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[October 20, 2008 @ 11:54pm] |
So it seems I'm taking a job at the Prophet. A proper, full-time one, I mean, and not just taking the odd shot for them now and again.
The only dilemma is, I can't think of what to do with my shop. It's not exactly a cash cow, but it seems a shame to shutter it completely. For one thing, I rent out the flat above it, and I'd probably end up moving if I close it, which is just one more hassle. But if I actually have to pay people other than myself to staff it full-time, it'll probably end up just costing me money. Especially with how it seems like there's fewer and fewer people out shopping in Diagon Alley every day now.
I don't know. Reckon I can try holding on to it for a while, and if it goes under, well, it goes under.
Alright, I'll admit it. There's a sentimental attachment. It's my baby. My poorly lit, dusty, often frustrating, not very popular, not particularly lucrative baby. So figuring out just what to do about it is harder than it should be.
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[September 26, 2008 @ 11:11am] |
[ Caradoc ]
Told you we'd live. Drinks on you, then? (I consider it an unspoken part of our previous agreement.) Only not tonight, I'm supposed to stay off this leg a while. And I am also enjoying a delicious high from whatever this was whatshername gave me for the pain, which I'd hate to dilute with the everyday haze of alcohol.
Leg's still sort of twingey, though.
Suppose that's what I get for being sort of totally bad fuckin' arse.
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[September 21, 2008 @ 4:11pm] |
[ Super-hexed to Order, minus Dumbledore ]
So Dumbledore's laying the gloom and doom, certain-death thing on sort of thick lately, isn't he?
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[September 18, 2008 @ 2:21pm] |
[ Private ]
Why can't things just stay the same.
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[September 11, 2008 @ 3:20pm] |
I think I'll have an art exhibition. I'll call it "Children who cry when their parents pay me to take photos of them."
And my personal favourite:
What can I say, I have a gift.
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[July 10, 2008 @ 2:52am] |
Alright, fellow journallers. Advice time. Let's say the chappie in the third-rate apothecary next door has had a "help wanted" sign in the window for something close to a month now. And let's say that two days ago, said chappie affixes another sign beneath it, which reads: "no Muggleborns need apply."
So, dear readers, what's a girl to do? I have practised perfecting my "look that can actually kill" whenever I walk past but other than that (which is, sadly, thus far ineffective) I am at a total loss. At least, for ideas that aren't deliciously violent and therefore won't make me end up looking for some legal counsel of my own. Which would be alright if I could afford it, but I can't.
Suggestions? And, like my Mum used to say, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Nice to me and Muggleborns, I mean. Feel free to say horrid things about our friend the apothecary.
[ Private ]
I don't join things. But I've got to do something. And it's really hard resisting the urge to make that something be 'hex the bollocks off a fat old bigot of an apothecary.' Satisfying as it would be in the heat of the moment, in the long run I don't think it would... help.
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[June 25, 2008 @ 5:35pm] |
[ Private to Caradoc ]
So you keep showing up in my dreams lately. And not in a good way. Not even the least bit sexual or anything. So cut it out, would you? I'm starting to think you're a fucking stalker.
[ /Caradoc ]
So I never took Divination, because it's shite. But I'm wondering, do you do dream interpretation, or is that just something Muggle nutters dreamed up? (Yes that's a pun, laugh, all of you, laugh.)
[ Private ]
I keep waking up feeling like I don't really remember what happened, only that somehow I knew, knew he was dead but no one would tell me. And I wake up feeling exhausted, like I spent the night crying, and searching, and worrying, and it's fucking awful and needs to stop.
On the bright side I'm fairly secure in the knowledge that I'm not psychic.
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[June 05, 2008 @ 12:30pm] |
Ah, sweet hackery.
Wedding season is upon us and I am feeling flush. It is a strange and not altogether unpleasant sensation. I hope it lasts.
Caradoc, fuck, we let a week go by without the promised irresponsible imbibing. Tonight? Tomorrow night? Haven't seen you in ages and I'll accept no excuses.
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[May 29, 2008 @ 7:16pm] |
Alright Caradoc, I got a journal. But I make no promises that I won't get bored and forget about it before the month is out, so don't get too excited. That goes for all the rest of you, too. Minimal excitement, all round.
Am I supposed to introduce myself or something? I'm Dorcas, I take photos, there's not really a lot to me. I hope there's more of you I know here besides just Caradoc because no offence, Cara Mia, but despite appearances I do actually occasionally require other social stimulation.
[Private to Caradoc]
So, you're even more of a mope than usual lately, but worse than that, you're an elusive mope. Unacceptable. I'm shooting a wedding Saturday so this weekend is pretty much out, but if you want to get irresponsibly drunk on a weeknight just say the word and you know I'm your girl.
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