javaink: (perfection)
I finished the first game I think three or four weeks ago now? I haven't gotten TOO far into ME2, but I'm slowly working my way through. I HATE the combat on ME2; I'm too used to (and lowkey still in love with) the combat in ME1, so. That's probably why. I am getting used to it though! I haven't bought ME3 yet, but if it goes on sale on Origin or Amazon . . . I'm buying IMMEDIATELY.

I weirdly feel like I made a MISTAKE with this first playthrough. Not any big mistake, but a mistake for myself. I decided that my first Shepard would be an AU version of an OC of mine because sometimes that's what I do in games. Not a bad strategy, I don't think. But this stopped me from really playing by getting to know Shepard and form her around my idea of an original Shepard. I don't know, maybe this all sounds dumb?
But maybe I'm missing out?
Anyway, I do really love this game, and it's interesting to choose options and everything - this is my first role-playing game if . . . that's not obvious.

There have been plenty of scenes that match the character of my OC, Lysander, who used to be named Alex. Sometimes the options match her but not perfectly, like some instances she would have been more . . . diplomatic? Manipulative? Idk, BUT! There was one moment in ME2 that was EXPLICITLY HER, EXPLICITLY ALEX, the piece of her past and self she keeps locked up.
Illium, helping to sell the quarian-slave/indentured servant. She goes to the Synthetic Company, tries to talking to them, and the lady straight up says, "It looks so bad, so bad, if we buy a slave. And AI's are looked down on-"
And that whole answer Shep gives her?
"It sounds like Synthetic Insights is worried about its reputation. Hiring this quarian will help. . . . Purchase the contract, minus the fee for early emancipation. Then free the quarian and garnish wages for reimbursement."
The asari catches on, and it's a sealed deal. It was PERFECT, IT'S THE MOST ALEX THING LYSANDER HAS SAID THIS WHOLE GAME SERIES.
Which makes sense since Lysander always tries to put on a good face, not be SO blunt with how she manipulates situations and people, but. That was amazing. It was like her old days on Earth with her twin.

Oh yes. My Shepard has a twin. Again, they were OCs BEFORE Mass Effect, so it's not like a cliche or anything. I have multiple AUs about what her twin is up to and how they reunite, but they lived on the streets and were good at the sort of underhand business thinking Shep just showed in her dealing with the asari.
Just. It was great. <3

Okay, enough from me for now. Back to work.
javaink: (not today satan)
So it turned out that Monday was amazing. You know how everyone always complains and hates on Mondays? Not so for me. Monday blew me away, favored me till it the sun went down and the day was done.
That 3 page paper? Finished within 2-3 hours. "That's . . . great? Not something to brag about? Why are you so happy?" you might say.
And I'd respond, "Oh I don't know, because I overthink EVERYTHING, and 3 page papers TURN INTO ALL-NIGHTERS WHEN THEY ARE ONLY. THREE. PAGES." It's true. In that first semester of Freshmen year, in my lit class, all the paper were 3 pages. All of them needed an all-nighter for me to complete. How ridiculous is that? It's outrageous, and I hate my brain for that, but it's what I am. Instead, on Monday morning - because that night I just could NOT write, could not stick or think through one simple thing - I got up early, slept in a little bit? I meant to get up at 6 30 AM, couldn't do it, rose at 7 30. Started writing at 8, got done at 9 50, ten minutes before my first class 10. I had no time between Greek Prose (that 10 AM class) and Digital Media Writing to work on it because the paper was due at 12! The end of Digital Media, which starts at 11! And yet I finished the paper? I'm so proud. I mean, it wasn't good, but I did good. I couldn't stop smiling as I walked out of my dorm, repeating that phrase over and over in my head. It wasn't good, but I did good. A personal record. It was not up to par with my other papers, not even close, but . . . I'm over it. (Except for when I become mortally embarrassed when I have to sit down with my professor and talk it over, because he wants to do that with all of us, "the papers don't end after the deadline, let's keep working! let's continue this discussion!" like, blegh, ciri-- bae, blegh, let's nOt).

