...Which is Saan's probably botched comtemporary Latin explanation as to why she will probably not be going to the Menck-Meeting (ooh, look, it's gotten capitals.) 'Et' can mean 'even if' and 'and'. Leaving the participium praesens to be either a noun or a form of a verb. She even looked up words which should bring over the meaning. The subject of 'timet' is not Saan. A digital cookie to anyone who can translate.
The only reason Saan used that particular verse of Virgil's Aeneid for her random rapage is because she saw it today in class, and remembered the translation before it got to the end. Might have shocked her teacher a little. Saan needs to take more initiative during Latin. Two verses in a mere fifty minutes were apparently unusual.Or maybe she was pissed that Saan told the end before they'd started that particular story. For those wondering: the priest gets eaten for spoiling the surprise. People get it wrong and instead of torching the great wooden horse, put there by people who have been trying to slaughter them for the past decade, they drag it in and throw it a party. But Saan was never one to comment on the intelligence of semi-important characters thrown into the storyline of myths.
Saan managed to play soccer, even with one of her toes bleeding and both of the big ones hurting like a preferably domesticated, canine creature of the female persuasion. She didn't feel sick at all in the morning, in her warm bed and not so very brightly lit room, but by the time she came home, her throat felt raw, her head was pounding, her ears were doing their funny ache-itch-tickle thing again and she would really have liked to sleep for a few hours. She didn't because her sleeping the day before had kept her from doing so during the night. Sleeping and hovering just above the edge of blissful unconsciousness just isn't the same when your sinuses have decided to slowly come slithering down your nostrils and turn your snot the color of earwax. She downed some fruit juice, ate three meals and discovered once more why she loves Latin: apart from being four hours of it, full of debate on political correctness and how prehistoric special effects took place, the translations are a rewarding and relaxing, if not hypnotic thing to do. One of the few things that gets Saan calm and ready to go to sleep, without going sleepy above her books. And they make her feel like she did this morning: not sick at all.
And Saan has to stop reading poetic translations from Latin to English. They make her sound wonky. Anything not sounding like Saan is the fault of translations like 'O tyrant love, to what do you not drive the hearts of men!'.
Saan is feeling sick. Infected ear- and throat-ways sick. Blocked nose sick. Headache sick. Five sneezes in thirty seconds sick. Four-hours of sleep right after coming home sick. Near-illiterate-sick, which proves to Saan that she's in the need of a visit to the doctor. Her parents think it's nothing serious, mainly because Saan didn't act too sick when Yif was here. And her lips look psoriatic. And she still has to go to school (soccer, first thing) tomorrow.
On the bright side, Yif dropped by, and she and Saan talked. Did some silly things. Giggled. Discussed didgeridoos. Made Saan's homework. It was fun.
And now she's going to make her schoolbag and try to sleep it off again.
Saan normally loves being proven right, but today it's sort of inconvenient. Yesterday she posts she thinks there should be more homework, today her diary gets messed up, she gets a few things to finish (and she could do the French bit. Half of the words in the translation exercise stopped having even a remote French counterpart, but Saan wrote down enough to prove she tried.) and Philou returns from the land of the dead. Also, her workbook for Frenchbook, presumed Eaten By The Evil Class Cupboard since early September turned up. Saan owes the cupboard an apology. One of her classmates had accidentally taken it and dumped it in her locker. So now Saan has two workbooks.
Now, on to Philou. First of all, it's probably neccesary to state that Saan appreciates everything he posts in the comments, but that means she'll have to A) go back and check for comments B) fix any broken links, images C) start paying attentiont to things like consistency and length of her posts. Meaning less sleep. Less time to mess around on the net. Less time to read. More time to spout nonsense, though, and her sole commentator's back, so there's two bright spots there.
Next, Menck (friend of Philou's) is proposing a get-together of all bloggen.be readers and writers HERE. (A link. Really. Don't miss it.)
