noblescientist: (Cleo de Nile)
When did I become such a girlie-girl? Really, I just went to the ladies' room on break specifically to refresh my lip gloss (which I seldom wear) not because my lips were getting dry, but because it didn't look as good as this morning.
Whaaat.

I think this scares me a little bit. No idea why. (I should not be embarrassed by this. BUT I SO AM.)

Also, unrelated whine: waaah I miss my hair :<

I want to learn how to do a French twist. I cannot do this with ridiculously short hair (or even moderately short hair, but that is not what I have).

And I want an Irene.

PS: for those of you who do not yet know, I may end up in Boston for my next semester (and so on) of college. Because I can't do my intended major (forensic anthropology) in this state. What the hell, RI.

Oh yeah, and I found a Nefera doll yesterday, totally by coincidence! I randomly decided to stop in Wal-mart and K-mart when Tayla stopped at BK for dinner, and there were two Nefera dolls at K-mart.
Let me just say, the size difference is really odd. Besides that, they should have changed the size of the bloody doll stand to match the doll. But no, Nefera's stand is the same as all the other dolls, which are a good centimetre or two smaller and made in a less muscular-looking fashion. Therefore, my Nefera doll has to stand up specifically by leaning the stand against the side of my shelf. Really, Mattel, use your heads.

On the subject of Monster High, Tayla's been comparing me to Clawdeen for ages... and finally gave up on it and admitted I'm more like Cleo XD
Because while I am pretty loyal to my friends, I often come off as (and sometimes am) the Queen Bitch. It's useful; I effortlessly repel idiots and therefore don't often have to talk to stupid people ;D
noblescientist: (KEEP CALM)
I'm pretty sure that yesterday I got Valentine-rejected for life (even though we've already said we'll be each other's Valentines forever).

Seriously. Ever gotten those mixed signals that say "love" one moment and "not romance" the next? It's really frustrating. And you don't want them to know you're upset, but at the same time, you want them to notice. But, inevitably, they don't. And you know you won't say anything.

So while my Valentine is getting her gift today-- or the next time I see her, anyway-- I don't think it means the same thing to her that it means to me.

Valentine's Day sucks.

Especially when, as you're trying to distract yourself from how restless you are and how much you want to get out and do something, your entire Tumblr dashboard is covered in Valentine's Day shit.

And you keep thinking about the package in your Jeep which contains a Valentine's Day gift and a cosplay prop//gift to your own damn self. And if you can see her today.

And sad and heavy things, and depressing and disturbing things, and things you really shouldn't be thinking about.

The Imp is back.

(Oh, I should probably explain him.)
There's this face I keep seeing in my dreams and my daydreams, and he has dark circles around his eyes as if he never sleeps. His teeth are big, numerous, and pointy; they look like shark's teeth. Oh, and he has no nose. (Or at least, a nose like Voldemort's: flat and snakelike.) I think it's the manifestation of my boredom, because he shows up the most when I'm bored, when my muse Ailill is quiet. (Occasionally it's accompanied by Ailill being stuck in a cage of some sort.)
Either way, when he's around, my muse is silent (or crying in a corner) and nothing creative gets done. So as bored as I am, I can't even draw or write it out.

This is generally when I end up zoning or doing stupid semi-reckless things. Or watching Doctor Who if I have an internet connection that can handle it (which, at the moment, I don't).

So here I rant and rave and curse at the Imp (who needs a name; the only reason I'm calling him the Imp is because that's what my mother called him when I drew him).

My sleep schedule has been bloody stupid lately. I read in a Yahoo featured article today, "Surprisingly, for chronic insomniacs going to bed later and getting up earlier can do the trick. If you’re lying in bed for eight hours but only sleeping for five, try going to bed at 1am and getting up at 6am. It’s tough, say the experts, but after a week or two you should find yourself nodding off in a trice. After that, go to bed 15 minutes’ earlier each week, slowly building up to the length of sleep your body actually needs."
Okay, I've tried that. Repeatedly. My body just will not sleep. I spent the entire night Sunday (and into Monday) trying to sleep, and realised I'd failed when my mother called at eight to wake me, because we were going to drop my car off at the shop, and I was still awake.

