Oh, how I’ve fallen in the world. There was a time when I wrote these posts from an actual desk, a queen-sized bed, or occasionally even a hammock. I’m typing this one from a floor mattress, sprawled on my stomach in that awkward position that strains your shoulders and kinks your neck no matter how you rearrange yourself. There’s laundry drying just above my butt, approximately three inches of Korean dust on my laptop screen, and bread pizza with hot dogs in the toaster oven I scored for free with my phone contract.
Huh, it doesn’t sound so bad when I phrase it that way. I actually love my Seoul apartment, and I do have a real-ish bed balanced on two mold-combative plastic pallets. I just wasn’t feeling the inspiration over there.
Also, compared to the Langurds’ house it’s a downright port-a-potty so I think I have full license to complain.
Seriously. Just look at that golden glow on the wallpaper. Look at it and weep.
Delilah: Welcome to your new room, Duke! And good news, as the oldest you get it aaaalll to yourse— wait, who is that?
Riza: Just the disappointing child of a doomed relationship. Don’t mind me.
Happy New Year! And a joyous farewell to 2018, the most desolate year on the Blog of Langurd: home to nine posts, only two-thirds of which were actual updates. Oh my.
This is the year 3019, and revolution is upon us. Fingers will fly across keyboards, updates will churn, comments will be replied to, and babies will be born.
I may just end up half-assing my way to the good stuff because these screenshots are stale enough to break a tooth on.
And Trelilah’s relationship is growing seven kinds of toxic mold, but that doesn’t stop me trying to salvage it.
Delilah: Let me just get this straight. You, Trance Langurd, are admitting your idiotic mistakes and begging for forgiveness.
Trance: Indeed… I think I am.
Delilah: Could you say it one more time so I know I’m not losing it?
Trance: I, Trance Langurd, have behaved like human trash. Can you find it in your heart to take back an unworthy imbecile?
Delilah: Depends. Can I get that in writing?
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!
BREAKING NEWS: Gryffindork utterly tanks SimNoWriMo for a third year running, much to the surprise of no one
To be fair, I did NOT see October coming. The other day my poor coworker had to convince me that it’s not “almost fall” anymore, it actually is fall. Who knew?
THIS JUST IN: Actually publishing post in mid-December, has nothing to say for self
So anyway, here’s what was going to be Update #2, and is now just a plain old chapter in the middle of all the other ones. With a two month gap to boot.
Hello, and welcome to the part of this generation where I get far too invested in my spares and lose sight of the legacy’s ultimate goal!
Why? Because if Story Progression had its way, it would only have them become sad, celibate mimes.
It’s only fair that Kip and Trance get their day in the sun, so I took them and their other halves to the sunniest place I could think of!
Let’s appreciate how the newcomers are like “WOW A VACATION WE ARE SO BLESSED” while my actual legacy kids couldn’t give a shit.
Kip: I would feel more blessed if you hadn’t done this 3000 times before.
And how would YOU know that?
Trance: I’ve seen our basement. Is there anything left in the tombs?
IT IS TIME
To make like Smaug and start hoarding posts for SimNoWriMo! It’s only the middle of August, but I’m awkwardly motivated and we all know that won’t last long. So let’s find out just how much gas is left in the inspiration machine!
Rhapsody: What is inspiration?
What a terrible place to start. Rhapsody is the slowest skiller ever, and even she’s over it.
I’m doing my darnedest to keep this momentum going, so let’s get straight into the next act of the shitshow!
Here we see a typical morning at the Langurd Lodge for Futuristic Wayfarers. After arriving with a crash of thunder that ruins my screenshots and wakes the baby, a guest makes himself at home in the nursery.
Colby: Ah, what a quaint little transport vessel! I believe this is what they called a bort.
It’s precisely at this point that I rage-delete the time portal and leave Colby forever stranded. I hope he learns how to sail that bort the fuck outta here.
Well. I just laid out the screenshots for several more chapters and let me tell you, Siesta’s generation is going to be a saga. Today’s update is coming to you in a smaller package so I will feel less daunted by the task ahead.
We find the family in much the state we left them, i.e. total disarray after our resident knight turned out to be robotophile, and our resident robot turned out to be a bitch. Who knew?
The latest trend is that Siri keeps asking Breandan to “train” her on the ballet bar, which is as unsubtle as it is stupid.
Breandan: Work that plié, you arousing slab of tin!
Siri: This is all I ever wanted!
Hello, and welcome back to the Langurds! For real this time – no more filler bullshit. If you don’t believe me, take a moment to breathe in the scent of decaying tofu dogs and evaporating brain cells.
Oh yeah, we’re back alright.
Turns out I remember zero things from last generation, but I do know that there was a terrible, awful, very no good heir poll and y’all panic-voted this box-headed fool into leadership. I think we will regret this soon, but for now it’s full steam ahead!
Commence the celebratory tea! (I hope she showed up on time)
Siesta: Hey Prototype, I’ve been thinking.
Prototype: God help us all.
Siesta: Since I’m in charge and stuff, I’m going to rename you Siri.
Prototype: Pray tell why?
Siesta: Don’t be silly, Siri. You answer my questions, not the other way around!
Prototype: You poor dense soul.
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.
You guys voted for this star-crossed lovers business, and honour compels me to deliver on my promises in the fullest way possible. Which means—you guessed it—the Langurds are about to enter that shadowy, foreboding territory we call PLOT.
Don’t worry—Siesta’s generation will be played and written as much by the seat of my pants as the others have been. It’s just that after playing detective so many times in Gen. 6, I felt it would be helpful to put all of my “COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT” moments in one place.
So please humour me as I don my Halloween-store trench coat and cap, and attempt to mash together disjointed happenings into a wad that can conceivably be called “evidence.”
Without further ado, let us open the case!