I am literally only writing because I want to talk about Ouran High School Host Club, but have no one to talk about it with.

So, I did a re-watch, all out of order. I'd watched it all the first time about a year and a half ago. Initially, my favorite characters were the twins, with Kyoya running a close third place. I expected things to be the same way this time around. No, somehow watching the show completely out of order made me change my mind on quite a few things. I don't care about the twins so much anymore, and I pity Tamaki so much more. Oh, and yeah, I now ship Haruhi/Mori like it's my job.

One thing that bothered me as I looked through various things about the show, was that early in the manga, the author mentioned that she liked the Haruhi/Mori pairing the most. Now, I've never read the manga, and don't know if I will, so I don't know exactly what context this was brought up in, but if this was initially the end-game and it got switched to Haruhi/Tamaki, I'll be rather annoyed.

I also feel as though I NEED context for the little tidbit I've read that Mori gets talkative and flirty when he's tired. Does he flirt with anybody? Everybody? Just Haruhi? I need to know, and I don't think I ever will!

I still like Kyoya a lot. He's the sort of smart, observant, "dangerous" character I never feel confident writing. He sees everything, and tells nearly nothing. He projects an image that seems unbreakable, but it isn't really him. And as I write about him he sounds cliche. Oh well...

The only character I still can't quite get a feel for is Honey. I can't see him as being as old as his character is, even in his serious moments. I don't see him ever caring for or having a crush on Haruhi, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to or not. Every other character I can notice moments where they seem to have a romantic interest in Haruhi, but for me, Honey is just about cake and Takashi.

Unfortunately, I think too much of my character planning for National Novel Writing Month is being influenced by my recent obsession with this anime. One of my characters is Mori, my antagonist is Kyoya. My lead isn't Haruhi, at least, I'm sure of that.

So tired. I'm going to try (try, really, not guaranteed) to write in my "real" blog this weekend. I don't have a topic yet. But I want to. I can't just blog on Tumblr. That place wants to rot my brain, but I refuse to let it!
I just had the thought, "I just want a rich boyfriend who will buy me things, like manga and yarn. That's what guys buy for their girlfriends, right?"

Um... yeah. Can you tell I've never been in a romantic relationship before?

I've had Japan in my head lately. Not as a place to go, or anything, just in general. I'm watching Victorian Romance: Emma again, the only anime I own, and randomly rewatching episodes of Ouran High School Host Club. I also have my international clock on my phone set to tell me what time it is in Tokyo for some reason... I blame my friend Andre.

He's a missionary and he's in Japan right now. He's the only decent person who ever had a crush on me. He's also my friend, that's more important than the crush thing, but that crush thing is a little important. I missed an opportunity there. I'm not saying we'd have gotten married and lived happily ever after, or anything, but he was worth more time than I gave him.

Yeah. These thoughts are going weird places... I should stop writing...
It's been a cruddy week so far... and I was absolutely useless today. (Seriously, the only thing I accomplished today was finishing reading a book. 21 books read this year, only 9 more to make my minimum goal for the year!)

I just feel like making random, useless statements, so here I go.

1. I started following a few "Sherlolly" blogs on Tumblr. I don't exactly know why. I don't ship it. I may have been rebelling against all of the Johnlock that pervades that site. I can believe that Sherlock and Molly Hooper will be canon more easily than I can see John and Sherlock declaring unending love for one another. But, at the same time, I think the show runners are more amused by the fans working themselves into shipping frenzies than actually concerned with character development or interaction. (I'm still bitter that Molly Hooper wasn't actually "Mary Morstan." John and Molly would have been awesome, but instead we got another typical "Moffat Sassy and Dangerous" character.)

2. Tomodachi Life is still my obsession. I've taken to calling Sherlock and Sleigh the King and Queen of Pineapple island. I blew my savings in the game on sending the two of them on a trip into space. It was worth all $10,000. (Not really, but money is so easy to earn in that game...)

3. I've decided my family are all jerks, but that's okay, so am I. I'm not exactly sure what caused the most recent flare up of jerkiness, but I'm looking forward to it's end.

4. I feel inadequate in multiple ways lately. It sucks.

5. When I was ironing yesterday, sparks flew out of the iron and my lamp blew out. Obviously, I haven't ironed since. It's also quite dark in here, since I haven't tried to see if the lamp itself is broken or the bulb just died.

6. I watched the Tenant of Wildfell Hall. I don't get the Brontes. I also want to know if Rupert Graves ever played a character who wasn't an abusive, borderline rapist. (Hell, in Take a Girl Like You, he wasn't even borderline.) Is he just drawn to roles where he's despicable? Oh, well, I still like him as Lestrade.

7. I don't know what to read next. The book I finished today was one of the Psych novels. I don't know why I read those. They're not good. Everyone was entirely out of character, to the point that I couldn't even imagine the actors from the show saying the things that the characters were supposed to be saying. I kind of want to read a Campion book, or a Lord Peter Wimsey. Or I could leave the mystery genre altogether. I dunno.

8. I need to find a new crochet pattern. I haven't crocheted for a few days, but I don't have anything I am excited to make right now...

9. It's nice to have someone tell you out of nowhere that they're praying for you. A friend told me the other night that I had been on their mind and they were praying and I nearly cried I was so touched.

10. Lists should ends on multiples of 5, don't you think? I do.
Now, I suppose I should reserve judgement for when I've read more than one and a half short stories, but eh... I've got an opinion already.