Okay, continuing down the report-everything-that-she-didn't-already, Saan is glad to announce to Yif (if she still is reading this thing) that Saan is using her birthday gift usefully: the spinning cow-y bank has been dubbed Local Puppy Fund. All small change bothering people in their wallet may be dropped in. So far, according to the last counts, it contains something between 7,50-10,00. The number kept changing. All money collected by the time Saan gets a puppy will be used to sponsor it, instead of being taken from Saan & Sis' bank accounts. Big bro has announced he's willing to overlook the dog in exchange for an Apple laptop. He's jealous because Saan's sis is getting (a large part of the money for) one for her confirmation from her godfather.
Still not stopping that train of thought, because it's vague enough to hold up, Saan is happy to announce that her pc has been defragmented. She has eighteen percent of free disk space, but at least her pc has gotten a tiny bit faster.
And Cass has been revived for the moment. He's so far out of control that all he needs is Saan's fingers on the keyboard.
Saan bought a cacao butter stick after her dry lips were being stingy at school (okay, so pulling at the dead skin wasn't Saan's brightest brain wave of the day, but it was early), and it works, and it cost her less than the most basic labello would have. And it smells chocolate-y.
Saan is starting to feel a bit apprehensive. She hasn't had much days with loads of homework, like she used to have, lately. She managed to finish her entire weekend's homework in less than six hours. So either tomorrow she finds out she forgot about something major, or she'll keep on waiting for the other shoe to drop (for example, on her grades).
Saan has a phobia for insects and instect-like things like spiders. Except tarantulas. They don't hog the toilet and they go splat if they fall from the table. Anyway, it's bad enough to merit hysteria in the Belgian butterfly gardens and a few months of therapy. Which paid off! Sort of, anyway. Saan's still not fully appreciative of the good things the creepy buggers do for our world, but she can be in the same room as one under the general rule of it leaving Saan alone. Then she either runs screaming, or gets her choice of extermination.
And then H. asked if she wanted to come to the National Museum for Middle-Africa with her, to go see an exposition on exotic butterflies. Saan went, despite visions of big hairy bodies with too large wings trying to sit on her. Lucky for her, they were all dead, and she didn't have to touch them.
She's glad to inform the still ignorant part of the readers that Belgium has--since a few months--a very rare kind of female moth (The girls play hard to get high up in the trees and the guys live down low, so the boy-moth is much easier to get a hold of), bought right of the net. Price not mentioned, but since they had to ask permission of the Museum-Bossman, it probably wasn't cheap. There also were butterflies the size of mosquitos, caught, determined and prepared on site, because they were too something to ship to Belgium. And the Belgian collection of hollotypes (of butterflies, anyway) has been put on line, so they don't get destroyed in the process of mailing them somewhere. Pictures with a higher resolution can be requested and will be happily sent for scientific purposes.
The day started off with looking at the rows upon rows of butterflies stocked there (They had about 6 million insects, if Saan didn't mishear, and about half a million were butterflies) in high cupboards. Then you could prepare your own butterfly (age: 18 in May), which Saan didn't. The guy giving the workshop on it was the only one not ribbing Saan about that, so big thanks to the guy who spoke French, understood Dutch, didn't make fun of Saan and who had a name she forgot. Lunch took place in a cozy but hidden restaurant across the street ('T Spoorloos Station), and then they were off to the main museum for the exposition. There was some 'scientific' research: shoving insects and butterflies under microscopes. Saan's general inability to handle the things disfunctioned and she actually got to see some facet-eyes up close, and the scales of the butterflies. Woohoo. If there's no post tomorrow, Saan is still hiding under her sheets with the flashlight. The exposition and museum were fun, if the nearly 100 photos taken with Saan's cell phone are any judge. Some were taken with an effect on it, some weren't. The 'Ik Heb Een Boot' song were really came to mind at the sight of the great big cano in the room next to the exit.
