mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,
mockturtle
hellblazer06

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shall we dance

It was just a fly, a simple fly, but Aged Parent wouldn't let me swat him, insisting on doing the deed herself, denigrating my fly swatting abilities as she did so (you think Faramir had witholding parent issues? Ha!), even though I explained that as a child, sans glasses, I couldn't see flies, but I'm more than capable now. Aged Parent harumphed, unconvinced. Aged Parent still sees me as the child they said was a simpleton (rather than merely myopic), telling her to forget all about me and have another, advice Aged Parent took to her wizened heart, and all the degrees in the world won't change that opinion of me, that I'm a clinical moron.

It made me think why I bother learning, studying, training, going on courses. Like at work. Somehow I pissed somebody off at Head Office over the quality of work I didn't do when I was off for those four days with my sprained ankle. They formally reprimanded me, cut me out of the loop and put me down, ensuring I only do basic admin work, which is still time consuming, but so very, very tedious. I could get ten more accreditation certificates and they'd never change their opinion of me.

So why do I bother wasting valuable time desperately trying to correct the faults others find in me when I'm never, ever going to earn their respect? It's frustrating.

Of course, I should say bugger it, and just do what I want to do, not what I think might please them (because it never will) but it's very hard to ignore the need for respect from one's parents and managers, even if it will never be forthcoming. Sigh.

In another news, a new friend was browsing my lj and sent me an email full of Angel stuff, as it was kind of obvious that I was a fan of the show. Well, hell, yes, and thanks, but sometimes I forget that folks actually read this. If she didn't know about my thing for the manlove before, she sure does now [sheepish smile]. Oh well, at least she's still emailing me, huh :D

That's what I want, cool friends. I'm really happy with the quality of my friends at the moment. Sure, 99% of 'em are residing outside the 1,000km exclusion zone, but I'm thinking that helps (a little bit of moi goes a loooong way - grin). Good, quirky, interesting, enteraining, funny, generous folk.

So I am content (on that front at least). I think I'm learning, too. Like if you can't trust a friend with a book/cd/dvd then you can't trust 'em with your boyfriend or secrets either - learnt that the hard way. Friends I would trust with a favourite book are friends I'm looking forward to growing old with. These are the sorts of friends you can call in the middle of the night, these are the friends you buy trinkets for from exotic market stalls in faraway places, just because you saw it and thought of them, and that's wonderful.

Watched QAF last night on Fox8. It was the night of Justin's prom, so we had the lovely dance scene, like something from some 80s teen flick, and then, those last close up shots of Brian crying in the hospital, just so beautiful (and Gale can act, who knew?) and sad and it made me think of a Caravaggio painting, with that bitter, unforgiving closeup of his anguish. The flashback to how silly and carefree he was in the first episode was poignant, too, because a year ago Brian would have never have cried about anyone except maybe Mike. It's such a perfect TV moment, and all done without words. Lovely stuff. The dance with the scarf was kinda nice on the eyes, too.

Then I switched across to Trek and eeep! Uber Campy! It's a real worry when you switch across to Trek and it's so much more gay that QAF, like Liberace gay. Okay, so it was Who Mourns For Adonis, which is about as gay as it gets, but still, yikes. QAF is just a soap, Trek is really, really gay :)

But not as gay as the costumes in Doctor Who (The Dominators) at the moment. One lot of guys are getting about in thigh high curtain like skirts and the baddies are so Jean-Paul Gaultier I can't believe my eyes. And I haven't even mentioned the squat dancing robots... (apparently some bored code monkey put in a sub rountine so that they have to twirl and wave their arms about whenever they process data).

Still, who cares, Jamie is still my favourite boy. :)

In other news, Paul Bettany actually won something, yay. He should win an award for being the most amusing read in an interview this year. He's absolutely wicked. My favourite comment, and the one that very much endeared the boy to my heart, was the one about not seeing that many people throw up since an early 90s Cure concert. Tee Hee. That just says everything I need to know about the lad, like that he's the sort of bloke I could actually talk to. Yep, he's finally the example of the exact sort of sharp and wicked wit that I adore in a man, and he's that rare bird, a straight raconteur. I was beginning to think they'd all disappeared with the unicorns.

A friend just sent me some Stargate fic for a Friday treat, much appreciated. There's a nice bit with Jack on his roof with a telescope. I'd always imagined he was gazing up in the vague direction of Abydos (Somewhere out there...), but then I thought of Clark and his Peeping Tom activities and then I thought of Hornblower and all those lonely night watches and then I wondered if all these scenes of solitary men alone at night with nothing to hold but their telescopes weren't perhaps a visual euphenism for, well, you know. Hmmm...

Another friend mention watching Loves Labours Lost again. Oooh, that'd be lovely. Sandro sing and dancing and whispering sonnets. I've not treated myself to some Alessandro in ages, and maybe it'd get the fic moving. I was actually going to write today. I was all mellow and good and then whammo, work piled well past the optics, grrr. Not to mention that cheap tart at the desk across from me has gone and drenched herself in eau de goat's piss again, thus causing all my soft tissues to burn and inflame from its caustic touch, which kinda kills the mood, as far as attempting to write gay palaeontologist porn in my tea break goes.

I did get a little bit jotted down last night during Charmed. Yes, it's a stupid, cheesy, lame, hack of a show but it's simple enough for Aged Parent to follow without my having to explain the plot every five minutes, so that can be part of its charm, so to speak. Besides, it was actually cool enough to dwell in the fortess of spinstertude last night so I had a little me time to scritch away at the old notebook.

Heh, they just played the ditty that's all about my bus stop again. Truly, it is. It amuses. I loathe American rap, it's all about killing cops and raping women, very violent and nasty, but local rap, well, it's whimsical, wickedly funny and devoted to the minutae of suburban life, like the one where the guy rhapsodises about going down to the local chip shop for scallops. It's so sweet. More CJ Dennis or Banjo Patterson than 50 Cent, and for that I am eternally grateful.

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