past few years was wait for my next treatment. I feel robbed.

Sometimes I feel like my only achievements I've ever had after high school is because people have been nice to me and done me a favour. I wish so much to complete something worthwhile. To make something and have people enjoy it.

I also miss all the friends I used to chat to. I don't know whether I'm too scared to chat to people, or whether people are too scared to chat to me, or too busy. Or maybe I'm just a hermit now. I don't know. I used to have so much fun online. I used to socialise far more than I do now. All my old haunts are empty. All the new haunts where people hang out are filled with young kids, teenagers. I figure nobody that age would want to talk to me. It's like hanging out with their Mum or something. Plus what on earth would we talk about?! LOL!

I don't know, I wish I could just erase my age. Not the experience, or the self-assurance or any of that. Nor even how I look. I like how I look! My bone structure has become more refined as I've lost the puppy fat. My neck and shoulders are more bony than they used to be, just a touch. Just enough to make certain dress cuts look stunning. I'm happy with my looks, I'm happy with my body. I'm happy with my spirit and my wisdom.

It's the world that's bothering me. Opportunity will probably start shutting down. I was already at a disadvantage, being a woman and all. Now I'm going to be a woman in her thirties. A disabled woman in her thirties. And my big tickets, other than my novel, are my comics. I'm terrified of people hating BirdMartiaN. It makes me sick with worry, having my magnum opus panned.

The worst thing, the absolutely worst thing, is the thought that I'll never get anything done in my life. I thought I'd have heaps of issues of BirdMartiaN done by now. I had such big plans when I was 20. But then shit kept hitting my fan. Depression. Coming out. When I had that licked, my health clapped out on me. It's just not fair.

I'm single. I'm childless. And I've not done much to really show for all the spare time I've had. Except a buttload of fanfic and fan art. I just feel like a mess. My life is a mess.

Wanna hear my dream? This is my big life dream. When I was 20, it was to be famous but this is my dream now. My big dream:

I'd have a nice place of my own, not too far from Mum and Dad's place. I'd have a wonderful husband, one I could talk to, one I could relax with. One that makes me laugh and most of all, someone I felt safe with. At home with. I'd have plans for a baby with him. I'd have cats. I'd have done something with my talents, established my comics and my art. I'd have a definite web presence and maybe I'd get to travel interstate or overseas to do the odd convention. I'd maybe write a book helping people draw better. I'd have finished my novel, and maybe I'd be finding a way to get it published.

I'm working on these things, particularly the last bunch of things. I just feel stupid and pathetic that it's ten years on, and I haven't achieved much. I've gotten better at what I do, but that's about it.

I always said to myself, "I won't feel bad about turning 30, as long as I've accomplished something."

I've survived crushing depression. I've survived becoming disabled. I've survived sexual trauma. But how my career has suffered! How I have suffered! And there's no hope, no recompense. I just have to drag my shit together and keep on going. Keep on chipping away at it. I wouldn't give up a day of my life, but damn, if only I had the opportunities I had ten years ago. Damn it all.

I think the worst thing, the most terrible thing, is that I've had this paranoia since I went to a Music Manager's Forum thing. I put my music in for blind critique. That is, they listen to the music without knowing who made it. They critique to the room - an auditorium full of people. I'd had people tell me all my life how talented I was, what a great singer I was, how good I was at writing music.

I had a panel of industry big-wigs and high-ups, people in charge of BMG and Time Warner and shit, listen to my song. They mocked it. They laughed at it. They made fun of the lyrics and the production. I walked out of there and I felt like a joke, like a big fat lie.

I felt like I'd built my whole life on a fool's dream. That yeah, I was pretty talented as far as the population went, but when you stand me up against the professionals, I was a rank amateur. I've never been confident about my music again since that day. Ever. I still do my music, but, I don't know.

Sometimes I get that paranoia about all my talents. Not just music, but art, writing... sometimes I wonder if I'm building up my dreams on a fool's hope. I don't want to be old, alone, broke and looking back on a wasted life.

Oh hey - I bypassed nostalgia and fell right into a puddle of depression - whee! :T

::13 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Evolutionary Psychology gets a kick in the pants. Hello Behavioral Ecology!

Please oh please may this be the beginning of the end of sleazy faux-scientist types telling me who I'm attracted to based on who they think my ancestors liked to fuck.

::5 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

WHAT A FUCKING BRILLIANT MOVIE!!!

Addendum: Yes, I hadn't seen it yet, but I've seen it now - WOOHOO! AWESOME FUCKING FLICK! BEST SUPERHERO FLICK YET!

::10 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

There's a site called TrannyAlert.com that does what its name tells you. People take pictures of trans women, or women that are supposed to look like trans women (whatever that means) and send them into the site where that posted.