And my appetite's been off too. It sucks usually, but lately it's been non-existent. I eat anyway, because otherwise my parents will think I'm anorexic, but I'm still losing weight, and I forget to eat sometimes. A lot, actually; some days I only end up eating dinner because I've forgotten to eat all day, or because I'm so focussed on something else that I don't want to eat.

I hope I can at least visit my Valentine today, because otherwise I have the feeling I'm going to do something stupid, and she'd kill me for that.

[overload]

Jan. 29th, 2012 03:15 pm
noblescientist: (Sherlock Holmes)
I've found myself zoning an awful lot lately. It's a little disconcerting, when I can start thinking about something and then look up at the clock and it's fifteen minutes-- or more-- later. Did it for an hour this morning.

Tell you what, though, if it's that or these headaches, I'll take the zoning.

My sensitive ears cause a lot of headaches in the first place. The traffic in my head causes headaches sometimes. Sometimes the internal traffic and external auditory input mix into this awful cacophony and I get a migraine instead. (Or sometimes it's my neck and back, because those are screwed up anyway and my chiropractor is all but useless. So add that for another possible factor.)

It's bad when I can't even watch telly with my parents because their ears are slightly worse than average and they turn the TV up to where they can hear it well, which starts a headache for me. Unless it's Jeopardy, I have to constantly ask them to turn it down. For the same reason, unlike most young and young-ish and young-at-heart people, I don't listen to my music very loud. In fact, the music I play the loudest is classical piano, because it's naturally quiet. Yep, and I'm nineteen. Judge me, I dare you.

As I type, my parents are talking to each other. Normal tones of voice. I'm hearing them through my headphones, over my (rather quiet) music, and their voices are hurting my ears. And dammit, I've just taken an Excedrin.

Oh, and my boredom? Still there. Also causes headaches. This is getting ridiculous.

I swear there is something wrong with me.
noblescientist: (blog on)
Well, I was going to blog the night before last, which was my last sleepless night... but livejournal didn't work all night. Consistently.

Hoping tonight's different, because my brain's in hyperdrive and I know I won't be sleeping. Which isn't good, because this is only one night of sleep in between these two, but I can't really control this. I also know I'm going to be doing things all night, because that final episode of Sherlock is gonna keep me going (creatively, at least) for days.

I've also got an "experience" I've got to get down on proverbial paper, because I just need to get it out, but that's for later.

If I were a smoker, this would be a time when I would probably be doing so. (Not sure exactly where that came from, but it's the truth.)

PS: Debating making a tumblr. No idea who'd follow it though. I know a few I'd follow though. I've got probably six tabs' worth of h3rring open right now anyway... [/totally not stalking Texts!Sherlock]
I'll figure it out. Have to figure out how to make it not-boring.

[SIGH]

Jan. 11th, 2012 01:15 pm
noblescientist: (Sherlock Holmes)
Well, I'm back from that appointment with my counsellor.

Contrary to what seems to be my father's belief, she doesn't think I'm a sociopath. I didn't really either, but I think I wanted to believe it on some level because it might explain part of this incessant boredom.
She does seem to think it's likely that I have some sort of personality disorder, but not that one.

Speaking of which.
She agrees with both my assessment that it's not depression, and that it's connected to my lack of sleep.

This appointment didn't really help much, but I didn't really expect it to. Next one's a week from today, 10:45. Let's hope I've slept before that one, it's around the time I tend to crash if I haven't.
noblescientist: (KEEP CALM)
You know something's wrong when you feel better after becoming annoyed, just because it's a change of pace from just being bored. (I'm still bored, but at least I have something to rant about for the time being.)

I will never understand drinkers.

And I don't mean alcoholics, necessarily, but the ones that get so plastered every once in a while that if they spread out their intake they would probably qualify anyway. I legitimately do not understand, and what annoys me is that I have nobody to ask about it, because both of my parents are alcoholics and would probably take it as an insult.

I understand smoking. One of many reasons I wish I didn't have asthma-- which makes me cough like a bloody smoker anyway-- is that the one time I did smoke a cigarette or two, I legitimately enjoyed it. (I'm this close to just saying "fuck it" and taking up those Camel No 9s anyway-- they were oddly pleasant. Definitely a chick cigarette, but they're pleasant to smell, to inhale. And, best of all, even with the asthma, they didn't make me choke. Outdoors, smoking, and my lungs felt like they worked better.)
Besides that, nicotine can be both a relaxant and a stimulant. (Which may explain why my lungs felt better; relax the muscles, I breathe better.)

