helenic: (grin)
Type "{yourname} needs" into Google and post the resulting sentences out of context. [Poll #584463]
helenic: (Default)

I've been indulging my pash on Mariacarla Boscono and making lots of icons to fill my new icon space. I ended up making more than I want to use, so there are icons going spare. All photos are from http://www.mariacarlaboscono.hpg.ig.com.br/. If you want to take any of these and mess around with them further, go for it, or feel free to tell me any text you want adding or anything and I can do it for you.

iconage... )

SHOWER DOOM

Jun. 3rd, 2005 05:56 pm
helenic: (dictionary eating)

I am officially a GIRL.[1] I was in the shower and suddenly there was a spider on the shower head, which is attached to the wall and therefore unmovable. When I first saw it I was terrified it would be somehow washed onto my head even though it was above the stream of water, but after a minute or two it seemed to be fairly stationary. I had to stand with my back to it if I wanted to do my hair but I kept glancing round and then suddenly oh my god it was MOVING. It ran around the showerhead a few times and then came right down so its legs were touching the water. At this point I leapt out of the shower in case it was washed onto me, despite the fact that I was in the middle of shampooing and there were suds everywhere. I half-closed the shower door, and tentatively leaned one arm into the shower and tried flicking water on it to make it move. Didn't work. There was no way I was getting back in there with a spider POISED ABOVE MY HEAD. I got a flannel and kept half-reaching to swat it but I just couldn't bring myself to get close enough to touch it. What if I accidentally flung it towards me or it ran down my ARM or something? Then it ran round to the other side of the shower head and lurked there, but when I got back in the shower and had a look it seemed to be half-hanging on a thread and half its legs were in midair and it did not look particularly stable there. I put my bathrobe on and knocked on my neighbour's door to see if she could help me move it, still covered in shampoo foam. She wasn't in. In the end I made a quick dive into the shower to retrieve my shower things and used the bathroom downstairs. SPIDERS EW. As if exams weren't enough, my god. Not what my nerves need right now.

In other news I actually started revising at 8am this morning, go me. I've had a few breaks inbetween but I'm now out of the shower and all set to go back into the library and do my thing. I can't seem to stop eating, but it's probably just anxiety and distraction-seeking and the fact I've run out of cigarettes. My head keeps offering me suggestive but basically unhelpful words, like satrap and kletic and archon and demythologise and heterogenous. They make me think I know lots of stuff but it's probably a lie and those words are actually all there is, like as soon as they hit my brain filter the sentences dissolve and the words can only go in one at a time in no coherent order. I have no idea how much of my revision is actually working, but I've timed it PERFECTLY to all make sense at 9am next Tuesday and not before, so if it seems like I don't know anything yet perhaps it's just all going to plan.


¹ Yes yes that's so gendered, it's IRONIC okay, whatever.

helenic: (citylights; car window)

While I'm busy doing frantic last minute writing and editing and cutting and re-writing and deleting and footnoting and formatting and re-rewriting to my thesis, and therefore CLEARLY will not be on livejournal tomorrow, I would like to direct my readers' attention to this rather wonderful little snippet:

[livejournal.com profile] commonplacebook (during a discussion about zany NaNoWriMo tactics):

Maybe I'll adapt Chretien in the style of DeLillo:

The knight rode to the castle. It was nice, this, this riding to the castle. Inside the castle smelled of what? He could smell the immutable mysteries, old socks, women's Haines undergarments, all the frangible incense of huge vastnesses beyond him, this castle, this kingdom. Like castles held the religious impulse, held the clatter and echo of blood-rusted swords unavailable now.

He heard King Arthur and the Queen.

What? Arthur said.

I feel so I don't know, she said.

Sir Kay, he's so, you know, brittle.

She said, I feel like I need something else.

I say one thing and he pops off.

I feel like the castle isn't enough, like all the stones can't hold the caroming of this immense desire, this need to feel the blood, you know, the fucking pulse.

I don't know, Arthur said. Are you all right, Guin?

You should be more, what's the word I want, more accommodating to Sir Kay, she said.