So, I looked into E. W. Hornung's "Raffles" stories because (a) it was often compared to the Sherlock Holmes stories, and were written by A.C. Doyle's brother-in-law and (b) I enjoy reading about clever thieves. The used bookstore I like going to had a copy of the first collection, "The Amateur Cracksman" so I picked it up.

I feel like I should like it more. The main problem I'm having is Bunny, who would be the Watson of these stories. He's Raffles friend/sidekick/lackey/documentarian. I feel like Bunny has no mind or backbone of his own, and if Raffles suggested that they dig up his parents' graves Bunny would just go along with it. Say what you will about Dr. Watson, if Holmes suggested something that he wasn't comfortable with, he'd say something about it. He might wind up doing it after being convinced, but there would at least be a little bit of protest! (Granted, it's been awhile since I read the Holmes stories, maybe I'm giving Watson more credit than he deserves.) (I don't think I am.)

I just wound up thinking, "This is a horribly unbalanced relationship!" as I read the first story. Maybe it will improve in later stories. I hope it does...

ETA: Someday I'll read a bit of Victorian era fiction and not come across some blatantly offensive racism. Today was, sadly, not that day.
I've been going back and reading from my old Blogspot blog lately. I've been looking at my most active years, and remembering how much I used to love writing. I loved getting my thoughts out of my head, into letters and sentences and just clearing out the cluttered spaces between my ears. I wrote just because I wanted to. It wasn't for comments, or likes, or any sort of response I could drag out of my readers. I never expected anything to happen after I hit the post button.

I don't know exactly what happened or why I stopped wanting to share my thoughts. If you had asked me before I started looking back at the old entries, I probably would have blamed my depression. Now that I've looked at the entries, and remembered the time of my life when I wrote them, I can't really blame that. My most active time of posting was when I was the most depressed. I wanted to just die, literally, but it never came through in my writing. You could tell I was upset about a few things, but I just kept writing.

It didn't matter if I had a topic to write about or not. Sometimes I just wanted to write. I'd open it up and just start typing.

I don't write in my pen and paper diary that much lately, either. I don't know what to blame.

Maybe there isn't anything to blame. Blame won't change anything anyway. What will change things is if I just start writing again. So, I don't know if it will be here, on Blogspot, or just on a piece of paper. I want to write again.

Fine then

May. 31st, 2014 08:39 pm
Brother and SIL backed out of coming to visit. Their excuse was flimsy and weak, but so is "our" excuse for not visiting them.

I'm just going to box up my gifts for my niece, since it may end up I'll never meet her.

*sigh* This threw off my entire day... and now I have an entire cake to dispose of.
Once, as a teenager, I went to a friend's house for a sleepover. She lived out in the country, so we decided to go out walking before the sun had set. There were five of us, all walking along this dirt path in the sandy, tumbleweed filled fields of New Mexico. I was in the middle of the group, with two girls talking to each other on my right and two other girls talking to each other on my left.

We walked on like this until I was uncomfortable with the fact that no one was saying anything to me. I started thinking, "They don't care that I'm here. I could just stop walking with them, and they just wouldn't notice."

So, I did just that. I stopped walking.

I watched the group walk on. I stood in the middle of a sandy path, watching my friends walk away from me.

My memory is hazy on how far away they walked before I was missed. I remember considering running to catch up before they realized I wasn't there, but just before I made up my mind to, the girl who had invited us all turned and looked for me. She and the other girls ran back to me, and we resumed our walk. They didn't ask why I had stopped, or if anything was wrong. We walked just as we had before, with pairs of girls talking, and me keeping up.

I realize now that my stopping could be seen as being slightly manipulative and selfish. If I wanted to join in the conversations I could have. They were my friends, after all.

All I wanted in that moment was to be missed. I wanted someone to want me around.

As far as my life goes now, I feel like I'm still standing in that sandy path, but no one turned around to look for me. I should start walking forward, even if no one is there to catch up with, but I don't know which direction to go in.
I've often been told that my expressions and feelings are easy to read, which makes me paranoid when people look at me.

My pastor likes to make eye contact with as many people as possible while he's teaching. Sometimes, when he looks in my direction, I get so worried about what my face is saying that I temporarily zone out, trying not to telegraph some message I don't mean to send. Then in a split second I realize how ridiculous that is, and start to focus more one what he's saying than on what he is, or most likely isn't, thinking about me.
I imagine that if some bystander were watching me listen to the message (you know, being a creepy stalker or something) it would look like I quickly lose and regain focus, like a quick reset or something.

After church today my pastor mentioned that he'd like to have a chance to talk to me sometime. This is pretty normal, and I don't recall feeling any particular emotion at hearing him say this. His reaction, however, tells me that a moment of panic appeared on my face since he felt the need to assure me that it wasn't about anything bad. He just wants to get to know what sort of things I might be called to in ministry or life. (That's an entire different entry, I felt like replying, "Yeah, if you figure that one out be sure to let me know.")

My inability to hide my silent thoughts also has lead me to be extremely uncomfortable making eye contact with people I'm meeting for the first time. This, along with a horrible feeling of shyness around strangers makes me sure that if I were a meme I'd be socially awkward penguin.
I'll admit it, I only made this account in the event that I would someday like to have it. The fact that for once I didn't need an invitation code to get it made it even more inviting...



September 2014

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