Return to Uni?


So it seems the only responses I’ve been getting to my job applications are from places that would rather sell me business degrees than hire me. Apparently a business degree would help me get a role in admin. But the thing is, the only reason I’m applying for admin roles is because they seem to require the least qualifications (with the exception of retail, which is not something I will do for the rest of my life). So not only would getting a business degree completely defeat that purpose, but it’s not even something I’m interested in. And hell, I’ve even been avoiding degrees I am interested in, as I don’t want to waste another several grand like I did with my other one.

But now I’m thinking that maybe I should go back to uni. Not to study business; no way. But I have been considering law. I know I’ve said in the past that I’d probably be terrible at it because of my predicted method, but maybe that’s just because I haven’t learned. Of course my method would be terrible at something I haven’t studied. It’s a topic that interests me, and I know it’s one I could understand. I know I’ve been avoiding further studies because the debt would make it even more impossible to buy a house in the future, but really, with the way things are now, it’s probably worth the risk. I’ve been looking for work for over a year with no experience or relevant qualifications, and it’s only going to get harder as more time passes since graduating. I didn’t put as much into my Bachelor degree as I could have. With what I’ve experienced since then, no way in hell am I letting that happen again.

My First OTP


I was introduced to shipping relatively recently. Like three years ago recently. And I ship a lot of characters. I ship like twenty characters. But one thing that always baffled me was that elusive OTP. Apparently everyone had an OTP. Some people had four thousand OTPs, which baffled me even more, since the O is supposed to stand for one. And yeah, my ships are adorable and all, but none of them evoked the sheer emotional destruction that is supposed to go hand in hand with an OTP.

Until now.

I was introduced to Tumblr relatively recently. Like a year ago recently. And in that time, I saw so many posts (especially gifsets) about shows I hadn’t seen yet. Some I hadn’t even heard of. Like In the Flesh. From the posts, I discovered that In the Flesh was a romance show about high functioning zombies. I thought that seemed like an interesting take on the zombie genre, so I decided to watch it.

Oh my.

In the Flesh turned out not be a pure romance at all, but rather a general drama show. I’ve got to say, I’d probably be better off right now if it had just been a romance. Because my emotions are not okay! Anyone who knows me knows that I get really worked up about discrimination. And my feelings about its portrayal in fiction are pretty contradictory, as on one hand, I love the realism that it brings, but on the other hand, witnessing it makes me physically angry. X-Men did it with mutants. Dark Angel did it with transgenics. And In the Flesh is doing it with Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferers (the show’s medical term for zombies).

But the show isn’t all just anger.

And that’s where the the romance aspect comes into it. Despite the fact that quite a bit of my anger at the show revolves around the relationships between characters, they’re still so easy to get caught up in. Watching Kieren grow and learn to accept himself as a result of his relationship with Simon… Watching Simon struggle between between upholding his beliefs and honouring and protecting the man he loves… It drives me crazy. It’s beautiful and sad and maddening and grounding and inspiring all at once.

And if this show doesn’t get renewed for season three… If I am left with less than six hours of footage of my very first (and probably only) OTP… Oh I won’t exaggerate. I’ll just be very very sad.

How to Flirt in Three Easy Steps


I have come to the conclusion that I am the best at flirting. And by ‘best’, I do of course mean ‘the actual worst’.

Flirting tips from the Ninja Robot:

  1. Play werewolf with the person of your affections.
  2. Get dealt the cupid card.
  3. Make the lovers the said person and yourself.

Wallah! You have now (un)successfully flirted. Warning: This may or may not (but most likely may) be completely unbeknownst to the other.

Support Matters


I’ve been looking through old photos recently, and they’ve gotten me thinking about the relationship I have with my father. Our personalities often clashed when I was growing up, and in all honesty, we didn’t get along very well. I didn’t particularly care when he moved out, and with regards to our relationship, I’m a lot happier now.

