****! ****! ****!

If this is the only way I'm ever going to get to use Vox...

What the hell, why not.

*sigh*

Somebody gave me tea today. Maybe that should help.

This was recorded yesterday afternoon in my parents' temporary bedroom - microphone in one corner, me on the bed, live into the mixer, with ambience on the source (sorry, can't remove it!). Feeling oddly satisfied with my relatively decent performance, I streamed it mono into my computer and uploaded it to Vox last night for nothing more than the sake of embarrassment...and received a surprisingly/frighteningly positive response to it. I personally don't like it very much, especially after the bridge hits, but since I'm an attention whore and perfectly receptive to any and all varieties of flattery people wish to lay upon me, I post it here. So, for your listening displeasure...

(Maybe if I act like I have an ego about it, people will be meaner...)

Another reason you whores should use Vox more: it's not blocked at my stinky school.

 

Not that I can ever get on the computers, but...

 

All the proxies I discovered last year are either blocked or dead. Much sadness.

 

I can't wait to go home. bye guyz lol

This album sounds so damn contrived.

I'm not ignoring this place, I just never have time for anything. Or I do but I use that time to sleep.

Also, I'm getting PUBLIC POSTING ANXIETY again. People aren't supposed to know about this place, but I don't know who knows what anymore.

...

Bah.

Take a picture of your reflection.

I swear to all gods holy and unholy that this was a TOTAL coincidence...

Find me!

Remember sniglets?  Do you have any favorites?  Have you ever made up your own word?  (Now's as good a time as any.)

I don't really have an answer to this...I just want to asnk, am I pathetic for not knowing these as sniglets, but neologisms?

A little backstory - earlier this summer, around late June, there was an insane amount of rain in this region. This insane amount of rain led us to discover a multitude of small leaks in the roof above our kitchen and dining room; this, in turn, exposed the fact that many of the roof beams above this area of the house were, frankly speaking, absolute crap. Seeing as my parents are the sort who don't like to leave absolute crap hanging around for too long, they decided that this summer would be a good time to replace said roof.

But replacing the roof, its beams, and the joists below it entailed a whole lot of mess, such an amount that we would have to move everything out of the kitchen and dining room - and therefore move ourselves out of the house as well, for what was the point of living there with the entire back of the house unusable? Furthermore, our house has only one door - the front door that leads into the kitchen - and with the kitchen and dining room cut off from the rest of the house, that too would be unusuable. This meant that in order to make life as convenient as possible, we would have to temporarily move out of the house and sleep in our guest cottage as long as work was being done. Just a couple weeks without my usual evening privacy - not too big of a deal, or so I thought.

Now, my mother, through a scheduling error (on her part - indeed, July is not the eighth month of the year!), accidentally ended up with a three-week vacation that started this Monday. It was actually what some (not I) might consider a happy accident, for if she had gotten the vacation when she had meant to (one month earlier), she wouldn't have gotten the bereavement time she gained when my grandmother passed away. 'Blessed' with all this extra time, it was decided that the last three weeks of the summer would be allotted for the not-that-gargantuan job of tearing the roof apart and putting it back together again. Ample time, or so we figured...

Well, my family sat down for lunch today discussing it, and one thing led to another. Because the job is so big - bigger than anything else we've done to any of our houses in at least a decade - my parents felt that it wouldn't be much to fix up some other things while everything's being torn apart. Coincidentally, the baseboard heating in the back section of our house is terrible and doesn't work worth a damn, so since the floors are old and dirty and now covered in debris, we might as well tear them up and put in some kind of floor heating my dad's friend has. And now that the ceiling's come down, Dad's decided that though he'll do the beams, he'd rather have a professional do the roof. But if we're going to have a professional do the roof, then why just have them do that roof? The roof above my own room is already twelve years old, and it's high time that's been redone - might as well go all the way and get all this shit done /now/...

By the time we were done eating, at least a month had been added to our little stay at the cottage. Reasons this ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN SUCKS:

- it makes it VERY HARD to go online. You might not think it all that difficult to walk across the front yard and climb in through a window while carrying a laptop, but believe you me, it's more trouble than worth taking if all I'm doing is going on for three minutes to check email or whatever.

- I have nearly NO PRIVACY. There are, in essence, three rooms in our cottage - the one tiny bedroom which my parents have claimed (but, for some reason, only my dad sleeps in), the bathroom (which obviously is off limits for sleeping), and the giant L-shaped part. *photo-whores* The couch all the way in the back of the photo where Leanna's sitting is where my mother sleeps, the second couch is where my sister sleeps, and the spot from which the photo was taken is where I sleep (actually, when the sofa bed's taken out, I sleep where the table is). There isn't exactly anywhere to escape - I have more privacy on vacations, at least we have a two-bedroom condo then!

There's more where that came from, but I'm not in the mood to keep bitching about it at this point.

How well do you know your next-door neighbors?

Good fences...

Not at all. The only ones we even associate with are across the street. The kid who lives there likes to ride his bike back and forth in front of the house, and it makes me twitchy because I hate feeling as though I'm being watched.

And the ones actually next door down, well, all I know about the lady who lives there is that she used to own a diner and she's had seven husbands. And one of her sons died of AIDS. He was the one who put out the fire I made in the backyard that one time.