Alcohol, on the other hand, is a depressant. With the exception of flavoured drinks, which tend to have very low alcohol content, the smell is unpleasant, and the taste is worse. If it's something you have to "get used to," why do it? Particularly since its nature as a depressant lowers inhibitions. So you could be lashing out angrily at things, acting like a spoilt child who was denied candy, or dancing around like a slutty idiot. (Or maybe, if you're really lucky, it'll just make you goofy.)

Why do people drink? Worse yet, why do they drink in public?

I admit I enjoy Smirnoff Twisters-- which I believe are now called Smirnoff Ice-- but I don't intend to drink them anywhere but home, and they taste like soda. I have never seen any mixed drinks that turned out not smelling and tasting of strong alcohol (which, to me, is disgusting).

So it doesn't taste good. It turns you into an idiot, usually in public. It renders you incapable of driving. It slows you down.
Why in blazes would anybody want to do this to themselves? Particularly in public?

Please, somebody explain this to me. I don't get it. I probably won't anyway, but it's worth a try.

Oh yes, and for those of you that care, I have an appointment with my counsellor tomorrow. So she can tell me what the hell's wrong with my head and why it won't ever shut up.
(That, of course, is not to say that I want it to shut up permanently, or even for any real length of time-- just enough so I can get some good sleep.)
noblescientist: (fuck)
I think I've already mentioned my pervading boredom...

It's been a week and a half and nothing has seemed like more than a distraction to me.

This is what I get for taking a class that turned me into more of a keyboard snob than I already am. (My keyboard always sounded rather mediocre to me-- now that I've heard moderately good ones, and gotten used to playing on them, it just sounds bad.)
So now I can't turn to playing my keyboard, because it ends with me being more frustrated than before at how bad it is, on top of how bored I am.

I tried to get out a new game earlier-- that is, a game I bought a year or so ago and never got around to playing. Pulled out Gin, my PS2, who has been living in the cabinet under the telly, and tried to go for Final Fantasy XII, one of the only games that I can play for hours without getting frustrated at some point or another. Decided I didn't want to play that one, because as fun as it is, and as frustrating as it isn't, it's not new. I wanted new.
Pull out Final Fantasy X-2. I had been waiting to beat Final Fantasy X before I played X-2, and I tried to play some of X, but got bored with that after one encounter. (Doubt I'll be finishing it; Tidus annoys me and it has long since ceased to be challenging or interesting. I'll probably look up the last several cutscenes on-line.)
So out came X-2, the "new" one. Got in half an hour's worth of play time before having to give up the telly to the 'rents for a Hawaii Five-O rerun, but it gave me the chance to get used to the controls and everything.

And while I find myself wanting to pick it back up, it's more for distraction than because I found it enjoyable.

I like writing. I always enjoy writing. My writing has been the only thing keeping me from going stark-raving mad in the past several days.

And, oh, by the way, of the last ten days, I've missed two full nights of sleep, and several have been half-nights or poor sleep. This will make the third full night of no sleep since the new year, and we're ten days into 2012. WTF, brain.

I've also determined that how bored I am seems to relate to my sleeplessness-- notice I did not say insomnia; that's a different problem entirely, which I also have sometimes-- because the less focussed my head is, the more trouble I have making it all shut up. And then I can't sleep, or worse, I just don't get tired.

I've been partially occupying my boredom with Seth's tumblr. ([livejournal.com profile] makokitten's Sherlock. He's pretty brilliant at it.) It contains plenty of Sherlock gifs, which I've stolen, and lots of speculations and discussions and things which I find... distracting, for lack of a better term, and occasionally interesting.

