fahye: ([office] don't take no for an answer)
For once, for once, my immune system has impeccable timing - I'm getting sick, but my mid-semester exams are over and I only have one assignment to get done this weekend. This afternoon/evening I have finished S5 of The West Wing, made some embarrassing flaily noises at Bradley Whitford and Jason Isaacs (GAZA. OMG.), and I am now planning to sleep. A lot.

The latest Office episode was probably the greatest. thing. imagineable. )
fahye: ([ww] nobody can joke about sam)
Dear The West Wing S4 -

WAH SAM WAH OH SAM I LOVE YOU PLEASE COME BACK FROM ORANGE COUNTY All right, I'm sold on Will Bailey. Well played.

However, I feel you should know that every time someone mentions Bartlet's alma mater and pronounces it NOTER DAYME, I feel like strangling them. Surely he could have attended a university that does not require the Americanised slaughtering of the French language? (Do not take this as any kind of oblique approval of Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul is an asshat.)

CJ continues the most awesome person to ever exist. Josh and Donna are increasingly adorable.

With my continuing love &c.

- Fahye


Today I discovered worn-through holes in both my favourite pair of pyjama pants and my beloved black moleskin trousers :( And I just spent a lot of money on these shoes (in black), a pair of gorgeous grey trousers with tiny blue pinstripes, and a black cardigan-jacket-thing. Oh Portmans <333 I may not have any kind of glamourous executive job, but at least I can buy your clothes and pretend that I do.

I also revamped my user info. Now with less third-person POV and even more snark!
fahye: ([witb] fortune faded)
Oh, to be in first year, and to have all of one's textbooks laid out in helpful piles on the Co-op floor. Textbooks with simple one-word titles. Biology. Chemistry. But those innocent days are gone! $450 later, I have: two possibly sprained wrists, two possibly dislocated shoulders, and the following:

- Principles of Neural Science
- Immunobiology: the immune system in health and disease
- The Student's Guide To Cognitive Neuroscience
- Abnormal Psychology: an integrative approach
- Abnormal Child Psychology

I am extremely put out by how much it all cost, because I REALLY WANTED all of the not-required-but-recommended texts for BIOL3141. Mim's Pathogenesis of Infectious Disease! WAAAAANT.

I did, however, greet my beloved Thursday campus markets with much rejoicing, and buy two paperbacks from my favourite tiny secondhand book stall. (Tom Robbins' Half Asleep In Frog Pyjamas, because my current copy is hardback and ENORMOUS, and Val McDermid's The Last Temptation, because I am craving new Tony & Carol and book form is better than nothing!)

I blame 'Two Cathedrals' for the fact that I have to either skip past this song immediately or be in an utterly unemotional mood to listen to it. Because I know exactly when the cleaner is picking up the cigarette in the cathedral, and when you see the shot of everyone's feet reflected on the floor, and when Leo says watch this and

oh buggerit



12 Feb 2007 10:41 pm
fahye: ([ww] josh lyman is god yes thnx)
So my brother and I were both filling out electoral enrolment forms today, him because he's turning eighteen this year (drinking. voting. basically being a legal adult. MY BROTHER. I am not yet prepared to face this reality.) and me because I just changed my address. (Federal election this year! Along with this strange Aussie tradition known as compulsory voting.)

Me: Though really, it won't be like we're making a difference.
Brother: This being the downside to living in a comfortable Labor seat.
Me: This is why I should go to UQ for med! I'd be voting against the majority!
Dad: You show those rednecks!
Mum: Also, you know, if you go to university interstate, you won't know anyone! You can totally reinvent yourself!
Me: ...as what?
Mum: You could pretend to be French!


Cool. At least she isn't pushing me to reinvent myself as someone full of sweetness and light and tact and approachability.

Relatedly, our Prime Minister is an ass. Sorry, Obama. For what it's worth, I'm backing the other dude.

