And I want the Temper Trap album.

And I quite like Muse's new single.

And everything I want costs MONEY.

But I have reduced my phone contract. From £45 to £5. (Plus, I presume, time spent playing on the internet on my phone. Need old crappy phone without web access. Would settle for one of the old Cybershot phones. Blah.)

And the new iTunes is killing my computer. I know it's been a while since I've USED my iTunes but seriously? The library hasn't CHANGED. How can it take 20 minutes to update the library?

Think I might go watch Doctor Who again instead.

I feel the need to grouch. Again. Sure, okay, it's largely all I do but still.

Why is it so shocking that I may have, in fact, attended school once or twice? This annoys me. It annoys me in the same way it annoyed me that Jon was surprised I know which knife and fork to start with at dinner, which made me wonder if he'd be shocked that I do, in fact, know the difference between a cake fork and a fish fork. ANYWAY. Thursday I was helping one of the guys locate a file, so I wrote the stock number on my hand. I said, I don't know why I bother writing on my hand, it takes days to get off no matter how often I wash. To which he laughingly replied, "Like Lady Macbeth." And I said, "Out, out damned spot! All the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten this little hand." And he almost fell down dead and said, patronisingly, "Someone's educated."

Er. Yes?

Not going to university doesn't mean I didn't pay attention. It had nothing to do with grades and a lot to do with money. Because I live on a council estate does not preclude me from knowing where to start with a three course meal, and it doesn't preclude me from quoting Shakespeare. IN FUCKING CONTEXT. (Although I fully admit, I did go to see Hamlet and Love's Labours Lost primarily for il Tennant. Shush. ONE WEEK TO NEW WHO! Also, I squee'd that he finally got to be in the Sarah Jane Adventures the other day, because I'm still a geeky Who fangirl because it will be sad should that ever change.)

I'm going to bed. I bought Nation on the way back from holiday, and it's actually rather good. But I've left it upstairs, so I'm going to make a start on The White Tiger instead, because all the blurb on the inside cites it as a shocking expose of the idea of "India shining", so y'know. I shall go continue to be literate until the prospect of Pratchett drags me to find my other book again, because really, I might stand a chance of finishing a book if I stuck to reading one at a time. (Currently I am reading: The Time Traveller's Wife (again), Nation, The Shadow of the Wind, Lolita and Dead To The World (again. It has Eric. Naked Eric. Shut up.).)

Still grouchy, though. Bastards.

Also, tomorrow I am going to shave my dog's fur off. He has chronic fleas, and I think shaving his fur off might be the way forward. He'll hate me, but needs must. I have to get to his skin. I shall take before and after pictures, in order that I can share the lolz. And then I'm going to look up TEFL courses in the UK, because I think it would be easier than eLearning with a company running a good 5-6 hours behind me, since I rather suspect I'd miss deadlines getting confused with the time zones involved. Meep. I still have to work out which countries I do and don't need a degree to teach in, though, because that'll be the next thing and I'll be forced to study English with PGCE or something. Blow.

So like, I planned this epic post in my head this morning but I forgot to write it down and now I only remember the basic points of my outrage because I vented it all to my mother yesterday but it goes a little something like this:

I went to a friend's house on Friday night for nibble and drinks and a generally girly chin-wag, to catch up and to have a laugh because we haven't for ages. At said soiree was a woman that I've never particularly liked in the past, but she's a friend of a friend and for the sake of politeness I look interested and smile appropriately. This woman is going to Egypt for New Year, and a friend of mine (also at said soiree) is going out for Christmas and New Year. Or maybe the other way around.

ANYWAY! The woman I don't like - who had already STARTED the evening by saying how much she "loved" Spain and how much she hated Bulgaria because "it's full of Germans" - started laying into the Egyptians at a rate of knots. They're rude, they're ignorant, don't let them gift wrap your goods because you'll get home and your goods won't be in the parcel, don't go into any shops because they'll lock the doors and you'll never get out, my friend went to Egypt and he got offer 170 camels for his wife/daughter/next door neighbour's best friend's parrot's brother's owner's second cousin's wife - seriously, the list went on. She's worried because they might try to steal her (overweight, round-faced, vaguely plain) daughter.

