(Related: my chat the other night with lb, who invited me back to his place, for values of "his place" involving an IRC channel he founded aaaaaaages ago, where there is no topic and the channel name has essentially fuckall to do with the current use. I feel very accepted: it doesn't seem like this is a thing he does for everyone.)
As clear an allegory for death and heaven as ever my gummy little brain had been fed. I was sceptical about the heaven part as it seemed obviously tacked on to make people feel better about death. As I had a hobby of scaring myself silly by trying to comprehend eternity and infinity, it seemed a cheap platitude.
"Waltzing with Bears":
Interesting metaphor for drug addiction! It's a dangerous and bizarre hobby that his family tries to intervene in, but in the end the addiction was stronger than their love and his determination.
"Puff, the Magic Dragon":
Pointlessly depressing because the kid dies at the end, and the dragon mourns him forever. (He may have grown up before dying.) Even so, it was all the terror of eternity with the loss of a close friend to make it more interesting.
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I love Hill so hard.
"It seems to run on some form of electricity."
(That one time when I was about four and was sitting behind the wheel of my dad's little Honda while he was getting it shoveled out of the snow and turned around ready to go. He had pushed it out, and was shoving the front keeping it from sliding down the hill. He was ready to come get in, but he couldn't let go lest it slide. So he called for me to put on the brake. My little arms were too weak to pull on the handbrake. So he told me to press the brake pedal. "Which one is the brake?" I asked. "The one next to the accelerator," he answered. Being four, I didn't know which one the accelerator was either, and I didn't want to waste either of our time with that conversation. "Is the brake right, middle, or left?" I asked. It was of course the middle, and I stomped on it with all my tiny might, and my father came around and pulled on the handbrake, and we got all situated to go. I remember that situation with no little pride for my past tiny self. I also remember it as a thing to do again, for situations where one of the people in a tech support or other remote hands sort of situation has not even an elementary understanding of the system. Stop the badness before it starts, and find a common frame of reference in order to get shit done. And that's what Steve did -- let Tony know what his frame of reference was, and Tony did the good tech support thing.)
Shawarma, near the insurance place
(I thought of Kat <3 )
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$300, it appears, is the size of a deposit on a one-bedroom in Hayward. Which is only <2 hours from work by public transit.
Friday, mostly I slept. I did, however, sew snaps on a certain crocheting project and a certain rainbow hat, to the utter brain-breaking and giggling awe of certain bits of the internet. I have an entry coming about that as well.
Saturday, there was also a lot of sleep, and I didn't try to win NaNo at the last minute. I'm feeling as if I should be disappointed with myself, but also wondering if there's something Wrong With Me. Not Trying on that level is a warning sign to me.
Today, I woke up with an ouchy foot, napped some more, woke up less ouchy, and then prepared for Fruitcake! I wound up going to five different stores -- Costco, Trader Joe's, Safeway, the market next to Safeway, and then D Town -- for the bits and bobs. I will in fact have dried fruits out the wazoo for the next while, given that I wanted a sufficient diversity but go larger bits.
I dropped by my aunt's anyway, even though it was probably Too Late For Fruitcake by that time, and came in for a cuppa and a gossip.
In the continuing saga of the firepit at work, I am keeping a running tally of the tech dudes I have observed picking up rocks from the firepit to see if they're hot. The firepit is a great wide metal bowl with a gas-fire mechanism in the middle. The firepit is filled with lava rocks and chunks of colorful glass, concealing most of the mechanism save for the ignition bit in the center. So the middle of the pit is full of flame and is hot. The further away from the fire you get, the cooler everything is, until you reach the edge, which is only slightly above ambient temperature, and that's if the thing has been on. Therefore various tech dudes have been reaching in to parts of the fire pit that are not on fire, and picking up rocks to see if they're hot.
The tally has reached four so far. Five if you count the following moment with Mr. Zune:
Something from within the fire pit cracked loudly.
"What just hit me?" asked Mr. Zune, reaching for the shard that had bounced off a colleague and then bounced off him.
"Ow that's hot!" exclaimed Mr. Zune, dropping the shard like the proverbial hot potato. "THE ROCK HIT ME FIRST, OKAY?"
(Mr. Zune is, in fact, the guy for whom the "nor overly clever" rule was put in place.)
Subsequent discussion with The Renaissance Man and lb on how to actually reproduce the fire pit spitting hot rock at bystanders involved two guys with slingshots, one on the nearby grassy knoll and the other on a further-away balcony. The idea would be to fire a rock in to the pit, and have another bounce out in the correct direction, billiards style.
My co-workers are brilliant, though perhaps not always practical. (The actual delivery of the idea in person involves some tricky timing when actually stating the phrase "grassy knoll", ideally involving a mouthful of liquid.)
My aunt pointed out that 1/3 of a cup of rum really wasn't enough for a proper batch of fruitcake, and that fruitcakes in her experience involved some soaking. Which made the 1.75l bottle of Captain Morgan look less like overkill, and more like 3/4 empty, after I stuffed the raisins, and the dried apples, and half the pineapple, not to mention apricots and some blueberries and some cherries and just a sprinkling of pecans into a large jug and then emptied some of the good Captain all over them. So now my raisins are ruminating. My aunt and I will be mixing stuff up on Friday after work. Whee!
Azz: kaberett: I have rendered The Hat wearable. :D
zorkian: was cedric diggory a gryffindor?
zorkian: ah-hah, that makes more sense
Azz: You're welcome!
* Azz pulls many things out of hat
stormerider: can you pull a sword out, azz? :)
Azz: ... hmm.
SEVERAL MINUTES LATER...
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Speaking only for myself, my apparent priorities have a lot to do with what large important part of my life just broke, having food that doesn't nauseate me or leave me dangerously exhausted after preparation, and the current state of my impulse control.
The stuff that I "really want" but don't strictly speaking need tend to take a back seat to the stuff I can't avoid. So I get a little resentful when someone implies that they feel if a person isn't immediately or directly working towards having the thing as a goal that their desire is lacking. Maslow's fucking hierarchy. Fuck.