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Thursday, 18 September 2014

Nothing

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Nothing to see here. Move along please.

I'm being lazy, okay?

Thursday, 11 September 2014

Stormy Night

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Some nights, a girl just can't sleep. The weather is hot, the fan is noisy, and there's still cars on the roads and some of them have sirens. Reading does little to prepare one for the dark worlds of quirky oddness the world of dreams hardly ever seems to offer. A streetlamp outside casts an orange glow on the messy den.

You're still going to try to sleep anyway because it's nighttime and therefore sleep time. It was only the hallway light suddenly being turned on which tells you that you're too distracted by everything to have the zeds coming out of your face (which is apparently what happens when you sleep. Note that if crying, sobbing, screaming, or anything else like that should occur and you never remember having bad dreams at all, you should get your sisters to stick their earphones into your ears when you're asleep and play music. If you share a room with them, they probably already do).

So at two in the morning, with another book under your belt, you decide that maybe you're settled just about now. So you turn the light off and close your eyes ready for it.

FLASH.

Either your Pokemon is misbehaving and using moves when it shouldn't (and it's not in its Pokeball either, tut tut), or a massive flash of light just came from outside. But it was followed only by an eerie silence (Not an Eevee silence. Eevees make noises too. #talkingaboutpokemon). No rain. No nothing. And having badly abused a double negative here, I apologise to all of the Grammar Nazis I share my part of the internet with. I also advise said Grammar Nazis that caring too much about other people's grammar, especially on the internet where use of much more informal text happens (and why shouldn't it?), can show that your priorities are somewhat skewed if you point it out.

This initial flash of light aroused my curiosity and fascination. I looked about my room, but nothing appeared to be able to cause it.

Another flash, and then another. This reminded me that I had no idea what was happening, and if anything was powerful enough to flash so brightly, it was powerful enough to do some real damage. Fascination underwent evolution into abject terror in a few seconds. And terror generally means curling up and hiding under the duvet.

Except it didn't. Fear had the same effect as curiosity: to see what the fuck was going on. Maybe it was just some problem with the streetlamp. Mundane, practical, boring explanation, but sensible and realistic. Maybe.

The source was indeterminable.

It wasn't the streetlamp.

Now it was time to hide behind a pillow. Bury my face in it to check whether the flashes came from my own eyes, forgetting that they definitely came from outside no matter which way I looked. The results of this experiment were inconclusive - I didn't bury my face well enough. Logic completely left me for a long holiday.

Some of this logic eventually returned. Turning my light back on was a far better move than just hugging a pillow to death. I thought about picking up another book. I looked about the books in my room, thinking about which one to read. A flash of light proceeded, and with it, came a very quiet noise. Was it thunder? Very softly-spoken thunder, if so. But that boosted me back to the window. Maybe this stuff was actually lightning, and, if so, maybe there'd be a bit of rain soon. All I saw was swirling dust as the hand out of my window stayed as dry as it ever was with all that blood passing through it.

I waited, I moved, I looked out of the open window. On the side of my face, a little cool droplet appeared. Cue thunder. Cue rain.

Fear changed to sheer delight. Nothing to care about anymore. The storm was a storm and so it should be.

Now I was tired.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

Doodles

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Writing can get a bit difficult. Doodles are always fun.


Apparently it's insulting when you apologize to a shoe (an object that has a useful purpose in protecting your feet) but not to some dumb-ass cat (which you didn't kick, but you did kick the shoe, and kicking is something one apologizes for, so what you did remains a mystery). The cat doesn't care - it's a cat. The shoe does.

This will be really badly translated.


Yes, I put 'This will be really badly translated' through Bad Translator. And it gave 'This is a poor translation' back. Hmm.

We're forgetting something. Something important.


Ahh, that's more like it. That cake doesn't actually have any calories in. Because it's an image on your screen.