And so I'm sat there thinking, this wasn't my experience in Egypt. Yes, they seem to struggle with the concept of "no, I'm not interested, thank you" but then, a lot of countries struggle with "no" as a basic concept. Let's be honest, as a race, we Brits struggle with the concept of "no, thanks" as well. I admit, I went to Luxor and Aswan, not any of the Red Sea resorts, and maybe things are different on the Red Sea. But I found the staff on our boat to be charming and friendly. I admired their ability to joke in a language they don't necessarily speak well. Ahmed, our waiter, counted Helen's rings and told her this meant she must be married at least thirteen times, and then I said I'd sell her for a couple of camels. He laughed and told me I could have a camel and half a goat. One of the other waiters came to find us half-way through the cruise to say goodbye, and told us that he had to fly home to Cairo. His name was Mustafah and he looked vaguely like a teddy bear, in the sense he was soft and adorably cute. They were funny, generous people. Despite the fact that the stall holders and market sellers do go for a hard-sell, I never felt threatened or in danger. But to listen to this woman go on, you'd have to watch your back at all times because Egyptians are basically a bunch of horrible grubby little Arabs.

Which begs the question, WHY FUCKING GO?! If the British are so much better, WHY LEAVE?! Is it purely for winter sun? Because you can get winter sun in fucking Benidorm, which apparently you love, and it's cheaper than the four grand it's costing you for Egypt.

And then she depressed me further - Egyptian cooking is interesting, to say the least. There seems to be a lot of fish and rice involved (again), but it's fabulous food. So I'm boggled why you'd go and then boast about the fact you'll stick purely to the Mall because, and again, I quote, "they've got Burger King". Well hoo-fucking-ray. Fly to North Africa and subsist on cheap "meat" that's not even a good enough grade to make it into your dog food. That sounds marvelous. It'll also explain a lot about you physically.

Seriously, this is why I think Brits abroad are disgusting creatures. We shouldn't be allowed to leave this island until we can learn to play nicely in a global sandbox. I bet she thinks people understand her better if she shouts slowly and clearly at people. Because yelling in a foreign language makes it MUCH simpler. I hope they yell back in Arabic, doss fucking cunt.

Ugh. I want to believe I am not one of THOSE people when I travel. I try my hardest not to be. I don't speak a lot of French, but I will try what I do know when I go to France. Unfortunately, French is the only foreign language I was ever taught, but even so. Should I ever set foot in Spain, I'd at least TRY to pick up a basic greeting at the very least. And I don't travel halfway across the world to subsist on pie and chips. I want to travel to learn, not travel to tan. I don't want to go to Asia and make it all about me as a person, which is why I'm sort of reticent to write too much about my experience of Sri Lanka. It worries me that people will feel like I made Asia about me as well, when it was about so much more. It was about a different culture, different people, a different world, and at the time, that was how I felt about Egypt as well.

And that is why spending £4000 to get Christmas in a foreign country with a bunch of people whose skin appears to be the wrong colour makes me so fucking angry. (I guess, on the plus side, at least they're Christian, so at least there will BE Christmas. Although apparently, according to my mum's friends, when they went to Sri Lanka to stay with friends over Christmas, people everywhere say "Happy Christmas". I guess Negombo is largely Catholic, but it strikes me as ironically amusing that you can't even escape Christmas in a country that's mostly Buddhist. *facewall*)

Grr.

