July 30th, 2003

horny, Divine Oscillations

*pats self down*

WHAT!!

One of my boobs is missing!1!!

Where could it have gone? Did I forget it this morning? No? I couldn't have forgotten it?

That means someone must have TAKEN IT!!!

ARR!!!!! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!!
  • Current Music
    ...very, very *very* silly
running, bomb tech

Freewill Horrorscope

Gemini Horoscope for week of July 31, 2003

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/gemini.html

Gemini (May 21-June 20)
Decide what mental pictures you're sick and tired of looking at, then banish them from the sacred temple of your imagination. Next, browse the fertile depths of your subconscious mind, searching for exciting new mental pictures that you want to install in your awareness full time. For instance, you might want to exorcise a certain fearful scenario that pops up whenever you're under stress, and replace it with a bright, shiny vision of you at the top of your game.

Like, that nagging feeling that someone in particular is going to get fed up with me being me, and avoid the hell out of me? That one? Yeah, I could stand to lose that one.




Cancer Horoscope for week of July 31, 2003

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/cancer.html

Cancer (June 21-July 22)
Many fantastic beasts that are known to Harry Potter and his fellow wizards are invisible to Muggles, the ordinary people. They include the yeti, also know as bigfoot; the clabbert, a tree-dwelling animal that's a cross between a monkey and a frog; and the phoenix, a bird that periodically bursts into flames, dies, then resurrects itself from its ashes. But my favorite magical creature is the billywig, a mosquito-like insect whose sting causes its victims to become giddy and levitate off the ground. Even if you're a Muggle, I predict you will have an experience that resembles a billywig bite in the coming week. An annoying prick will lead to a pleasant floating sensation.
running, bomb tech

That was pretty futile.

It is a requirement that each tri there is a presentation on the library. At least this was in the computer lab, so the time wasn't utterly wasted.

Yes, I love the library. No, I don't need that much instruction on how to use it.
Azzgrin, Azure: Lunatic, crazy

Gods, did I tag *him* right.

Network/connectivity class with Sandstrom just now.

After class, he held informal court in the courtyard, with half the CIS students clustered around him. I brought up the idea of a security club. He thought it sounded fascinating, and would be perfectly willing to be the instructor babysitter for same, and even worked out how to restructure his schedule to reflect that. (!!)

He said that the problem with the idea of a security club was that more than half the students signing up for it would only want to learn how to hack, and not wanting to learn the real stuff.

I told him that I'd had a mental image of club members pairing off, and one doing the hacking, and the other doing the fixing up, and then switching and doing it again. He said that sounded like a good plan. (In fact, it was a pretty amusing plan, to judge from his expression.)

Then, of course, he proceeded to give me linkage: http://www.securityfocus.com, http://www.cyberarmy.com, and described his experience with same to me. Some old war stories about his promotions, belike. The Azzgrin came out.

I think he's tagged me as a potential Hope for the Future. I know I've tagged him right as an OH. (The computer version of OG?)




Earlier, as he was packing up from class, he made a comment about the temperature. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

The Azzgrin came out, and I tried *not* to say anything.

He preemptively hushed me, as he knew from that grin that there was some response that might not be appropriate in that response that I had brewing.

I mentioned that in that case, it was just as well that my partner in crime wasn't present, as he and I got up some pretty interesting things to say together.

He mentioned that my partner in crime was bad enough by himself. (I'm pretty sure he knows who my partner in crime is, as I've lurked in m'love's class between classes enough...)


But... guh. I mean, when a truly fine guy asks, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" ...what do you answer?
  • Current Mood
    geeky geeky
running, bomb tech

Switchover?

Naomi and I were talking this morning. Well, sort of.

It may well be time for her to take over for a while. I have no idea how long. But she's got her own set of interests, and ... she seems to have laid claim to the bodyname, and bodytime, which I don't have a *problem* with, but... it's a little scary. She's present right now while I'm writing.

I may well go on vacation for a few days.
running, bomb tech

OK, I was mistaken.

I'll probably be reading the friends list anyway. I just may be putting some of the communities on there and playing with them. Yay!

