November 11th, 2003

multiple user

Things today:

Little Fayoumis came to school with me. Sat through Server Admin, then we hung with Mr. President of the GSU. Mr. Pres has been dubbed Vanyel by Dawn, for his queer and mageriffic and elegant splendor.

Little Fayoumis was convinced that the GSU was the coolest club.

We came home. I was zonked. Then Marx came home, and I wound up heading off to TJ's to get chocolate covered caramels. TJ's will be hiring in a few weeks.

My icewater, hot tea (lipton's and orange zinger mixed, with sugar) and caramels and I sat down to whip off 2000 words. Word. I'm up to 4200 now. The novel's The Necromancer's Prayer, and my progress can be tracked from my NNWM profile. I don't have a place to view the novel entire; various friends have gotten to preview little snippets, but the only place that I'll be putting larger portions at the moment is on the NNWM site.

redshoeson dropped by my IM to say hi. It was good to hear from her. We passed back and forth the juicy bits of what's been going on. Of everyone, it's certainly excellent to gossip with her.

I have yet to claim my portion of the raspberry bundt cake. Soon, my precioussss. Soon.

Told the SWE and GSU that at my girlfriend's school, the SWE ran the drag show, and there wasn't anything cool like that here. Mr. President was notably interested.

The reporters for the school paper stopped by. LF may make the news. Hee! The GSU's little flyers were typo-ridden. I told Mr. Pres that next time, I should be allowed to proofread. GUS hear, indeed!!!! [Yes, Auj, that deserved comic book punctuation.]

I still like Randy a lot. He's a lot more mature than many of the past men I've written. He owes a lot to Darkside's sense of humor, Ivan Vorpatril's attitude and cool, and Scott Jones's ... thing. Whatever that is. At least of the three, one of them is my own original character. That makes me happy. (I 0wnz0r Scott; he lives in ectogenesis.)

eris_raven is a sweetheart.

11 nice things, for progress, rather than 10, for holding steady.

You'll need your COBOL book in the morning, love, as well as allllll the goddamn server admin volumes. Aren't you glad you saved 'em? Yes. I hate you.
documentation, writing, quill

NNWM fappage

As long as I write 2300 words a day for the rest of the month, I'll be fine.
documentation, writing, quill


Note: my muse goes for black cherry votive candles. Among others. And carrots, and orange and black tea, and ice water. But the black cherry candles are the muse candles. Vanilla and hazelnut cream are Happy Household, here.
running, bomb tech


Dreamed there was this race thing or something, and also something with maps. In the dream, I was suicidally depressed and putting red food coloring in ice cubes instead of my blood, because I was trying to emphasize to people how bad it really was, without doing things that would get me physically in danger.

There was something with computers, names, rearranging dorms, and bad guys, with possible cameos from LJ people -- oh, and norabombay and I were driving around, and she'd written/performed a really popular pop song, and it was being advertised on billboards on the sides of trucks.


And one of the local men in the dorm had a completely shaved head.
running, bomb tech

Yagg, tear out hair

Working on DNS on Linux. Don't wait up.

After this gawdawful lab is over, I get to sit through COBOL. Yay for me.

45 more minutes. I'm still not sure what I'm doing. I need to wake up or something. And Little Fayoumis needs to stop yelling. I shall curse Irving's name forever for getting him gaming on the local computer, because my Mommy!Ears are on, and I cannot tune out what he says. This interferes with Naomi.
running, bomb tech

Random (well, not so) question for y'all:

I know I write a lot. And I know there are a lot of people out there reading me. And I know that I'm fairly public with what's going on in my life.

Would anybody feel confident to say that they know what's going on in my life, 100%? Anybody feel qualified to psychoanalyze my top 10 deepest issues? Anybody feel informed enough to tell me what the things that are bothering me are?

There are some things that I talk about because they're on my mind. There are some things that I don't talk about because I'm not comfortable talking about them. There are some things I don't talk about because it hasn't occurred to me that they exist. There are some things I talk about that I don't give detail on because I take it as a given that most of the audience already knows the details and doesn't want to suffer through them again.

This Saturday, easalle asked me where votania worked, because she didn't think I'd said. I was sure I'd mentioned it at one point or another, so I took it as a given. (It's the airport. She's a low-level boss. You'll only encounter her if you're intent on leveling up.) I'm sure there are any number of similar details that are left out, but make the whole thing make much more sense if you understand them (why she was the best source of information that I had contact with on the airlines for the California fires, and why the flight delays and cancellations meant she wouldn't be home until late, thus stressing out the household).