In other news, I'm thinking about becoming TEFL certified and getting my ass up out of this joint. I found a fantastic opportunity the other day when I was searching to volunteer as an English teacher in Sri Lanka for anything from two to twelve weeks which I would love to do. It's teaching young monks English (and anything else you fancy, really), and, at the same time, experience something of them as well. I'm all for a mutual exchange of knowledge, and if I can't teach English when I've been speaking it fluently my entire life, something is really awry. However, having looked at the TEFL course outline, it's INTENSE and I can't help thinking it would be easier to clear my debts, find part time work, and actually study the course at a TEFL institution in this country because otherwise, having not used my brain for ten years, I am scared to death I will fail miserably and be back at square one. (It also worries me that most TEFL/TESOL jobs require a BA. Well, "most". Parts of China and all of Thailand don't care, but Taipei would rather you had one. Most of Latin America isn't worried about a BA, just your level of fluency, and, to be honest, there are FANTASTIC volunteer opportunities to be had in the Amazon delta SO...)

So. I go to Asia, catch a cold and burn through like, 3 layers of my head, come back monumentally depressed and decide to work out how I can feasibly MOVE there, which isn't feasible but is a lovely pipe dream, and then I decide to check my email while I sort my photos out and there's a petition for an article in the daily mail re. Stephen Gately's death and how Civil Partnerships = Suspicious Death to be recalled.

I'm going to bed. I can't cope.

(More on holiday tomorrow. When I'm back at work. And feeling marginally less weepy about how much it sucks here right now. How does it go, "I gotta get out of this place"?!)

I come to fandom from a slash background. We know this, it's the way it's always been, and, when I write, that's the way it will always be. I can read het, but I can't write it for shit, unless I'm writing gender switch so GO FIGURE, I don't even know.

So anyway. New fandoms, new rules.

Why do I find the concept of True Blood slash so utterly soul destroying? Because I'm reading through the comments to this post and I find myself wanting to slam my head into the desk. Repeatedly. Unless, of course, we're talking about Pam/Sophie-Anne, because I can see how that would be hot as all hell. Mostly I want to see Pam extract new pumps from Maryann though, because I think that would be both amusing and fierce. I'm just boggled that there's THIS MANY PEOPLE shipping Godric/Eric, which I just... really don't get?

Then, I don't really get Pam/Eric as a ship either. I enjoy their relationship, but I don't see it as sexual. Maybe that's me. Although I understand that as sexual over Godric/Eric which seemed more paternal, albeit with the roles switched out given who is actually the father figure in that relationship. Over and above which, I just don't like how Godric fails entirely to fit into this 'verse's vampires. They're all fangs and darkness, and he's all, "But humanity is so fragile, we should protect it. I thought maybe if I fell on my own sword, they'd see us as um, human." Which, y'know, with the exception of Bill, who is Vampyr and thus tormented (but that's cool, because he's tormented but also totally willing to kill (Hai, Uncle Bartlett, hai, creek!), which I can appreciate), these vampires really aren't. Which I always thought was sort of the point - into them, we pour our darkest urges, to fuck and kill and live forever. What's the point of vampirism if you humanise it?!

In fact, I think I may have just talked myself into the first fandom where I'll stick to femme-slash. So long as it doesn't involve OCs, because they always seem to have ridiculous names and pretty purple eyes and knee length silver-blonde hair that catches fire in the moonlight.

And they probably shoot rainbows out of their ass as well.

And so, in conclusion, SOMEONE FIND ME FIC WHERE ERIC ACTUALLY SEEMS LIKE ERIC, PLZ. Otherwise I'll write it myself.

And now I'm going to read some more of Living Dead In Dallas, which is a pain in the ass because I want to go to bed but I can't read the computer from there. Huff.

(Also, I's got crops I need to harvest on Farmville and that stupid game has taken over my LIFE it's not even funny. Tomorrow I shall tell you all about the... interesting texts I received this evening.)

...so I watched E12. And now I feel like maybe I should have just waited until next year and watched S2&3 back to back because THIS?! This is going to kill me. I can't wait 12 months to find out wtf happened there.

Gah. I guess this is why they invented fanfiction. Although True Blood fanfic seems to be almost as monumentally depressing as Twilight fanfiction, in the sense it's all about Godric's PAIN or something, and the utter inability to characterise Eric leaves me stone cold. Heh.