That day I also decided to wear what I wore for Beauty and the beast, jeans, my purple long sleeve crop top, and my cute sky blue crop sweater. Now, I know what you're thinking: so what? I'm there with you, I hate it when stories and writings talk about their wardrobe, like thanks for the visual, but so what? I'm over it! But this was important because I'm self-conscious about my belly. I'm not that overweight, not like those that are put down, but growing up in a household of a mother that constantly bemoaned how overweight she was, how embarrassed she was - my mother is confident and such a joy, and she's so badass, but I know she misses being smaller. Work and tiredness and raising three kids as a single parent - even when she was still married to my dad, that selfish ass! - and age have slowed her down. She used to dance. She used to be such an athlete, she loved it all. But she chose being an engineer over dancing because she wanted a family, and it hurts her, I think, in a way, that she's slowed down enough and busy so much that she can't stop and breathe. She has no energy, only enough to wistfully say how she needs to start dancing again.

Anyway, that's not- the point of this post. I'm insecure! About my body! Who isn't! My spot of most weakness is my belly, and I love the style of high waisted jeans and crop tops, crop sweaters ESPECIALLy. I love that shorted torso look, though sometimes it looks so 80s, I don't even care. I have both crop tops and sweaters, but I end up finding ways to cover my belly or covering the crop tops I love. I don't wear my skirts because of my legs. I need to get over this, but it's hard, and I don't have time to discipline myself. Not when I should be disciplining myself for school and forgetting dumb boys. BUT THIS PAST MONDAY (yesterday) I DECIDED TO SAY FUCK THAT SHIT, IMMA WEAR MY CUTE CROP SWEATER WITH MY JEANS AND IMMA LOOK GREAT WITH MY NEW HAIRCUT. And I did, and I felt fabulous. A little self-conscious when I sat down because my belly looks worse sitting down, but also because my underwear showed above my jeans when I did that and the crop top didn't stay down. I FELT GREAT THOUGH. I FELT CUTE. And the guy I need to forget because I don't even know him?? He walked by while I looked cute, don't think he saw me but I saw him and that was fine and he was with a girl, walking real close, that doesn't mean he's not gay, but it looked romantic-y and that was a smidge freeing. A smidge. Not entirely free, but close.

I also walked by this girl saying into her phone, "Boys are dumb." I said "True" real fast, and we both laughed as we walked farther away. I spoke my mind! Like what was that, did I drink a Felix Elixar from H Potter and have a magical day???? And one of my classes was cancelled, I did well in Greek Prose when called on, and I finished everything in time for Russian! And later that night, I had a light amount of reading, and I was excited to earn 30$ from my procturing gig I was to do tomorrow (which happened today and was a breeze, despite my anxiousness beforehand). My teacher needed someone to watch over one class taking their exam, he'd pay 30, which isn't much but neither is the job, and since I have no job this semester, I jumped on that. Literally it's not much, but I'm thankful all the same! I need to jump on opportunities more. Alsoa apparently Monday was the first day of Spring? It felt so good outside. I saw a play that night, and it was alright, but enjoyable. It was The Ruby Sunrise.

Today went well too, but Monday was SO enjoyable, a surprise. I also felt like I dressed great today too, so there's that.

- --
Gotta finish some stuff, but goodnight! I'm so happy.

- --
My Friday also might be looking amazing? But I learned today that one of my best friends might definitely be transferring from here because our college is too expensive, especially for how small it is. And it is small. I hate how small it is too, so I agree with her there. I just . . . hope our study abroad plans line up. We need to be in Europe together. We need the triangle to be complete.
javaink: (too much candy's gonna rot your soul)
So I think I need to just write my own Beauty and the Beast 2017 fanfiction?
I've been searching through the batb2017 fanfics that I can find, and none of them really. . . are what I'm looking for. There are plenty good ones! But not in the style or depth or etc I like to read, which throws me off.
I always say I hate when it comes to this, when I have to write my own fanfiction because I don't have time and I also am awful at writing other people's characters, but I oddly feel compelled to do this? And determined? Not chase-you-down determined but like "Yes! I will write this! I will get this done! I will cook myself dinner instead of take out!" And this means I have to watch the movie a million times over, analyze and study everything because I need to be in character for my fics or I scratch my eyes out. I can feel the OOC but I can't tell. . . how to not be IC? That's so awful. Anyway, it'll be a good exercise and distraction this summer. I'll find a way to watch it, and it'll be a great relaxation thing besides playing Mass Effect while I work my ass off this summer to make money for my study abroad this next Spring.

