my heart is a glorious machine;

Today I read, had a bit of chocolate, listened to Over the Rhine, and made brownies. I also spent a considerable amount of time lying on the picnic table while reading and listening to Over the Rhine (the chocolate was gone and the brownies were not yet made) in the warm sun. Also, the second disc of Doctor Who: Series One came in from Netflix. And Lost is tonight. It has been the best day ever. 

Er, well, except for youth group, which was uninspiring and tepid, and involved the playing of sports. I was picked last for teams, of course, and spent a rather unpleasant fifteen minutes walking back and forth across the parking lot pretending (very badly) that I was interested in what appeared to be football with a frisbee and also knew what I was doing. (Mostly I kicked at the gravel with my fetching new boots, hummed, admired the stark beauty of the lonely bare treetops skimming the blue and rose and gold sky spun over with rough-patterned clouds, and imagined Ten playing football, which was three or four brilliant shades of hilarity.) 

Alas, today is Happy Idiot Extras Day on Lost, so I am going, in a moment, to run upstairs and get the black sporks Mum put in my stocking, because I actually have a use for them now. Lindelof & Co. have been saying something about "a plan" that they haven't "fully executed" and that The Idiot Extras will become "iconic characters" when said executing is executed, and this is supposed to help with assuaging the whole universal hatred issue, but, seriously? The only way I am going to like these characters is--wow, actually, that would be kind of brilliant, come to think of it--if they were evil. It's so perfect, see? They show up in the beginning of the season appearing to know everyone and everything, including things that no-one else knows, except that we have never seen them before. The best way to resolve this would to have it turn out that they are plants--by the Others, I reckon--and are SHUHR OMG [/obscure fandom reference] telepathically maniupulating the castaways into believing that they've been there all along. That would explain the omniscience, for one thing. Blimey, it'd be the best plot ever. Everyone would be buzzing about it for weeks. 

And it's going to happen, of course, because I am The Fandom Psychic. (I predicted Trap/Carissa in the first book with almost no circumstantial evidence, remember, 

lady_moriel and midenianscholar? *still won't shut up about that* And, oh, there was something else, but I can't remember. It all boils down to Banui Is The Centre Of The Universe, anyway, somewhere, if you do the math right.)

Right, okay, later I am going to talk about how utterly and completely splendid Drunkard's Prayer is, but I am going to go watch Lost now.

 

Heid is seven today; I bought her a decadent mess of chocolates from the shop down the road (it got me out on my bicycle in the splendid warm weather, and she was thrilled with them), and promised to help her take over the world. (Er. Sorry, humanity?) 

The best news is, for those who didn't catch it on what Mum refers to as The Blog, that Leandra is home. Not in our home yet, of course, but she's back in the NICU at our local hospital ten minutes away where we can visit her every day. I haven't actually gotten to see her yet, but Mum went over almost as soon as she arrived and spent the afternoon and evening with her; Dad and Heidi have also both been. I'll see her either tonight or tomorrow; things are a bit mad with Mum's car in the shop! (The muffler came off--oh, a while ago; when Mum was still in the hospital and Dad was driving it. We have our great hulking hippie van, but Mum doesn't like to drive it; it's so unweildy and huge and awkward and anyway Dad's got it most of the time.)

Nothing on the job front at the moment; we weren't able to get to the mall on Tuesday and Dad's been working, so I reckon I'll be doing me some applying this weekend. *cringe* Yeah, it's good for me; I'm just terrified of any and all new experiences by default and tend to over-analyse and over-angst. Actually, over-analysiation and over-angst is my general approach to things. Aack.

In other news, I've been cosied up with a biography of T.S. Eliot all day (and cupcakes) and it's been very pleasant, especially due to the rain. Well, except for the bit this morning when the furnaces started smoking and Mum had to run over to the church and get Father Mark to look at it (it's unbelievably wonderful to have a landlord who is actually helpful) and he had to get some bloke to drill through the ash in order to clean it, or...something. (Banui + mechanics: not a good mix, I'm afraid.) 

Oh, and OMG LOST LAST NIGHT. :DD I was icing cupcakes while I watched (Heidi requested ones with pink icing and I think I made my best batch yet: not burned nor mysteriously tasting vaguely of peanut butter). How fun is it when the Craziest Fan-Theory Ever turns out to be true? (Actually, there are much crazier theories, but that sounds nicer, yeah?) And, seriously, they can't kill Charlie now. They can't. Why do the adorable couples get broken up by death? *woe* Also, goth!flashback!Claire. Um, wow. I was going to say something about Claire being the last person on the Island I would've pegged as being a goth in her youth, but then I remembered Hurley. (Oh, plagues, I did have to picture that, didn't I?)

So, um, mostly rotten day (I feel awful; like I'm sick, except not sick, and I've got this nasty sort of ghost of a headache that refuses to leave off, and also I really, really need a shower, but it is ruddy cold here), but on a whim, I went to look up Lost spoilers, because I have been feeling too dismal for quite a while since the hiatus began to be very interested in spoilers, but I was feeling rotten and needed something to cheer me up, so...anyway. According to SpoilerFix.com [and here there be rather minor spoilers, but you guessed that, right?], the first new episode will be a Juliet flashback, which is squee-worthy enough, because I ♥ Muffin (even if she might be sort-of-maybe evil, she is still fascinating and she snarked at Jack) and omg Otherville, and...yes. But then I scroll down a bit, and episode eight? IS A DESMOND FLASHBACK. I AM DEAD OF THE SQUEE. (And loooook, he's got an adorable scarf! Rather a lot like one which I wear very frequently. Sorry, that's an awful picture. Oh, Desmond, I love you and your polo shirts and your scarves and your Scottishness and your super powers, omg.) [/copious italics]

I need to dreg up my Desmond Lost icons again. And wear the scarf more often. It's also the Sirius Black scarf, you know.

I totally forgot how much I loved this show. *squee*

(Warning: LOST spoilers.)

OMG I WAS RIGHT.

THE EXPLOSION GAVE DESMOND SUPER-POWERS.

!!!!

*is deader than dead*

[/fangirly incoherency]



Also...er...fic. Heh.