We live in a world where young women like Angie Zapata are murdered for not being born in the body they felt they belonged in. When is this bullshit going to end? When are people going to fucking grow up!?

Anyway, follow the link, there's links there to help you do something about it if you want to. Complain! It'll help get rid of the damned site.

ETA: Wow. That was quick! Quoth the Server: 404!

::9 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Rotten Tomatoes has pictures of Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland.

I am *really* excited, cause those pictures look fucking awesome. The wrinkly old faces in the garden flowers is FUCKING STUNNING. The colour of the entire picture has a sort of strange Hieronymus Bosch sort of feel about it, combined with the tonal quality of a Caravaggio. All that sounds very wanky, weighty and knowledgeable but took me hours of trawling through my art history books to figure out who I actually meant. I remember pictures better than names. Anyway, what it comes down to is that it's damned creepy. It's beautiful, it's wondrous enough for Wonderland, but it has a creepy weirdness to it, which really is fucking perfect when you consider the source material. It'll probably work much better with this than it did with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which needed an element of warmth to offset the truly horrible things that end up happening to the naughty children.

In other news, wow. I never thought I'd see the day where Elijah Wood looks like Madonna in a photo.

::2 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Read about the US ABC's News FAIL here. Reducing the struggle in Iran on part of the women as a "Lipstick Revolution" is sickening, dismissing and grossly insensitive. If you're in the US, let ABC know if you don't approve.

::9 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

My sister Tina often gently points out that I take a joke and grind it into the ground under my heel. I think I just found out where I got it from. Mum was talking about the bad weather in Scotland, and that the van that they were driving around in often shook from the wind.

Mum: The van was a-rockin' but it wasn't our fault.
Dad: [a beat] I like rocking the van sometimes!

::whisper in my ear::

A hardline cleric calls for the execution of 'rioters'.

::whisper in my ear::

( JJ Abrahm's Star Trek... )

Look, if all you've ever seen of Star Trek is this movie? Do yourself a favour. Rent some damned episodes. Or better yet, see Star Trek II and Star Trek III. They are the very best of the Trek movies by far and if they don't rip your heart out, challenge your grey cells and have you look down the gaping yaw of time to the dawn of humanity - well, you're just not Trekker material, clearly.

Okay. I feel better now. I've had my olde timey Trekker heart attack and now, now I'm going to rewatch the entire original series from episode one. It'll be good, because I'll have a Captain Kirk that I could actually picture myself riding like a pony. And my charming, clean, well-behaved McCoy. *sigh*

ETA: A more logical, calm review that clearly illustrates the reasons why I didn't like it without the huffing, puffing and hysteria. Thank you, Wired.

::55 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Oh Farrah, you shining angel of awesomeness. My constant inspiration in the late 90s when I pursued the feathered look... I'll miss you.

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Damn. I enjoyed a lot of that dude's music. Mostly the seventies and early 80s stuff. It's terribly sad that he's gone. But people really shouldn't fool around with opiate drugs like that. After I heard about his lifestyle, it figured.

I'm still more concerned about Iran.

::8 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I just ate some cake, and 100 grams of choc-coated wafer sticks. Gluten free, of course. I had to, I was watching Willy Wonka!

::whisper in my ear::

Some people have said it's Tiananmen Square all over again. They are using axes, batons, sticks, guns. They herd the protesters together like cattle and massacre them without a glimmer of remorse or regret.

Something MUST be done. I don't know what can be done, but dear God, something MUST be done!

::whisper in my ear::

One of the common side effects of Endometriosis is sharp jabbing pains up the colon. It's like you're being stabbed in the ass with a sharp metal pike.

My gay best friend Tom was visiting, and I had a sudden, rude and alarming jab of pain up my colon. I jump and cry, "Ow, my ass!"

"I didn't do it!!" he cries.

::5 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

"These cooks are not COOL." Pause. "They are not COOL cooks!"

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Journaling/blogging about Dad is a bit of a novelty at the moment. You can tell, can't you?

He made a point of watching "Cheaters" tonight. It's pure trash. It's so trashy, I don't have words for it. Either way, Dad loves it. It's so weird that he's so into it. I guess he enjoys trash tv more than I realised.

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I just ate a whole bag of gluten-free pretzels. God damn I'm hungry.

::2 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

The girl that made me turn off the twitter feed had a name. Her name was Neda. You've probably heard all about her by now. I sure as hell have.

Lots of people are talking about watching the video. How horrible it is. How gruesome it is. How important it is to watch it, so we know what's happening. Well, I've decided that I don't need to see it. I saw the photo. I saw her death. It gripped my heart and cracked open my mind. I felt a cry in my soul and I wondered, "Why?" Why do these things happen?

