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smokingbootSo first there was Scotland and chums, and a really rich LARP system called Cuckoo's Nest (for a definition of LARP, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LARP) The system was great, the people were great (thanks so much jennifermc, daisyann, squintywitch, bad_moon_rising and many others who either don't have lj monickers or wisely keep them hidden from the boot) the fun had was great but the scenery was the star. It is hard to fantasize about other worlds in a place where everything around you proves how beautiful this one is.
Now, some might argue that for a lady intending to do a screen test in London on Tuesday, where her hands will be on prominent display under cameras, spending the weekend before on a rampage in the wilds might be considered a foolish thing to do. OK, so I had got a lot of green and yellow makeup under the nails. OK, so I had hit my knuckles against something (probably my head) and they were red and scraped. But I guessed I could hide it in some way. It was only when I tried painting them (varnish just ran straight off the acrylic) and putting transfers on (which fell off) that I found myself staring at the horrible truth: Less than a fortnight after paying some chavissima £27 to give me bright clean nails and a gem daisy that fell off, I was staring at hands Rocky Marciano would have flinched from.
Getting into London the night before the test, I ran around Archway looking for a nail salon, and found a Chinese lady who stared at the mess in awe; 'You paid English people to do this to you?' she said. She applied everything short of a flame-thrower to them. £14 and an hour later, they looked great. Yesterday they looked great too; the day was mostly spent watching the show. I was told I would be introduced and spend a couple of minutes talking to a presenter, her manic smile reflecting the rabbit-in-headlights terror of my own bared lips and bulging eyes; in fact, as the show is interactive, we started getting texts and dealing with the public almost instantly. My terror was great, but everyone applauded as I came off set, and they made me feel good. Let's see where it goes from here.
In other news to myself, very important news, it is weird how, despite everything being so much more constructive, I haven't been myself recently; things have bugged me that I should be able to drop, I have been emotional and tired and weepy. It isn't me. But I have pinpointed the situation around which it is happening, and in an unprecedented attack of commonsense, am going to have to be a grown up about it. This is a temporary situation; but even a temporary foray into emotional maturity will help right now. Normal idiocy will be resumed as soon as possible. See my new icon? I am going to use it for times when I need to convince myself that responsibility is regal and fascinating and not a chore at all.
Yeah, right. Whatever.
jennifermc, daisyann, squintywitch, bad_moon_rising and many others who either don't have lj monickers or wisely keep them hidden from the boot) the fun had was great but the scenery was the star. It is hard to fantasize about other worlds in a place where everything around you proves how beautiful this one is. Now, some might argue that for a lady intending to do a screen test in London on Tuesday, where her hands will be on prominent display under cameras, spending the weekend before on a rampage in the wilds might be considered a foolish thing to do. OK, so I had got a lot of green and yellow makeup under the nails. OK, so I had hit my knuckles against something (probably my head) and they were red and scraped. But I guessed I could hide it in some way. It was only when I tried painting them (varnish just ran straight off the acrylic) and putting transfers on (which fell off) that I found myself staring at the horrible truth: Less than a fortnight after paying some chavissima £27 to give me bright clean nails and a gem daisy that fell off, I was staring at hands Rocky Marciano would have flinched from.
Getting into London the night before the test, I ran around Archway looking for a nail salon, and found a Chinese lady who stared at the mess in awe; 'You paid English people to do this to you?' she said. She applied everything short of a flame-thrower to them. £14 and an hour later, they looked great. Yesterday they looked great too; the day was mostly spent watching the show. I was told I would be introduced and spend a couple of minutes talking to a presenter, her manic smile reflecting the rabbit-in-headlights terror of my own bared lips and bulging eyes; in fact, as the show is interactive, we started getting texts and dealing with the public almost instantly. My terror was great, but everyone applauded as I came off set, and they made me feel good. Let's see where it goes from here.
In other news to myself, very important news, it is weird how, despite everything being so much more constructive, I haven't been myself recently; things have bugged me that I should be able to drop, I have been emotional and tired and weepy. It isn't me. But I have pinpointed the situation around which it is happening, and in an unprecedented attack of commonsense, am going to have to be a grown up about it. This is a temporary situation; but even a temporary foray into emotional maturity will help right now. Normal idiocy will be resumed as soon as possible. See my new icon? I am going to use it for times when I need to convince myself that responsibility is regal and fascinating and not a chore at all.
Yeah, right. Whatever.
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Vitriolic lethargy
Date: 2006-04-05 11:07 am (UTC)Mine is more a wrestling term, a 'headhold standoff'. The result can be a slow death by overanalysis and endless goonery. Which I am stopping right now!
*Grits teeth. Furrows brow. Concentrates*