Also, is it just me? I mean, I know it IS the same actor, but somehow the boy standing in the Fellowship of the Sun church and the boy crouching over Eric asking him if he could be a companion of death? Dude, make-up and lighting can do wonders for your bone structure. 'S all I'm saying.

What am I going to watch to keep me entertained now?! NEED A NEW OBSESSION, TEEVEE, AND I'M NOT SURE BRADLEY JAMES WILL DO.

(Also, I was saying in a comment in a community the other day, I'm going to get a tee made up that says "Eric does not make googly eyes at babies" - the tee is in relation to the utter OOC-ness of Eric in fanfic, but I'll do it. I'll get one that says "the angels have the phone box" and the other and people can GUESS my fandoms.)

Also, I still have not watched S4 of Spn. I want to, sort of, but the rest of me kinda doesn't want to be disappointed again. And by "disappointed", I mean, I want to recognise these boys again, and I don't want to be slapped upside the head with America's moral and religious right posturing all over a really pretty set. In short, I really disapproved last year of being consistently informed that the ONLY way to live was to believe in a Christian god, which I have no interest in doing. I find your god fascinating, but we don't really speak much and I don't feel my life is better or worse for that, so stop with the "y'all are going to hell, whut."

And then the rest of me - the rest of me that isn't busy being morally outraged by the whole shebang (I mean, this show has a violent history with pretty much every religion that isn't a Christian subdivision; Zoroastrianism, Paganism, you name it, they'll kill it and then be all enlightened by angels THAT THE DON'T EVEN FUCKING BELIEVE IN OHMYGODGTFO) - feels like we've watched this show up to this point, and this season can't be worse than the last one, because, well, for starters, Ruby got The Knife in her gut so everything is up from there, right?

IDK. I want to, and then I don't want to, because my overall pervading memories of last year are a manic-depressive teddy bear and a mightily perdy angel. Because I liked them as "warriors of God", if only the WHOLE DAMN THING hadn't been about said God. I'd rather deal with fucking killer clowns on a weekly basis, kthx. Oh, Spn, you never used to conflict me thus. What has happened to us?

My friend text me a review of True Blood on Saturday which amused me. It went thus: "Best of all, there's not a disco ball vampire in sight." See, show, just by dint of being NOT TWILIGHT, you are awesome. Then, of course, there's the fact that you actually ARE awesome.

This, brought to you by the fact that I watched ep11 last night before I went to bed (yeah, I know, I'm behind, but the show's pacing makes me jumpy and agitated if I watch it weekly, so bah) and Eric actually uttering the words "teacup humans" - dude, tell me that's not THE most brilliant thing ever?! Teacup humans make up for the TOTAL OOC-ness of Eric CRYING, even if I see the attraction of 6'whatever of predatory muscle sobbing.

Also, Merlin started again on Saturday. I have no idea, I have been starved for BBC teatime drama and along comes Merlin for its second series and I just want to jump up and down and squeal for a while, because I absolutely love that show. Series two looks like it's going to be fabulous (dragons! sorcerors! Lancelot! dragons! Mordred! DRAGONS!), and I think it sort of revels in its own cheesiness, in much the same way Robin Hood did (although I could never get behind Jonas Armstrong as Robin, c'est la vie, Richard Armitage was always rather lovely). So that makes my Saturdays, in a year that has STARVED ME of Doctor Who. Squee, squee, squee.

Ah, TV, one day I shall get a life and we shan't talk so much, but until that time...

