In a galaxy far far away...

Song of the Day: Counting Stars by One Republic

Sometimes I feel like the 2014 nineteen-year-old Carrie Bradshaw. Except I don't own any Manolo Blahnik, or go to designer parties, or write a column for a magazine. 

Yes, I might not be in my thirties, or even a 'real' adult, despite being five months and a day away from my 20s, and yes, I don't have a proper job, or a serious relationship (or any right now -.-), but I'm wise beyond my years. 

All I know I learned from tv. And believe me, the things I see- the way men think...I mean what the fuck, when I girl leaves, go after her! To finish my sentense, I'm not even sure they think; maybe they say whatever pops into their heads and shrug, and then, they go ahead and say that women are complicated and they can't figure out the way WE think or what we want. 

Well, this is my face, like all the goddamn time:

What we want is for you to pay attention. To THINK, for fuck's sake. And not bury your feelings, just embrace them. It's going to feel much better, I promise. But no, *dude voice* we have to be tough and drink beer and burp and be all manly. 

In a Carrie fashion, I'll end this shitstorm with a question: How different are the two genders? And is it nature that differentiates us, or nurture?

It's the Velocirapocalypse! Also, apparently NOT the darkest timeline!

Captain's Log 76: I'm stranded at sea.

Well, kind of.
Good news: I re-wrote the beginning of my novel; since the previous chapters seemed out of place and awkward when paired with the rest of the story. They were fine when I was a teenager, but for the last few years I felt like I needed to change the very first chapters, because obviously, they're the most important ones, the ones that will draw the reader in, or lose them.
But, for a long while, I had no idea what to write, or how to pair the beginning with the rest of the story. But one day, not long ago, it came to me. Just like that. I started writing and here we are! The first two chapters are complete and I'm quite happy with how they came out. I'll need to change a few details in the following chapters, but the idea remains the same, and the later chapters (from chapter 10 and on) will stay pretty much intact.
I've come to the conclusion that this novel is my magnum opus, seeing as I've already dedicated seven years of my life writing it. A lot has changed since then - it's almost unrecognisable, and although the story has matured along with me, its core has remained the same. A handful of names that I came up with when I was twelve have remained the same; not for sentimental reasons, but because they were good! I might've been only a child, but I had some great ideas. And here I am now, seven years later, ready to finish the first book. I still haven't decided a name for the series, and there might never be.

Not-so-good meows news: All this time I've spent finishing chapter one and two: it's because my desktop computer is currently in a storage unit and I'm miles away in my parents' house with my good ol' laptop that can't play anything with but old games, otherwise it gets mad at me and shuts down.
Playing The Witcher all day long doesn't seem like a great idea; it's quite an enjoyable game but it's from 2007 and sometimes even I've had enough of medieval-themed video games. Also, every single prostitute/ serving girl/ witch in this game seems to want to grab my butt, but Geralt really likes Triss (according to my headcannon at least. Can't we make Yennifer disappear or something?), so she's the only one with ass-grabbing rights.

Back to me: Lately, I've been puzzled and not puzzled. I'll explain.
There's this guy. Let's call him Emmet Brickowski. And yes, you guessed right (???), this is a story of .gifs.
When he's around other people, he acts like this:

When he's around me, he acts like this:

And this:

And this:

Aaand this:

Now that I come to thing about it, he could be an undercover velociraptor. He obviously does not read this blog, although if he bothered to check my facebook profile, he would have access to this sorry mess (HINT! HINT!)

And he would know (I guess?) that his plan is going awry. It was a stupid plan to begin with. Okay, I have to admit, it was cute at first, now, however, it's borderline annoying. NO. Skip borderline. It's Annoying. Capital A. 

How the fuck can you not send a text. After I sent you one first! What the fuck is wrong with you? What? WHAT?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

And my question is:

It's not that I don't understand men, it's just that you're weird, man. And I usually like weird, but now I'm annoyed, so... Yeah. Congratulations, I suppose. Operation succesful.

Also, no Song of the Day today. NO SONG.