It's been a colour coded week this week. On Monday I was told to wear red to the Daredevil premiere for the chance of winning a door prize. I didn't, but it was fun anyway. On Thursday I was wearing purple to protest the war and today I'm wearing orange as requested to protest against racism.
Yup, becoming quite the little activist again. Hey, it's better than just sitting on my arse whining and doing nothing. They say activists actually have a more positive outlook, because they're out doing, getting it off their chest and being constructive, never mind the social aspect or the exercise I'm getting hoofing it around the CBD every other day.
I am surprised that a lot of friends and relatives who are always telling me how fantastic their lives are (as compared to mine) are not out there marching with me. Surely they'd like to continue living their wonderful, glossy magazine lives. Oh well, if their quality of life is diminished, they'd better not dare come crying to me. I don't understand their apathy. They whine and whinge and yet never do anything about it. It bugs me. At least I'm out there. Sure, you can't change the world with even one march, or even three, but you can if you keep on doing it, and I'm not talking about the Vietnam War, I'm talking about the right to vote and the work awards I currently enjoy. People marched and marched for those. Maybe we're all fools but at least I stood up and said no, not in my name.
Found Bro in amongst the crowd. "Didn't I tell you to meet me next to the 'no war' sign at the Town Hall?" he scolded - it's an injoke after overhearing a woman on a mobile back in Feb saying she was standing by a no war sign in Hyde Park. Yeah, like which one, out of thousands. Bro met up with people he knew, I saw no one (qv comments about snivelling worms above) and we strolled around the city, bringing Thursday night shopping to a standstill and booing the US consulate. Afterwards I popped into a bookshop for a notebook, a very groovy 1969 so very very notebook as it turned out, found a bargain bin full of Thunderbirds dvds (yipee) and went through three Lipton iced teas. I wanted to catch the bus home but Phineas Fogg wanted to catch a train and a taxi home instead so he stalked off, leaving me alone to wait for the bus, and I don't think that's proper behaviour for a gentleman, even if I was giving him the pip, and the bus came five minutes later anyway and guess who had to wait for it at the cold windy bus stop that's nowhere near the station at the other end of the line because there were no taxis? Yup. Heh.
After that it was not one but two episodes of SVU then I found Stargate on TV1 and I was so happy to see Jack and Daniel. It was Touchstone and surprisingly US Govt = bad (yay) and surprisingly slashy. This isn't one of my high rotation episodes though it should be as it leads up to my fic in a way but it was chock full of little J/D moments. Lots of meaningful eye contact, touching, petting and more meaningful eye contact. Hey, I'm taking what I can get and this was a yummy treat after a hard day. I was in heaven. Now if only my boss would stop giving me projects (he caught me working through my textbook yesterday and figured I wasn't busy enough) I could get Jack to give Danny that blow job in my fic. Making me work at 6:30am. Hmph. That's my time! Bad boss. No biscuit.
Giant Rally This Sunday 23rd March