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Ingrid

ingridblythe
@
shaw.ca

Startredder(AIM)

startredder@hotmail.com (MSN)

Fanlistings, Cliques, and Other Stuff

Reading Lirael, As You Like It, The English Patient, Heart of Darkness, Suikoden III, Candidate for Goddess

Watching House, Rick Mercer's Monday Report, Gilmore Girls, Scrubs, Corner Gas, Aishiteruze Baby, Prince of Tennis, Hikaru no Go

Playing The Bard's Tale, Katamari Damacy, Curse of Monkey Island, Final Fantasy VI, Disgaea: Hour of Darkness, Pretty Barbie Dressup Party Final Fantasy X-2(group gaming)

Back-burner Star Ocean: Till the End of Time, Star Ocean: The Second Story, Final Fantasy Tactics: Advance, Baldur's Gate: Tales of the Sword Coast, Planescape: Torment, Final Fantasy VII

Obsessing Firefly, Erik and Ray, Impulse/Bart Allen, Ford Prefect, Monkey Island, Nostalgia.

Upcoming Things of Importance
January 5 First day of classes
January 14 Birthday party
January 16 Jaryn and Matt Are Old Day

Ninja and Roommate
Crack for Crack
Story and Art Journal
Mythical Detective Loki Screencap Recaps
Prince of Tennis Screencap Recaps

Previous Games

American Gods
Carnival of Bargain Madness
Grumpy Gamer
The International House of Mojo
Logic and Chaos
Pensieve
Websnark
Worm Blog

scented // midnight rain

layout
Is by Meimi, that wonderful Goddess who brings joy and happiness to the hearts of Ingrids.
This time, Meimi brought joy by doing a layout of Isumi Shinichirou and Waya Yoshitaka, of Hikaru no Go. It is full of wub.


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It's internet hiatus time, oh boy!
12/16/2004 08:51:20 AM
"Look, it's Gwynn, she xeems so happy. Falalalala lala la la. Even though her job is crappy. Falalalala lala la la." - Sluggy Freelance.

The traditional "Hey, I'm fleeing the city" post.

My dad's supposedly coming by around 9.30 to pick me up, do whirlwind Christmas shopping, and then speed back to that charming whore infested burg from whence I came because my little brother's playing at City Hall around noon. And, as per usual, I don't know when I'll be back in my little dive of an apartment. At a random guess, I'd say sometime between now and Janaury 5th. Assuming my parents want me to stick around for Hogmenay, probably around January 3rd or so - classes begin again in January 5th (and my Chinese Culture and Folklore class is still listed as being teacherless on PAWS - I'm scared) and I think I'm supposed to be here for them.

I'm bringing Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and I think I'll bring some Connie Willis short stories, too, to read in the car. I'll probably hit up the public library very quickly. I'm also bringing Hugo, and hoping whatever room I'm crashing in will have something I can jack him into. Since, apparently, none of my compatriots will be going back to the whoreburg this Christmas. I envision a whole lot of nothing much happening myself. But as long as it's a whole lot of nothing with minimal people screaming and having homicidal urges, I'm good.

I had spaghetti for breakfast.

Happy holidays, monkeys,
Almighty Ingrid, Signing Off

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I have seen the meaning of life, and it's name is pineapple
12/13/2004 10:20:45 PM
"Your typing is bothering the people on the floor below us. And scaring Bootsie."
"When'd my fingers start bleeding?" - Collin Sri'vastra and Fox Maharassa, Friendly Hostility.

Today was fairly dull. I woke up at six, I had a shower, I ate . . . something. I forget what. I wrote an exam. I came home. I lived under the couch blanket in my pajamas for the remainder of the day. I also tried to play Star Ocean: Till the End of Time. It provoked . . . well, really, it only provoked one reaction in me, as I told Matt over MSN.

Which was, and I quote:
I WANT TO KILL MYSELF
OR THEM
OR EVERYONE INVOLVED IN ONE GIANT DISPLAY OF ANGER INVOLVING BOMBS STRAPPED TO MONKEYS

I'm, like, three hours into the game, and it has been nothing bu agaonizing boredom, pointless cutscenes, and irrelevant techno-babble. The characters are dull, the main female character has this enormous head like a bobble doll and the most horribly vacant eyes which suggest that inside she is nothing but a vegetable. Which may explain why she is completely incapable of doing up her jeans. Ontop of all that, every time there's a cutscene (and there's too fucking many of those) that one would assume would convey some kind of tension . . . all the characters suddenly slow down to a crawl, draining any possible iota of intensity the scene would possess in the hands of capable game writers.

It's just . . . it's not even mediocre or average. IT's downright -bad-.

The one bright point to the day? I spent a lot of time reading Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, which continues to be delightful, although a rather sadder kind of delight since the beginning of the John Uskglass volume. Still, chapter fifty-three, "A little deade grey mouse", did have this: "Immediately [Jonathan Strange] became convinced that all the cupboards in the house were full of pineapples. He was certain that there wer other pineapples under his bed and under the table. He was so alarmed by this thought that he felt hot and cold all over and was obliged to sit down on the floor. All the houses and palazzi in the city were full of pineapples and outside the streets people were carrying the pineapples, hidden under their clothes."

I'm wondering why pineapples keep coming up. Are they truly the most inherently humorous of fruit, or does Ms. Clarke just revile pineapple for some reason? Either way, I love it (although then I felt guilty about it, because it's not very long after that that the "The second shall see his dearest possession in his enemy's hand" chapter happens, and I just feel so -bad- for Jonathan Strange most of the time since the end of the second volume . . .).

Still, it remains a most absorbing and engaging novel, an astonishing feat considering it's length.

And poking around the website, I have realized that Ms. Clarke started working on it when I was probably eight or nine, which was around the time I -learned- how to read in English.

Just . . . astonishing. That's a lot of work and time and love to put into something.

Stunned as though from a brick blow,
Almighty Ingrid, Signing Off

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