May 7th, 2003

running, bomb tech

*roll eyes*

Did I mention that he has no memory of sharing the line, "Enjoy my wife!" from Liar, Liar with me when he was rehashing it? This came up in our 1.5 hour conversation the other night.

I swear. If it's not PG-13 or under, he doesn't usually remember saying it to me, because he doesn't think of himself as being dirty-minded like that. Or something.
running, bomb tech

Notice:

I have been turning off my IMs when sleeping or leaving, as Tigereye's been crashing and I don't want to miss messages. So leave an LJ message or e-mail me.
running, bomb tech

Dreams

Dreamed of Darkside.

I was on the yellow school bus coming home, and got off at the top of the hill on Dalton like I was supposed to. It was all snowy outside, and I was dressed for it. I was on my cellphone with him, or something. Or I had been, and I was still glowing from it.

Dreamed that he'd been talking about a co-worker of his. Dreamed, then, that I'd gotten a voicemail from his mom or someone that Darkside had gone missing, after I'd gotten a very upset call from Darkside. Evidently the co-worker had gotten pregnant, and I think had died, and he'd gone into hiding, because they'd been close friends. I heard from FatherSir that Darkside had shown up at the house before he disappeared, and was glad to hear that at least he knew where he could come.... Someone speculated that Darkside had in fact been responsible for the getting pregnant part of things. I didn't want to hear about that.

I was calling numbers associated with Darkside, trying to find out where he was, when he ghosted out of the pantry. I hung up on his old man's secretary on the miltary base (Malfoy Senior was out on a pizza run) and hugged him tight and sat down on the floor next to him when he lay down on the couch. He piled pillows on top of him, hiding under them. I kissed him on the lips, then apologized.

We were still best friends, though. We stuck together like we were glued to hang out at the late-night gathering in the parking lot of the strip mall by the school. The Kyoto Bowl had evidently been converted into a pizza resturant. We were sitting at tables outside in the parking lot, and everything was cool until suddenly this guy came out of not literally nowhere, but from behind one of the buildings nowhere, with a cop in hot pursuit. Darkside joined in the chase, being a Good Little Boy Scout. But then the cop stopped chasing the bad guy and started chasing Darkside.

There was a small scuffle, but Darkside emerged unhurt, as did the cop.

The duty teacher lady (not really a teacher, but called so by tradition), who was that one chick with the braid from my work, whazzername, the one Practioner, only she was kinda someone else in this dream, said she was writing Darkside up for his conduct, which was total bull, but the teachers back at school would have to believe what they saw on the referrals, and it would be a lot of evil paperwork, and would go on our permanent records. I would get one too for standing up to her. Got in her face and essentially whammied and/or blackmailed her, with an element of "it's just us girls talking shit to each other" playfulness, and she backed down.




Interesting that I'd dream he'd come to us when he was lost and needed someone.

It was the same universe as the one with the busses on the streets, and the candles in the parking lot being evidence of the Conspiracy.
running, bomb tech

Dream Home

When I dream, Fairbanks and Phoenix meld together into one metaconcept of Home.

Really, anymore, I think of LJ as home, as anywhere that I can read LJ, write in LJ, and check mail as home.
running, bomb tech

Fortunately for me...

...I'm taking this Mercury Retrograde (especially the sun-crossing parts) as an opportunity to go back through my journal and do some heavy integrations.

So most of my communicative energy's going to be focused inward. Not that it doesn't already do that, but... yeah.
running, bomb tech

Woops.

Someone pushed at school today, and therefore did not make his day. We talked about appropriate times and places to push. In line is not one of them. When someone is next to a pile of pillows and is saying, "Push me, push me!" that is often an appropriate time.

Also mentioned that if he forgot about what had happened because he was sad about it, he might not remember what he had done, and would therefore do it again.
running, bomb tech

Happy substitutions

It looks like the processed turkey is going to be the substitute for ham around here. It's the big chunk of stuff that you bake. It's pre-cooked, and pretty good, and salty enough so it's very salty. It has much the same feel, cooking-wise, as ham.
running, bomb tech

Apprehensions

Have I ever mentioned how very much I hate, despise, and loathe TV?

I do. I hate it. I loathe it. I despise it so much that if it's on, I tend to leave the room, and not come back in until it's off again.