So I went and saw the baby on Saturday. She's actually a really cute baby, but a baby nonetheless. And a really young baby as well, so there's zero interaction. She just lies there looking helpless, making me wonder exactly how we, as a species, rose to the top of the food chain. We take about 14 to 16 years to mature to a point where we could, theoretically, take care of ourselves. We're completely unequipped to deal with any kind of extreme condition. We can't really see, we can't really here and we really can't run. All we have are opposable thumbs. And, I suppose, a brain which has learned to make the most of what it has at its disposal. As a species, though, we're extrememly vulnerable. So I suppose, baby's job is accomplished, if the point is to make one consider their own mortality. I'm not sure if that is the point or not, though. At the end of the day, she's a baby, and, for the next few years, she'll be entirely dependent on people around her. (Also, it means my brother's life as a young carefree man is sort of over - from this moment forth, his life is about making sure her life continues to be young and carefree, which is sort of depressing, if you really think about it - you stop being "you" and start being "X's father". I suppose there has to be a balance.) However, at this point, I'm already sick to death of photographs of Leilani. Give me strength, please. Or just make her a few months older so she's interesting. (Increasingly I realise I'm just too damn selfish to want children. True fact.)

More interestingly, my brother has bought himself a bass guitar. I'm sure I've expressed my preference for bass many, many times, which is why the resurgence of everything Joy Division inspired fills me with glee. I'd like to think this also means my brother will start listening to music, because trance doesn't bloody count. Or well, I say this - there's a few I really like. Rhys made me download Orbital's Halcyon On + On, which is like, 13 minutes of chillout trance, but on the whole, my feeling is is that it doesn't count. So I ran off a whole heap of bass tabs for him, because he asked. Bass tabs actually don't look like music, and thus don't absolutely terrify me beyond comprehension. Right up to the point where they're all like "/=slide" and I'm like "...whu?" but I hope he sticks at it. Bass is sexy. That's just a fact.

I also FINALLY got to the end of Dead Until Dark. IDK, if I hadn't read half of Dead To The World the other day I'd probably have never read another one of them. Dead Until Dark has far too much of Bill being mopey, which, given that it's told first person, kinda makes you wonder exactly what Sookie's thinking chasing him, and then determinedly NOT chasing him. I guess he's REALLY great in bed, that's all I'm saying, because otherwise he doesn't, THROUGH SOOKIE'S EYES, really have any good characteristics. Except she can't read his mind and he has a great butt. But then, Sam's got a great butt too, because she sees it in a mirror and she can't read his thoughts either because shifters' brains are wired differently or something, I have no idea. But Dead Until Dark, which S1 actually followed pretty well, with a few key differences and one entertaining omission, was sort of... maybe she settled into a better rhythm the second time around. I'm reading Living Dead In Dallas now, before I head into Club Dead et al. Maybe I just need to skip the ones heavy on the mopey drag that is Bill and read the ones where Sookie is Eric's. Because, let's be honest, Eric's just more interesting. Ahem. Well no, he is - I was just saying elsewhere a minute ago, the human facade isn't even there. Without the human emotions, vampires become more interesting.

Unless they're Anne Rice vampires, in which case, Louis was always more interesting than Lestat. Although I've always been more into the idea of Armand, precocious precious beautiful child. (I say this - perhaps Louis wasn't more interesting than Lestat so much as he was more interesting before Anne Rice butchered him by making him stronger, when he failed to kill himself at the end of Merrick and Lestat, who'd fed from Akasha by then, fed him to heal him and Louis became like the rest of them. Barbary. Louis beauty was in his weaknesses, damnit. I felt betrayed then and I feel betrayed now. Clearly.)

And finally - I am now, officially, the only unattached one of my friends from school. This makes me feel vaguely defective all over again. I don't know, I just don't understand this constant need other people have for people in their lives. If we're supposed to be social creatures then EPIC fail. I just - don't have this burning need for people cluttering up my life. I like spending time with my friends, but then, I also really like NOT spending time with my friends. Largely, I think that's because most of my friends annoy the crap out of me if I have to spend any longer than a few hours (days at a push) in their company. Spending the rest of your life chained to one person? God. The horror. I also don't understand why all of the girls I know, in this day and age, still feel like they need a man in their lives to make them complete. So much for womens' lib, people, c'mon. Since they invented sperm banks and electric screwdrivers, you don't even need one for babies or DIY!

And now for news that has nothing to do with vampires, the supernatural or horror in general. Or well, maybe horror in general, because it all seems pretty fucking horrific to me but then, as a girl, I don't get it.