- -
I say this, but no way in hell will I share this fanfiction, once it's written. I don't like writing fanfiction for Disney things, or Disney princess things, it's . . . too close to my childhood in the wrong way, but . . . I'm making an exception. For once I LIKE the romance and world of Beauty and the Beast, whereas before I was like "meh" despite being a reincarnated version of Belle which pisses me off to no extent, but then again . . .I am also very much Mulan, so I can forget Belle. Belle's not bad! She's amazing, like wow, but . . . something wrong's there in my mind, it's probably . . . a weird thing I need to work through, but right now she's in a better light now thanks to the 2017 version! In my fic, I can expand upon her, make her closer to how I thought she was going to be, because let me tell you, I heard that SHE was supposed to be the inventor instead of her dad, which is mainly true! But not . . . emphasized or shown enough. For real, I was disappointed in that. So that's going to be a thing, despite not knowing anything about gears and mechanics and whatever else is involved.

- -
I LOVED the movie, and it was great. There were some drawbacks and definite weaknesses (some of those cuts? yikes. that first intro to Belle's room in the castle? double yikes), but I loved it! So much! Way more than I thought I was. All my friends were pumped, and I was like, "Yeah, this should be good!" I would've been okay watching it when it came out on DVD but I'm so glad I didn't! It was beautiful and gorgeous and so great. Again, a few hiccups, but otherwise, AMAZING.

- -
Alright, off for me to write a 3 page paper. Gah, I shouldn't overthink it, else I WILL pull an all-nighter and THAT CAN'T HAPPEN. IT'S ONLY THREE PAGES. NOT WORTH AN ALL-NIGHTER. (it is a midterm, BUT STILL).
javaink: (embarrassed)
so i have to start a blog for class. who knew that was a criteria for my Digital Media Writing class? i did, i knew right when i signed up. what a MISTAKE.
okay not a mistake. i took this class for future jobs and internships. but.
here's the thing: i am AWFUL at blogs. i've never had a blog. tumblr doesn't count. this journal may be a blog? i don't know, i'm counting it not as a blog but as proof that i'm BAD at blogs. i don't know how to make posts about my ideas! i don't know how write things for the internet and not feel anxious and leave my writing alone! i don't know how to come up with ideas! i'm awful at ideas! which is really unfortunate since my life. .. . is gonna be based on creative writing. i know, i've dug myself into a hole.
i talked with my teacher, and she helped me see some bright side, some ideas of what to do. she said the mission statement or the goal for the blog is what's most important. i just have to mull it over and pick.
so here's the list:
1. some sort of copyediting blog (since i want to go into publishing)
a. a review blog on recently published stories/books/etc
b. keeping up with publishing trends
c. finding new authors and checking them out
d. a blog on misprints and copyediting, going through mistakes and explaining why they are mistakes
2. review a tv show blog
a. as in, watch one show, rate each episode and such. potential for funny
3. writing prompt blog (maybe not good if i want to publish any of those pieces)

I'm leaning towards 1a, 1c, and 3. I gotta choose, explore, brainstorm, and then pitch this friday. wish me luck, whoever is reading this.
javaink: (wow)
well today's been shit.

- - -
it kinda occured to me that our now 45th (ew)(EW) is all the bad qualities and worse history of America rolled up into one orange flake of skin. i mean, i kinda knew that all along, but the phrasing of such a sentiment hit me today.

