Still Alive

[lykomancer]

Ok, first things first. This keyboard does not have a working "c", and I am not yet mad enough to opy/paste all that I may need. Read with a grain of salt.

Things are going deently well. I slept terribly on my new "bed" (a big, ugly couch), but I'm not really tired yet, so...
Getting Tom going this morning took more effort than it was worth, but it happened, and we got the apartment rearranged in two hours. (I hope someone sees this damned plae before we move out, so that someone who is not living there an admire the skill it took to get the big puffy chair and couch bak into the bedroom.) Most of my things are out of Tom's car, and I am unpaking at a breaknek speed. One I get Tom to do the dishes and I takle the bathroom tomorrow, everything should be livable.

Tom is meeting with a new mental patient right now, and I am taking a break and hilling at a little offeeshop. I have an appliation for the Tea Shoppe in this shopping omple ...

(Ok, I'm missing a few letters. Someone must've spilled their offee on the board.)
You get my drift, right?

...but I have an appliation and a opy of the local newspaper/newsletter thing, along with a new writer's handbook thing that this inredibly sweet older lady who runs a bookshop just up and gave me. She was the librarian for the University of Minnesota, and now she's retired and selling all her books. She gave me the newspaper, too, and wished me lots of luk job hunting.

I need to dress better. Not really thinking about it, I wandered out of the house in jeans and my battered, holey, bleahed green Nike shirt... not a good way to make a positive impression. *sigh*

I arrived at the library too late to use their omputers or get a ard, but it's only a few miles from the house, so I'll get there this week or early net.

I'm alive! And for now, this is aeptable.
___

Thank you, everyone, for a wonderful send off, all your love and presence/presents and other stuff, and everything that you have done for me to keep me happy and sane. I don't know what I would have done without you.
(Eept Angela, who burns cds that make me cry. A lot. Repeatedly.
There's a speial spot in hell for her. *^_~*)

My email is Theomancer @ hotmail.com, and I'll be trying to hek it every other to every three days, so if you need to get a hold of me, that's a good way. I'll be trying to keep this journal urrent as well, so that you get the blow-by-blow of my wonderful eistene.
It's like The Truman Show. But with me. And written. And I know that it's happening. And... oh, hell, I guess it's not a lot like that, then, is it?
Right. I'm off to try to attempt the ompilatedness of viewing the rest of the 'net without the benefits of the letter "c".

Comments

[elanivalae.livejournal.com]

*hides* There's a reason I gave you that just when you were actually leaving. *dies of acute corny-itis* But I do it for all my friends who leave, so you certainly weren't going to be left out.
Sorry if it actually upset you ^_^;; I am glad to hear that things are going all right, though. I was a little worried about you.

I'm gonna hold you to that collaboration thing, you know. You're not getting off the hook just because you're in another state! xD My computer is still being evil, even if I do have a letter C (I'm in PR, doing this right now), but I managed to send off another couple of chapters worth of ficly randomness, which I will send you when I get a chance xD Maybe I'll make you snort offee out your nose, which will certainly make you feel better xD

Here's one:
  

It wasn’t rain he feared. Rain he could deal with, work in, wait out. And, at any rate, Flame title or no, he wasn’t truly a fire-starter, to be so easily made meek and helpless by a little dampness.
  

Indeed, rain was safe. It fell around him, but never so much that he couldn’t breathe, and that was what kept him sane. Because, in the end, his element was the air -- and to be out of it entirely filled him with a fear that was one part ice, two parts broken glass, and that made his gut feel like it was sinking in a pool of swiftly setting cement. In rain, circumstances were still negotiable; the pool was made only of quicksand and could be escaped, with care.
  

And if there was anything Roy Mustang kept in varied and plentiful supply, it was care. Hughes, after a few too many shots, had once joked that Roy had only begun to tolerate the pathetic military uniforms because he’d figured out that they afforded him more room to stash the damned stuff.
  

“Really, Mustang,” he’d half-slurred, flattening his palm against the bar to make sure it was still level before setting his glass back down. “You’re what would’ve happened if evolution had seen fit to give a shark a flamethrower. Nobody as calculating as you are should ever, under any circsh. . .smirkumsta. . .shercu. . .eh. For any reason, be armed.” He took another drink, swirling the ice cubes around in his glass. “Your office should have padded walls. Flame resistant padded walls.”
  

“Yeah, well. . .” Roy rolled his eyes. “They let you have sharp pointy things, so I guess some administrative lackey has utterly lost his mind, and I just snuck in under the smokescreen of Maes-induced chaos.” He grinned.

[lykomancer.livejournal.com]

o_O That's really neat! I like the desriptions.
Yay!

Hey!

We should write a parody of Elriest... y'know, something horrible in some many ways that it makes people ringe even as they laugh? I think thatd be fun, just as a projet. ^_^

I need to get Tom to plug in his omputer so that I an wath anime tonight! YAY!
(Would DVD-R's be better for burning shows?)

Don't worry about me and my stupid leaky eyes. We'll be fine in a few weeks.
Whenever you manage to dig up David's phone number or email, share. I tried the Northland phone book, and that wasn't worth the effort it took to find the damned thing. *bashes head into wall* Tom is about as helpful as a heartattak half the time.