Are there any of those missing pieces that I can fill in? I won't promise answers, but I'll answer what I can.
running, bomb tech


Thank you, all the people who decided to devote all or part of their lives to defending those who can't or won't fight for themselves.

Marah and garnetdagger would join the military, if they could trust the high command.

I don't think I would, and Naomi's far too Quaker to.

Thank you, Dave-in-Germany, for being a sane and gentle person. Thank you, Cousin Jon and Cousin Jeff. Thank you, Chuck Gaster. Thank you, tsjafo. Thank you, everyone else. Thank you, Lois McMaster Bujold, for writing military personell with consciences, and stressing that criminal orders must not be followed.
bleeding, Ryoko

The gift that keeps on giving

One would think that after I'd survived Hell Summer, I'd have been done with it.

Hell Summer was one of the bad ones. First, my best friend was going out of state, for three months until forever. I didn't know what the situation he was going into was like, and from what little I could piece together out of what he said, it sounded bad. Him sending me a letter in Klingon-language, saying that he was in Rura Pente and had a phaser and was planning to escape, was not very reassuring. I had a job from hell, I wasn't getting enough sleep, and then something went very wrong. I got sick, and my best friend tried to kill himself in the middle of a drug-induced psychotic breakdown -- without telling me what, actually, was going on. This led to the breakdown and collapse of my engagement, and my family was none too thrilled with me for being friends with my best friend to start with, and kept giving me helpful advice like, "Tell him to go to hell, then everything will be just fine."

But no.

It's seven years later, and I think I'm finally over the worst of it. I can tell the story without stuttering. I can have a friend announce that they are moving almost without panicking.

I can mention heroin with only a slight stutter. I can say 'Milly's name without weeping.

But when something unconsciously reminds me of that, my brain still goes into a bit of a tailspin. Ohmigod, I'm not going to lose another friend. I'll do anything, just not lose another friend. For those months, I thought I'd lost him. I knew he was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.

It influences my attitude on friendship. It influences my feelings about memory. When he lied to me, and told me something that he considered important, then had forgotten all about his lie a month later -- I panicked. No one should forget something evidently that integral to them.

Bad communication panics me. If there's no apparent reason for lack of communication, my brain makes one up. He doesn't care about me. He has a girlfriend. He's dead. He moved and forgot to tell me. He moved and didn't tell me on purpose. It isn't because I don't trust him. It's because I've been betrayed before, by someone I loved just as much, and even though he's given me no reason to doubt him, I still associate betrayal with love.

If I love someone, they'll turn out to be a psycho who will hurt me. If I give all of myself to someone, he'll twist it out of recognition. If I trust someone, he'll call me psycho and choose someone else who will hate me for loving him. If I love someone and they don't love me back, I'll turn into a psycho and they'll hate me and I'll deserve it.

Those aren't the middle-of-the-night fears. Those are the broad daylight fears. Those are the reasons why I marvel at Darkside actually being friends with me, actually being trustworthy, actually allowing me to love him even if he doesn't understand it. It never happened that way and stayed so, in my world. Me loving was a constant; me loving being a good thing -- never.
exhausted, tired, Azzsleep

Audience response.

Say something surreal to me.
  • Current Music
    They Might Be Giants, "The Statue Got Me High"
running, bomb tech

Now, on a more memeish topick...

From juuro, who got it elsewhere...

Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true.

  1. There are at least two people in this world that you would die for.

  2. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

  3. The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you.

  4. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.

  5. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.

  6. You mean the world to someone.

  7. You are special and unique.

  8. Someone that you don't even know exists, loves you.

  9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good always comes from it.

  10. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take another look.

  11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

Hmf. Fits in with what I was discussing with myself in my paper journal today: a possible trade to make with a friend, working on two issues complementary to each other, if only he's willing.
  • Current Music
    TMBG, something about dinner bells, and now more accordians.
running, bomb tech

Fuck. Shit. Fuck, fuckity, fuckage, fsck, fdisk.

Lossage. Severe lossage. 54% errors.

I neeeed a man, perhaps a man like you ... where by 'man' I mean 'understandable manual pages which will tell me why I am not C-ing 'eM P, and I'm getting only 5/11 pings back'.