Home, where my thoughts are singing
May. 8th, 2003 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowHee Hee, I used to make fun of my mother for gleefully singing along to music without getting the words right, but apparently it's genetic. I find myself doing the same thing.
There are a couple of really funny books out about this, the first one titled, "Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy." that have the real words to songs next to lyrics that people have misheard.
My favorite being "He's a pool hall ace," because truthfully I always thought that was what Sting was saying. Turns out, nope. It's actually my poor heart aches. Who knew?
My mishearing shouldn't surprise me overly. As a child, I would belt out the words to all the songs on the soundtrack to A Chorus Line, and was unbelievably surprised to discover that I was singing about tits and ass. I was about 10, and just didn't hear the words right. Yeah for childish innocence. My mother must have found all this to be hysterical, because she never corrected me.
I sent my friend S. a CD with the title track from the Flaming Lips Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and she thought it was sashimi, so now I have a vision of tuna with little arms, like the playing cards in Alice and Wonderland, doing little marshal arts moves. I'd pay good money for an icon of that.
Clearly, I should get some sleep.
Instead, after confirming, once again my status as worst Krav Maga student ever, I went out with J., had several lemonade, mint and vodka drinks and came home to watch Angel. I'm not actually the worst KM student ever, I did pass my yellow belt test, I am competent, I'm just often uninterested in enacting violence upon other people. I'm happy to defend myself, and I love kicking things, but I'm a terrible attacker. Also, yesterday, our channeling a teenage boy instructor wanted us to do rolls and falls and dude, I'm too old and too tired at 9 p.m. to fall on my ass on purpose. Sorry.
So at midnight, giddy from vodka and ass-kicking, I enjoyed the Season finale of Angel very much.
.
I liked that everyone had their heart's desire dangled in front of them, that the lure of saving the world with actual resources was to strong to resist. Ah, corporate whores all of them. But it is incredibly tempting, to be able to devote your time to those things that are meaningful, to not struggle for money or knowledge or contacts, but the corporation will eat you up and spit you out. Budgets, timesheets, bureaucracy, it's kills the superhero drive faster than a speeding bullet. I like that they took the package though, that the lures proved too tempting to resist.
And honestly, after Angel had been offered the folder about Sunnydale I clapped my hands and said yippee, and then was really confused when Lilah started talking about missing persons. See my brain, see my brain forget all about Cordelia. Hmph.
I'm not going to speculate on what the brain-wipe means because I liked that Conner gets a second chance. What I liked even better was that it fits with what has been done to him before. Yes, he will have a shot at a life that gives back to him, love that isn't shrouded in ego and lies and magic, but at the same time, he still didn't have a choice. His decision was made for him. That is not a happy ending. I stand by my theory that choice or the lack there of is at the heart of Buffy and ATS, that everything arcs around that concept and I liked that even in a seemingly idyllic path, there is still that darkness, that secrecy.
The story I finished is now making me nervous. I'm worried that the transitions are poor, the voice is off, that it doesn't do what I think it does, that it's melodramatic, that it's not actually finished. Agh. I hate that. I was so happy with it two days ago, and I've asked my betas to look at it, and now I'm afraid to send it off to them.
There are a couple of really funny books out about this, the first one titled, "Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy." that have the real words to songs next to lyrics that people have misheard.
My favorite being "He's a pool hall ace," because truthfully I always thought that was what Sting was saying. Turns out, nope. It's actually my poor heart aches. Who knew?
My mishearing shouldn't surprise me overly. As a child, I would belt out the words to all the songs on the soundtrack to A Chorus Line, and was unbelievably surprised to discover that I was singing about tits and ass. I was about 10, and just didn't hear the words right. Yeah for childish innocence. My mother must have found all this to be hysterical, because she never corrected me.
I sent my friend S. a CD with the title track from the Flaming Lips Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots and she thought it was sashimi, so now I have a vision of tuna with little arms, like the playing cards in Alice and Wonderland, doing little marshal arts moves. I'd pay good money for an icon of that.
Clearly, I should get some sleep.
Instead, after confirming, once again my status as worst Krav Maga student ever, I went out with J., had several lemonade, mint and vodka drinks and came home to watch Angel. I'm not actually the worst KM student ever, I did pass my yellow belt test, I am competent, I'm just often uninterested in enacting violence upon other people. I'm happy to defend myself, and I love kicking things, but I'm a terrible attacker. Also, yesterday, our channeling a teenage boy instructor wanted us to do rolls and falls and dude, I'm too old and too tired at 9 p.m. to fall on my ass on purpose. Sorry.
So at midnight, giddy from vodka and ass-kicking, I enjoyed the Season finale of Angel very much.
.
I liked that everyone had their heart's desire dangled in front of them, that the lure of saving the world with actual resources was to strong to resist. Ah, corporate whores all of them. But it is incredibly tempting, to be able to devote your time to those things that are meaningful, to not struggle for money or knowledge or contacts, but the corporation will eat you up and spit you out. Budgets, timesheets, bureaucracy, it's kills the superhero drive faster than a speeding bullet. I like that they took the package though, that the lures proved too tempting to resist.
And honestly, after Angel had been offered the folder about Sunnydale I clapped my hands and said yippee, and then was really confused when Lilah started talking about missing persons. See my brain, see my brain forget all about Cordelia. Hmph.
I'm not going to speculate on what the brain-wipe means because I liked that Conner gets a second chance. What I liked even better was that it fits with what has been done to him before. Yes, he will have a shot at a life that gives back to him, love that isn't shrouded in ego and lies and magic, but at the same time, he still didn't have a choice. His decision was made for him. That is not a happy ending. I stand by my theory that choice or the lack there of is at the heart of Buffy and ATS, that everything arcs around that concept and I liked that even in a seemingly idyllic path, there is still that darkness, that secrecy.
The story I finished is now making me nervous. I'm worried that the transitions are poor, the voice is off, that it doesn't do what I think it does, that it's melodramatic, that it's not actually finished. Agh. I hate that. I was so happy with it two days ago, and I've asked my betas to look at it, and now I'm afraid to send it off to them.