Another thing I've been thinking a lot about-- because really, what haven't I been thinking a lot about?-- is my father's comment when I shared that lulzy quiz result. Or at least, I thought it was lulzy. "High-functioning sociopath."
He then told me, deadpan, that I have sociopathic tendencies. I laughed, which in retrospect, was probably not a very appropriate reaction.
And then I thought about how I led Mark on, basically for a free Sprite. A couple of years ago, acting like that would have horrified me. Now I don't care so much. In conjunction with the "sociopathic tendencies" comment, it kind of makes me wonder.
(And I also wonder if that wasn't his real reason for telling me to go see my counsellor. Because I honestly think he thinks I'm a sociopath-- which really probably shouldn't be funny, but for some reason it tickles me. I'll probably call tomorrow anyway; this lack of sleep thing isn't really healthy.)
noblescientist: (BBC Sherlock)
Well, my multiple trains of thought (I really need to find a better phrasing for that) are hindering my ability to read a particularly interesting fanfiction at the moment. And there is radio silence on both Facebook and Twitter, as well as Skype (because I seldom initiate Skype conversations), and it's far too late-- early?-- to be texting someone. Particularly the person I would most like to be texting, because this person values their sleep.

So I'll jump into that analysis I mentioned earlier. This is NOT an analysis of Sherlock Holmes in general; I'm focussing on some traits of specifically the BBC's Sherlock.
First of all, several people on the communities I watch-- friends' tumblrs, mostly-- have dismissed Sherlock's claim of being "a high-functioning sociopath" because he cares for John. Because of the obvious depth of that care, I made the mistake of making a similar comment myself before realising how stupid and contradictory I sounded.
Guess what, people? In that respect, sociopathy means absolutely nada. In fact, it actually explains some things.
First of all, sociopaths have the capacity to care. They will often become close to a small group of people with whom they can somewhat identify (and, more importantly, who can put up with them). With regards to these people, they will have a certain degree of empathy, and if they do something that upsets these people, they are likely to feel remorse. This is not true of psychopaths, who basically feel no emotion, but may fake them.
Second of all, some have pointed out Sherlock's apparent disinterest in any sort of sexual endeavours as odd, and then cited their disbelief of his claimed sociopathy. In reality, sociopathy could possibly explain part of that; some medical professionals believe that sociopathy is a subdivision of antisocial personality disorder, one of the traits of which can sometimes be a reduced sex drive. (Or, evidently, an unusually high one. Confusing, that.)

And about eighty per cent of the fandom seems to be debating the poor man's sexuality, something he probably wouldn't care to even define. While I'm analysing, though, I figure I may as well touch on the point; I'm interested in the subject, so why not?
One thing that is abundantly obvious after A Scandal in Belgravia-- dammit, almost typed Bohemia because of the original, lol-- is that he's a masochist. The look on his face when Irene Adler offers to "try" to "cut [herself] slapping that face" is rather telling, as is his reaction when she ends up beating her phone out of his grip. Trust me, I recognise reactions like those; I'm a masochist myself.
Now here's where it gets fuzzy. A marked disinterest in anything sexual-- excluding, of course, getting smacked around by Irene Adler, as it was not quite voluntary-- could mean that he's asexual. His reactions to Adler somewhat support this; he was busy checking her pulse in their most "intimate" scene, which led to later deductions. However, because he not only allowed her proximity, but repeated it when explaining his deduction, the line begins to blur. He may have been doing this to prove a point; he may have been doing it because she's attractive to him. (Her nudity certainly distracted him somewhat, and he was a bit eager to please her.) So, not likely to be completely asexual. Perhaps a repressed form of some other sexuality (likely demisexual), though which one is difficult to say for certain; there are many subdivisions, and not much to go on because he is repressed. One has to look closely for much of any hint in that direction, and most fans are squinting to see what they want. (I think it was deliberately left ambiguous.)

There, I've given it as much thought as I believe is due. Now for something that amuses me endlessly:
You are a high functioning sociopath
This was a result I just got from an on-line quiz. Just for kicks and giggles, I assure you; while researching to try to affirm this entry, I ran across the quiz, and it was short. I've been called a psychopath in the past, as well as a sociopath once or twice by my more educated enemies (normal people don't have enemies *cough misquote cough*), and then I end up designated as precisely what Sherlock calls himself. I had been trying to avoid comparing myself to him, but I think I'm over it. It's just funny now, and a bit uncanny in some ways.

Warning...

Jan. 4th, 2012 11:52 pm
noblescientist: (Sherlock Holmes)
Impending analysis of Sherlock and//or sociopathy, etc etc.

