broadcast me a joyful noise

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!

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.

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.

Mm-mm.

(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.

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 stars_like_dust.

Life is going well :)

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 stars_like_dust! Fear us, internets.