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Tuesday 2/15
A long commute during rush hour means that I don't always have a friend with spare time to call and chat with during it, which tends to wind up listening to commercial radio. This means getting to know the commercials. This means punching the radio (to change the channel or turn it off) when one of those goddamn smug bottled water commercials comes on. Guys, if tap water does not CATCH ON FIRE or contain contamination sufficient to make one sick, you're better off than fucktons of people.

The ##chatfish have taken the Jamie-and-Mae-dance thing very seriously.
[17:21] <Eveandriss> I don't dance.
[17:21] <Eveandriss> :)
[17:21] <Eveandriss> it is a widely known and accepted fact.
[17:21] <Caecandy> But we know so many places you could learn!
[17:21] <Eveandriss> ...I've always wanted to learn how to waltz though.
[17:21] <Eveandriss> Come to think of it.
[17:22] <Eveandriss> anyway, never mind that.
[17:22] <Eveandriss> I am a sidelines person.
[17:25] <Play> I learned to waltz to a three four beat/ The perfect rhythm for dancing feet/ Danced through the corridors, danced down the street/ And that's where I learned to dance
[17:29] <Caecandy> I learn to dance with my friend Cae/ She proved me wrong from when I would say/ I'm never dancing, there's no way/ and that's where I learned to dance.

A long-standing LiveJournal community problem had been that any one maintainer of a community could decide to kick out any and all other maintainers. To resolve this, LiveJournal rolled out an "owner" status, to make the original (or nearest approximation, if that information hadn't been saved) maintainer unable to get booted.

I went over to my aunt's. She showed me a book that an acquaintance of hers had written. She'd been at the library, and the acquaintance was there, and the acquaintance proudly showed off the book she'd written, so my aunt checked it out. I looked at it and determined that it was terrible, and furthermore it was published by an outfit that had been listed by "Writer, Beware". My aunt had been afraid that it was going to be terrible, and admitted that the acquaintance had given her a card and offered to email her the sequel. I "lost" the card, because my aunt wants to maintain friendly relations with this woman.


Wednesday 2/16
Twitter informed me that Justin Beiber does not support abortion for any reason whatsoever, with the "everything happens for a reason" platitude. I can't bring myself to care when bunches of teenagers go gaga over a performer with horribly insipid music, but I do not take it well when people in positions of social power deny c'thia.

It was also a day of work productivity. Yay work productivity!

Evening was spent shopping with Tif.


Thursday 2/17
I misheard lyrics as "I want a wiki for your dreams", and yes. Yes, I do.

The Decemberists have a song, Down By The Water, with Peter Buck (from R.E.M.) as a guest on guitar. So good. That and a conversation with nadyne about The Decemberists covering R.E.M. resulted in me getting earwormed with (an entirely nonexistent) R.E.M. cover of "It's Raining Men". [personal profile] jld and [personal profile] amalnahurriyeh were both sadly disappointed that it was only inside my head.

One of the local Targets had a Red Ring of Death. It was awesome.

I did get the holiday box from my parents. It had packages labeled for almost every late-December holiday that I celebrate, and some I don't. One of the things in the package was a very nice pair of long black stretchy silky thermal pants. Nice.

Occasionally Eris gives me a nudge or two. This time, the nudge was in the direction of staying out of a fight that I was sort of spoiling to get in the middle of. Mama said a while ago that I have always hated injustice, which explains that little tendency (plus, hi, Eris, who is the original shit-stirrer), and this was a ... look, fans, pagans, and the lgbtq* community have the "unless I come out by myself, outing me is one of the shittiest possible things that you could do, and if you do, it had damn well better be justified", in common, and "justified" is like if someone's passing anti-gay legislation while privately hiring escorts level bad. Well, someone published someone's phone book/workplace name, and that's some shit that can get people killed if they live in an area that has the wrong kind of disturbed folk, and even if not.

This time, I got Told that even though it was My People, it was also not my fight, and after I pressed the inquiry, learned that if I did wade in, there would be backsplatter that She could not shield me from as much as She would like to be able to. So I sat it out, albeit somewhat crankily.


Friday 2/18
I wore the slinky thermal pants to work, under one of the slinky black skirts. In the parking lot, as I walked vigorously in the direction of the door, there was a sudden breeze and my feet became entangled. I noticed with some chagrin that the skirt was in a puddle around my ankles (and the nice treads on my sneakers had caught up in them, so it was a bit of work to get it pulled up again), as there was not sufficient friction between the skirt and the thermal pants to keep the no-really-the-skirt-waistband-was-not-designed-for-your-keychain elastic from slipping down over my hips.

It was the sort of absolutely hilarious humiliation that I couldn't wait to share with the internet, and I did have to roll a will save to keep from sharing it with my department, because it was just so goddamned funny.

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Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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