guts and garters

It's all fun and games until someone loses molecular cohesion.

Thursday, February 20, 2003

Today, a bus apologised to me. There's a first time for everything, I guess. I told it not to worry about it; it was fine.

I laugh at trams, too. Especially ones that say: "Who the *10# was that?"

Some madnesses remain the same. Some less pleasant traits as well. For instance, moving cities does not appear to have quelled my sneering-at-wankers and being-an-utter-bitch-in-the-privacy-of-my-head tendencies. My Novel class contains precisely six people I could consider meaningful interaction with in the future. Class also contains the usual cliches.
  • The Go-Getter, who's finished her novel already, working on the second, has lived and worked in numerous places overseas, has connections, has expectations of this course that we'd all fucking better live up to or she'll shake her perfectly permed curls at us and look displeased. (She annoys me by dint of having no love of words or creativity, none of the quirkiness I need in order to see someone's merit, and also because I know she's going to succeed. People like that do.)
  • The Geek. He's completely focussed in his little world, on the concepts and structures that put it together. He's writing sci-fi because he reads it and he's earnest about communicating the genre specialities, though not interested in putting them in any sort of terms that non-sci-fi-readers might be able to easily associate with. The Devil's in the details, and why don't you care too? (Cliche geeks give the rest of us a bad name. I work hard as an ambassador for Geek, and people like this let me down.)
  • The Precision Mistress. She cares about form and function. She doesn't use contractions. Precise enunciation makes you feel like she's looking over her glasses at you and leave you mentally unwilling to challenge anything she says. She doesn't seem to leave any room for the shades of grey. (I'm sure she's lovely, she just intimidates me. She didn't smile once, I swear. My instinctive social defense mechanism is to try to make people laugh. But apparently she writes poetry too.)
And in the midst of hordes of well-travelled, experienced folk, there was lil ole me. Hi, I'm Dee. I just finished university.

I'm not married. I don't have any kids. And I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough. (2 points - this is classic Dee quotage here.)


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