quite a lot of trouble for such a pretty little girl

Sorry my presence has been so spotty lately, you guys. I've been absent a lot lately because my depression/anxiety really exploded in the last few weeks. In good news, though, I'm on new medication (today is day 4) that seems to be working really well, so, hi again! I have been reading everything you've been writing, just not up to writing a lot. (Though I have been tumbling, which is because all you really have to do is hit "reblog" and then maybe write a paragraph of text. My latest masterpiece of language there was describing my longing for a dessert as "Dickensian".)

Aaaanyway, in spite of that, several boys (and one inanimate thing) that have been making me feel fabulous, so I think we should celebrate them!

Tom Hardy: Okay, I know everyone and their mother has seen this interview, but really, does anyone object to seeing it again? I THOUGHT NOT.

Between this and the utterly magnificent Benedict Cumberbatch interview he did, I've decided Alan Carr is my new hero. Also, Tom Hardy, please report to my house, I have some cookies to feed you. (What is it about Tom Hardy that makes me get all grandmotherly and sigh things like "SUCH A NICE YOUNG MAN"?!?! IDK YOU GUYS.)

Also, re: the rising star BAFTA grudge between him/Andrew Garfield - I wasn't mad then, and I'm still not mad now. I mean, this is why I didn't vote, besides that I'm not British, because they are both stupidly adorable and there are pictures of them on the internet holding babies and they both have big puppy eyes and crinkly smiles and rescue lost kittens (in Tom's case, literal, in Andrew's case, I mean Jesse Eisenberg) and seriously, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE. I CAN'T. I'm sure Andrew Garfield and Tom Hardy will both end up with fantastic roles later in their careers, win and be nominated for squidgillions of awards, and cause us much joy in our hearts and/or pants for many years to come. HEH. COME.

Colin Morgan: There are a flobbityjillion Colin Morgan things coming out because of his new play, and I assure you I have been squealing my head off over them all. WHO ARE YOU, COLIN MORGAN, AND HOW ARE YOU A REAL BOY. Like, seriously, can his mother please teach a class on How To Raise Your Children To Be That Polite And Gracious And Darling? BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW. And oh, he's just the prettiest boy in the world. I use the word prettiest very pointedly, I don't think he's like, the hottest or sexiest or most attractive in that sort of FIRE OF MY LOINS way, but by god, he's just so beautiful. HOW IS HE SO BEAUTIFUL. Like there are no bad angles on all those new stage door shots! None! He looks so lovely in all of them! It is a supernatural power. And I may be biased because in many of them he's wearing a Boston Red Sox beanie, and the number one way for any famous person to have my undying devotion is for them to cart around Red Sox paraphernalia. (See also: why I can never hate you, Ben Affleck.)

SPEAKING OF COLIN MORGAN AND BOSTON, I think I regretfully am not going to the screening of Parked that's going to be here. I was hemming and hawing all day yesterday, and I think I would have changed my mind if Colin was going to be there for a Q & A session or something (so I could shake his hand, thank him for being brilliant, and humbly request that next he do, like, a romcom or something, damn), but the fact is, I have a literal physical reaction to seeing Colin Morgan hurt or upset.

Well, okay, I have a physical reaction to seeing anyone hurt or upset unless I feel a strong disconnection of knowing they're acting. But there are certain actors (like Colin or Bradley or, and this is the one that's the worst for me, Joe) where I get too emotionally invested in their emotional well-being. I don't know why it happens with some actors and not others (there are plenty of actors I love love love and never have this problem with, like, I've been a giant Tom Hanks fan since I was very little, but it never bothers me when I see him acting hurt, and Tom Hardy I have no issue with either and we all know my deep grandmotherly feelings on him... maybe it's something with people named Tom?), but it's BAD with Colin. I can't even get through the trailer of Parked without feeling nauseous and my chest starting to tighten. It makes my throat close up and my palms start sweating to watch the end of The Lady of the Lake episode. OF MERLIN. Even after Arthur noogies him! I just can't deal with it. And I think seeing Colin Morgan get beat up and overdose on drugs on the big screen would just... it would be bad for my emotional health. Along the lines of when I was made to watch the tapes from the original Millgram experiments in AP Psych. That was a terrible idea. i was literally almost in class and shaking and everyone was like "SO I THINK WE KNOW WHO THE STATISTICAL OUTLIER IS".

Scott Caan: alkdsjflksdjf THIS MAN IS ADORABLE. Like, the hair is still worrying to me but apparently it's his thing, so whatever. The point is that I am in love with his nose and crinkly eyes and his polka dot socks omg they are the greatest. There's also a video where he's with his girlfriend and her dog and his daddy and he's adorable, my only complaint is really that FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SCOTT, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE GUM IN YOUR MOUTH? SPIT IT OUT, YOUNG MAN. JESUS.

Whichever Genius Made This: creativepseudo sent me a link to this NES-style game of the Great Gatsby which is THE MOST NERDY AMAZING THING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST MONTH OR SO.

Though I can't get past the level with the giant eyes, so... help?

Fuzzy Boys:

HELLO, OUR NAMES ARE CHARLIE AND GUS, AND WE ARE ADORABLE. WE HAVE BEEN MOSTLY WELL BEHAVED, EXCEPT FOR GUSGUS, WHO KEEPS CRAWLING IN THE BACK OF THE COUCH, WHICH MEANS MAMA IS NOT HAPPY AND LETTING HIM RUN, WHICH MEANS GUSGUS IS UNHAPPY, SO MAMA HAS ORDERED US A WHEELY WHEEL, WHICH WE WILL RUNRUNRUNRUNRUN ON. ALSO, CHARLIE HAS LEARNED TO JUMP OUT OF THE CAGE, BUT HE LIKES TO CRAWL UP THE WATER BOTTLES AND STAND ON THE SIDE OF THE CAGE INSTEAD OF INTO MAMA'S LAP, BECAUSE HE IS SILLY.

