ishyface: (i shall never grow old)
Brain: HEY.

Me: Oh, Christ.

Brain: KNOW WHAT WOULD BE AWFUL? IF YOU DIDN'T GET THAT PERMANENT POSITION YOU'RE INTERVIEWING FOR AT THE OFFICE TODAY. BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN THAT YOU'RE BAD AT EVERYTHING.

Me: Right, yeah, that sounds-

Brain: BUT KNOW WHAT WOULD BE EVEN WORSE THOUGH? IF YOU DID GET IT.

Me: ... Why?

Brain: BECAUSE IF YOU GET IT THAT MEANS YOU WILL BE STUCK IN UNSATISFYING OFFICE JOBS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. NO WRITING. NO LIBRARY WORK. JUST FORMS AND EMAILS AND THAT ONE FAULTY LIGHT THAT FLICKERS AND MAKES YOUR EYE TWITCH. FOREVER.

Me: Hm. I do hate that one light.

Brain: I KNOW RIGHT.

Me: But, wait, Brain, this just doesn't scan. I'm a loser if I DON'T get it because that means I've failed. I'm a loser if I DO get it because it will be a kind of boring office job instead of My Calling™. But really, couldn't you turn both of those sentiments around? Like, I'm not a loser if I DON'T get it because hooray, I will still be free to look for work in my field! But I'm also not a loser if I DO get it, because hooray, a job that pays well, and that I can LITERALLY QUIT AT ANY TIME! That makes at least as much sense, and makes me feel way better about myself. Can't we go with that?

Brain: WE COULD.

Me: Well, that's grea-

Brain: BUT WE WON'T.

Me, sighing deeply: Of course we won't.
ishyface: (pen and ink)
You know, since I am absent-minded, clumsy, and prone to carrying on vague, one-sided conversations, I sometimes wonder what it must be like to hear me puttering around upstairs in the kitchen.

"Aha! Grape juice!"

*crash*

"Well, I should have seen that one coming. Now, where did I put the-"

*beep*

"Shut up, won't you? ... What did I come in here for?"

*sound of water overflowing onto floor*

"Oh, yeah, that's it. I should get a turtle. Do cats eat turtles?"

*beep*

"Bury you under the cushions, THAT'S what I'll do. A Lit survey! That's the course I needed! Man, that is totally gonna clash with Philo- oh, the floor's wet."

*thump*

"Fell. On m'bum. And I've lost one of my slippers, how distress-"

*faint beep*

"HOW MANY CUSHIONS DO I NEED TO PUT ON YOU YOU DREADFUL... awful... ooh, Ritz crackers."

*faint beep*

*rhythmic thumps*

*muffled weeping*


In an entirely unrelated note, I've a question for any Manic Street Preachers fans on the flist:

Given that I listen to "Yes" on repeat for hours on end, and given that I tend to like bands with ridiculously devoted fan bases and tragically androgynous musicians, and given a third thing what I can't remember, should I buy The Holy Bible? And, if I do, how likely is it that I will start weeping every time I put it on, writing vaguely socialist rhyming couplets on bathroom stalls, and throwing myself off of any available cliffs?

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the creature from the blog lagoon

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