The vaguely incoherant ramblings of Izzie, 31st January.

Whatever it is that my mum does at work, they need it in Canada. This has been confirmed by the fact that she actually is in Canada at this point. Actually, I think she's in a plane somewhere over the ocean.

The piano is staring at me. "Play me," it seems to say, "I'm a good piano, I've fallen of the back of moving trucks and survived, surely that's confirmation that I'm worth playing, come on. Mozart? Beethoven? Debussy? Hell, I'll take Evanescence if it means some music in this house, you haven't been very attentive to me of late, have you lost interest? Did I do something wrong? It's because I'm out of tune isn't it! I've told you before, I'm not out-of-tune exactly, I'm just...not tuned conventionally...each key is in tune in comparison to the other keys, they're just...all exactly the same amount out of tune! But that's never stopped you before! Play me! Play me! PLAY ME!"
"Well, dear piano," I reply, "I would gladly play you, but I'm sick of my only-fiveish-song-repartee, and I'm sure my graceless, untrained style isn't exactly flattering to you."

Yes, I've resorted to blogging about a conversation with an anthropormorphised piano. I have a 600-page Chemistry textbook leering at me from the floor. There are so many things in the world. 600 pages worth of them are in store for me over the next two years. Bloody science. And then there's my big, scary-looking maths text book. Maths, it's like an abusive husband. You love it, but it's awful to you. In high school, although you may have had difficulties, it was true love, plain and simple, but then uni started and everything got so complicated, maths started becoming strange, and just seemed angry with you all the time, but you ended up together, earning good money but still there are problems between you and the dear mathematics. You still stay with maths, because it seems right. Then maths ends up in those "Violence against women" ads, as one of those guys who look like dickheads and do three freezeframes while their voiceover talks about their violent tendencies.
I've always thought it'd be awful to be one of those guys, because no matter what they do, people who just see them in the street will think they're wife-bashers.

So, even though I haven't read the graphic novel, I'm looking forward to the Watchmen movie. Should probably read the book before I see it. My Chemical Romance did a cover of Bob Dylan's Desolation Row for it. Damn good cover. Alot more punk than their last album.
There is some music I listen to that just makes me think "goddamn, ALOT of people had to think that was a really good song," examples of such music includes metal and urban. And what the frick is with that tooth-bling stuff? It makes the wearer look like they either have rotten teeth or braces, neither of which seem very hardcore if you ask me.
I once saw a music video that just made me laugh. First of all, this person's stage name was "Rhys" which doesn't score points in the "in crowd." Secondly, he looked like some kind of emo David Bowie, and I doubt that even Bowie himself could pull off the emo David Bowie look. And the film clip looked like this dude had seen Flashdance (or any of those 80s dance movies) too many times, there were alot of silhouettes dancing through warehouses with blue backlighting. And lastly, all the girls in the film clip were also dressed as emo David Bowies, seriously, ONE is bad enough, but one emo David Bowie surrounded by scantily clad other emo David Bowies is just awful.

This blog is getting out of hand, I'll just end it right here...no...here.