March 5th, 2004

pretty, Francine

Randomness.

Little Fayoumis has been testing the boundaries with everyone lately. "Spider-girl" and "Halloween-girl" were OK, marginally, to be calling me (today I am wearing a black shirt that says "BOO" in large letters, decorated with spiders, cats, bats, and spider webs), but "old lady" was right out. And I told him so. Reading tonight, he spaced that marxdarx had asked that they read together, and therefore didn't mention that he was supposed to be reading with Marx when I claimed his attention (because Mommy was busy and so, according to Mommy, was Marx). Result? Kaboom. In the reading, he was squirrelly; I firmly quashed most of that.

It is definitely tree bukkake season here. I really need to start pouring salt water up my nostrils again. The creeping crud has therefore started to claim my throat; in response, I procured some orange chicken from the usual place on the corner. Sadly, it wasn't quite flamy enough to burn all the way through my throat.

I'm doing laundry tonight. As intriguing as it would doubtless be, work dress code and Arizona sun demand that I wear something on my lower half besides shoes, socks, and underpants.

I was walking to pick up the Little Fayoumis today, and was hailed by someone, asking if I was not cold. (Today I am wearing my BOO t-shirt, canvas sneakers, socks, and a calf-length skirt. All black except for the sneakers, naturally.) I was actually not. She was surprised. I'm Alaskan.

I noticed that I've been walking faster. My natural pace is now full speed ahead, with long and easy strides. I'm feeling far more at home in my body, and I don't feel as if a day is complete if I've only gotten in a half hour of walking. This evening I noticed in the mirror that I am attractive. I wasn't even out as Marah, nor had I recently been out as her. This is Odd. Nor Naomi. Dagger doesn't give a fuck, she says. Mentioned to votania that I'd been feeling (and, I think, looking) more attractive lately, and she told me that I always have looked attractive, and that maybe I'm finally starting to notice it. (My classical counter-argument to this, which I did not use this time, was that it hardly matters how attractive I am thought in general when those who matter do not see it. This is generally countered on her part with growls, glowers, and grimaces aimed at Darkside.) I think that playing equal parts in this off each other are the consistent exercise and the St. John's Wort.

I polished my nails today, in a deep blue-green with sparkles. I've been attempting to start staying made up at as near to all times as I can muster, which does lead to an awful lot of me wearing lipstick around the house, but also an awful lot of me feeling prettier. (My face is still very pale, so any blemishes stand out like Rudolph's nose, and lipstick draws focus to my lips and away from any blemishes.) I have discovered pale lavendar eyeshadow. With all the tanning I've gotten in Arizona, what used to be a medium-dark shade on me is now pale. Scary, considering that I'm still pale for someone who's been in Arizona three years.

My black clonky sneakers had been bothering me with laces that were too thin and hurt my hands to deal with. I bought some thicker laces the other night and installed them tonight. This should help, I hope.
pretty, Francine

Woah, mood swing city.

I just went through about fifty zillion different moods, just by reading friends list.

First off, I came out of the shower feeling all girly and happy because of grooming and plans for more of same, and lists, and makeup, and the Intent to make self pretty. That mood reigned, but then shattered, and coalesced differently...

I got outraged and sympathetic at some arse flaming away without portfolio at a mood-swingy suicidal friend (said friend has people there with who know how to handle same); I've been in mental spaces where I've been ready to pick up a knife save that my body's locked up on me and I can't move (this is a safety feature) and I, who have not quite been where said friend has been but perhaps closer than most would like to think about, am able to say more definitely than asshole without portfolio that their comments about posts about suicide plans are the mark of someone with a health-class pop-psych experience with the subject and a lot of unresolved bullshit going on.

Then I was totally ga-ga geek-horny when a fellow posted in welovegeeks about wanting to mount the tech support personnel, and enthusiastically described my school's hot professor: not only is he 6'2" ish with blue eyes, long curly red hair, and that nice muscular stocky body type, the teddybear kind, but he's got Linux on his school-issue laptop, lives on the command line, has said in class that he'd prefer to be at home with a LAN party, he's a gamer, he's a hacker, he has the skills to be a cracker and he pointed me at places to get XP (experience points, sillyass)...OMFG HOT. And married, and (presumably) mono.

Next up, and weirdest, amberite mentioning "Mad World". That immediately spun me off into all sorts of odd places. "Mad World" goes with "Last Stop This Town", and the Sultans of Swing album, and grey rainy afternoons with the wind blowing and the heat turned up and cold air on your face, and that slight disconnect from consensus reality that happens sometimes... Title song is in my head and ears now. Happily I just the other day put that in the CD player... and "Brothers in Arms" always haunts me...
running, bomb tech

Dreams, fanfic

I think I was dreaming a Vorkosigan book. Gods know I was reading enough of the fanfic at http://www.dendarii.co.uk (dig around there enough and you'll find the fic archive), because I'd wanted to see if I could find the title of that VK fanfic by Tracy Fey (yes: "A Bit of Evolution"), and I wound up reading, and/or re-reading, some of the fic.

It's slightly different re-reading fanfic after you've read enough of it to get, if I don't flatter myself too much, a professional's eye for the good stuff. And some of that VK fic that I read, delighted, back at home (I think on Galumph, actually, judging from my body-memory, which was next to the northwest corner rather than the southwest corner where Guardian is) (FatherSir's personal computer is named Galumph, after his imaginary horse that he came up with in response to swallowtayle's) makes the cut, and some of it does not. (p_o_u_n_c_e_r's stuff is good. Ah, the perils of critical commentary of fic when some of the writers are on your friends list.) Some of the things I know I must have had to swallow laughter over (sleeping parents + funny fanfic = bad thing) some years ago don't read as flowing well anymore. They must have never flowed as well as I imagined, and now I finally have the eyes to see it.
wild rose

LJ Ancestry (seen over @ wolfieboy's journal)

I am of the days before codes (land before time? No.) and thus can't blame my journal on one particular LJ sire. It was two, actually, who first introduced me to the thing and actually got me to join up. First godai mentioned it, and I was skeptical, and then neodragonstar had an LJ (a previous one, long since deleted) and since at the time I had somewhat of a crush on him (his high school best friend was clumsily trying to set us up, which did not actually go well) I joined LJ.

We can actually blame BJ, indirectly, for my presence on Livejournal. Because of BJ, I went to Phoenix and DeVry. I met neodragonstar's high school best friend at DeVry, and he introduced me to F.O.G.Club as well as neodragonstar, and it was on the message boards that I met godai, while fuming bitterly about the would-be (wouldn't be?) romance, and some of the factors leading to the failure (ie, said introducing high school best friend of neodragonstar's, a young man with a rare talent for putting his foot in his mouth).

Ah, memories.

Shame that my paper journal for those last few months before LJ was lost...
  • Current Mood
    wistful
running, bomb tech

Gha. I hate having to deal with this.

If I got all the hours I'm scheduled for, I'd be getting $300-ish per paycheck. I'm not, so I'm getting somewhat less.

Time to wander into FAO and ask for double-shift Sundays, methinks.
running, bomb tech

Yaaagh. Stuff.

I think we'll make it. It's hard to tell, sometimes.

But marxdarx and I have been connecting more often, betweentimes late at night in the kitchen. Ahh, those random discussions of websites, remote image hosting, and how to make bank off a porn site and what content to put there and how to get it...

This is always a Good Thing.

Pity votania doesn't get to see more of it, but when she's around, he's fixed on her, and so he and I don't connect.