- - -
also, a lot of people on campus - and people i KNOW - are obviously upset by this, a few cried, and who can blame them?
me, i just felt - still do actually. just a deep slow burn where my heart should be but now feels hollowed out. and it's a gentle ache of flames, like a low kindling fire, buried in my chest, and there's warmth but also a coolness. a cold anger.
a part of me didn't believe in the goodness of people, not exactly, but in the logic of people. for them to see the bigger picture. i still believe Clinton is the smart choice, but maybe i don't see the picture as clear as i need to. but at least i know droves of people - diverse crowds of people that are innocent and compassionate - wouldn't be crying, questioning their safety. i know people would be on edge whoever won, but at least with Clinton, those people pissed wouldn't question their safety. not so many.
but i forgot. the founding fathers hadn't, but i did. people and the majority: fickle and impulsive they are, watching their own skins and accidentally setting their world on fire.

- - -
p. s. im gonna miss obama's face and biden's gorgeous smile
javaink: (Default)
I just watched the two latest episodes of Scream Queens, 2.3 & 2.4, so spoilers-

You think I'm scared of a giant booger? )
so those are my scrambled thoughts. not much too them, but i needed to vent/gush a little.
javaink: (like no other)
i don't think i like nanowrimo.
i was a dumb, and on the 31st i impulsively made an account for nanowrimo, willingly ignoring the fact that i don't have a story planned! i have maybe a couple i could TRY to do, but none i'm feeling too cozy with? none i'm feeling inspired by?
now it's five days later and the anxiety to write and start a novel on there nibbles at the bottom of my stomach, and if i think too hard about it - which means, longer than 30 seconds - i start feeling guilty! hard-pressed to write! and i don't think that works for me, at least not now. i-
this past summer, when i was working hard on my Greek summer courses, i was thinking of doing summer camp nano. my sister was going to do it, she needed a distraction. she had read a siren book, and she was inspired to write about mermaids. me, i love sirens, and mermaids, and sirens, sirens, sirens. bird or fish kind. sirens are one of my favorite mythical creatures. so of course, when she said she wanted to do that, my mind exploded with some ideas. a small plot in mind, but not one that i couldn't flesh out, stretch out into book form. people do it all the time in ya.
needless to say, i started taking notes in a small pocket journal, but i didn't get far. again, Greek courses. INTENSE Greek courses. i needed to finish them in time for the fall semester and i had started late, so my classes were bunched up together, one on top of the other, i felt awful and stressed.
so no summer nano for me.
but that's the only one i would maybe want to do? i have an idea that stems from my sims 2 game, one of the families where there are a shit ton of alien-abduction babies and all angst and maybe i would throw in an alien invasion and resistance. but- no inspiration, not now.
and it's not helping that i left that small pocketbook at home, home which is TEXAS and i am NOT in Texas.

- - -
Ha, the mention of Texas reminds me of a thing that happened in my Short Story class today. eh, tomorrow.
(i WILL write it tomorrow, i swear, this isn't exploration, this is a happy thing, kinda)
javaink: (i need to do something with my hands)
you know, i said tomorrow, but here i am, five days later.
and i don't think i can do it. the feeling isn't gone, but i'm not going back. does anyone do that? try to regurgitate old feelings just for the sake of exploring them?
what did i just ask?
that's all writing is, isn't it? exploring.
well, sometimes i just can't deal, so i won't.
so no real PINS pt. ii? maybe some other day.
but i won't hold my breath.

- - -
on a separate note, i have to read Tolstoy's "Kholstomer" for Russian Culture, and then i need to go through some of the books i checked out from the library for my research paper. i'm shakey on my topic, and hopefully i found good books. i'm hoping to compare Pushkin's poetry to Baratynsky's poetry and MAYBE how they influenced one another. i don't know, but i'm intimidated and a little excited. in my freshman seminar class (a year ago, now), my research paper was on the Mexicano/Nuhautal poetry, and that was so interesting! i actually kinda fell in love with their poetry, and even better! i found an English translator! that was able to keep their trochaic meter! but of course, there's always pitfalls to translations, and their poetry was always accompanied by dance and music, so that's . . . lost on readers and to us now, kind of, but i was very pleased. gah, that was so interesting to research. my paper was a mess, and i mean a GIANT mess, and i procrastinated on it, but i loved what i found.
i'm hoping i'll love what i find here on Pushkin and Baratynsky too. i hope it'll be as interesting. i doubt it, but i hope to be entertained. so far i know i really like Pushkin's stuff - again, i LOVED Onegin - and i liked his short stories and the Bronze Horseman that we read in class, so i'm banking on that.

