Katiefinger on Xanga

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

Be Seeing You

My Blog
Love you long time folks,
- 4:59 PM
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Wednesday, 14 January 2009

For a split second just then I really craved a cigarette

Xanga Username: Katiefinger ... always has been, always will be. Oh, except for the time when some pretentious tart was annoying me and I created another account to write (creatively) about the situation. (And then just continued to use that particular username to write creatively about other stuff too.)

Xanga Birthdate: July 2003. Giving you an exact date would mean toddling off to look for it, and I really can't be arsed.

Xanga "Statuses": TRUE, but I had to ask for it. That really irked me. I wrote a post about it ... yep, it irked me that much. Also Premium, but I doubt I'll bother rekindling that fire when it dies down. Xanga isn't what it used to be. *sigh*

Xanga Profile Picture: I have one ... you should be able to see it over there ... *points haphazardly towards the right of your monitor*

First Xanga Friend: Um, possibly Lyns, closely followed by Zoë and Polly. None of them post here anymore.

Subsequent Xanga Friends: Many. There was the lovely Chris Sexie, the punky Jason, the quirky Susie, the bookish Karen, the elusive Chris who couldn't get a job, the Internet-seller, the bi-sexual teenager, the butcher, the baker and the candlestick-maker. Oddly enough none of them post here anymore. More recently there's you, if you're reading this.

Xanga BFFs: If I like you, you'll be my friend elsewhere. I don't need a Best Friend Forever on Xanga. Thanks.

Xanga Family: Family? I don't spend Christmas with anyone on Xanga. Nor do I sleep with anyone on Xanga. I also never had a bath as a child with anyone on Xanga. There might be somebody on Xanga I would have a bath with now, but that wouldn't be because I wanted to be his sister. If I argued with anyone on here they wouldn't forgive me in the way that family can, the sort of forgiveness that comes from knowing someone inside out and outside in, from shared experiences (both good and bad) and from real love.

Other Close Xanga Pals: Didn't I cover this? If not, just re-read the above.

Other Xangans Worth Mentioning: Probably most of the people I subscribe to. I shan't list them.

Xanga Likes: The ... nope. The ... um, no. I'll come back to this one (one day, possibly.) *

Xanga Dislikes: Pleading, pulsing, arse-licking, religous nutters ... Those who whine and those who have no sense of humour. Also, those who love themselves. It's no surprise that Xanga is full of folk like that.

Official Xanga Achievements: None. Go me!

Unofficial Xanga Achievements: I know I've made people laugh in the past. I know that I've emotionally touched people in the past. I was somebody's unofficial Mom for a long while. Awww ... Damn, I should have kept that quote. I stayed when most other folk left for pastures new ... I think that deserves some sort of recognition. I shall make myself a badge.

Recommending Habit: I don't. Or I did, once.

Commenting Habit: I comment on most posts posted by folk I subscribe to. I think it's rude not to (which isn't to say that I only comment because I feel I should; it actually means that I like the person and am interested in all the things that occur within their lives and their heads and therefore I like to show that I care, or otherwise.)

Timestamping: I've never done it. It's a silly feature and serves me no purpose.

Protected Posting: I used to do it a bit more. Now I don't care. I'm anonymous enough for it not to matter.

Xanga Themes: Black on white (or white on black) always does it for me. Oh yes.

Xanga Pulse: I have Facebook for that. Oh, and Twitter now, but I keep forgetting! Silly me.

Xanga Plugz: I have no idea what Plugz is, pleaze.

Xanga Hopes: I want all the groovy people to come back. There are only a limited number of groovy people left. We're a dying breed ...

Last Words: Oh Xanga. You used to be so good. You used to be so fine. I used to run home from school to see what delights you'd thrown my way! My days were a blur of Xanga thought processes and flirtatious commenting with folk I had never met in Real Life. You've taught me that nothing Good lasts for ever, that people come and go (and sometimes disappear) with increasing ease, and that I'm ... hmmm. I'm just a teeny-tiny speck in the Great Big Blogosphere of Life; I'm just not as important as I thought I was. Blogging used to be for the cool kids, but now it seems to be for every Tom, Dick or Harry and, perhaps unfortunately, every Tom, Dick and Harry these days seems to be the sort of Tom, Dick or Harry who is exactly the same as every other Tom, Dick or Harry who thinks they have something interesting to add to the Great Big Blogosphere of Life.
Nothing is sacred.
(with thanks to Lucy, whom I snabbed this from)
*the funniness of some (fundamentalist) 'Christian' folk who post on here. (I thought of something for Xanga Likes. Yay!)
please God bless Xanga and make it merry xxx Elsabeth

Tuesday, 06 January 2009

To perceive myself as arrogant would hurt

I dreamt about the end of the world last night. I've been doing that a fair bit recently; it must be all those horror films I watch (we watched Mum & Dad at the weekend, which was deliciously disturbing and had nothing to do with the end of the world.) This goes against my reasoning that dreams are less the by-product of my imagination and more the real lives of other folk.
(Unless there are some other folk in the world who decide that it's ok to get bitten by a flesh-eating Undead because it's easier to join forces with them than have to keep running from them.)
I had just been bitten on the arm when my alarm beeped frantically at me. For a brief moment I was exceptionally happy that I wasn't living in a world inhabited by zombie creatures, but then I remembered that today was my first day back at work after the two week (and one day) Christmas break. Yay! It took me a while to get up, mainly because Tabatha was sitting on my head and it was all warm and cosy. She's taken to doing that just recently, which I usually find quite comforting, but sometimes it's a little annoying, because she steals my pillows and my neck aches in the morning.
Pesky pussy.
As today was a training day, we had a lady in to speak to us about stuff we already know. She has the job I want, minus the having to speak to large groups of people aspect. To do the sort of thing that she does, I would need to do some more studying, which is a frightening prospect. I graduated from university in 1997 following five years of study. Study back then involved copious amounts of alcohol, very late nights and flirting with random strangers. And I didn't spend most of the week working. Still, I've found a course with the Open University which is supposed to ease you back into studying (minus the alcohol, very late nights and flirting) and The Blokey has kindly said I can use some of the Tesco Clubcard vouchers to pay for it, so ...
I must speak to the lady who came in to speak to us about stuff we already know; I want her to assess me fully. I'd like, once and for all, to know if I have ADD. Obviously I won't get the result I want, but at least I'll have an answer. I thought that I had a ridiculously feeble short term memory, but we did a test (one of many that she does) using numbers and it turns out that my very short term memory is excellent (I scored 121 where most people scored the average, which is 100, and only a very few tend to get beyond 115) so I am officially labelling myself a Conundrum.
I really don't understand myself most of the time ...
please God bless my tired head xxx Elsabeth