1) Your own name with a variation
2) Name of a god/goddess or constellation with the same start as your real middle name
3) A blend of your favourite animal and colour
4) Your mother's middle name with an extra 'Y' 'I' or 'E' for good luck. If you don't know, or she doesn't have one, just make something up.
5) Any random plant
6) A romantic-sounding name
7) Your dad's middle name with extra Y's for good luck. If you don't know or he doesn't have one, make one up.
8) An anime/manga character
9) Anything from your fandom
10) A last name of someone from your fandom who you DON'T want to have anything romantic to do with.
* * * * *
So that would make me...
Daniellah Orion Electricbluekangaroo Nancye VenusFlytrap Celeste Yshby Sephiroth* DeathStar Solo
* * * * *
*The only anime/manga character with which I am anything approaching familliar.
So...I got to thinking this morning (and this was before my caffeine kicked in, so I can't assume full responsibility for my thought patterns)...
Liverpool natives are known as Liverpudlians...
By the same, Glasgow natives are Glaswegians...
Manchester = Mancunians...
And if you were born or reside in Massachusetts, you're a Bay Stater.
Since Asheville is, in theory, the Land of the Sky...
...can we be Skywalkers?
:affects geeky-slacker voice: Because that would be so cool.
(I know, I know, but I'm only about 25% serious, so please don't alert Bellvue and break out the straightjacket just yet.)
After being glued to them on TV for years, I finally get to experience life from the perspective of a family in a haunted house documentary--how it feels to sink every dime and hope and effort you have into what you think is going to be your dream residence, except once you move in, you can never get a moment's peace. You're basically trapped, and a situation unfolds wherein you spend every waking moment waiting for, dreading, the next outburst.
The only difference: I'm dealing with sonic terrorists, not visitors from beyond. If it's not the neighbors downstairs cranking their stereo until the same three goddamn songs hemmorhage through the floor, it's the maniacs next door with their TV blasting the paint off the walls. We literally never get a break from it, and it's really compromising the quality of our lives--all we seem talk about anymore (for the past week, anyway) is our noisy fucking inconsiderate douchebag neighbors, and it's causing a lot of tension between us, too. I have logged all of five hours in the name of sleep over the past three nights because the TV next door has become a round-the-clock intruder, I'm constantly being woken up to commiserate/ conspire with Mike when I'm least equipped to do anything, and I'm literally starting to hallucinate because of it. I am not being dramatic. I'll be reading a book, or netsurfing, or drafting brews at work, and suddenly I'll either hear voices in my head make completely outrageous and incoherent claims, or the colors in everything will go all freaky for a few seconds.
We've asked nicely. We've retaliated with our own TV/ music. We've called management. We've called the cops. We have researched ourselves into his-and-hers cases of carpal tunnel, but so far it looks as if it's another one of those instances where the bastards causing trouble have more rights than the ones being troubled. No one gives a fuck; no one is on our side. You'll say at least we still have each other, but that's not saying much when we're both being driven neon batshit--it's been well established that two people drowning can't save each other.
(Maybe this is the hospitable southern belle in me talking, but shouldn't having literally no fucking insulation in the walls--I asked--make you want to scale it back a little, rather than give yourself carte blanche to act like you own your own house on a good twenty acres of wilderness?)
Did you know that noise problems are cited as the number-one cause of rentor's dissatisfaction? Not high costs, not structural quality--NOISE PROBLEMS. Fuck this place, and for the most part, fuck the rest of world, too. I mean it with all my heart. How do you exorcise demons like these? Where's the research/ support group for people being antagonized by electronic media? I'm fed up with feeling like I live either above a Latin supper club or next door to a fucking surround-sound movie theater.
If you have any advice, now's the time to give it, because I honestly don't know how much longer we can go on like this. I'm a zombie, Mike's a train wreck, it's only getting worse, and moving is not an option.
Somebody help me...please...
Q: Why can't the punk/ goth/ alt/ new wave/ non-cookie cutter girl ever be the last chick standing? It's always the most boring bitch in the movie.
A: Because only the generic survive. That's the underlying message of approximately every slasher flick since the mid-70s.
(Going on my fashion sense alone, I'd probably be the first to die in a Friday the 13th-type movie. Oh, well. At least I'd make a fierce-looking corpse.)