Necromancer

Random things you come across in the day-to-day, necromancer can easily be one of them.  It came into my life as part of the JRR Tolkien's book The Hobbit.  Benedict Cumberbatch voiced not only Smaug, but the Necromancer as well.  It was a very interesting interview, BC explaining his process of arriving at the voice of the Necromancer.  To sound evil and ethereal, I imagine it'd be pretty hard not to get into that head space.  Makes me worry about him a little.  But I suppose that is part of the job.  I wonder if they can claim WCB for that, PTSD.

Fully obsessed.  It's really quite tragic.  But it's only so if I make it so.

Feeling all kinds of stupid tonight.  And bored. And a little lonely.  Seems everyone's out there having fun, of sorts.  But I know what happens when I go out, I'd get awkward and uncomfortable and can't wait to come home again.  All this time and I still haven't fully adjusted.  It's exhausting trying to fit in.  Some people make it look so easy, they must take so much joy in it.

And I'd rather not think about it.  Maybe the reason why I'm feeling down is because I'm PMSing.  Which is entirely plausible.  A lot of times I'd be like "Grrrr" then when I actually get it then it's like "Ohhhh".  Ladies know what I'm talking about.

I'm tired, and stupid.  I need to sleep now. My own uninspired-ness makes me angry.

For the record

In terms of my obsessions facebook is way up there on the list.  I check it every other hour and I keep it on a separate tab if I go online, just so I can creep incessantly.  Almost like a sickness, you can say.  But that is just the nature of obsessions, I guess.  

The reason why I have been obsessed with facebook is that it's all so encompassing.  Friends, pictures, conversations, fandoms, memories, the list goes on.  And the longer you use it, the more investment you put in, the harder it is to leave it.  A cruel cycle that just goes on and on, and traps you in it with its sweet sweet jagged teeth and claws.

This is not a lament of any nature, merely an observation.  I am completely content with the way my life has been taken over by facebook and am not at all intending to do anything about it.  The status quo must be maintained.  The balance of the universe must be maintained.  Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?! England would fall.

Yes, Sherlock reference.

So I put a few pictures from last night that I took from the trolley karaoke caroling tour, and I wrote little poems to go with them.  I would like to put them here so I can obsess about them further.  And just one for the record, I sometimes get literary like that.  

On ze trolley we shall sing,
Until your ears start to ring. 
If you don't want to sing with us,
Then you can go ride another bus.

Trees bright, twinkle lights,
Children everywhere. 
Dr Waffle, Sin City Donuts,
Dancing gnomes in the air.

Peering into a 
Giant
Wooden
Ball. 

Seeing more
Tiny
Fairy
Lights.

As if
The colors
The music
Are condensed

Into one
Giant
Wooden
Ball.

Off the wagon, on the wagon

I have been awfully bad to this blog.  Clearly I have commitment issues.  If this blog were a person, it'd totally have abandonment issues, because I am that kind of person to cause that.  Which is what I get criticized the most from my mom, "you are too selfish, you never care for others." She is right, like all mothers are. I don't know why I just can't bring myself to CARE, thus the commitment issue.  Full circle.

Really, I shouldn't be so cruel to this blog.  The reason being that this is the only place I can be fully self-obsessed and not be judged.  This lack of judgement coming from lack of viewership, which I intend to keep that way.  We live in a generation of self-absorption, and I guess I am as self-absorbed as they come.  Me, me, me; I, I, I.  Every moment of my day.  To be a functioning member of society though does not allow for that luxury, so when I am out in society then I refrain from talking about myself, lest I seem like one of those run-of-the-mill selfish types.  But all that suppression is killing me, so this blog became a bit necessary for my sanity.

Combine that with my commitment-phobia, then you get a love/hate relationship between me and my blog.

Anyway, enough.  Changing the subject (what a great segue), I watched Midnight in Paris the other day, with Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard and Tom Hiddleston.  Oh I guess Kathy Bates is in there too, and Alison Pill.  I have always been wary of Woody Allen films, because I was always afraid I wouldn't get it.  But this one was sort of fantasy rom-com, so it was approachable.  Plus I would have watched anything with Tom Hiddleston in it, that's just a given.  This movie was wonderful, eclectic without being overly awkward.  The premise is good, so that really helped.  And the fantasy part helps to explain all the plot holes, so that's just a bonus.  I feel like Hemingway had all the best lines, and Rachel McAdams could have easily been replaced by anybody.  And not enough Tom, as always.

Paris was like the invisible character.  It's all they talked about, and it's everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  I suppose a great city has that effect on movies.  Same thing for New York, except people don't really wax poetic about it, nor do they try to come up "NYC is the most beautiful when..."  Except You've Got Mail, they did a whole spiel on that very topic.

Not that it was life-changing or anything, but Midnight in Paris did inspire me to check out the Fitzgeralds, and a couple of other artists mentioned, like Bunuel, and Gertrude Stein.  It was the era of names like Gertrude.

At this point in time I need to bid thee adieu.  It's way past my bedtime and I am not as young as before.  You can tell that I'm tired by me employing such an obvious statement that would no doubt elicit a loud and resounding 'duh' from me if I were more awake.