I don't need a video to tell me that people are suffering. I don't need a video to feel empathy or to understand the truth of this. I don't need to hear her father's anguished cries. Imagining it is enough for me. I am already having enough nightmares. I'm sure God is sick of hearing me pray for Neda's spirit. And for her family that is no doubt going through hell right now.

I respect Neda. I understand her sacrifice, but I will not watch her die. It seems a pointless torture to me, to put myself through what I already know. An innocent woman was taken from the world for the tenuous hold of a power that ultimately means nothing. I mourn for her already. I do not need to see her tragic end. I've seen enough of it as it is.

::7 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

No Richard. No snarky British men. Canned laughter. They're talking about cars that "pull chicks".

Fuck you, Top Gear Australia.

::8 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

You may recall a short post yesterday where I said I was taking a break from the twittering of Iran's crisis. I'll continue to be careful about what I see, because my panic, depression and PTSD is easily triggered by violent imagery.

( What I saw that upset me - TRIGGER WARNING )

When I went to bed last night, I hugged my Mum and Dad goodnight. I felt so damned lucky to be able to go to bed with that warm glow of having my family around me again, complete and whole. To know I could hug my sweet, wonderful mother. To hear my Father's stories of his travels of the past three months. To sit down to dinner with them and my brother and enjoy a good talk together. To know I can do all these things and I don't have to fear for my life, for their lives.

Somehow, it feels criminal. Why am I so lucky? Why can't these poor Iranian people be as lucky as I am? And it occurs to me that they fight so that they, and future generations, can have what I have here and now. I know how sweet it is to be secure and to have your family and friends relatively safe and sound, to know you can speak your mind without retribution or censorship. I know too well why they fight.

I mourn those poor people that have been the victims of this oppression. Over 200, all told, and rising as the protests go on. I mourn that they will never get to enjoy the change that they fought for, that they gave their lives for. I'm angry they had to sacrifice so much at all.

I won't forget their lesson. I won't forget them, and I won't take my freedom for granted ever again. I was thankful before, but I know why I'm thankful now.

::5 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

There was "A Pocketful of Rye" on ABC1 tonight. There's a new Miss Marple. I like her, I really like her. I didn't realise until this new Marple was on the scene that I didn't have that much of a problem with Marple: I didn't like the actress playing her. She imbued Marple with a superior gossipy quality.

This new Marple, though, has a kind and open face. I've seen her in things before and I've always liked her. You can easily imagine people trusting her, or dismissing her as an old biddy. You could imagine people either liking her or being aggravated with her. And she looks bloody smart.

I think I'm just a bitch when it comes to certain actors. If I don't like their faces, or their voices, I'll just be turned off the entire production. Like Potato-head in the new Bond films (I forget his name). Or that Irish guy in Jekyll. Can't stand him either. He's always this smug bastard who gets women far more attractive than he'd ever realistically pull.
I guess it isn't very fair of me. Ah well.

::4 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

I am sucking on a German sugarfree coffee lolly that reminds me of Kalhua. It's surprisingly awesome for a sugarfree treat. Mum's listening to some awesome music, David Attenborough is on TV (salmon run, whoohoo!) and Mum is also making roast pork and sauerkraut for dinner.

I'm warm, I have an awesome hat, and I have had all the sleep I need.

::whisper in my ear::

They got me the COOLEST HAT EVER! Which I shall take a photo of myself in tomorrow. I am so fucking delighted with this hat. It also keeps my head incredibly warm, which, considering how fucking cold it is lately, is a real relief.

Dad's giving me plenty of ammo for my blog about him that I'm going to build now he's back. It'll be called "Grumpy Old German Guy/Man" (can't figure out which it should be, guy or man) and it'll be all about Dad being, well - a grumpy old German dude. I was playing Animal Crossing on the Wii and he hadn't seen a Wii before. It wasn't here before he left. I was explaining what I was doing in the game. But he doesn't hear so well.

So he heard me explaining my finding Joan the Sow to buy turnips and sell them later at a higher price and exclaimed, "That's a pyramid scheme!" I blinked. "What?"

"Who you gonna rip off with that? Some poor unsuspecting..." He mumbled then and I thought that he was showing remarkable concern for these fictional anthropomorphic animals.

"I'm just buying and selling-"

"Turnips go off!" he said.

"Well, yeah," I agreed. Wow. He really knew the ins and out of Animal Crossing - waaaaait a minute. Dad knew shit all about computer games. "Dad... I meant in the game."

"OH!" He laughed and was incredibly relieved that I wasn't going to start growing turnips and selling them in real life. Man, I laughed so hard. God damn, it's good to have these bastards back! :)

::5 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

Thank you, Andrew Sullivan.

Read Obama's Response.

::1 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::

It's too much for me. I can't look at it anymore.

Mum and Dad are home. I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

::3 murmured sweet nothings in my ear:: - ::whisper in my ear::