If I were a pre-1985 video game character, I’d be:
 I am a Breakout Bat.I am an abstract sort of creature, who dislikes any sort of restraint. If you try to pigeonhole me, I’ll break the box, and come back for more. I don’t have any particular ambitions, I just drift, but I am adept at keeping life going along. What Video Game Character Are You? |
For some reason, that has cheered me up…
Music in my head: the Super Mario Bros music (noooo, must….listen….to….something….else…!)
Been to a lecture today, the last proper lecture in my Early English Novel course, and it was all about Pride & Prejudice, so I got to “talk Jane” for a couple of hours. Makes a nice change from trying to concetrate on php and Java.
I got Pete Seeger wrong earlier, it’s:
I’m a-gonna wrap myself in paper,
I’m a-gonna dab myself with glue,
stick some stamps on top of my head,
I’m a-gonna mail myself to you.
I’m a-gonna tie me up in a little red string,
I’m a-gonna tie blue ribbon, too,
climb up into my mailbox,
I’m a-gonna mail myself to you.
(Spoken:) And then the postman comes and takes me out of the mailbox and takes me down-town to the postoffice, and they put me on a big train in a big sack, and then we get to your town and your postman comes and takes me down the street to your house.
When you find me in your mailbox
cut the string and let me out,
wash the glue off of my fingers,
stick some bubblegum in my mouth.
Take me out of my wrapping paper,
wash the stamps off of my head,
pour me full of some ice-cream sodas,
tuck me into a nice warm bed.
I’m a-gonna wrap myself in paper,
I’m a-gonna dab myself with glue,
stick some stamps on top of my head,
I’m a-gonna mail myself to you.
Roger, if you’ve got the “official” lyrics, can you check that “dab” bit, please, I don’t think it’s correct. That’s just sort of what it sounds like.
Music in my head: (well, it’s obviously) Mail myself to you (now, isn’t it?)
Is it just me, or is the suggestion that Jesus would be stupid enough to participate in sports wearing one of those toga-thingies (and sandals, for goodness’ sake) pretty close to blasphemy?
Music in my head: Head over Feet (Alanis Morisette)
Like Donna says, it’s the little things that get to you.
I just tried to upgrade from IE 5.0 to 6.0 Worked like a dream. Except somewhere in the process it sort of changed language… My 5.0 copy has been running in English, which is really what I prefer (old habits die hard), and I must have said “yes” or “no” to the wrong thing somewhere in the installation process, as suddenly, almost everything was in Norwegian. Except my Google toolbar, obviously, and (unfathomably) a few other things, like the Cancel button on Internett settings. And it really upset me. Not as in “annoyed” or “irritated”, but as in “on the verge of tears”. Highly embarrasing.
It upset me even more when I couldn’t figure out how to change it.
So I uninstalled.
In a couple of days when I’m feeling a little less fragile, I’ll try again, and watch out for that pesky option.
Music in my head: “I’m a-gonna wrap myself in paper, I’m a-gonna dab myself with glue, climb up into my mailbox, I’m a-gonna mail myself to you…” (and so on, Pete Seeger, I believe)
‘Harriet,’ he said, suddenly, ‘what do you think about life? I mean, do you find it good on the whole? Worth living?’
(He could, at any rate, trust her not to protest, archly: ‘That’s a nice thing to ask on one’s honeymoon!’)
She turned to him with a quick readiness, as though here was the opportunity to say something she had been wanting to say for a long time:
‘Yes! I’ve always felt absolutely certain it was good — if only one could get it straightened out. I’ve hated almost everything that ever happened to me, but I knew all the time it was just things that were wrong, not everything. Even when I felt most awful I never thought of killing myself or wanting to die — only of somehow getting out of the mess and starting again.’
