50 – 100 Meter Tension

There’s this feeling, every time you get within 100 meters of a bus stop, and it only lasts 50 meters.

It also occurs if there are unfortunate street crossings.

It’s when the bus stop is within sight, but there is an equally distinct knowledge that if you see the bus on the road, there is nothing you can do.

It will drive by.

There is no way you could *possibly* reach it.

You could be That Guy, who just, books it to the bus stop, every time, for no apparent reason.

Or, you could wait for that spike of adrenaline, every time you reach the top of the hill and hit the 100 meter mark.

That Final Piece

I have found Mugs.

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And thus, the Vivarium has everything needed to keep this lizard happy and warm.

 

Especially because I am the *epitome* of classy beings, and don’t have a kettle. So, when I make a pot of tea, it’s me, boiling water in my soup pot, and making tea.

Best pot of tea *ever*.

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In Appreciation of Iron Maiden

I…I don’t know how I managed to make it this far in my life without being being put into a position where I learned to appreciate Iron Maiden.

(I was introduced to it at the Roadhouse. But, being in a kitchen isn’t really a good place to appreciate the nuance of new music. I didn’t really get a chance to just sit down with it until…well until the epic failure of getting music stuck on my phone FOREVER.)

Iron Maiden is *fantastic*.

It’s like. Proto-Emo.

Every moment of orchestral dramaticism topped with beautiful tenors destroying their vocal chords in fits of passion and emotion and unashamed of lyrics that have all of the beauty and distraught narcissism of classic Greek epics.

(…I LOVE EMO MUSIC. I AM NOT ASHAMED. IT’S NOT EVEN A GUILTY PLEASURE. IT IS JUST  PLEASURE. MY SOUL WILL ALWAYS BE WRAPPED AROUND A CORE OF SCENE KID.)

As far as I can tell…It all started with Iron Maiden.

IT’S JUST SO GOOD, OKAY?!?

 

VOCABULARY!!!

Words of the Week

ASCETIC *

as·cet·ic \ə-ˈse-tik, a-\

ascetic  – noun
ascetic  adjective
ascetical – adjective
ascetically adverb
asceticism - noun
1:  practicing strict self-denial as a measure of personal and especially spiritual discipline
2:  austere in appearance, manner, or attitude
ETHELBORN **
Pronunciation: Brit. /ˈɛθlbɔːn/,  U.S. /ˈɛθ(ə)lˌbɔrn/
ethelborn - noun
ethelborn – adjective
Born into a noble family, high-born. Also as n. (with the and pl. concord): the nobility.
*definition from Merrium Webster
** definition from the Oxford English Dictionary

Late Night…Everything

I think one of the weirdest issues I’m having with being a young-ish traveller is that…I can’t tell the difference between jet lag and circadian rhythm.

 

When make dinner? Eh…11:30 at night. That’s good. That’s totally dinner time.

When sleep?  I mean. Y’know. Whenever I get tired. So. Anywhere from like, 9:00 P.M. to…5:30 A.M., depending.

I could wake up with the sun, or I could wake up at 3 in the afternoon.

 

HAHAHA WHAT SLEEP SCHEDULE?

Travel-Sized Book Collection

I currently have an…*extremely* minimal collection of books at the Vivarium.

Because…books are wonderful, and a requirement in my life, but not really something that’s good for being dragged around from place to place. They take up space, they don’t squish well, and they get heavy *fast*.

I currently have three books in my possession. They are “Swordspoint” by Ellen Kushner, “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood” by  Rebecca Wells and the final Nightrunner novel “Shards of Time” by Lynn Flewelling.

So, I am doing very well at the “Read Lady Authors 2015!” challenge.

But mostly, I just think it’s really funny, because.

Anything you would assume about me from this book collection…is…probably true…

The Vivarium

I love my flat.

I have…more space than I could ever possibly justify, so I’m building a *crafting room*. My fridge is full of food that I can cook at my leisure.

(Which, I’ll be honest. When I was working at restaurants, I wasn’t usually all that keen to come home and cook. When I’m cooking for other folks, it’s usually based on what they like and what they have in their cupboards. Me being able to just determine a menu for myself based on whatever I feel like eating…is a really delightful feeling.)

I have a nest and a computer, and I’ve even managed to find myself a fantastic little neighbourhood coffee shop.

The best thing, though, is that my house is *always* warm.

I live on the top floor, and so everyone else heats my place.

I don’t even have the heating turned on, but I get home, and my house is 82 degrees. (about 28 C.)

It’s *perfect*.

 

My lizard soul just wants to sleep on the floor and luxuriate in *heat*.

 

So…I looked up what they call lizard enclosures. I found the term “Vivarium”.

A vivarium (Latin, literally for “place of life”; plural: vivaria or vivariums) is an area, usually enclosed, for keeping and raising animals or plants for observation or research. Often, a portion of the ecosystem for a particular species is simulated on a smaller scale, with controls for environmental conditions.*

 

APARTMENT! I HEREBY DUB THEE: VIVARIUM.

 

*definition stolen from wikipedia.

Joys of International Job Hunting

Applying for work post-backpacking is like

“Can we contact your previous employer?”

…well…you could, but, like. They’re in Australia. So. There’s a bit of a time difference…

Where did you live previously? [select state from drop-down menu]

Uhm. So…”Cambodia” isn’t an available option…

“Please list where you have lived in the past five years.”

Hahahaha…No.

But seriously? There’s like…definitely at least four different countries that I’ve solidly *lived* in for a while in the past five years.

Just. No…

I Will Not Learn Gaelic

I will not learn Gaelic. I will not learn Gaelic. I *WILL NOT* LEARN GAELIC.

I did this once already. I *know* better.

I went to Uni, and it was all “You need language credits to graduate!” and I was like “Cool. Can I Independent Study?” and they were like “Yes!” and I was like “FUCK YEAH. I’M LEARNING *WELSH*.

While, technically, Welsh is not Gaelic. It’s Brittonic, but, the point remains the same:

BECAUSE IT’S SO HELPFUL. IT WILL BE SO HANDY IN MY LIFE WHEN I VISIT ALL OF THE PLACES IN THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE SPEAK EXCLUSIVELY WELSH.

Why. Why did I do that.

You know who speaks Welsh?

 

Fucking *nobody*.

That’s the answer.

(Gwlad, GWLAAAAD!!! Pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad!)

 

You know who speaks *Gaelic*?

EVEN MORE NOBODY.

 

I live in *Texas* now. I should be learning Spanish.

Large populations of the world speak Spanish. Like. Most of a continent. And then a few other countries.

 

Only…I was going through old files last night, and what did I find?

All of my language programs.

 

I WILL NOT LEARN GAELIC.

 

… Ciamar a tha sibh?

Tha gu math, tapadh leibh.

 

 

Fuck.

Hipster Problems

One of the grocery stores in my life recently had a mad sale on kale (YES!)

So I bought a crapton of it, and have been making ALL OF THE KALE CHIPS.

Which is brilliant, because kale chips are *delicious*.

 

But there definitely comes a point when it’s like “Are they burnt? Or just purple kale?”

 

I suspect time will tell, my friends. I suspect time will tell…