Okay, so today got Saan: -An enlightening experience -Some insight (Like: two-gendered butterflies exist and melanism is rare in moths, while albinoism is more common in them than in daytime butterflies, who have more melanists among their ranks) -A free meal and drink (No Fristi and spagetthi, but nice nonetheless) -Some social contact with a nice person -A few laughs (As in "Whee, a laughing warhtog!" and "How do you pronounce that one? Janetkat?") -A free bracelet. It's one of those gummy rubber affairs, and is now hanging onto her Miffy bag. -A VIP pass for today. Would-be importance is a very good way to draw teens to normally dull museums -A free lanyard to hang the pass on. It's so soft... -A real fake ivory-and-ebony giraffe with blue, real fake glass paste beads on a string for five euros. No rare trees or animals were taken down to make it and it's cute. Score! -The realisation that the therapy really helped. She wouldn't have done this even if you paid her in diamonds eighteen months ago.
Edit: forgot to spread the fun around with a picture. This monster was launched on the net at half past eleven in the evening.
First of all, there was chrisostemos today to look forward to. Eggs, flour, confetti, fireworks on a small scale, hair spraypaint, pranks that weren't really all that funny, but energy all round in general. Saan has just gotten rid of the last of the confetti by changing clothes. There's probably still some in her hair, though. People were talking, laughing, life going on. She also woke up at about half past two, when it started to snow.
And then she went home, and everything was wet, and the confetti got soggy and there wasn't anything to do. Even blog-land's dead. Her cell phone's nearly out of credit. On the other hand, the site works once more. Yay!
Saan's pc is acting up, again. She should probably have her brother take a good and long look at it, which won't happen for a few weeks yet. In the mean while, IE isn't feeling charitable enough to let Saan see her blog and is sniggering behind Saan's back as several web pages stop responding. One of them is the ready-part of the blog, so apologies if someone actually took the difficulty to read and leave a comment. Saan isn't ignoring you, her pc is just being its spiteful self.
Saan sort of wiled her afternoon away waiting for a classmate to come on line and share the results of the practicum with her. Someone showed up, but rather late, so now it's nearly eleven and Saan still has to clean up her room.
Okay, so the title was totally nicked from today's CYS. Saan doesn't claim any ownership of it, it just made her smirk.
Okay, today Saan happened to come across and use in everyday conversation: -The human hippothalamus... If that's the word for it. -An apparent pro-homosexual sex movement in her school (Saan would also like to state that she has nothing against gay people. Saan respects anyone who also respects other people. Gender, sexuality and color have nothing to do with that.) -Radioactivity. (She went to NIRAS. Pretty obvious, then) -Hair dryers and how much Saan hates them. Though the portable, travel one at home is tolerable. -The grandchildren of the lady who lives behind Saan. -Handwriting -Yif's birthday (which is today! Go and send her lots of happy birthday e-cards before midnight!) -Chinese (the language) -Justice between teenagers at home (okay, so it was more like Saan acknowledging that what she did wasn't fair. She didn't stop doing it, but she at least was aware of the fact that it was a nasty thing to do)
Strange things flying through her mind were: -'Why the fuck am I using so many brackets these days? It's annoying' -'Whoo, look! Guillemets!' -'Gonna use a backpack, gonna use a backpack' -'Nope, two pigtails suck on her... Ah, shit, now there's two!' -'Stop talking nonsense!' -'Super-Saan today: mail girl!' -'I wanna buy Do a nice gift for her birthday... but more than 300+ euros is too much, probably'
Saan is munching on some cent wafers as she types, and enjoying that particular treat lots, hence the title.
She finished what Death Note fansubs were available on youtube.com and is now torturing herself with watching the live-action movie. Saan knows she isn't perfect, and she too makes errors but this is getting downright cruel. Crucial words, needed to form a cohorent sentence, get left out. Words change function, shape and amount to the writer's whim. True, there is always a desire for freedom to write chatever the hell you want, but there's also a desire for an understandable translation.
He was dying when the guy is still spasming away on screen is one of the minor errors. The question marks at the end of a normal sentence are also just minor annoyances. Three adverbs without a verb isn't minor any more. Saan knows translation can be a bitch at times, but screwing up or leaving it out doesn't help. Minor mistakes eat away at your grades (or, in this case, reputation) slowly and steadily, and don't really get held against you, but the bigger mistakes usually just make you look dumb. To twist around Do's words (and give an example of a common minor mistake poking Saan's eyeballs out): English isn't hard. The only conjugation most verbs have is the present, where you add an 's' to the end in the third person, singular. Missing that one is about as dumb as it gets.