‘That’s rather admirable. With me it’s always been the other way round. I can enjoy practically everything that comes along — while it is happening. Only I have to keep on doing things, because, if once I stop, it all seems a lot of rot and I don’t care a damn if I go west tomorrow. At least, that’s what I should have said. Now — I don’t know. I’m beginning to think there may be something in it after all… Harriet –‘
‘It sounds like Jack Spratt and his wife.’
‘If there was any possible way of straightening it out for you… We’ve begun well, haven’t we, with this awful bloddy mess? When we once get clear of it, I’d give anything. But there you are, you see, it’s the same thing over again.’
‘But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It ought to be, but it isn’t. Things have come straight. I always knew they would if one hung on long enough, waiting for a miracle.’
‘Honestly, Harriet?’
‘Well, it seems like a miracle to be able to look forward — to — to see all the minutes in front of one come hopping along with something marvellous in them, instead of just saying, Well, that one didn’t actually hurt and the next may be quite bearable if only something beastly doesn’t come pouncing out –‘
‘As bad as that?’
‘No, not really, because one got used to it — to being everlastingly tightened up to face things, you see. But when one doesn’t have to anymore, it’s different — I can’t tell you what a difference it makes. You — you — you — Oh, damn and blast you, Peter, you know you’re making me feel exactly like Heaven, so what’s the sense of trying to spare your feelings?’
Well, I like having an opinion. Did I talk too much, I wonder? Probably. I think I only interrupted someone (rudely) once. That’s pretty good going for me in a two-hour discussion.
The large print book turned out to be a red herring. At least, it was nowhere to bee seen on the shelves. Left the library in disgust (happens occasionally, you know, especially when I’m looking for something specific in English).
Music in my head: Høyt på et tre en kråke (sheesh, am I getting fed up. It’s this really, really meaningless song we used occasionally to sing in school. Why? Why? A quick summary of teh four verses: A crow sits in the top of a tree, a hunter comes along and shoots it down, a year passes and the crow suddenly comes alive again. Makes sense, what? But it’s got this lilting bit in the middle of each verse: “Sim-salabim-bam-ba, sala-du, sala-dim” which is very difficult to get your (or at least my) brain to stop harping on).
Apparently the library has Have his Carcase in a large print edition. Right now I don’t care what sort of edition it is. Sure, I’ll pretend to be hard of sight in order to get to read the book NOW.
Me obsessive? Never!
I’ve realised there might be third option to the coughing/doctor’s appointment scenario: I might choke. Could someone please notify the doctor if I do (to unbook the appointment, I mean, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone).
Tonight is the focus-group discussion thingy. I’m to help give my opinion on the possibility of a bookclub that offers “textbooks” (like teach yourself Java and similar, I imagine, though I guess I’ll find out). As I’m disposed to be in favour of any bookclub whatsoever in general, I might or might not be a good person to ask questions on the matter. However, I get a voucher to buy books for as a thank you for participating, so who am I to complain? There was also something quite hopeful about food in the letter. Food is good.
Music in my head: Singing in the Rain (guess the weather…)
Yipee-ai-oh for the Norwegian health authorities. I’ve got this really annoying cough I think I might have mentioned, so I thought, maybe I ought to get an appointment with my GP. No problem… 12pm 24 May. Crikey, that’s a month off! So now I have the choice between hoping it disappears and hoping it hangs around in order to make the appointment worth while. Or I might be lucky and fall ill with something else by that time, in which case I’ll have pre-booked an appointment.
Well, I guess it could be worse. I could decide to try to combat the itchyness with a toothbrush and end up swallowing it… I kid you not, it is in the papers (though in Norwegian).
Music in my head: Head over Feet (Alanis Morisette – wishful thinking)
None of the bookshops in town seem to have the missing books (Have his Carcase and Lord Peter) so now I have to wait for them to be ordered. It might take weeks! Help!
Maybe I should read some Sartre? I bet that’ll cheer me up.
Music in my head: Love Surpreme (Robbie Williams – do you see a pattern here? Well, actually, I think that last one was playing in the shop, so that’s why that got stuck. Still, it fits nicely.)