Consider my reaction akin to the reaction of someone who was once living with alcoholics when confronted with alcohol.

I was raised without television. I was trained to think that all television except for news and documentaries was inherently stupid and not worth my precious time. It did not help the case of TV that the kids in my classes were more interested in their precious television than in books. I thought that most of them were hopelessly stupid. The ones who were smart like me weren't much interested in TV either.

When I grew up further, I was introduced to a Star Trek book. Alan Dean Foster, one of the novelizations of the Animated Series. Good stories, good writing. I was hooked. After that, I came to accept that TV had a few good things, but the vast majority of it was still stupid.

Flash forward several years. 18, TV. I find that there are a few shows that I do like (Seinfeld, Frasier, Ally McBeal, and the X-Files, as well as the Star Trek shows). I have my own TV. All is good.

Then I went off to college. I started trying to be home on certain nights to catch the X-Files when they were on. Then the depression hit, and I was up all night with the Insomniac Music Video Club in the downstairs lounge.

Flash forward another year, to my engagement to BJ. The television at his parents' house was never off. Never. His father was a Type A remote driver, fiercely possessive, channel-surfing at his whim. We were pinned there in the living room, with very bad household energy. I despised the TV then. I hated it. I feared what it could do to a mind.

Bachelor Apartment from Hell. TV still on too much. I was sucked in, and fought back with my computer.


I'm out of those situations now. But I still don't like television overmuch. It's a large element in Darkside's life. I wonder how I'll deal with that.

...I suppose I could be perfectly happy if I were curled up on the couch with my head in his lap, especially if he were petting me.
running, bomb tech

Out-of-state

I learned, here, that Darkside was likely to accept an out-of-state job.

I cried and raged over this, as I didn't want to be separated from him, not for a moment, not long-term.

That was, however, supposing that he would graduate far ahead of me, and supposing that he and I were not together when he took that out-of-state job.

What, I wonder, are the possibilities of us going together? At the moment, it's looking as if he may well be staying put until I graduate, and perhaps we may be able to take our chances together...
running, bomb tech

Stutter, stutter.

I can't talk. I stutter. I write the same words I would say on the board. I know what the names of the things are. I can't say the words that are the actions, how they play with each other and change each other. They dance together, and I can say how they work with the arrows, but the words don't work.

They modify.
They update.
Change.
Flag.
Return.

Why can I not say that because it changes a bool, it does not have to return? How can I say this in English? The query returns a value. Not the update. Unless we want to know that the update had been successful. Only then.
running, bomb tech

Retrograde

Mercury seems to be doing an interesting thing with me. Instead of making all my communications back up, it's doubling back on my insight.

Twice the insight. No waiting.
Darkside

Gha.

OK. Um.

This is going to sound silly. Really damn silly.


How do I go about coming off as less of a pushover to my best friend? Because he thinks I'm an utter pushover. And where he's concerned, I may be. How do I show him how truly strong I am?
running, bomb tech

I think I broke their brains.

Did a reading for someone. Not because they asked, but because I just needed to. I'll share the results with them when I get a moment with them.

The jolly team member asked about the cards, and what those particular ones meant. I said I couldn't say: confidentiality. Who it was for? Couldn't say either.

This brought out my clergy card, and my religion.


I also broke the brain of the high-strung guy who's the other half of the dynamic combination with that lady, by declaring that I didn't watch TV ( this after he asked me if I could set him up with that one chick from Charmed)... hehe. Evidently he went without TV for 6 months once...
high energy magic

My wildassed guess at how this is works: or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying &Love Mercury Retrograde

Keep in mind that I am pulling all of this out of my ass.

So. The stuff happening with the planets is sometimes indicative of what is going on with the humans. Astronomically, Mercury isn't really going backwards, but it's going backwards from the perspective of this halfassed planet, so everyone on, or with strong ties to (especially natal ties, as in, born on) this half-assed planet, is going to be looking at all the other stuff from the perspective of this planet.

So.

Mercury retrograde.

In the normal flow of events, Mercury goes tootling happily along, and communications and information flows are going as predictable. Those listening closely to the information-flow of the universe are listening, those half-ignoring it are half-ignoring it, and all goes as planned, more or less.

When Mercury goes retrograde, from Earth's perspective, all of this suddenly changes. Mercury is now backtracking along some of the same things that it was covering before, and the informational and communicative signals ruled by it are coming out all fucking backwards.

