falling_voices: (Default)
Layout change. Good morning. I've been on LJ for well over a year, apparently — who knew — so I figured this journal might do with a bit of change.

Oh. And also (because, you know, this has so totally not been on my mind):

Christmas Text - http://www.christmastext.com

To everyone who celebrates it. ♥
falling_voices: (six hours later i still hadn't written a)



/flails forever

ETA: also, if no one writes DCMK/Sherlock crossover, especially considering the current case, I will lose all faith in humanity.
falling_voices: (i'm losing my FUCKING mind)

It’s funny how ever since I’ve come home I keep feeling like I’m balancing between two extremes. Within the span of an hour I’m deliriously happy and then utterly depressed, and then it just goes on and on and on and on until I calm myself down with music. It’s like my mood just swings from one to the other without sense or order or logic.

On the one hand, I’ve finally come back from the Land of Cows and Ducks, which is good, because I can’t really be happy if I’m not in the city. I’ve watched movies I’ve been wanting to watch, I’ve caught up on my reading, and I’ve inspiration for writing, which is more than I could have said for myself three months ago (dude, minibang is getting way out of hand here. Seriously.)

On the other hand, I’m stressed over college admission, since I still haven’t gotten my letter, and the better reception I get over my newest ficcing the more anxious I get that the rest is going to be a huge disappointment.

On a third hand, though, I’m completely obsessed over Sherlock
falling_voices: (Default)

I saw Toy Story 3 twice in less than twenty-four hours.

I cried. Like a baby. Both times. (Seriously, what was up with that?)


On a side note: Am leaving this afternoon for a month in a tiny little village in the middle of nowhere country France without the slightest Internet connection. It’s both good news and bad news — I’ll have all the time in the world to finish up my current ficcing, granted, and I do need it, considering the state of my minibang.  Posting them will be, eh, more complicated.


Speaking of which, Sa’, the APH/Doctor Who crossover I’d asked you to read for me? Is here. Try not to freak out.


, all!
falling_voices: (six hours later i still hadn't written a)

So there’s this ‘Who do you write like?’ meme going round. I thought I’d give it a try. Except.

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Yyyyyeah. On the one hand, I’m pretty sure it’s a good thing, because Joyce prose is like custard. (I eat it. With a spoon.) On the other hand, James Joyce. Pretty damn big role model to follow here. Also, pretentious much?

Also, my icon has never been so accurate. Literally.

I’m slightly bitter today. I’m not quite sure why.
falling_voices: (Default)

So let me tell you a little story.

My Parisian district is a very nice one. We’re at the foot of Montmartre and about twenty minutes’ walk from the Louvre, and we’ve got the quaintest little church and long, slanting merchant streets with markets in the morning. There’re tons of schools and flowershops and bakeries and bars, and if you get a little away from the biggest streets you can find narrow, winding alleys going up and down and up again, paved over and a lot more silent, so you can sit on a bench for a few minutes and relax all you care. And if you go up North, and climb up a few (dozen) flights of stairs, there’s Montmartre, with its sunlit squares and little houses and painters and little pubs and theatres and hundreds of restaurants, and long strips of lawn and the Sacré-Coeur with the sun on its domes.

It’s really quite like a miniature town in the middle of Paris.

And it’s got its own traditions, too. When it starts getting really warm, generally in May or June, there’s a band that treks around the district, playing the trumpet and the guitar and the saxo. There’re here every year. Everybody knows them and their tunes. When they come around, when you can hear their music all the way from the street, you just know the beautiful days are here to stay.

When I came home from class yesterday they were coming up the main street. Hello, summer.

In other news, I'm thinking of joining up to the APH minibang. Except I've only two days to make up my mind. /tempted. so. very. tempted.
falling_voices: (Default)
 Today, in order, I:

1. went to school at nine in the morning, despite the fact that school let out last week, just so I could get my history essay on Religion and Society around the Mediterranean Sea back. It is, by the way, two months late.
2. didn't get it, because my teacher is the laziest person in existence. And he looks like a teddy bear, so I can't be mad at him for more than two minutes.
3. had to stay for a one-hour sermon on What and What Not To Do During The Big Time Exams, i.e., in two weeks. Well, why d'you think they let us out at all?
4. went to order a new ID card, having lost the previous one. (Of course.) Waiting hall was a good hour, and people were having fights in it.
5. signed myself up for a theatre course after the Big Time Exams. (Romeo and Juliet, of all things.)
6. went to the library and bought eight books. Eight. My finances are not going to make this.
7. unxpectedly met a friend I hadn't talked to in four years.
8. had lunch with her, because why the hell not.
9. went to the movies and saw Adèle Blanc-Sec. Nice movie, by the way.
10. ... came home. Wrote fic. I still blame you for sidetracking me, Sa'.
11. was thwarted by electronics again. Honestly, USB cards? are you going to pick on me now?

It's five in the afternoon.

I wonder what's next.

The only reason why I feel my day was so busy is probably that I'm getting used to getting up at ten in the morning and doing nothing but work all day, though...

ETA: 'llo, Sa'. According to Google, I'm in Buenos Aires. :D
falling_voices: (Default)

Meme! Icons!

FORCED INTO Snatched from la gems. :D

icons! meme! )
ETA: fixed the fail.
falling_voices: (and so)

Oh, God, I’m crying now. Oh god what the hell I don't even

Penguin-chan. Watch this. It makes me cry for goodness’ sake what the hell how the what the how this has no right at all to be so pretty and sad and oh, God, this is exactly what I love about those four. (And the Spanish subs? don't ask.)

Oh, Canada. You are the sweetest boy.


Oh France

… Happy Chocolate Day Easter, by the way.

falling_voices: (<3)

English exam this morning, blah blah, J.M. Coetzee, etc. And then sometime along the way, there was this:

He cannot understand why it is that so many people around him dislike England. England is Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain. England is doing one’s duty and accepting one’s fate in a quiet, unfussy way. England is the boy at the battle of Jutland, who stood by his guns while the deck was burning under him. England is Sir Lancelot of the Lake and Richard the Lionheart and Robin Hood with his longbow of yew and his suit of Lincoln green.
—J.M. Coetzee, Boyhood: A Memoir


What the fuck, self.

Also, Sa'? I’m in the middle of my mock exams right now, so I probably won’t show up on messenger till Saturday. Sorry, mah lass. ♥
falling_voices: (and so)

Am I so very much a sap for liking the latest DC issue so much? (yes. yes I am.)

But. It’s just. ‘s just lovely and pretty and hilarious—um, apart from the wife who kinda killed her husband just now but yeah—Megure’s wife drinking herself silly and Eri making weird faces and Sato’s ‘YAY! WHITE DAY SECURED! :DDDDDD’ a-and the last page with the really thrummy atmosphere at the beginning and the total lulz of the end—Ran going all :o and Midori all :> and Sato all ^/^ and Eri all :”) —

… and then you’ve got Ran with this big lump in her cheek. And Conan. Blushing. Ahh. Words cannot express my love, seriously. Wait, yes I do. What says love better than throat lozenges?

Just, yes. That’s why I fell in love with ShinRan years ago.

Oh, Gosho. Every time I think I’m starting to tire out you pull me right back in. ♥

ETA: HEY HEY GUYS I FINISHED PART ONE. \o/ fffft I’m so doomed

falling_voices: (someone up there)

Our boiler exploded.

Or imploded.


Hence: No heat. Not hot water. No shower. No (holyfuckinghellwhatisthis)—No. Bath. Irrk.

I'm coooooooold.  D<
falling_voices: (Default)



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December 2011

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