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So I bet you saw this post and thought “hey, it’s July, it’s SimNano time – looks like Gryff got her shit together halfway through the month!”
Well nope, I’m actually just here to drop the obligatory birthday post acknowledging this blog’s SEVEN YEARS of existence. That’s right – acknowledging, not celebrating, because we’re well past treating these birthdays as accomplishments.
^ This legacy, 95 years from now after the successful completion of Chapter 8.17
In fact, at exactly seven years in, my last published chapter is 7.7 and that’s pretty cool BUT we’ve officially started averaging LESS than a generation a year and that’s pretty… not cool.
* * * * *
Here are some more impressive things that have been accomplished in less than seven years:
Michelangelo – painted the Sistine Chapel
Mark Zuckerberg – coded Facebook, became a billionaire
Harry Potter – defeated the darkest wizard of all time
The Black Death – eradicated 60% of Europe’s population
This kid – born, accepted to Oxford
On the other hand, it took Andy Dufresne 19 years to escape Shawshank Prison and excavating a wall with a tiny hammer seems like a much more apt metaphor for this legacy soooo maybe I don’t need to beat myself up. (Correction – I really do need to beat myself up.)
What a year, am I right? Not a very successful one Langurd-wise – though after a measly 8 posts, I’m sure you all gained some brain cells back so you’re welcome – but IRL it’s been a whole spin-cycle shitstorm of good and bad. In some attempt to justify my absences both past and future, I’m going to hit you with both of these as concisely as I can manage. Disclaimer: If you’re a good-news-first person, skip to #2. If you’re only in it for the sims and don’t take none of Gryff’s shit (respect, man) skip to #3.
1. The Bad News
As I mentioned in the half-assed birthday post, my sweet evil feline Dewey was diagnosed with Feluk this summer. He was actually doing really well when I wrote that post, and continued to live his best life with no signs of illness for months afterward – only hatred in his eyes as I tossed pills down his throat 2-4 times a day. He pretty much returned to his old self and I pretty much became a slave to his every whim, giving up all my chairs, refusing to discipline the little shit, and letting him drag me around the yard on his harness so I could stand there getting fried by the sun while he ate dirt behind the garage. We were besties since 2015, but I feel like I gained a whole new appreciation for this cat in the months he was sick.
Unfortunately, our little bubble burst in mid-October when – just as suddenly as they had started – Dewey’s meds stopped working. The same day, the vet had been talking about taking him off the pills altogether because he was doing so well. In fact, she thought it was an error in the reading and told us not to worry. Ain’t that just the way. Less than a week later, I sprinted out of work halfway through my shift so I could spend his last five hours with him on the bathroom floor.
Dewey was cremated with his favourite blanket and jar lid, and left several Deweys’ worth of fur in my wardrobe. I know it hurts to lose a pet of any age, but I can’t help thinking how incredibly unfair it is that he only got three and a half years of being a cat and doing cat things. I always pictured him being with me when I was thirty and
flirty and thriving still not done this legacy. We’ve been each other’s constants for all that time and it would be an insult to think of him as just a chapter in my life. Anyway, there’s no real coming back from losing your best friend but I am doing considerably better now than I was a few months ago. His paw is inked on my shoulder, and his urn wears a pink bowtie and gets catnip offerings from time to time.
Side note: Dewey can rest knowing he completed the important mission of converting my parents. They adopted their first cat a few weeks ago. Little Pushkin is Dewey’s doppelganger in every way except that he’s a total cuddlepie and has only bitten me once.
2. The Good News
SO… amidst all of this, I’ve been working toward a little career goal of mine. Said goal was tossed around in uni, sidelined in favour of coaching quidditch, and reignited last year during my international gallivanting. After hours of paperwork, a scary Skype interview, and a lot of twiddling my thumbs, I can finally say (with only some fear of jinxing myself): I’m going to become a professional baton twirler!
I am so very sorry. This blog doesn’t lend itself to serious news.
The truth is: I’m moving to South Korea as an ESL teacher!
And if one more person responds with “that’s the good Korea, right?” I will facepalm hard enough to forget English entirely, and just think what a pickle I’d be in then.
Realtalk though. Dewey’s diagnosis happened in the middle of the application process. At first, I was fully prepared to put it off another six months and stay with him through his illness. A lot of people shook their heads at me. Then he got better and convinced me to go for it and see what happened. Little know-it-all saw me through passing my interview but just barely missed my final placement in Seoul. SEOUL, GUYS! A lot of first-time applicants don’t get placed in the capital, so I’m more than a little giddy.
I fly out in a month and a half. It’s terrifying, but I desperately need it. 2018 has closed the book on so many parts of my life – I gave up quidditch in April, lost Dewey in October, and shut down my Etsy store just a few days ago. All my friends have scattered in their own directions (I have one in law school, one in med school, one in the freaking Navy…) so there’s almost nothing tying me down. I was far from convinced when I started this process, but somehow everything has culminated in this being the most perfect thing I can imagine myself doing at this point in my life. That statement has jinx written allllll over it and you should know by now that I am far too skeptical to expect an easy transition. If any of you are into travel blogs, I’m sure I’ll need some outlet for my adventures, awkward encounters, 20,000 pictures of food and every stray cat I meet. You can be sure I’ll plug it here when the time comes.