The thing is, my dad just wasn’t very supportive. He had a good relationship with Tara. She was athletic, and a good swimmer, and enjoyed cycling. But my dad just couldn’t accept that I wasn’t like that. I preferred reading and writing and drawing and singing, to going outdoors and playing sports. But according to him, those weren’t valid interests. He tried to push me with my swimming, and criticised me when I never got any better. Not being very good with confrontation, the only way I could bring myself to tell him my feelings about this was to write him a letter – which he promptly tore up in front of me.

Even now that I’m an adult, he still hasn’t gotten much better. He continually grills into me for not having a job (as though I can control the employment market) or a drivers license (as though his teaching wasn’t what scared me off). And funnily enough, those are the only two things he ever asks me about every few months when I see him. Oh, and one other question – whether or not I have a boyfriend yet. Except for the last time I saw him, when he followed that by asking if I have a girlfriend. Which brings me to my next point.

My dad is a huge homophobe. He goes on about how being gay is unnatural and a disorder, and that he could cure it if he had enough money. Whenever Tara or I call him out for it, he says (and I paraphrase) “[he] can’t possibly be a homophobe because [he’s] not scared of gay people, [he] just think[s] there’s something wrong with them, and anyway [he has] gay friends”. Fine dad, you’re being heterosexist. Whatever you decide to call it, it’s incredibly bigoted. Tara once asked him what he would do if she were gay. He scoffed and told her (and I actually quote this time, not just paraphrase) “don’t be stupid, you’re not gay”. He was right, Tara isn’t gay, but that’s completely beside the point. What if she was gay, and his bigoted attitude was preventing her from safely coming out? What if I was gay, and she was trying to test the waters for me? I’m fairly sure the only reason he asked if I had a girlfriend that time was to appear tolerant with my aunt and uncle in the car, as my female cousin recently revealed to them that she has a girlfriend.

If I ever have children, I am going to try my best to be the most supportive parent possible. It doesn’t matter whether they want to swim, or run, or dance, or sing, or act, or write, or draw. It doesn’t matter whether they like men, or women, or everyone, or no-one. It doesn’t matter whether they are a boy, or a girl, or something else, or none of the above. It doesn’t matter whether they want to be a teacher, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or an actor, or a nurse, or a dancer, or a bartender. The only thing that does matter is how they treat people, whether it be other people or themselves. I vow to accept my children for who they are, because I know only too well how much it hurts when even the small things go unsupported.

Les Mis


Last night I went to see Les Miserables at Her Majesty’s Theatre, and I’ve got to say, it was amazing. I hadn’t seen it or read it or anything before the movie came out, but I did really like the movie, so I was looking forward to the stage show a whole bunch. And I was not let down at all. The singing was beautiful, and all the actors’ voices were really strong – way stronger than in all the other shows I’ve seen. Everything was just so well done, and Les Mis has actually surpassed Wicked as my favourite musical now.

  1. Les Miserables
  2. Wicked
  3. Hairspray
  4. Legally Blonde
  5. King Kong
  6. Fame

Now about the actual story, and this will contain spoilers, so stop reading if you haven’t seen it. I went in prepared. Well, as prepared as I could possibly be. But I am a huge crybaby when it comes to fiction – I’m not very emotional in real life, but if something even slightly sad happens in a show or book, my eyes pretty much become waterfalls. So being prepared for tears does not really mean anything for me other than knowing they will occur. And boy, did they occur.

I cried when Fantine sang I Dreamed a Dream. I cried when she died. I cried when Gavroche was introduced. I cried when Enjolras was introduced. I cried every time Enjolras sang. I cried when Eponine died. I cried when Gavroche was about to die. I cried when Gavroche died. I cried when Enjolras was about to die. I cried when Enjolras died. I cried when everyone else died. I cried when Enjolras’ body was brought out on the cart. I cried when Gavroche’s body was added to it. I cried when Marius sang Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. I cried when they sang the Epilogue. I cried when they took their bows. I cried afterwards when remembering what happened. Basically I cried the entire second half of the show and then some.