More things bothering Saan (with comparisons to her favorite dead language inbetween the brackets): the fact that verbs do not have a particular time, and the past and present are apparently randomly interchangable (which you can do at certain times in Latin, but there's rules for that. Family dinners do not include blood-chilling suspense), the random adding and subtracting of auxiliary verbs (which you can do freely in Latin, by the way) even if there already is one in the sentence, freely messing up the complete structure of a fairly simple sentence (which you can do in Latin, providing it's to fit a metrum or to make your text 'prettier'), skipping of articles (once again, not a problem if you'd be talking Latin: it doesn't have any) and messing up the number (And it ain't dead poetry, so it's not allowed).
Thanks for reading Saan's moaning, see y'all next time.
And then the evening fell, and all became quiet in the world.
Saan is starting to get happy it's evening.
Her sister has been throwing tantrums all day because Miss ECS isn't becoming part of the family due to lack of materials, such as a place to sleep for the poor dear. So while the breed has already been decided, it'll be waiting for Easter to get a pup, so they can prepare properly for it.
Then there's the fact that Saan's sis has a concert tomorrow. Her parents are helping with the preparations, too, so it's a bit hectic at the house.
Saan's left shoe is being noisy. Creepily noisy. Imitating birds noisy.
And now Saan's twisting and turning a rather reluctant fanfic into shape, with feedback (read: a small truckload of help) from Elly. Perfectionism is something Saan should probably try outside writing sometime.
After the downpour of the morning, things cleared up and the first warm sun rays of 2007 came in. They're giving the first snow and ice by next week. Her Latin test wasn't so bad, either. At home, she received a gift from Mr. Mailman, meaning Yif will get her gift on time and Saan has a new manga to enjoy. She then spent half an hour messing with her sister's hair, which turned out pretty good, and then did a whole photo shoot on it with her cell phone. One of the results is seen in the pictures. Saan should stop messing with the effects, probably. And the highlight of the day was undoubtedly going to see The Puppy. Saan's mom called a few people who had cocker spaniel pups last week, and they could come see tonight. Star of the show was an eleven weeks old female puppy, not named, last of the litter, obsessed with all the new faces and licking Saan's face. The three women in the Saan-household melted for a set of big brown eyes, soft fur and excellent advice. The tricky part'll now be convincing Saan's brother and father. And convincing Yif that enthusiasm isn't the same as attacking, because the furball goes straight for the face. So, very much perhaps, a post somewhere in the future will feature li'll miss ECS' pretty face.
...(which Saan will not be trying out due to lack of red handkerchiefs, by the way), Saan has found an (hopefully) equally humorous video on a forum.
Still feeling a bit psychoantropologistic (It's a word if you can spell it), Saan points out that laughter is contagious. Watch the video by clicking on GNOME-DUDE!!! and see for yourself. You'll probably join in at some point. Saan was nearly kicked off the pc for it. She doesn't know the show, and the forum's Dutch, and she's not a member, but the movie's funny as hell. Promise.
Okay, so if (mind that if while Saan wanders off to some alternate reality where that if is a fact) Saan got everything she filled out on the form for the answers right, then there's a teenie-weenie chance that she might get to the second round of the Maths thingie. Yikes. Another two hours off her Wednesday afternoon.
Next bit on the agenda: big test coming up tomorrow. Hopefully it'll go good.
Then. Some time ago, Saan was corrupted by Youtube's most fashionable gay guy, the dearly beloved Mr. William Sledd. Everybody go and look at his movies now. And at his American Apparel underwear. Oh, and at the cupcake song! They're all awesome! Saan's not the most trendy chick in town, but he rocks anyway. Because he is CUPCAKE MAN! And to get that, you gotta go watch his movies.
Another Saan thing is her obsession with music videos. Youtube will be abused beyond belief tonight while she hunts for music with pretty pictures.
Saan, after looking forward to it for a while day, took a looooong shower today. With two shampoos and aromathic bath gel. She now smells of minty freshness. Her razor was abused for half an hour. She wasted quite a bit of lotion when she realised she needed it. Things should be a-okay tomorrow.