3. The Elephant in the Room
Er, yes. As you may have used your excellent detective skills to conclude, my taking a year-long contract on the other side of the world spells an uncertain fate for the Langurds. I’m not in a position to take my desktop with me, and have sworn to NEVER AGAIN attempt TS3 on a laptop. One silver lining is that I could EASILY take a year to get through the screenshot backlog I have now – the trouble is if I end up staying longer (*fends off jinxes with a rolled-up newspaper*) and run out of material to caption. I am also fairly confident that I could play through another generation before I leave, but that would mean skipping the Gen. 8 heir poll and just running with whomever I think you guys will like. I also have a pipe dream of maybe getting my desktop shipped over to me in a crisis, which is probably super unrealistic. THOUGHTS? What would you do if you were me?
– Finish the legacy in 2015 like you should have
– Be better at things
– Stop being you and be someone cooler instead
It’s okay, you don’t have to solve my problems for me. Just keeping you guys up to date on the latest hole I have dug myself into.
In case I’m the worst and fail to improve my 2018 post count: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, and of course – Happy Simming!
What the fuck. Where did 2018 go? How is it July? Wasn’t it February like yesterday?
You may have noticed that time is getting away from me these days. No, that’s an understatement. Time is sprinting Bolt-speed toward the airport and hopping a plane to the next galaxy, then laughing at me while I scream “Planes can’t go to outer space!” and my aged bones crumble to dust.
Dramatic, I know. But let me tell you – shit has been going down lately that has me shaking my fist at the world. Dewey, the terrible wonderful cat who owns my soul, recently tested positive to Feline Leukemia. FeLV, while not actually a cancer in cats, is an incurable virus that gradually causes severe (and ultimately fatal) anemia. He’s three and life is unfair. Last week my vet was talking euthanasia, but then his meds seemed to kick in, and he started gaining weight between visits (my little chubber has always excelled in that), so we’re taking things one day at a time. It’s been a fucking rollercoaster and we would both appreciate any positive vibes you can send our way. ❤
On top of working 40-60 hour weeks at the café, I also just finished a certification course and am applying to ESL teaching jobs overseas! It’s exciting but stressful and real decisions scare me. Please don’t ask how this news plays into the news above because that’s a whole other shitshow.
But let’s get down to what you came here for, which is not sad stories, nor career plans, but the mind-numbing idiocy of a family that is now six years old.
Look at this fool, trying to hype up her return to the blogosphere by comparing it to a boyband comeback. Despicable.
HEY GUYS 😀
I have completed my yearly bout of falling off the face of the earth! It’s been 10 months and 22 days since I last posted, which I think is pretty standard at this point? However, this year’s unplanned-but-fully-expected hiatus featured some pretty cool things, including a literal departure from the face of the earth. No, I didn’t just jump in the air for a split second, though that totally counts. I’m talking about an actual adventure!
Help me, I can’t stop blogging! (Actually, I’m more afraid that if I DO stop, it’ll be five years before I start again.) Either way, I did a thing to kill some time and stop me checking the Devil’s Heir Poll every three minutes.
Approximately ten thousand years ago, Liebster Awards were once again circulating the air ducts of WordPress and three of them landed in the Langurds’ dust trap. (Wow, my analogies need to calm the fuck down.) Thank you to Miss Wingless, FluffyMao, and misterwolfe86 for those! Here are my totally serious answers to their questions:
THREE HOURS. This is so not happening. What probably IS happening is that I’ll publish whatever piddly excuse for a chapter I manage to fire out by midnight, and save the rest for a 14th post. My generations have all had an even number of chapters anyway—not that there’s any real reason for that, but why stop now?
Cal: Please no bombs. I don’t wanna deal with fire this chapter.
Fair enough. See you in 6.14!
Celebrating Five Years of Langurd: The Official Half-Decade Heptathlon (Finally, Proof that I Am a Crazy Person)
It’s not every day your young blog turns five, and I’ve been stewing and stewing over how to celebrate the upcoming legaversary in style. The only problem with doing cool things is the inevitable need to follow up with cooler things, and let’s face it, Birthdays 3 and 4 reached a level of coolness known only to Beyonce and Antarctica. (I hope you are all reading my sarcasm here.)
Somewhere in my stewing
amidst the carrots and barley I realized that five years is an inanely long time for you, the readers, to have stuck with a stuttering, wheezing, at times just dead-on-the-floor blog like this one. So instead of wasting time on a glorified spin-off, I’ve decided to channel my appreciation into something more productive. Something that has never been attempted in Langurd history. Something that goes against every fibre of my being and may just kill me.
This post has been rotting in my drafts folder for about 84 years, but today – thanks to a reminder from DSLady – it shall enter the world at last. BE FREE, LITTLE BIRD!
You may remember a braggy little post from just over a year ago about winning Season 10 of Boolprop’s Next Top Model. Leaving no can unkicked, of course I entered Season 11 this past summer and had too much fun staging more ridiculous photoshoots. Spoiler: my hipster fool got his butt kicked, but we did make runner-up!
Feast yer eyes if ye so please (or scroll to the bottom for more filler nonsense).
Intro Round: A Day in the Life
Occupation: Barista & Open Mic Host at Hemingway’s Haunt
Ceviche (not his real name, sources suggest) is full of ideas to make the world a better place.
Nor for the procrastinator, apparently. 😥 Instead of partying with my friends (or better yet, sleeping) I am spending my Hallowe’en night cracking down on Update #3. At least I shouldn’t have any interruptions since this is now guarding my front door:
Fucking terrifying, isn’t it?
But how could Trumpkin ever compare to such artistry as this… this… I give up, Frieda, what the hell is that?
Frieda: It’s Axorn, of course!
Axorn: PAINT ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH GIRLS