Less relatedly, my father and I are making my mother watch The West Wing. And I think I somehow managed to MISS episode 1x04 when I was watching it through the first time, because I DO NOT REMEMBER THE PRESIDENT BEING HIGH ON PAINKILLERS. HAHAHAHAH. OMG. I LOVE THIS SHOW LIKE OXYGEN.
fahye: ([ww] you feckless thug)
Philip Adams is a liberal columnist in The Weekend Australian Magazine. Usually he's either discussing a serious political issue or paying out all of the outraged conservatives who write letters to the editor about him, but I liked this week's column so much that I'm typing it up for you. Recommended for Americans and Australians alike. (I've added some Wikipedia links for the antipodeanally challenged.)

Bush is another Borat, a piece of lampoonery devised by the brilliant Sacha Baron Cohen following his success with Ali G. )


19 Jan 2007 11:16 pm
fahye: ([ww] nobody can joke about sam)
I think the only good thing about deciding at 9pm that one has a burning need to make stir-custard to put on one's baked apple is that when one is consuming it, after stirring it for AN HOUR, one has a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Or possibly just determination to justify the effort through CONCENTRATED ENJOYMENT.

Man, that was some good custard.


(Actually it still wasn't thick enough but FUCK IT, I made TRULY AWESOME Thai chicken...something invented...earlier this evening and it was delicious and, really, this must be why normal people just BUY CUSTARD.)

I'd do the creation meme but I'm not commenting on anyone else's because I have been stunned into a vanilla-flavoured stupor in which all I can do is mumble about American political stuff and fail completely at deciding whether I'd rather sleep with Josh or Sam. You'd think after two and a half seasons I'd have worked this one out. Usually I'm quite good at this kind of decision.

Yeah, I'm going through one of those sullen 'but I'd be a good girlfriend!' stages, which you can tell are caused by hormones because really, I'd be kind of shite. Valentines Day cards have appeared at work and I feel like setting fire to all of them save the tasteful ones, ie. three or four. TO MY WIFEY. PICTURES OF TEDDY BEARS. kjdhsAJSSFBSD. Someone save me from the concept of cute. And the colour pink. Anyway, I spent today wavering between glaring at couples (except the lesbian couple, who I felt deserved encouragement) and indulging in long daydreams about meeting someone who actually acts interested in me and not scaring them off by being a prickly bitch.

Okay, I've decided that Josh wins for this evening because of his speech about not knowing what to do in relationships because HE WAS TOO BUSY STUDYING IN COLLEGE TO LEARN ABOUT THAT KIND OF THING. Word. And Mary Louise Parker kissed him anyway because she's awesome. Josh/Amy/me OT3.

Dear god, where the hell was this post going, anyway? ... Creation meme, right. Comment here if you want to see me do anything - drabbles for your illogical guilty pleasure pairing, DVD commentary for any of my fics, whatever. I have a free morning tomorrow.
fahye: ([ww] did you see what I'm wearing?)
If you were in an accident I wouldn't stop for red lights.


I am shipping so hard I think I am going to strain something.
fahye: ([ww] cj - lights that don't go out)
Two weeks after the divorce, the tiny numbers ruined everything.

At the beginning of some of the pieces of music he played were suggested tempos (t=90) and he just had to glance at them to find the beat pulsing in his head. Handy. But one day, perched on a chair with a frown on his face and his small hands steadying the cello, Kenneth found himself trapped by it. His teacher quickly picked up on this and said: you've always had an amazing sense of rhythm for your age, but you'll never be a good player if you don't learn flexibility, emotion. Play around with the tempo. Drag it, push it. But his eyes (once his fingers knew the notes by heart) kept returning helplessly to the tiny number at the top of the page. That number was everything, a painful insistence. One two three four. One two three four. Slow down, Kenneth, his teacher said eventually, frustrated, and put her hand over his to guide the bow. She'd done it a hundred times, but this time - this time - Kenneth, thirteen, felt the pressure of her hands as a combination of dirt and deviation from the beat.

He screamed.