Those who listen to the signs during normal events are suddenly getting their input backwards. Those who didn't hear communication well to start with are suddenly not only not hearing the usual background mutterings, but they're suddenly hearing background mutterings -- backwards.

So.

Mercury Retrograde. People read things they thought they were reading right, wrong, and there is potential for cascading snowball.


So why, then, am I suddenly coming out with bizarre and amazing flights of insight that I would ordinarily never arrive at?

My first thought was that I am just weird and contrary, and the backwards flow of information suits my style far better. And that may be part of it. But I was affected by the last one. I do, however, learn fast. And I operate in both contrary and straightforward modes. But why would I be picking up on things that would usually be so subtle to me? I miss a hell of a lot, even for how good I am... this is freaky.

Then I came across this idea, rummaging around in my head: we're getting two inputs from Mercury, and they're roughly cancelling each other out, except the signal from its current path (crossing over the past path, which is what we're revisiting, causing the echo) is way stronger, so not only are we getting the backwards info, we're getting an echo of what we are used to hearing, of stuff that was current at the last point Mercury was right where it was. This is megaconfusing for most, and accounts for some of the garbles that mere backwards could never accomplish on its own.

Only someone who's very well attuned to the correspondences between what Mercury's saying and what is actually going on is going to pick up on what is actually going on. I seem to be doing this. From my perspective, the universe normally talks to me in a conversational tone of voice. Right now, it's SHOUTING, and what it's shouting are the things I'm used to hearing, so I can filter those out easily. But what are usually whispers are amplified, and I'm hearing those things loud and clear.



So.

What can the ordinary, average person do to take advantage of the hidden properties of a Mercury Retrograde?

If there's a communications issue that you are having, if there is something that you want to make sure is its utter clearest at any time, Mercury Retrograde is the time to pull it out and hack at it. If you can make it perfectly intelligible during a Mercury Retrograde, it's going to be sparkling at a normal time of the planets. Take out any projects of communication that you've been working on for a while (a marriage proposal, a formal letter to a superior, a college application essay) and hash it over with someone you know and trust. Have them tell you the parts that they don't understand, and have them tell you what they think it means. After you've explained yourself to them, so both of you finally understand, you should be able to rewrite it so not even the densest manager could miss your point when you finally deliver it after the retrograde has finished.
running, bomb tech

Also...

Mercury Retrograde is a great time for the "Well, DUH," things that we have somehow managed to miss in the normal flow of information to hit us crosswise.

Watch out for flying cluebats.
running, bomb tech

Blond moment.

So I shall ask him if I'm supposed to be resistant to the things that are good for me, in general. And I give him the clue bat that, DUH, he never would harm me, and even though he may not have internalized that one yet, I have, and this is why I'm such a pushover where he's concerned.

And I shall ask him if he's noticed, lately, how I've been about standing up for myself to others. He probably hasn't, but I can fill him in. I was not formerly good at that. I can definitely compare that. I think he'll be happy about that, as he lights up when I have a good day, and gets worried and comforts me when I have a bad one.
running, bomb tech

From an old comment: My standards of beauty in action...

My ideal for male beauty was influenced heavily by my mother, but the whole brains and personality thing got the major attitude from Daddy. I think it's fortunate that it mixed like that --

One amusing moment: Fuzzy Modem and I were at a dance once, back in 1998, and we simultaneously spotted Hot People. "Yeeeeow," he said, looking in one direction. "Uh-*huh!*" I said, looking in almost the same direction.

We compared notes. He was looking at the chick in the red dress; I was looking at the guy in the leather jacket. He told me that she reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite place who it was. I nodded -- I was getting the same vibe from the guy in the leather jacket.

Five minutes or so of eye candy pass, when Fuzzy suddenly places her. "Oh my God, she looks like my *mother*!" he says, and starts freaking. I check the chick out again. Sure enough, the chick in the red dress superficially resembles Fuzzy's very attractive young mother.

Fuzzy beats his head against a pillar, making unhappy noises.

I take another look at the guy in the jacket and freeze up. "...Fuzzy...." I say, "...I just noticed. I have a photograph of my father, when he was young, wearing a leather jacket..."

Fuzzy beats *my* head against the pillar. I make unhappy noises.

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