She looked up pilates on Wikipedia and was disappointed.
She's got the first part of the Mathemathics Olympiad tomorrow. Mustn't forget lunch. Mustn't forget cell phone. Must go to sleep on time, because she's knackered.
Anyway, enjoy the rest of your day and hope Saan doesn't go down as badly as she can, because she didn't prepare for the MO at all.
Okay, so up to the three mini-Lion bars and the package of strawberry bootlace and the nifty, new, red comisole with the stripes and a new, non-itchy bra with stripes, Saan's Monday didn't suck outright.
But then she got home and internet explorer (which Saan works with because it's the least fussy thing she's ever had, so don't suggest the further complication of her life called firefox) was acting wonky. It seemed to have forgotten all of Saan's usual URLs, something it usually decides to do after twenty days or the start of the month. It usually doesn't up and die in the middle of it. A shorter version would be 'Shit, IE's being tricky and Saan is too lazy to type out all the URLs, even if she does know the majority of them by heart'.
And her back hurts. Tremendously. Her dad thinks it's a hernia--thank you, mister fifteen-kilos-of-book-bag--and Saan is starting to believe him. The only vaguely comfortable position is flat on her back, on her bed, with all pillows gone, or the huge pillow under the back. Strawberry bootlace doesn't help it. And she has to go to the doctor's on Friday, so she might as well ask the doc to take a look at it while she's writing out a new prescription for Saan's overdose of estrogen. 90% of all Belgian women under twenty-one get their anti-conception paid back. Saan belongs to the others who need the extra to last them through a week of de-tox. Not the others who take them to prevent their head-hair from falling out, which it apparently is also used for. It's harmless, seeing as it's taken by people who have oversensitive immune systems without causing horrid side effects. And Saan's being so overly informative because she's spiteful like that when she's hurting.
Thanks to Elly, Saan started watching Chobits. Thanks to that, she started writing a fic on it. And it has a sucky start, though it's beginning to take shape. But the beginning is still being mean and difficult to rewrite. Ramming her head on the keyboard only makes her head get rammed back by her mouse-bubble.
And Saan's back to being unnaturally thirsty once more, and her hair won't sit right and her eyes are a bit dried out and her back huuuuurts.
She's going to go off and spout her misery to someone who isn't you, now.
Okay, becuase the post for last night was eaten, you get a short recap today. Saan was going to post Yif's birthday card last night, which was the cause of the post being eaten. She is now officially against all JPEG-like formats. Saan finished Elly's birthday gift before bedtime. She already knows a place where she can get the rest of the series, down to the end. Her hyper-organic, stevia-sweetened lip balm is still sitting on her nightstand, looking like a miniature cup of Ben & Jerry's. She did remember why she hates cherries in her ice cream. Movie was nice. Sound track didn't suck, bastard didn't get the girl, a few surprises, a few clichés. A few sniggers at the male gender in general. She got started in 'the madolescents' and wonders where they found transparent purple platform sandals. Homework's finished. That's about it, really.
'Kay, so it was Saan's seventeenth birthday today , and she had a good one. Christmas tree wasn't broken down yet, french fries, lemonade, no homework and Yif giving a birthday hug after school. Little towards no homework. Some writing getting done. All the leos were gone and tomorrow she'll be going to the movies with Elly and Yif (unless something comes up). Elly's birthday gift has finally arrived at the shop and Saan's package will probably be packed and sent somewhere during next week. Only now she doesn't know what to write anymore.
...
Go and pour some paint-stripper across the Mona Lisa.
Anyway, it's bad enough to merit hysteria in the Belgian butterfly gardens and a few months of therapy. 
, and she had a good one. Christmas tree wasn't broken down yet, french fries, lemonade, no homework and Yif giving a birthday hug after school. Little towards no homework. Some writing getting done. All the leos were gone and tomorrow she'll be going to the movies with Elly and Yif (unless something comes up). Elly's birthday gift has finally arrived at the shop and Saan's package will probably be packed and sent somewhere during next week. Only now she doesn't know what to write anymore.
