tierfal: (The TARDIS)

Today. In time increments instead of bullet points. )


You know, the irony is that I posted to another forum earlier talking about how LJ has given me so much perspective on my life and made my problems seem smaller. LOL GOOD JOKE, ME.

tierfal: (L - Bewildered)
I should really not be posting right now. Half because I have nothing useful to say and half because I'm not in the best of posting moods. XD'

Things you didn't need to know about my creative writing story. )

I should go back under my rock now. XD

This is slightly more interesting. Well. No. Not really. But a little? )

tierfal: (Ten :))
Why did no one tell me how absurdly impossible it was going to be to get into grad school? XD

...oh, right, because I would've chickened out. :P

In which today was like 'Whaaaaa?' and 'DDDD:' except for Remmy's amazingness. )

tierfal: (Mikami)

Hopefully not TOO hardcore angst... I'd hate to bore you any more than is strictly necessary. :P

WHO IS THAT SEXY MAN IN MY ICON??  *waves flirtatiously at Mikami*

[livejournal.com profile] baronanriel: DX

Er, /gratuitous fangirling...

The Further Chronicles of Computerlessness, or, They Lied to Me )

So there's that.

Regular This-Is-What-I-Did-Today Uselessness )

OH I remember the other thing.  No, you're not free yet.

Why I Want My Baby Back ) 

tierfal: (Die Plz)
So a little wire connecting my screen to the rest of the laptop shorted.  It'll put me back five hundred bucks for a new screen, and four hundred for a used replacement.


Sticker shock had me at a loss, but some recuperation (and some consulation with [livejournal.com profile] baronanriel) has pretty much confirmed that I should at least ask if it'd be possible to connect an external monitor so that I can keep using it.  Because really, at four hundred bucks, I might as well get a new fucking computer, folks.

I'm going to send a plaintive email to my stepdad, too, because he knows things about computers and whatnot.  Yeah.

I don't know if I could even get them to do it, if I was going to blow the four hundred and run, because it sounds like they don't take checks, and my credit card limit is two hundred bucks.  Debit, maybe?  Hell if I know.

I'm going to work on that coping thing now.  I seem to have already weaseled my way into an indeterminate extension on the French essay (which I am PISSED to learn I have to rewrite anyway, because he changed the prompt AFTER I was up until three writing it Sunday), because my teacher likes me.

I think that parenthetical comment contradicted the content around it.

Anyway, I give the hell up.  I should cut my classes today and go curl up in a corner and write fanfiction, but I sincerely doubt I will.  I don't seem to know what's good for me.

Hot Damn!

Jun. 19th, 2008 12:30 pm
tierfal: (Toast)
Today follows a tradition of very odd days, of which there is usually one each summer, upon which it is seventy degrees inside my house, and I am utterly regardless totally freezing for a few hours.  I am a strange individual, I will be the first to admit.

In other news, I get to see The Tempest tomorrow night.  I am unreasonably excited. :D

Saturday morning, we're starting our road trip up to Canada.  I have not yet been informed whether or not I will be permitted to bring my computer, though I will argue heartily in its favor.  In the event that I can tote my baby with me, I don't actually know how much I'll be online... Theoretically, enough to check my friends list and whatnot, but what with those sketchy hotel internet connections and all that Family Time crap... LAME! XD  Really, though, I'll need my baby.  I can't write without it.  Okay, I can write perfectly well without it, but the convenience factor is entirely lost.  Which is uncool to the max.  Word up.

...I have crossed lines that cannot be uncrossed, and it chafes against my perception of myself as a human being.
tierfal: (Ronicus)
This icon always distracts me... I end up watching it a bunch of times.

Today I (think I) kicked the mythology test's sorry, lined-papered butt halfway to Hades.  I also participated in the discussion of Frankenstein, which I haven't finished reading.  I now need to write an essay on it, or perhaps a Romantic poet in our reader.  I mostly just want to write "No hable inglés" on a piece of paper and turn it in, but in addition to dooming my grade, that would be highly offensive, as my TA is Hispanic.


So everything went well until last night's two-in-the-morning bedtime, complete with lots of tossing and turning afterwards, caught up with me, and then I got all emo, per my tiredness pattern.  I've been so emo over the last month or two that I expect my wrists to start bleeding spontaneously.  Fer serious.  I need to get myself a My Chemical Romance T-shirt and move along.  (Amusingly/incidentally, [info]eltea went to an MCR concert last night with her brother.  Apparently it was pretty sweet.)  I will not, however, be dying my hair black.  As I discovered in a Photoshop project or two last year, I would look like hell warmed over with black hair.  Must be the pale-as-death complexion.  And the freckles.

tierfal: (Ronicus)
I've been tapping my foot trying to get rid of March for almost two weeks now, and last night (or, rather, this morning, while lying in bed attempting to sleep), I finally realized that I am absolutely not ready for Script Frenzy.

You see, what I have at the moment is one interesting protagonist, a few outlines of supporting characters, and a couple of scenes which may or may not be good, most of them hastily constructed around snippets of snappy dialogue.

This is not a movie script.

Certainly not a winning movie script.

Certainly not a movie script that is going to span a hundred pages and knock socks off, which is kinda what I'm looking for here.