- - -
i wanted to write tonight, but i don't know on what. maybe i'll just read. my friday's been pretty boring. both my friends were studying hard, and we didn't have a movie planned like we normally do on friday's, so i was stuck in my room. i finished season 2 of HTGAWM. wow. no words. just tears. i was crying when Annalise's baby- yeah.
otherwise boring. i need to learn what to do on night's like these. make a "me time" ritual, because what i've got now isn't cutting it.
javaink: (i need to do something with my hands)
do you ever find yourself beautiful? but then in a moment it's gone. or maybe you're wearing something you love, and you feel amazing, but you doubt if you really do look as awesome as you feel. sometimes i'm struck with a thought: maybe i am beautiful. sometimes i like my hands, and in an instant i find a way to not. i don't know.
- - -

i got to ep11 of season 1 of How to Get Away With Murder. amazing. but i had to stop once Analise's sister-in-law showed up. i was done with how many bombs were dropped on me tonight. i exited out of netflix before the next episode could play.
i looked back down at my Greek translation i had been "working on" while i watched. i has only one fourth into the first paragraph of two. i put Marina's "Can't Pin Me Down" on repeat as i sat in the dark trying to do this relatively short translation. and then my stomach started shaking, and my breathing feels like those damn butterflies are trying to migrate out of my stomach, and this isn't as bad as it sounds, but i know it's the song, and my self loathing, and my obsessive thinking of a certain person that i want to tear out of my mind - it's those that are causing my discomfort. as i translate, i think of person, of how tired i am, of how awake i am, and of how my roommate gets to sleep cozily behind me. i half-way waited for her to return to our room tonight so we could translate together, but she came back at around 11:30 already done with all her homework. oh well. it was no set promise, only a mutual realization we were both having a better time working together. but it's alright. it IS alright. i just hate Greek more than i thought i would, and i half-way blame the professor. i also blame Greek, but only because i'm already in love with Russian. i walk to Greek class and i feel the life draining out of me. i'm mostly burned out, and mostly done with the class. it doesn't help that i'm awful at studying. why am i like this - i want to learn, but i can't force myself to do it. no discipline. a fake. ah, well-
oh shit, i think she work up behind me. my typing probably.
i was going to talk of other things, but i think i'm done.
i have a partial cafe mocha sitting on my desk in a grande Starbucks cup, and it pleases me aesthetically? i'm so pretentious. also i don't like cafe mocha's. should've gotten a cafe latte.

- - -
oh i wanted to talk about my feelings Marina's song dragged up, but with how late it is- tomorrow.
javaink: (i can't explain)
the second half of that title is only relevant in this way: I want to read Chaucer. I need to read Chaucer. I've heard Chaucer is difficult, but lately in my classes and some circles of friends literature has come up and the flow and transformation of languages and Chaucer was one of the ones mentioned. Old English is Beowulf (hardly readable), Chaucer is Middle (kind of readable, difficult), & Shakespeare is Modern English (not our type of modern, but modern as in it's still readable, easily readable to us). I've had a copy of the Cantaberry Tales sitting on my bookshelf at home for a good year or two, and I've only opened it once. But now I want to and now I'm at university. On that note, I want to reread Onegin. Dammit I love Onegin. And I'll be reading Gogol's The Nose pretty soon! I think I just miss having a literature class. They killed me with their papers, but I loved the literature. This semester I opted out on having a lit class because last semester I had two at the same time, and that was nearly a nightmare. Bad, but could've been worse. I wanted a break, so no lit classes this semester. It was probably for the best, but sometimes this semester feels stale. Right now I have four books stacked next to my bed, and I can barely open one. I crawl into bed and I can't read. Last night, I started too, but not for long. It was already 1 AM, and I couldn't force myself to keep reading. It was a borrowed book, Cyrano de Bergerac, and I'm only on Sc. 2! Oh well.
I have some fanfiction that I'm thinking of posting soon. One tiny little drabble, but I think I have a little inspiration to give it a little more life, one more scene. I had planned to expand this drabble, but it was based on an early episode of Inuyasha that I had not finished - I watched half the episode, inspiration struck, I wrote down my draft for the fic, then watched the rest of the episode and realized that my idea was MAJORLY NOT A THING THAT WOULD BE CANON. But I was able to sit down and write the opening scene, and it needs work, but I won't touch it because I actually like it, even if it does seem like one of those pretentious fics. I can't describe it, but it feels out of place and . . . melodramatic. Oh well. MAYBE I will post it. I'm indecisive and forgetful.