In other words: WHOO WASTELAND BACKSTORY. I've missed Kenneth. I've added words to about three different works of original fiction this evening, but my utter lack of focus isn't bothering me as much as it usually does. It just feels good to create.

I have also continued with my steady progress through The West Wing, which I would condense into liquid form and drink with every meal if the option were available to me. I love it. It's perfect. It draws on my emotions effortlessly, and you know that my emotions are not easily drawn. It makes me care about issues! It makes me want to be a better person! All television should be like this.

Tomorrow I plan to clean like a madwoman in preparation for the arrival of [livejournal.com profile] stars_like_dust.

Life is going well :)
fahye: ([other] the other pilots)

It's been a tiring week, and (10:30-6:00 shift tomorrow) it's not over yet. Today I finally finished Peter Høeg's first novel The History of Danish Dreams, which I didn't like nearly as much as his other works, but was still definitely worth the time it took to get through for the insight into the history of a country that I've never really thought about much before. Anyway, it being clearly unacceptable for me to be deprived of reading material for any period of time whatsoever, I then went and bought Chuck Palahniuk's Invisible Monsters, which I've been wanting for months, and it's very good so far. But Palahniuk is pretty much my writing idol, so of course I'd say that. (Ji? Stylistic-wise AND substance-wise.)

[livejournal.com profile] villainny? If you haven't, you need to see Tristram Shandy: A Cock & Bull Story. The Michael Winterbottom film. SEE IT. SEE IT NOW. IT HAS DYLAN MORAN IN IT. And it's hilarious and postmodern and bizarre and fantastic and people like Gillian Anderson and Stephen Fry just pop up out of nowhere.

I'm going to make something hot with caffeine in it and go and watch some more of the second season of TWW now.

Speaking of, I wrote very quick-and-dirty commentfic for [livejournal.com profile] bantha_fodder

of which I am cutting the last few lines because they were shite and unnecessary )
fahye: ([ncis] variations on a theme)
Alarmingly, I seem to be spending my summer holidays either

a) at work
b) on the computer
c) watching television (sometimes on the exercise bike)

My third year of uni will start and I will discover that I have accidentally destroyed all of my brain cells.

My brother is addicted to NCIS and my mother is addicted to David Tennant. I love my family.

Currently I am staring obsessively at the download for the Torchwood season finale, because I can't watch the final three eps on this laptop which means I have to burn them to DVD and THEN watch them on the OTHER laptop and EVERYONE IS GOING NUTS OVER THE FINALE and I am stumbling through LJ with a hand over my eyes trying to avoid being spoilered more than I am already. ARGH.

I think I'll watch some more West Wing while I wait, because I am more in love with it than I would have thought possible for a show about American politics. I tried to pick a favourite character in an idle hypothetical moment the other day and was reduced to gleeful flailing about, uh, everyone. Gun to my head, I think it'd have to be a tie between CJ and Josh, because I just watched the episode where CJ has emergency dental surgery and Josh takes the press briefing and nskjahsbdss. SECRET PLAN TO FIGHT INFLATION. OH JOSH <3333

Oh also: in less than two weeks I get a visit from [livejournal.com profile] stars_like_dust! Fear us, internets.
fahye: ([bsg] the lady's in charge)
(it doesn't go away)

So my brother and father, having reached the end of BSG S2.0 (and having upbraided me with loud voices for not immediately supplying them with S2.5 because ZOMG CLIFFHANGER!) decided to get started on the insane number of West Wing DVDs my father got for Christmas.

I think I want to crawl into my television and never move again.


And I am actually glad I am watching this show seven years after the fact, because I think I'll appreciate and understand it more. (Being, you know, twenty years of age rather than thirteen. I don't think I could have QUITE coped with the speed of this one at thirteen.) Although I DO think that if I watched too much of it at once I would want to kill myself out of sheer depression at the abyss separating Sorkin's witty liberal utopia from, uh, any kind of reality whatsoever.

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