raise your eyes up into the sun.

so glow, we've held off the cold

My fingers are in my ears and I am humming to myself loudly and just basically pretending that I don't have to pick Year 12 subjects already! That's cruel, making me think seriously about the future and everything because HURRAY I haven't a clue what I want to do with the rest of my life! Can I just stay stuck in Year 11 for another few years or something? I like a lot of my classmates, my subjects are all wonderful and I don't want to drop any of them. Unfair.

Another nice week, though. I love people, just everybody, and somebody out there's being very benelovent when it comes to me. I don't know! QC's eighteenth is tomorrow, rock.

On that note - here, have a poem.

Rain Travel - William S. Merwin
I wake in the dark and remember
it is the morning when I must start
by myself on the journey
I lie listening to the black hour
before dawn and you are
still asleep beside me while
around us the trees full of night lean
hushed in their dream that bears
us up asleep and awake then I hear
drops falling one by one into
the sightless leaves and I
do not know when they began but
all at once there is no sound but rain
and the stream below us roaring
away into the rushing darkness
raise your eyes up into the sun.

NCIS fic: Vessel (Abby, Kate; G)

FINALLY!!


vessel
ncis; abby and kate, gen
1405 words, g

In our weariness, tears cannot find their way out of us. Abby mourns.

Also: Written for philosophy_20, prompt #2 - 'loss'. For Rory, because I promised him NCIS girlfic ages ago. Obligatory disclaimer: NCIS is not mine and never ever ever will be, despite how much I want Gibbs. In my PANTS.

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    hungry mandarine mandarine!
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raise your eyes up into the sun.

take a ride, take a shot now

Three people were shot around eight forty-five this morning down Flinders Lane, in the central business district of Melbourne. One is dead and the other two are critical. How horrifying. And apparently it was a somewhat opportunistic crime, which makes it even more shocking, I thought - guy was arguing with the three soon-to-be victims, it got out of control, he shot them and headed on outta there.

(I'm not sure why my school forced the Year 11s and 12s to continue to stay at school and out of the city, though. Dr. Janson is a lovely guy. Oh hang on - liability, you say? Carry on.)

We were allowed to leave by lunchtime, though. Which was good - I left during lunchtime, went to pick up this lovely charm necklace from Diva and my iPod Molly from the Next Byte place. Her hold switch was busted; she's been replaced. By a new and unscratched black iPod nano. Uhhhhhhh :*( R.I.P., Molly dearest, I'll miss you.

So, four exams down, three to go! I had Methods and Studio Farts today, both of which I think I've done well in. Fucking ace! What a miracle, especially considering my average in Maths last year was something like 60%. Plus I borderline failed my end of year exam, too. MOVING ON. Unfortunately, I almost turned up late to my Methods exam - CONNEX ARE BASTARDS and trains along my line were delayed by at least half an hour this morning because of power failure at Rosanna which was really gay and spending extended periods of time with my father who is very angry about having to drive me to school in a car that stinks of cigarettes and cursing every ten seconds was not a nice way to start the day. Tomorrow I have Chemistry in the morning and Legal in the afternoon, and on Thursday I have Philosophy. FABULOUS!

Ms. Cooper came and found me during recess and talked to me about my Literature exam - which I thought I'd fucked up royally. Ms. Cooper seemed to agree (though not phrasing it quite that way), I told her I panicked, she told me that the result wouldn't affect my overall mark for the unit 'cause I've done really well otherwise.

Also, I HAS AN EMPLOYMENT HURRAY! I'm going to be working for a company who are in turn working for the Department of Human Services, and my job is going to be visiting convenience stores and crap on weekends, trying to purchase cigarettes from them with a representative with me to bust 'em. Or something along those lines. I'm going to training on Friday, and apparently the pay's something like $12 an hour. YESSSSSS.

Oh life.
  • Current Music
    public image ltd. - this is not a love song
raise your eyes up into the sun.

original fic: roads

Yeah, bugger writing about nanotechnology's uses in forensics. That shit is old! I’ll just fail Chemistry and here – have a story instead. And it's original fic, too! TRENDWHORE!!

roads
original fiction; 1,243 words, g



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    'sour times' - portishead
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raise your eyes up into the sun.

the (somewhat) big damn table

OKAY! So, in an attempt to pass off my fanfiction-writing as vaguely related to school, I went and signed up for the challenge philosophy_20. Someone shoot me in the face, please? I'm doing a general claim for NCIS because it will be super super super fun. Really!

(What are the bets I forget about this in a week's time and never write a fic like the failure I am?)



philosophy_20
Fandom: NCIS
Claim: General

1.Birth 2.Loss 3.Ends Justify The Means 4.Inertia 5.Syzygy
6.Theory 7.Both Sides 8.Faith 9.Orientation 10.Time
11.Extrinsic 12.6th Sense 13.Love Beyond Desire 14.Parallel 15.Infinity
16.God 17.Lack of God 18.And if the answer is no / can I change your mind? 19.Caught in the form of limitation. 20.Reflection




I probably should have claimed House, though - House seems like a sort of show that's more conducive to moral debate or whatever the hell you want to call it, but whatever. Actually, now that I think about it, season three's been pretty shit so far and I miss season one a whole load. I miss the patients, and the way their cases were the most important things in the episode - the way their cases sometimes seemed to tie into the backstories of the main characters (like 'Fidelity', 'Cursed', 'Histories' and dear god 'Three Stories', and 'The Mistake' from season two), and oh, I miss the show not being about who's fucking who up the arse at any given moment. As much as I enjoy my ships and all that rubbish, I can watch rubbishy soaps if I need a quick fix of romance darn it!