Oh, and the songs. So many songs gave me shivers. On My Own (which has been stuck in my head ever since and is just so beautiful that I can’t stop singing), Do You Hear the People Sing?, and the Epilogue in particular. And the Thenardiers were hilarious! Most of the songs were better in the stage show than in the movie, and theirs definitely were. I think the only two songs I prefer in the movie are I Dreamed a Dream and Castle on a Cloud.

But yes, Les Miserables was an absolutely amazing show. It astonishes me that some people avoid it on the sole factor that it is literally all singing. Yes, they may sing all of their lines, but it doesn’t take you very long to get used to it and forget that there’s no actual dialogue. Those people are really missing out. I loved the movie, I loved the show, and now it’s time for me to read the book. I hear it’s supposed to murder my emotions even more. How fun.

A Marvel-ous Affair


GambitSo it was Dallas’ 21st to- last night, and after many months of preparation (and promises of bombarding the internet with photos), I finally got to put my Gambit costume to use. Just in case anyone is reading this who doesn’t know me, or hasn’t read my previous post about planning a Gambit costume, this is basically the first time I have gathered all the pieces of a costume myself. RogueAt previous costume parties and conventions I have rented costumes (costume parties only) or worn easy costumes that required little to no extra purchases. But this time I had to go hunting for the coat and the corset, and I also painted the staff and chopped up the gloves myself. So yes, no matter what anyone else thinks of it, I am very pleased. And clearly Dallas was as well, since I won the prize for best dressed female! I won a 3D Spiderman puzzle for that. Aw hells yeah!

But anyway, since it was a costume party, obviously I planned on getting photos with everyone in their costumes! And I was definitely going to get photos with every Rogue that was there, if there were any. And hey, I definitely succeeded in that area. I had three girlfriends there. Three! The Rogue on the left had my favourite costume out of all the Rogues, so there’s no need to put all the photos up. There were just so many awesome costumes! There was a Loki, some Deadpools, some Black Widows, one regular Jean Grey and one Phoenix, one regular Bucky Barnes and one Winter Soldier, a Storm, a Hulk, a Captain America, some agents of SHIELD, a Medusa, some Miss Marvels, some Iron Men, a Red Skull, a Nick Fury, a Mystique, and possibly some more that I’ve forgotten about about. Oh, and I managed to snap two Susan Storm InvisibleSusan Stormphotos with Susan Storm:

It wasn’t your typical 21st birthday party, but it was a really great night. In fact, I probably enjoyed it more than I would have enjoyed dancing and drinking and whatnot. That’s right, lil’ old alcoholic me actually enjoyed herself at a boozeless party made up mostly of complete strangers. The venue was surprisingly large, and there was a main room with food and photos, a quiet room with couches, and a sports room with nerf guns and archery. I failed at the archery (I’m much better with real bows), but I was alright with the strange air squeezy guns. My mum was surprisingly good at the archery, and managed to hit right near the bullseye. She won a pizza cutter for that. This seems like a good time to point out that the prizes weren’t ridiculously random, we just chose our own prizes from a selection. I was disappointed that I missed out on the picnic set, but the Spiderman puzzle seems pretty cool too. I’m not rambling on and on to fill up space to make the layout prettier, not at all. But anyway, there were also a few couches in the sports room, so some of us played games for a while. Oh, and Dallas got her grandpa to bring a wheelchair (for Professor X, of course), so of course the little kids had a lot of fun with that.

LokiDallas came as Loki, who I absolutely love, and her costume looked great! It did seem a bit odd having such a nice girl dressed up as someone who wants to take over the entire world though. Her dad and sister talked a lot about how kind-hearted she is in their speeches, and although I’m not a religious person, I still found it quite sweet when they mentioned her love of God.

CakeOh, and I can’t forget the cake! It was an ice-cream cake decorated in Captain America’s red, white, and blue, and it was delicious. Though it did turn everyone’s mouths blue after eating it! I was also very impressed by this photo mum took of it.

So yes, I had a great time at Dallas’ party, and I hope she did as well. Happy 21st birthday, Dallas!