I've spent a lot of time recently "watching" youtube videos of LetsPlay, subsection of RoosterTeeth and amazing group of video game playing idiots. THAT's my ideal job. They get paid to play those games. Also come up with show ideas and produce and edit them and stuff, but I don't watch those because I basically only like them for their idiocy and greatness not their actual content. I've also knitted a whole bunch and recently I've been just looking at all my Likes on tumblr. Like half of them are from Band of Brothers. 10% make me sad, and then the last 40% are just funny things I don't reblog because I'm not sure my friends would find them funny. Not that that ever stops me in other endeavors, but sometimes I just don't reblog the compilation of British people touching their nose and pointing because I need to hoard it forever.
In other news, whatever it is that I'm coughing up, it's gross and I do not approve. Don't get sick, boys and girls. Also, you know you've blown your nose too much recently when a kleenex with blood in it does not surprise you.
The let's play of Minecraft makes me want to play Minecraft though. Looks cool. Probably more fun with friends though, seeing how the parts I love are when they play pranks on each other. They built a house with lava in the ceiling so that when their friend removed an odd block the house filled with lava and burnt to the ground. Another house, they set up blocks of water in the ceiling so that when they flipped a switch the house flooded and it was great. And the entire city is built on top of layers of dynamite so randomly their whole place explodes.
I get passionate about things for temporary periods of time, and apparently these guys playing video games is my current obsession. It's a bit more manageable than the Band of Brothers one was, THEY'RE JUST SUCH GREAT BROS, IT MAKES ME WANT TO CALL THEM NAMES.
Can I stay unemployed forever? That sounds great. I don't want to work, sounds responsible and stuff. Though, if I don't get the one job I've applied for I'm going to probably freak out a bit because I haven't really thought about where else I want to work. I don't even know if I WANT to work there, I just know I need a job and it's not a bad place and stuff.
I got bored of knitting today and remembered that I want to get back to writing, but also I need to write thank yous for graduation and also there are tons of books I have started or have been meaning to read. I also enjoy sleeping. There isn't enough time for all this laziness. My only excuse for now is that I mostly feel like dying because breathing is hard and everything aches. The medicine that helps me feel better tastes like horrible horrible blueberries that are trying to poison me. Why does medicine always taste like it's trying to kill you?
Showing posts with label Mary lives in an apartment like an adult. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary lives in an apartment like an adult. Show all posts
26 February 2013
Demons Just Want To Have Fun
Become a demon, they said, we have more fun, they said. Of course it didn't hurt that they're immortal and have a support network that allows them to never work another day of their lives, but immortality comes with a price. All demons have to be blonde. Oh, and they lose their souls and are damned for all eternity, but mostly the blonde thing, at least in her mind.
She didn't mind the eternity thing, not yet: two years is hardly an eternity, even if she was blonde.
They hadn't told her about that, the bastards. But what did she expect from demons?
She had expected the truth. They had told her the truth about everything else: her past, her present, and presumably, her future.
The thing about demons is that they aren't who you expect them to be. They're not the cheerleaders that make your life miserable. They're not the customer service people leading you in bureaucratic circles and mocking you when they think they're on mute. They're not even your boss who makes you come in on weekends to finish projects that they won't look at for another month or two. No, demons are much smarter than all that.
The man who holds the door open for you when you are too far behind, making you run because you feel bad he has been standing there for thirty whole seconds, and then graciously bowing his head as you apologize. You will think about that moment for much too long. That's one of them.
The person that glares at you suspiciously after you smiled and waved at their child? They know you were being friendly, but now they've succeeded in making you paranoid and afraid of small children in public places.
The woman in the grocery store that tells you to go ahead of her in line because you have fewer items, but then something mysteriously is missing a tag and the price check takes longer than her transaction ever could have. That's a particularly devious demon.
Her hobby was much simpler than all of this. She worked at various call centers over time, sometimes doing her job by the book, interrupting family dinners and afternoon naps, and sometimes breaking down crying when the person sounded particularly vulnerable to sympathy. When those calls got recorded and reviewed she got fired, but she didn't care, she just got a new job.
Of course, she could never see her family again after becoming a demon. Not that it was dangerous or anything, but they would never believe she would willingly have dyed her hair. But she didn't mind, she could still call them during family dinners and be yelled at to be taken off the call list. In many ways not much had changed.
--------
While not a complete short story, this was a short universe I needed to get out of my head and am now reconsidering the idea of publishing on my blog. But I'm just going to hit Publish and then I won't have to worry about it anymore. It will be your problem.
She didn't mind the eternity thing, not yet: two years is hardly an eternity, even if she was blonde.
They hadn't told her about that, the bastards. But what did she expect from demons?
She had expected the truth. They had told her the truth about everything else: her past, her present, and presumably, her future.
The thing about demons is that they aren't who you expect them to be. They're not the cheerleaders that make your life miserable. They're not the customer service people leading you in bureaucratic circles and mocking you when they think they're on mute. They're not even your boss who makes you come in on weekends to finish projects that they won't look at for another month or two. No, demons are much smarter than all that.
The man who holds the door open for you when you are too far behind, making you run because you feel bad he has been standing there for thirty whole seconds, and then graciously bowing his head as you apologize. You will think about that moment for much too long. That's one of them.
The person that glares at you suspiciously after you smiled and waved at their child? They know you were being friendly, but now they've succeeded in making you paranoid and afraid of small children in public places.
The woman in the grocery store that tells you to go ahead of her in line because you have fewer items, but then something mysteriously is missing a tag and the price check takes longer than her transaction ever could have. That's a particularly devious demon.
Her hobby was much simpler than all of this. She worked at various call centers over time, sometimes doing her job by the book, interrupting family dinners and afternoon naps, and sometimes breaking down crying when the person sounded particularly vulnerable to sympathy. When those calls got recorded and reviewed she got fired, but she didn't care, she just got a new job.
Of course, she could never see her family again after becoming a demon. Not that it was dangerous or anything, but they would never believe she would willingly have dyed her hair. But she didn't mind, she could still call them during family dinners and be yelled at to be taken off the call list. In many ways not much had changed.
--------
While not a complete short story, this was a short universe I needed to get out of my head and am now reconsidering the idea of publishing on my blog. But I'm just going to hit Publish and then I won't have to worry about it anymore. It will be your problem.
11 October 2012
Sometimes I am unobservant
I should totally be working on my midterm paper due tomorrow, but I'm in the library and was amazed by the bookcases being colorful. I'm sure they were equally as colorful previously, but they delight me.
13 September 2012
When I finish tests early I tend to worry
I'm sitting outside some sort of engineering class and I could've sworn I heard "frequency is a bitch" in the lecture, but as he moved on I realised he said "pitch" and then was saddened.
I should currently be reading for my next class, or studying for the test after that, or writing my paper due tonight, but I find it hard to do so when normally my first class wouldn't be over yet. Sure, I could use the extra time to my advantage, but all I'm thinking about is how I'm going to be sitting in this hallway for 2 1/2 hours.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)