[Edit: Yes, that was Naomi speaking.]
running, bomb tech

Rundown of the Afternoon: Clubs, Lit, Clubs, Yakky, Clover, Manager, Photos, fuckin' Proctor&Gamble

Snagged the attention of Sheldon Collapse )



Sat through a discussion in Lit class. Collapse )



Dropped in at Student Services. Collapse )



Came home, hugged yaksha42, and showed him the new sign in the bathroom. The sign instructs him, specifically, to return the toilet seat to the way it belongs, with stick-figure illustrations showing the why of things.

Clover came over just as Yakky was leaving, bearing honey cakes. Collapse )



As Clover was about to leave, votania called with the delightful news that she's to be getting her official promotion-and-raise-and-new-authority on Friday! She will be a manager! Collapse )



I finally opened the mail. Collapse )



swallowtayle sent pictures, with notes on the backs of them. I shall now relate approximately my thoughts going through them.



D.C. with her daughter and a teddybear. D.C.'s looking happy.

swallowtayle with her violin in The Old Pequliar for the St. Patty's Day show. Sounds slightly Lovecraftian.

swallowtayle in a suit and tie; River in a wig and dress. Yowza: hot male or female!! (It's great to share an ex with your sister.)

River by "her"self. Yum.

swallowtayle in drag with our other mutual ex, at SFAC. That was the getup that surprised the holy fuck out of me the next morning, when Aidan wandered into my room, wearing his flannel. I mean, here I am, it's early morning, I'm dressed accordingly and in bed, and I'm not wearing my glasses, and here's this STRANGE LONG-HAIRED GUY-WITH-A-BEARD WHO'S ONLY WEARING A FLANNEL! Turned out to be swallowtayle in drag. Ah, those were the days.

swallowtayle and violin, with black hat, sunglasses, black lipstick, black nail polish, and nose ring. Magnetic, that. It was evidently school spirit day. (School colors were red and gold.) *snicker* Oh yeah, we loved that school. Couldn't get enough of it.

Aww. swallowtayle and River, looking happy together. Cleavage, serious cleavage, is showing. Must have been a club night or something, I figured, as there's a serious amount of glitter.

Same night, different pose, probably within the same thirty seconds. Now they're gazing enraptured into each other's eyes instead of the camera.

YAAAAGH! WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!! River, yeah, fine, he's looking normal, but... MY BABY SISTER IN 'FUCK ME' BOOTS AND HER BRA AND A G-STRING WEARING A BODYSTOCKING AND PURPLE GLITTER?!!?!?1!? !THE FUCK????? "Before the 'Pajama Party' dance at UAF... yes, we actually went out in public like that!" she wrote on the back. Um. Yeah. Um. GHA!!!

River. Black shirt, dreads. Always such a sweetie.

River. Boxers. Nothin' else. YOWZA! Dude! When'd he get the tattoo? Nice!

swallowtayle's senior pic. Got that one already.

Trees! From home! Never realized Alaskan spruce were so scraggly before. Love 'em all the same.

Home!!! Home home home!! That's even FatherSir opening the door. Wow. I miss home.


After remembering to breathe again after seeing perhaps a little too much of my little sister, I opened the Proctor and Gamble box. Collapse )
  • Current Mood
    me again
running, bomb tech

Good little baby-goth

Little Fayoumis asked me if I could move the strobe light over to by the CD player, make it dark, and turn on the Korn.

*giggle*

He's six.

*giggle*

We've been raising him right, evidently.
running, bomb tech

*happypurr* Darkside is nice.

Left a message. He called back. (Yeep. This is... rare.) We chatted. Evidently 8 8 is the command to call back she who left the message. Appropriate.

He's not fond of the Ambiguously Gay Duo. He didn't know who my "partner in crime" would have been at first. I had to tell him. The only reason Sandstrom knows who I am in the first place is because I was lurking in his classes... "Oh, so you'd be a lurker in the darkness, then?" (reference to our old wars on Dennis K.'s chat board...)