I jotted scene ideas and little snatches of dialogue this morning (or, rather, this afternoon, since I didn't get up until 11:59), and I had... about eight scenes.  Many of which were follow-ups to smaller scenes before them.  And I drew one of those tacky plot diagrams from seventh grade, with the whole:
1. Exposition
2. Narrative Hook
3. Rising Action
4. Climax
5. Falling Action
6. Resolution

Yeah, didn't do me any good.  I don't have most of those things in any meaningful way.  Now, when I write books, and when I wrote my NaNo a year and a half ago, I didn't have much of that, either.  But I had a direction, at least sort of, and I had the leeway presented by a novel.  Novels can go on and on (and on and on), and provided that they're moving at a reasonable pace, you keep reading.  A movie can't do that.  When I wrote Gray Wolfe, i.e. my (apparently actually somewhat confusing) theatrical masterpiece of the summer, I had at least a vague idea about things like climaxes and so forth.  It worked out okay, though, like the "Her and Me" one, the climax there was too small and too quick to justify all the build-up.

All that rambling basically amounts to "I suck at plot outlines, and this time I need one."

I am needlessly getting that anxious-y feeling in my chest.  I need to go bang my head against a wall for a little while.

School is not going to be kind to me when I actually have to go back to it in a day and a half.

Good news is, The Gilded Golden Butterfly episode of the Backyardigans is among the best ones.  The kid who does Pablo's singing is angelically good.  We'll be very sad when his voice changes.  Yay for butterflies.
tierfal: (Blue Rose)
I realized something the other day, in my near-infinite wisdom.  I realized that bands write love songs.  But not every kind of love songs.  There are the bitterness and breakup love songs; there are the lovelorn laments; there are the awed amazement, Why Did You Pick Me?s; there are the screaming, blaming, anger-ridden ones; and there are, if you listen to rap, the Heyyyy, You're Hot, How Do I Get into Your Pants? love songs.

But they don't write songs for people who have never had anyone.

...Do they, Gandalf?
tierfal: (Blue Rose)
I really think I need to, you know, I dunno, not get on this ride anymore.  I think it's just that simple carbohydrates carry me for a while, and then I come plummeting down like a bird shot out of the sky, and go smoosh.

Yes, smoosh.

Or splat.

The weather has been disgustingly beautiful lately.  The sun's out, and the sky is robin's-egg blue tinged with this kind of whitish, misty layer at the bottom that I guess is either smog, clouds, or angel spit.  (Which is a funny image by itself, but I digress.)  The grass is a Crayola green, and everyone's going around wearing flip-flops and tank-tops and other things that rhyme and show a little more than you wanted to see.

Mostly I'm just sleepy.  I've been having issues sleeping lately -- first of all just getting to bed, and then sleeping once I'm there.  It is no good.  NO GOOD.  Invalid code; please re-enter.

I have homework that I should be doing.  Fer sure.

Have some pointlessly-melancholy crap.

And How

Feb. 22nd, 2008 02:50 pm
tierfal: (Ronicus)
Life can be such a petty, low-down, under the belt, club-you-in-the-kneecaps kind of bitch sometimes.

Like when you decide after the billionth half-assed lunch that, on Friday, you are going to wait until class is out and then get a real lunch, at a time when there will be less insane traffic at all the food-giving establishments on campus.  And then you wait, and you chillax and write fanfiction during your two disparate hour-long breaks between classes, because you know you're going to get an amazing lunch after two o'clock, and it's going to be so flipping cool that words will not begin to encompass its endless wonders.  And you wait and wait and wait and then frolic up to the food-giving establishment in question and wait some more for your glorious sandwich, and cradle the paper-wrapped package you've been given all the way back to your dorm, and then go wash your hands, and return, and gleefully open the paper to find...

...that you have received someone else's sandwich.

I ask you, who the HELL eats a turkey sandwich with mustard and olives and cheddar?  How can you not puke at the very concept, much less eat the damn thing?!

Okay, so once I scraped the olives off (they were nasty as hell) and ditto most of the mustard, it was tolerable.  But it wasn't my sandwich that I'd pined for for hours.

I'm actually kind of over it now.  Really.  I just like to allow you to partake in my pain.  It's cathartic for me.  And probably just obnoxious for you, but, hey, I can't please everyone.

No, I'm really over it.

There are children starving in Africa right now.

Word up to your mother.
tierfal: (Blue Rose)
It's official.  Valentine's Day sucks a bit less when you are resolutely determined (and keep reminding yourself) that you are totally going to hit Walgreens the day after and stock up on half-price pink and red candy.

It also doesn't hurt when some girl down the hall who you don't even quite know tapes candy to everyone's doors. :)

Also, I'm going to start tagging things now.  Makes me feel like a vandal.  Word up to ya motha.

Poetry Time

Feb. 2nd, 2008 06:11 pm
tierfal: (Cake or Death)
A haiku by the one and only Tierfal.

O wretched storm front
Sets the gnomes within my skull
At it with mallets

I can't begrudge them wanting to be free, but it's something of an inconvenience for things like, you know, thinking.  And existing.  And getting anything of any use whatsoever done.
tierfal: (Ronicus)
An elaborate and slightly brainless treatise by the one and only Tierfal.


Dec. 5th, 2007 07:52 pm
tierfal: (Flame)
Things to Do:

117S Essay, due 12/6: ...
45A Essay, due 12/10: ...
45A Final (studying), 12/14: ...
Other Finals (studying), not long later: ...
Metamorfic Moon Advent fic, 12/31: COMPLETED!!!


Nov. 28th, 2007 11:45 pm
tierfal: (Default)
I am dis.  I am disillusioned, disenchanted, and disoriented, and would be dysfunctional if it properly fit the scheme.  Ah, hell with it.  Life isn't big on fitting together properly.  I'm highly dysfunctional.

And I am tired.

And just... done.

April 2017



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