Today I was hit with a giant wave of nostalgia and loss. Not the physical loss, but- do you ever think of who you could have been, if you had the resources and time and patience and diligence and etc., who you could be, right at this moment, if things had gone differently? I'm assuming there's a resounding yes to that question. It's regret, but not regret you could exactly control, just regret that you couldn't go through with who you wanted to be because you had no control. So not a loss of life or someone dear, but a loss of who you dreamed to be?
Lately, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, before my Russian class at 3, after lunch at 12, I go up to the university library, the fourth floor, to this room that I can usually count on to be open. Our university library is kind of like two merged libraries, and this half of the library you can only access on the fourth floor and all the open study rooms have chalk boards, not dry erase boards like the fancier, upgraded other half. I love this room, room 400. I love how smooth the board is, how the table isn't too wide, how mainly the room is open after 1 and I can sneak in and use it. No one rents the room, so I'm never kicked out. At least, not yet anyway. And since it's a chalkboard, the chalk is provided, and since it's in the library, there's usually fresh chalk or at least pieces that are long enough to hold onto, not little nubs. I go in here and study my Russian before class, fill the board with vocab terms I need to practice and cram. If I need to practice saying sentences out loud, I write some of the key terms on the board and have enough room to pace around, saying them over and over again. I get dizzy sometimes, but it works.
So I'm writing the terms on this board, and the board is so smooth, and I look down at my hands at some point, notice the chalk dusted on them, and I think "Ha, I think my personal aesthetic is now chalk and chalkboards." I used to hate chalkboards, but now I love writing on them. Instantly it was like a punch to the gut once I thought it- or no, like a sudden tug in my stomach. "My aesthetic" refers to how on Tumblr, on the fandom side, you can constantly come across "aesthetic posts" for some character or show or movie, and it'll be abstract images of half faces, clothes, objects, whatever that match the subject. They're usually quite pretty, the ones that are spread around. So I was thinking of my own "aesthetic post," or "mood board" is what they're actually called. One of my pictures would be of chalk. And as previously mentioned, that thought hurt.
I used to be a gymnast when I was little. I loved it. I loved tumbling, the pit, kind of the vault, rarely the beam, and my dad loves to tell how fast I'd climb the rope, a three inch thick rope (or more in my memory! but then back then I had such small hands) hanging from the two storied ceiling. They'd have us climb up and down those ropes, and we'd be careful not to get rope burns but sometimes you couldn't help it, coming down with small burns on the insides of our feet's arches and hands' corners. We'd race up and down them, proud to reach the orange tagged top and to climb back down, counting the knots as we went.
The bars were one of my favorite things, and I always was excited to go on them, but as time went on, we rarely approached them. But I remember bathing my hands in the chalk bowls, getting ready for them & then us trying to avoid being scolded for putting too much on. I remember watching the older girls (the true athletes! the ones i'd look up to, so strong and swift and serious) snap from bar to bar and wanting to do the same. Instead, we went to the beams more, used the chalk for that - though my memory might be fuzzy here, I can't remember if chalk is used for that.
And then, I made a friend! One that I might continue to see each week on Thursdays. And then, that same day,I stood at the counter with my mom as she unregistered me from the program. A two week break, she called it. I understood we needed to save money right now, just for a while. And then I never went back to gymnastics. Every time I watch gymnastics, like at the Olympics, I feel a little pang, engulfed in nostalgia and regret.
I wish I had stayed with gymnastics, even if all it would be was an intensive hobby, but I know that wasn't possible.


javaink: (Default)

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