kleio

I'm bored, and I'm not going to bed anytime soon. The only solution? Rummage through the pics on my computer and post random ones on my journal! Huzzah!


This is the pic I use as my desktop when everything else bores me. I started reading the artist's webcomic, but keep checking his art periodically because I always rather liked his style. Linky.


I'm kind of obsessed with webcomics. And I'm definitely about webcomics with really good art. There was a time when I wanted to do my own (fuck, it was probably about a year and a half ago...) and so this is me, back at that time (before I cut my hair) as I would have appeared if I'd have ever really worked at my skillz of an artist. It would have been called Theatre Freaks, and would have been about my love of theatre, my crazy stupid theatre friends, my love of Halo, and my persistent desire for my best friend Paul to be a monkey. My two cats, Kiki and Banshee, would have had their own segments. They'd have been called Rozencatz and Guildenmeow, and would have had existential discussions. It was going to be great. Too bad I can't stick to anything that doesn't involve being naked on the internet.


I scanned some photos of my mother's a while back for her. Just stole the photo album one day, and brought it back a week later with a cd of them all tucked inside. "Here, mom. Love you, can I bring home some more pork?" She was stationed in Misawa, Japan while she was in the Navy (an experience she does not talk about... I know only that it was extremely bad) and so this is one of the many many many pictures she took while there. She's always, I think, had an interest in photography, and has created some pretty damn good snaps over the years. If only she knew...


Theatre people have... odd traditions sometimes... I hope the Diva and my favorite Stage Manager don't hate me for posting this. As if they'll ever find out... Psshhh!


Apparently in Catalonia, these guys sit behind the manger in mini nativity scenes. It's tradition. It's also tradition, apparently, to feed a log of wood sammiches until Christmas, and then beat it with sticks in the hope that it will shit presents. My professor told me about this during Dramatic Theory and Criticism one day, so it must be true. JD would never lie...


Don't get too excited, loves. I'm only seventeen there. I can't believe my mother actually let me buy that dress and wear it to prom. I can't believe my boobs were once small enough to hide behind that strip of black unsupported (they were a C-cup back then!!!) I can't believe I ever suspected that I might not be totally hot. I still can't believe that I didn't have a fucking date... I wish my hair would grow faster. I want it to be cute like that again...


And I close with a dorky webcam pic. I almost have to, after giving you such awesomeness to ponder.

I'm still not tired. I'd write, but I did that last night, and it was so incredible it left me quivering. A good writing session is like good sex for me. Both are hard to really do properly when you're just not feeling it. Though the next bit is really just begging to be written. I can't decide, though, if the two characters should have mad awesome sex, or if she should be really creeped out by the things he has to tell her now and maybe pass out and/or throw up like she does when she's confronted with the metaphysics of her sordid and bloody past... Hmmm...