I can tell I'm gonna be punched in the face for saying that. Actually, that's an interesting question - for all the House fandom kids I know, what are your favourite episodes and why?
raise your eyes up into the sun.

NCIS fic: 'Foundations' for brightillusions (Gibbs, Abby; G)

foundations
ncis; gibbs & abby
1167 words, g.

"you do know what fun is, right?" abby takes a reluctant gibbs out on christmas eve.

And: This was written for ncis_tinsel. I was assigned brightillusions, who was curious as to how Gibbs and Abby would celebrate Christmas. This is late – very late. I’m sorry, brightillusions, for being a total wanker. I’ve also been busy lately, but it was mostly the wanker thing. Also, I’m still not happy with this, but sod it.


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raise your eyes up into the sun.

THINGSSSSSSSS

i. I'm seeing 'Casino Royale' tomorrow. I'm not late at all, shut up. So far, with Lia and Jonathan, and I might call people tomorrow morning because there's nine sessions after midday, which totally rocks and I wake up whenever the hell I want (probably around eleven, seeing as it's what I've been doing for the past month or so).

ii. Family biznuss has kept me busy this past week. We came back from Daylesford awhile ago, from visiting my alcoholic aunt who's currently living in our place there. It's an absolute mess. I couldn't bear to be in the loungeroom for more than ten minutes because it smelled so badly of urine and dog drool. Mum cleaned out the toilet at least twice a day, otherwise she said she couldn't bear to go near it. The fridge was full of mouldy crap, and oh god it was a sucky week. She's stopped drinking, for the most part, but I'm not sure that really matters anymore - the damage has already been done. Mum says she looks exactly like her father did a couple of weeks before he ied of liver cancer - her skin, the whites of her eyes and nails are yellow, horrifyingly skinny but her stomach is bloated, no appetite, and yeah. Parents and Nana are freaking out and trying to fix everything (they're talking about putting her into a home, but other relatives aren't so sure and we've been visiting them and discussing it) but I'm not really sure if there's any point?

Wow, I sound really callous.

iii. Updated my Fanfiction.Net page today - it's up to date with all my fics so far. YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO - uh, moving on.

iv. I'm helping out with ncis_newsletter now. JOIN, SO WE CAN HAVE MORE WATCHERS AND FEEL MORE ~*SPECIAL*~. Also, if you haven't already - house_md_news. GO NOT GENTLY.

v. Speaking of NCIS - I had to clean out my wardrobe last night, and I've filled three huge plastic bags with clothes I'm getting rid of (eBay, HERE I COME!) and I discovered my drawer of the Beanie Kids I collected back in Year Four and Five. Also! I found my mum's old 'Chicago Hope' tapes with Mark Harmon, and ohmylol. He's. . . younger. And oh my god he's so goddamm hot.

vi. To make up for the lack of interesting content in this entry:

I Am So Sorry My Poem Beat Up Your Poem
by Timothy Stafford

I am sorry my poem beat up your poem
but you started your poem from the audience
and my poem thought that was pretentious

I am so sorry my poem beat up your poem
but he's heard yours a thousand times
so the element of surprise was working in his favor

I am so sorry my poem beat up your poem
but while I was at work he walked down to the corner tavern
got drunk on cheap whiskey, lost $20 shooting dice, $40 shooting pool
spent his last dollar on an Old Style
and sat on his stool stewing
thinking about all the inferior poems
that did him wrong, that did better than him
that got scored higher at poetry slams by easily influenced judges

So don't take it personally
Your poem was just the first to walk through the door.

I am so sorry my poem beat up your poem
but you used a stage name
and my poem hates liars

I am so sorry my poem beat up your poem
but you used a lot of elaborate hand gestures
that my poem (much like the low land gorillas)
interpreted as a hostile action

I am so sorry my poem had sex with your girlfriend

I am so sorry my poem beat the shit out of your poem
with it's own stale metaphors like so many steel chairs
but you made too many Allen Ginsberg references
and my poem hates the beats

I must also apologize for the party my poem threw at your apartment
while you were in Milwaukee for the weekend
he finds me boring and never wants to hang out at my place
watching Shannon Tweed marathons anymore
he just wants to live
I saw the Polaroids

Everyone was there
Sully's poem were freestyling in your kitchen
Joel's poems were drinking your wine
Drew's poem were doing terrible things to your cat
and if you want an apology you'll have to talk to him about that

So I'm sorry for everything my poem has done to you and your poems
I'll talk to him about it
but he's been drinking
and his girlfriend just left him for a haiku
so he's kinda pissed
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    irritated irritated
raise your eyes up into the sun.

And if you hurt what's mine, I'll sure as hell retaliate.

Fic! Jesus, it took me long enough. (This thing got started in July, and I only just finished it. Does that tell you anything?) Also? Good-looking girls and their guns make me happy. Thus, Noir fic.

safe from harm
noir; mirielle, intoccabille, kirika
2618 words, pg.

the trouble in the end, it makes you anxious. based on the episodes 'intoccabille' acte i & ii.


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