I don't promise it will be interesting, but it's the most sensible of what's been going through my head. [plenty of traffic in here as usual]
[it's a wonder Ailill doesn't get lost]
[then again he is an elf]

(Also, ignore that. Testing out formats for future reference.)
noblescientist: (Sherlock Holmes)
I don't think the traffic has decreased all that much in my head, but at least I'm able to think linearly enough to type more than several sentences, I think. (Good lord, semantic satiation, anybody? Apparently I'm still unable to phrase things properly.)

Anyway, I'm not sure if being able to stay up all night with few to no adverse effects mean that my cold is getting better, or my insomnia worse. I'm very cold, but that has more to do with the lack of heat in my bedroom than anything else. And I'm no more tired than I was several hours ago-- the main reason I didn't sleep, by the way; not that I didn't want to, or even that I couldn't, but that I was legitimately not tired-- and I now have most of a card to show for it. ([livejournal.com profile] zipzap171 will probably see the finished product tomorrow.)

I've got to scan this card some time today, once I finish it (that is, once I can concentrate again enough to finish it); it's really coming out great. I've got Sherlock on the front, and he looks pretty amazing for a drawing started at about 02:30. I don't have much drawn on the inside yet; I've got a dialogue wall on the inside left, and John waking up at the top of the the inside right, but I haven't finished that yet. He looks a bit less than stellar, but he's not quite as easy to draw for some reason. (I think it's the fact that Benedict Cumberbatch has such distinctive features; Martin Freeman has some, like his pointy, turned-up nose, but other than that he's got sort of a plain-ish face. Plain is difficult.)

So I managed to watch the BBC Sherlock Series Two premiere on the BBC site. I was rather nervous, because Irene Adler was in it, and all I'd seen was a very out-of-context, sexualised-looking perspective on her in the previews. Without being too terribly spoilery, I'll just say that Gatiss and Moffat remain in my highest regards. She is not the Irene Adler of Conan Doyle's work, but she's as close as they could really get. Sheer unadulterated brilliance.
And one of the things I'd been wanting to see the most-- Sherlock playing, actually playing the violin, not just sending out notes to annoy Mycroft out of the flat-- happened several times over the course of the episode. And he was composing. I cannot express how happy that made me, and I'm not sure whether it was because I'm a musician, or because I see Sherlock as a very creative and artistic person, or what. I just know that when he was writing, my ribcage may as well have been singing those notes.
We also see into Sherlock's room-- oddly neat. Dunno, with the rest of his things being organised chaos, I expected his bedroom would be more of the same, much like mine. Nope: obsessively clean and organised; no chaos. Though, I suppose that may be partly because I don't have my own space except in my bedroom; he shares a flat with one person and has space. (I also find it oddly adorable that he's got a poster of the Periodic Table on his wall.)
Anyway, it's a bit odd; some of the things I find I have in common with my childhood hero, or at least this portrayal thereof... I've always had ideas about some of the things they revealed in this episode, but I didn't expect to be right about all of it. I love it when I'm right.

(Man, and that's without going into specifics... Imagine what this will be like once they actually release Series Two in America and I don't have to worry so much about spoilers. Or maybe once I watch it again-- or a few more times-- and review the episode. [Big maybe on that one though. Dunno, I haven't really reviewed them thus far except for the differences between the pilot and the aired version of The Study In Pink; I dunno if I'll do this one.])

My aunt and my baby cousin are coming over today. I wonder if I shouldn't get some sleep before then. Though then again, why waste the time if I've got it? Coffee works well with dysania, why shouldn't it work on a preventative basis today? Then I'll sleep twice as well tonight.

Oh yeah, and Happy New Year.
Went out for dinner for my sister's birthday today with the 'rents, my grandmothers, and of course, Ash and her fiancé; discovered that peppercrack peppercorn ranch dressing and a sore throat is a terrible combination; enjoyed the rest of it. And then we came home and had some of the red velvet cake I made for her.

This is almost turning into a stream-of-consciousness ramble. I think it's time to end it.
noblescientist: (Sherlock Holmes)
I'll be blogging tomorrow when I can think. Right now I have six super highways in my head, as a speech pathologist at my elementary school once put it, all going at once in high, high traffic and only one exit-- my mouth, as she meant it, but not in this case-- in this case, my hands.

I think this will be an all-nighter.

I also think that card I've had conceptualised for ages may finally get done tonight; I just have to migrate myself, my laptop and my drawing things to my room so I can concentrate.

And pyjamas. This skirt is starting to get on my nerves.

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