My brother and his girlfriend's daughter was born yesterday morning at 10.59am, weighing in at a happy bouncing 7lb 10oz. For those Europeans amongst you (yes, that includes me, but we're a bizarre bunch who measure distance in miles and baby weights in lbs and ozs but fruit in kilos, and height in meters and temperature in centigrade because we've metricised so damn well) she weighs 3.458 kilos. They've named her Leilani Grace and all seem to be doing well.

Regular programming will shortly be resumed. (I will go back to rambling about vampires. And probably ignoring Supernatural until it picks up over here because I *want* to care, and yet the only thing that kept me watching last year was Misha and I'm not sure if even that's a draw at the moment.)

I've reached an epic new low. Well, okay, it's not REALLY a new low. However, it's come to something when Swedish sounds sexy. No, really. Even I know this is sad, and I'm accustomed to sad and low.

So anyway, I was hoping to get to episode 9 before I came to work this morning. I didn't, or like, only the very beginning. Must watch episode 9 tonight. Nakedness. I mean, I'm totally watching for the plot.

Also, I found £15 of Waterstone's vouchers when I was bumbling around in my room a few weeks back. So I bought 3 of the Sookie Stackhouse novels. Yes yes. I actually did. I'm considering going back to see if they've got Living Dead in Dallas, because they didn't. So I've got Club Dead, Definitely Dead and... I can't remember. Another one. One of them is definitely the one where Eric loses his memory. Dead Until Dark is rubbish, trufax. But the rest are actually strangely compulsive. And I only want Living Dead In Dallas to see how they butchered Godric for the show.

Sad. New. Low.

Also, I still haven't got around to grabbing the Julian Plenti album. I might look later when I'm bumbling around eBay. Or not, since I've been saying it for two months. I want to Noisettes album as well. And I've just realised there's another new Arctic Monkeys. So much music, so much glee. Will sort it out.

And apparently new Supernatural. Who knew?!

Sooooo... I totally found a .gif of Eric crying for Godric while I was trawling yesterday. And a button that was all "Eric and Bill disapprove of vampries that sparkle" which, y'know, I think we all do, n'est pas? But they made them PRETTY and sparkly and when I'm forced to choose between "horribly trite" and "pretty", I'm afraid my fangirl goes with "pretty" every. damn. time.

Also, I am still amused every time I watch The Guardian and Charles Malik Whitfield appears in the credits. I don't have a good reason, I think it's just that I'm quite childish and seeing familiar faces in entirely new settings will always entertain me slightly.

But I'm sticking with "blood tears for Godric", because... I mean, that shouldn't be so hot, should it?

And I can't decide whether I'm interested in District 9 or not. Everyone's raving, but everyone raves about Cloverfield and I thought Cloverfield was utterly rubbish. (For pretty much the exact same reasons as why I loved The Blair Witch Project, so you figure it out.) I just think that, with all this publicity, it's got no choice but to fail. IDK, I guess my decision will be made for me when it doesn't open anywere locally...

I... just found a .gif of Alexander Skarsgard showering. So now I need for it to be the 13th already so this season will have finished and I can have the second half of it. I've only got up to E6 of S2 and so I've resorted to reading TWoP recaps which are FINE as it is, but now I'm not sure whether to be an emotional wreck about episode 9, or whether to be all over the fact Eric is NAKED. Which is a lovely thing, to be sure. I had to pre-order S1 the other day. I can already sense I'll be ordering S2 from the States. *facewall*

Also, I saw The Time Traveler's Wife. I have no idea, I am clearly torn between desperate romanticism and a darker impulse. I enjoyed it immensely, and maybe it's an emotional investment left over from the book, but the end got me. (Maybe it's just That Time Of The Month? Emotional baggage up the wazzoo.) Perhaps it lacked the elegance, which comes from trying to shoehorn EVERYTHING into two hours, but I thought its leads did a fine job with what they had. Although I guess I'd prefer if the ending hadn't been so Wuthering Heights. Which ALSO doesn't end that way, TV-land ppl, if you're listening.