YESTERDAY WE WERE VERY EXCITED DURING THE OSCARS, ESPECIALLY THE PRE-SHOW. ALSO, WE SMELL LIKE COFFEE BECAUSE MAMA GAVE US A BAG THAT USED TO HOLD COFFEE GROUNDS.

IN CONCLUSION, WE WOULD LIKE CUDDLES, PLEASE. ALSO, ALL OF YOUR EGG CARTONS.

SINCERELY, YOUR FUZZY OVERLORDS

My First-World Reasons I am Miserable:
Uno! Impeding period. Always makes me super depressed/anxious. This month, I got to have an utterly unexplained panic attack over nothing on Sunday morning that lasted for three hours. That was three hours of uncontrollable shaking, crying, nausea, and mind-numbing terror for no reason. THREE. HOURS. Do you have any idea how INSANELY uncomfortable that is and how shaken that leaves you? IT FEELS TERRIBLE. It's like your soul vomiting. Only more painful.

Dos! EVERYONE, STOP DYING. I could emotionally handle the gay teen suicides (sort of). But I cannot handle them and then Tim Gunn making an It Gets Better video where he talks about how he tried to kill himself (TIM GUNN, MY HEART IS DELICATE AND FRAGILE AND YOU ARE MY FAVORITE), and then JGL's brother died, which I know shouldn't bother me but really, really does on two levels. The first being that whenever he'd make these tweets or tumblr posts about his brother it reminded me so strongly about how I feel about my older sister, and then my crazy over-empathy parts get involved and I start thinking about what would happen if one of my siblings died, and he was thirty-six and totally healthy! NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DIE AT THIRTY-SIX UNLESS THEY HAVE AN EXTREMELY GOOD REASON, LIKE BEING IN AN AVALANCHE, OKAY. THAT'S ONE OF MY RULES OF LIFE THAT KEEPS ME FROM TURNING INTO A PARANOID NEUROTIC MESS. (Also I feel really sad for JGL an his family and everyone, except I don't really know them or anything about the situation so it's kind of a secondary "oh, that's such a shame".)

Also, the couple whose cats I was going to watch while they went to Turkey cancelled their Turkey trip because it looks like his brother might bite it. Right before his daughter's wedding. And his brother is my parents' age. Seriously, everyone, less with the death! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS.

Tres! Second week in a row of gray and rain. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Quatro! I went to Target to try to replace my much beloved flats and they had these great shoes almost exactly like my old ones, but the 6.5s were too small and the 7s were too big. I've tried everywhere else - the local shoe store, DSW, Zappos... AND I HATE SHOPPING, YOU GUYS. I really, really fucking need new shoes. Why can't I just find new freaking shoes? And don't even get me started on my sneaker woes. All of my shoes are legit falling apart at the seams. Like that's not a turn of phrase, they are falling apart at the seams.

On top of no luck with shoes at Target, I also had no luck with finding bags (also falling apart), any clothes (red zone situation - all my clothing fits into one dark and one light wash easily, and the light wash isn't even full, and both of those are fifty percent pajamas), or the laundry detergent my mother asked me to pick up. Though I did manage to get myself eyeshadow because my old eyeshadow has been disintegrating everywhere. Woo...hoo. Clearly, a priority.

This trip to Target took up the part of the day where I was supposed to take the dog for a walk, too, and by time I got home I was overtired, cramping, cranky, freezing cold, and so instead I passed out on my couch for two hours. And then I felt guilty the rest of the night for going out when clearly I should have been staying home taking care of my baby. (For the record, I should not have, I just feel an irrational sense of guilt anyway, and I'm hormonal/Jewish, so it was semi-crippling. My dog forgave me within thirty seconds of scratching under her chin.)

Cinqo! This week's episode of Glee was so depressing I can't even talk about it without legit feeling queasy. Usually, Glee is my special happy fun time full of campy music and devoid of logic or emotion. Robin's boyfriend comes over, Ella's over, Robin's home, we all curl up on the couch and coo at Finn and Artie because they are too precious to exist and where were those boys in high school when we were there? It's good times. TONIGHT WAS NOT GOOD TIMES, GLEE. IT WAS TAKE MY TERRIFYING WORST FEARS ABOUT PARENTS DROPPING NEARLY-DEAD AND MANIPULATING MY EMOTIONS FOR AN HOUR. AN HOUR! EVEN FINN BEING ADORABLE ABOUT FINDING JESUS ON HIS GRILLED CHEESE DIDN'T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.

THAT MEANS I FELT PRETTY DAMN SHITTY ABOUT THE WHOLE THING, FYI.

Sies! Ever since my Fun Marathon of Terror, my stomach has been misbehaving terribly. The latest thing it has decided I cannot eat without insane nausea/indigestion? Apples. And sister and her boyfriend just went apple picking! My mother just made applesauce and apple tart! Apples are everywhere! It's fucking October in fucking New England! And I love apples!

Stomach, you and I are not on good terms right now.


YOUR JOB: Do not hug me! Do not pet my hair! Give me fun stuff! Happy stuff! Rec me fics of adorable boys in love! Youtube videos! Find adorable fuzzy things from CuteOverload backlogs! Write me comment fics!

Also if one or two of you could come over and do my laundry/the rest of my reading for class tomorrow/make it so I don't have to go to class tomorrow, I'd really like that.