So the hallway renovation in my building has been ongoing and everything is coated in a very fine layer of plaster dust, which so far has not migrated to the inside of my apartment but it's all over everything in the hall and ugh. Also, yesterday, they installed a new outer door and a new inner door, but I am not at all confident that either of them actually locks at this point (and I'm a little afraid that my keys aren't going to work when I get home tonight, but that can't actually happen right?), which is a little anxiety-inducing.
I forgot to mention this, but I've been wearing my Darth Vader faux leather jacket a lot and I have received numerous compliments on it! Even my sister was like, "Wow, you look very stylish!" and that was before I showed her the hilarious quote on the lining ("You underestimate the POWER of the Dark Side!"). I also like wearing it because much like when I'm pretending I'm the Winter Soldier on his way to murdering Captain America, I pretend I'm Darth Vader stalking through the smoke on the Tantive IV and people get out of my way on the sidewalk. *g*
Speaking of that Winter Soldier murder swagger, I see that people are getting anxious about Civil War, but my past couple of weeks has been full of anxiety about The Raven Cycle
so I can't be worrying about CACW until I'm done reading. I downloaded my copy when I got out of bed this morning and then I didn't get a seat on the bus until Lexington arrgh! I should have taken the day off to read! Because I'm sure tumblr is rife with spoilers (apparently there were already spoilers out there but I didn't see any; thank you, tumblr dash for not spoiling me!) and my planned CACW-induced tumblr hiatus (well, more like a reduction in time spent, rather than a full-on hiatus) isn't scheduled to start until Thursday!
Of course, I'm also like, I should have taken next Friday off in case I want to see CACW over and over again, but I've mostly been occupying myself with other fandoms to stave off that anxiety. This is why being multifannish is the best! I've spent so much time worrying about Gansey et al. (and also, the Stanley Cup playoffs) and trying to write SW stories over the past few weeks that I haven't really had time to get wound up with worry about Steve and Bucky, and instead have just been enjoying the Mackie/Stan/Evans roadshow. *hands*
Anyway! I'm sure I'll be anxious soon, but the rumor of good reviews pleases me (I haven't read any of them), and right now I am too busy ( spoiler for The Raven King )
In television news: Jane the Virgin( spoilers )
Anyway, here's today's poem:The Archipelago of Kisses
We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.
The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get
older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's
red door just to see how it fits. Oh where
does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what? Don't invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious
and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.