Slacker Like Me

I've been lazy. Aside from several essays in progress I've been picking at (you'd be amazed how much junk I have kicking around in my head), have actually done very little this week. Not even really gone out of the apartment much. Starting to notice the lack of muscle tone. Bad me. Will go into the office and make some amends by being productive there, where I can charge by the hour. On the way, will probably start shopping for a new TV, as ours is dying the flickering death of the fading vertical hold. It's been a good friend, our poor faithful JVC. Not sure I like those new silver models, but I dunno, maybe there's an improvement in sound quality.

Tomorrow, of course, is Valentine's Day, which although you wouldn't know it from Hallmark, is actually sort of a religious holiday. There are at least three Saints named Valentine, and the date more or less coincides with the fertility festival of Lupercal, "from the medieval belief that birds choose their mates on this day." Kinda of like groundhog day for mating rituals.

Anyway, in honor of the whole Valentine's concept, I encourage anyone who hasn't done so yet to skip to glassslipper's LJ and read "Roses are Pink," brilliant piece of bittersweet Spuffy, set... well, right about now. Not a saccharine, mushy piece. Nuanced and sensitive. Great insight into Spike's head at this moment. A take on Buffy that almost made me like her again. Go on, go read it. Shoo.

The Pitfalls of Penance

Okay, this one's in response to glassslipper's question about my Christian Allegory essay. There's some pondering about current AtS arcs at the end, but it's mostly me fanwanking above and beyond the call. ( Temptations, Denials, and The Agony in the Garden )

Oww...

Guess who's laid up at home with a twisted ankle? Really, walking along nice as you please, a little windy and rainy out, sure... place my foot wrong crossing the street and suddenly it's somewhere between one of those Chevy Chase pratfalls and a scene from Mary Poppins, with the umbrella dragging me across the road while I stumble and skid and land on my hands and knee and hip. A group of nice ladies (who I assume were probably exiting the Starbucks right on that corner, so I can be assured I had a good audience for this whole scene) were very sweet about helping me up and making sure I hadn't broken a leg or somesuch. "I find it's usually my pride that hurts most," one of them said. Too true.

Well, except that my ankle is now swollen and hurts like a bitch. I dumped the broken umbrella and limped home; now I'm lying on the couch and drinking a beer, and generally feeling annoyed at the world. Was planning on going to the office and seeing people - usually a good idea on Fridays, 'cause all the freelancers drop in - but had to abandon the idea in wake of accident. Dammit. Really not looking forward to being laid up all weekend.

Generally feeling sorry for self, etc...