Perhaps adapting myth into post-modern Western novelistic prose is my way forward, since I seem to be able to string sentences together with moderate facility (although I'm not a patch on [livejournal.com profile] commonplacebook, whom you should all read, incidentally) but can't tell a good story for the life of me. After all, if your sources are Classical, then it's not plagiarism, it's intellectual literary reference.

helenic: (scholarly)

I didn't manage to sleep until 5am last night, and after [livejournal.com profile] yvesilena's 8.30am wake-up call I fell asleep again for an hour. However, other than that today has been reasonably productive: I had a useful conversation this morning, spent some time doing emotion-sorting visualisation techniques in the shower to try to help me focus on work this week, and I finally overcame my fear of the UL enough to actually go inside, find some books and read them. It was much harder than it sounds, trust me. I've had a two-sided reading list for my thesis sitting in my bag for the last three weeks, and every time I've tried to go to the UL I've been waylaid by anxiety, and ended up in the Classics faculty library, Divinity, or even Sainsburys, or just walking past rather than up the steps, and going home again. I'm terrified of it. Today was the first time in three years at Cambridge I've actually gone inside. I filled out the form for computer access, ascertained that I can withdraw books with my university card, and realised I didn't have £1 for a (compulsory) locker - but the library staff let me leave my bag at the desk, so that was alright. And I made notes on three books, got out five more including two I've been trying to get hold of for ages, and generally felt industrious and scholarly.

It's beautiful inside. It reminds me of museums, all marble and high ceilings, but with an essential Britishness to it; all the books hardbacked and dust-jacketless (occasionally including the glossy paperback cover a few pages in), men in shapeless green cardigans and dog collars (I was in the Religion section), the dim sunlight in the South Wing making the spines harder and harder to read the deeper you go. I found vast quantities of books that would have been tremendously helpful to my thesis if only I'd discovered them a fortnight ago, but it's entirely my own fault for not getting up the nerve to explore earlier. After three hours, however, the lack of caffeine (or, in fact, any liquid at all, as they don't let you have even closed bottles of water) was beginning to tell on me, so I went over the road to Clare, where my friend Aleks fed me about five cups of strong black coffee in rapid succession, and we talked about Venice.

After another hours' work to finish the book I was on, I came home to collect the library books that were due back at the Classics faculty, and pick up some money so I could photocopy some articles, but the lack of sleep and caffeine overdose have caught up with me and I didn't end up going back. I've effectively taken the last two hours' off, answering emails, doing a final edit on my entry for the college writing competition (and huge thanks to [livejournal.com profile] the_lady_lily, [livejournal.com profile] smhwpf, [livejournal.com profile] ixwin and [livejournal.com profile] romauld for your comments; if I win, I'll buy you each a drink) and spending time on Useful Things like this interview meme from [livejournal.com profile] thedivineoliver:

work:masturbation? )


classics? pretention? surely not! )
relative-escaping )
REAL MEN DRINK REAL BEER )
philosophical bollocks )

If you really want questions, shout. But only if you're going to answer them. Post them in your own journal, etc; you know the drill.

mrow.

Apr. 22nd, 2005 12:52 am
helenic: (what's the matter lagerboy?)

  • You know you're working too hard a Classicist GEEK when you catch yourself reading [livejournal.com profile] londonpolybis as "London Polybius". I dread to think.

  • I am required by the laws of humour to pimp [livejournal.com profile] secretly_pope, the Very Secret LJ of Pope Benedict XVI.
    [livejournal.com profile] libellum: Am Pope! Yay! However, still not Emperor.
    [livejournal.com profile] amberspyglass: Arinze will kill me if I try anything ...
    [livejournal.com profile] baranoouji: ... Pervy poor-fancier that he is.
  • 11 600 words. Approximately 8 500 of them actually almost useable. I'm averaging 14 hours' work a day, and it's not going fast enough but considering my deadline that's unsurprising, and although I won't be able to go to the UL as I'd planned tomorrow (I wouldn't have time to write up any of my reading, and am better off editing what I've got) I will actually be able to email something to my supervisor before going to [livejournal.com profile] the_lady_lily's celebrations in the evening.


  • Also there will be a [livejournal.com profile] yiskah, for which much Yay.

  • As well as no belongings, I have no food in this house. I'm currently living on: sandwiches made from white bread and salt 'n' vinegar crisps, bananas, and tea.

  • Mainly this entry is an excuse to show off my new icon. What's the matter lagerboy, scared you might TASTE SOMETHING?

  • Man, when this thing is handed in, I'm having a really big drink.

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