Much giggling about the parallel to the DADA class, how the Ministry of Magic cancelled the DADA class and the students formed a club. Darkside thinks it would be funny if I called the club "Defence Against the Dark Arts (Securities Club)". (So do I.)

Little Fayoumis wanted to talk to Darkside. I was grumpy and hung onto the phone. Yeesh. We're arguing over who gets to talk to him. He's a popular guy. (And I told him that he reminds me of my mother. Evidently this messes with his "don't bother me" field, being thought of as sweet.)

Told him about votania's promotion. He was happy for her. He was not happy about the prospect of carrying furniture up stairs this weekend helping with his uncle's moving.



With him, with this, I don't play. I don't think I've been so serious about someone in my life. We're comfortable together. I was just thinking about that. Now that he's not grouchily tired every instant, he's got that smile and sparkle back, and I'd be willing to guess that if we were to be spending time together and someone were to snap a picture of us, they'd surprise that same expression on his face.

Fidelity. That's the precise word. As he is who he is, I am who I am, and we really have yet to try to stretch the abilities of our combined strength.


His mom came in while we were talking. "Hi, Darkside's mom!" "Hi, Joanie!" ...I wonder what he's like after he gets off the phone with me. votania says that I'm a little scary. Well, yeah. All that intensity, bottled up, with only my body to contain it? "I am yours, you are mine/ We are what we are... ... ...Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud..."
running, bomb tech

*smirkbounce*

Now I have an excuse to give Prof. Sandstrom that cool hat: the DADA club. Woohoo!

(The paint is drying as we speak.)
running, bomb tech

elorie

--That's you on the LMB list right now getting heartily welcomed, right? If not, I just cheerily greeted a near-complete stranger, but I think I recognized you and thewonderboy.
sad, greensad

Memorial

Emillia Durbin, I never knew you. But I mourn you all the same.

If what I am told is correct, you died seven years and a few days ago. You and some friends were out being kids, and you were horsing around, and you fell off a cliff down into a gorge, and you died.

I'm sorry I never got to know you. My soulmate-at-the-time knew you, though, and he loved you. It was one of those brief and blinding passions, I suppose, since he'd only met you, what, the day before? You were perfect and gorgeous, with an icky druggie boyfriend. And my friend met you, and loved you, and then you died.

I don't think I've ever blamed you for being so shining that he desired to follow you. But seven years ago this morning, the only man I loved in the world tried to overdose on things that may have included heroin and/or LSD [he was never clear, and I was always too terrified to ask particulars] and I sat with him on the phone as the drugs took hold of him, and I felt it in my blood that he was in deadly danger. I didn't know why or how, but there he was, and there I wasn't.

I don't blame you. I've never blamed you. For a year, I wanted to know you, I hunted after little scraps of you that would help me form a picture of you independant of his. He probably never knew all of you. I'm surprised he even got your name. I let go of you the August of 1997, watching the sunset at the fair from the top of the west bleachers. The sun was setting behind the northwest hills, scorching the clouds neon pink, and I released my hold on your soul, and sang you to rest in peace.

Every year on this day, I try to remember you. The 30th, or the last Tuesday in July, either one.

You were still more myth than woman to me. How could someone be so utterly perfect? Was she real? was she his imagination? But what imaginary creature could be missed so sorely? You'd been ripped from him. "...and I'll never know the beautiful lady who holds my friend's soul."

I'm never comfortable around death, despite my duties as clergy. I'm struck blind for words to say, and sometimes only know how to be the gate and sing a soul to a destination.

He didn't die that day. Some years later, in bitterness, I wished that he had, but I don't now. You'd have been too lost, too confused, to help him then. You died a messy, violent accident, and I'm sorry it was that way for you. I'm glad you had someone who loved you there at the last, though...

I don't know how to talk to the dead. I just hope you know that there's someone who remembers you, even if I don't know where to lay the flowers, if your grandmother's still alive to do that for you, if that's even your real name that I remember that he told me.

I never knew you, but... I miss you, 'Milly.
  • Current Mood
    melancholy melancholy