In other news, I also watched Desperate Romantics. I'm not sure if it's taught me anything historical whatsoever, but it did make me Google Dante Gabriel Rosetti. If it teaches me things in the long run (in this instance, about the Pre-Raphaelites), I feel historically flimsy period dramas can't be a A Bad Thing either. (Also, it had Aidan Turner, who managed to sound... Irish, predominantly. Which isn't a bad thing, except Rosetti wasn't.)

Which leads me onto Being Human and YAY! S2 being filmed now. New Who next year, excited about Matt Smith now. I want to see where they take it with this new, more Gothic looking Doctor. Fun fun fun. I'm not sure whether it's still asking too much for a male companion though?

And the New Moon trailers. Oh. My. Word. It looks gloriously awful. Again, I can't wait. RPattz, bb, this is all for you because GOD KNOWS the films are awful. (Also, I mean, they manage to tell THE WHOLE STORY in the 2 minute trailer. Two hours will be LOOOOONG, right? Right.)

I am going back to watching the .gif of Alexander Skarsgard. Cold show. Yes.

ETA:
THIS! THIS THIS THIS! H.o.l.y..S.h.i.t. (Obviously not the original .gif. But fabulous and point-worthy nonetheless. This is a pleasant way to waste the evening though. Nice and distracting. And blonde.)

And while I'm on the subject of Michael.

The two-faced-ness of people.

Polly Hudson was in the paper the day after Michael died, talking about the "elephant in the room" and how she'd never liked him and wasn't about to start now, thankyouverymuch. And then comes the memorial, and suddenly Polly Hudson thinks he's a fabulous father who did nothing but love his kids. It's funny how your opinion's done a complete fucking U-turn in a week and a half. Crass cow.

Ugh. This, I guess, is why I hate the newspapers and, I think, mass media as a whole. In 2005, there wasn't a newspaper ANYWHERE with a good word to say about him. There wasn't so much an elephant in the room as a room in an elephant. Four years later, everyone always loved him, he was a legend and he gave us everything he had. I love how the opinion of (our at least) media changes depending on what will make people shell out for it.

Bitches.

That's a link to Darren Hayes' note about Michael's memorial, which I thought was beautiful. I'm going to copy the part that made me tear up the other day. And mention that I was reading family tributes in the paper before I came to work this morning and they ALSO made me tear up. La Toya's especially. I read the transcript of Marlon's farewell as well. Dear GOD, I'm a girl but even reading it made me feel like an emotional wreck.

Anyway.

As I cried my heart out today I realized that it was for the greatness we lost and perhaps some shame for what a cruel world did to someone so unique. It was the irony that in spite of what little the world gave him at times, this man gave every atom in his being to the dance of life. And for a handful of years we were lucky enough to bask in the glory of that magnificent light. As someone said to me recently, each of us has a flame inside us that needs igniting. Michael did that for me as a 13 year old boy. And though he is no longer among us, I like to think that my flame burns a little bit brighter because of him and his gift of music, dance and wonderment. I carry it with me and I hope that I can be selfless enough to pass it on to anyone who should need to find their unique spark.

I hope we all find someone who does that for us.

We Had Him
Maya Angelou

Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.

Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.....

The instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.....

Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.

He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.

He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.....

We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.

We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.....

Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England.

We are missing Michael. But we do know we had him, and we are the world.

I know, I know. It's been a while, and then, when I do come back, it's to post poetry. But I watchd the memorial for MJ yesterday, and was genuinely moved. The whole thing left me feeling empty and sad. It was a sad day for the world, and for his family. I can't help feeling like we've all lost something special, whether we knew it or not.

And Paris was a brave beautiful girl. Suddenly it seems a good thing that that family is so huge...

RIP, Michael. You deserve it.

I've become quite positively tragic. I was just watching Ghost Whisperer and it's made me feel utterly emo. Dear fucking GOD, what is going on with me? I'm hiding under the covers at old episodes of Supernatural, and now! Now the bloody GHOST WHISPERER is making me want to curl up in a foetal ball and wail.

And my Twitter app has decided not to work. Maybe I'll try PowerTwitter instead. Take THAT TwitterFox. See if I care.

I think I've got hayfever as well. My throat is sore, my eyes are burning. I'd like to say "swine flu" but my brother doesn't think that's particularly funny... Bah humbug.

So. I'm going to watch MORE Spn and think about the possibility of writing Spn fic again, because it's been a while and my spidey-senses are tingling.

OH! The Maltese dress I bought from eBay for the baby arrived today. ZOMG IT'S SO CUTE. I want to own a doll to dress with it because now I don't want to give it away. This baby is making me feel progressively more defective as a girl for not understanding or getting any single part of it, but eh. Y'know. I guess I'm learning to live with my defectiveness. At least my folks have got their grandchild. One thing's fordamnsure. I don't want to be "Auntie" Kim. Kim will do nicely, thank you. Sod the formalities.

Um... Bed?

They've decided on a name. They've decided they like Leilani Grace. Leilani means "heavenly child" or "flower of heaven" depending on how you couch it, but anyway. In my book, Leilani has far too many syllables and I am going to call it "Leigh" just to confuse matters. To which end, I think Leigh is a far better name. Then again, I'd totally call a boy Tracey or Stacey or something like that, just because they're boys' names and no one seems to remember that.

So anyway, everyone has been buying stuff for the baby. I am starting to feel like the only way I'll actually be interesting ever again is when I have a baby as well, so I guess I'm going to be uninteresting for a while. Cassie and her mum are going to buy pushchairs and baby gubbins today in Bristol. I also learned yesterday that apparently you get money thrown at you by the government to purchase baby gubbins. I'm sure this is actually common knowledge but what now?! She only gets £195 of a possibly £1000 because both her and Ross work, but still! I'm on a moral soap box again because I get diddlysquat, she gets herself knocked up and gets £200 and a house. Not fucking amused. Welfare state, clearly. "Congratulations on increasing the surplace population, have a greenbelt house and some moneys, plz to be coming again soon!"

Where was I?

Everyone has been buying baby gubbins. So I thought, "huh, guess I'll have to join to party sooner or later" so I was looking at anti-BNP t-shirts on eBay, and the shop that was selling them also had baby tees. So I got a Stewie Family Guy one that says something like "While you're standing there, do something useful and wipe my butt" and a "My daddy rocks" one. Mum liked the "Mummy rocks" but I'm working on the theory here that Cassie has a HUGE family that will buy her stuff for "mummy" but "daddy" only has one sister, two parents and one grandparent so daddy needs some love too. Yes, I am, in fact, and AWESOME older sister. I want to buy it political slogan t-shirts, but I think my brother might kill me. He's 6'3 which is five whole inches taller than I am, so he scares me slightly. Enough to not put political slogans on his kid's chest, anyway.

Kinda dreading dragging a heavily pregnant teenager around London now, though. She's super-stoked, though, and I've already booked the coach. And, I guess, she can't be any grouchier than I am.

(Also, for news completely unrelated, I have a horrible spot on my nose and I need a new job. The two are totally unrelated, but I need a job that pays me better and my nose hurts. And I want a mugshot (of the pasta variety, not a picture of my head. Although I need one of those too, for my passport.).)

Sooooo. I watched Lucifer Rising this morning, because I finally managed to get a hold of a copy that my computer saw fit to play. Stupid computer.

( SPOILER WARNINGS for anyone who cares. Herein I whine about Lucifer Rising, Supernatural 4x22 )

In other news, I've still not had all the deals from the weekend, but the ones I have got I can't be bothered to deal with. Because I've already fallen out with a salesman first thing this morning so right now, at 9.22, I've had enough and I want to go home. This is what 6 months and NO FUCKING HOLIDAYS do to a person. When is it October?!