September 8th, 2004

twilight, Fairbanks to Phoenix, two worlds

People from all over...

My aunts read this journal from time to time. They share it with Grandma.

My baby sister has her own LJ, and has me listed as a friend.

At least 3 of my co-workers that I know of have LJs, and at least one of them is on here almost as often as I am.

The only member of my household that doesn't have an LJ is the kid, and that's because while he can read and write, he's not ready for doing so in an online forum as of yet.

My father reads my LJ. That was interesting, finding that out. I turned green and said, "OIK!" to Darkside for many minutes. He laughed at me. (Darkside doesn't read my journal. He's said that he'd rather not.)

Assorted people from back home back when read my journal. The Significant Other of that guy from AcaDeca and the fencing class (Soda's big brother) came across it. I wouldn't be surprised if my ex BJ's other ex read it from time to time...

Now I find that Fuzzy Modem's wife reads my journal. Small, small, small world.

I have anonymous commenting disabled on this journal to nip a small troll problem in the bud. Anyone can create an account and add in their two cents...

Re-lemming: my last 20 posts tell me...

1. I've got writing group on Thursday, and I still need to be working harder on adding more material to what I've got in the magicgeeking document. I am coming up with writing exercises, though.

2. A lot of people read my journal. When Fuzzy told me about who-all reads it besides the obvious, I decided to go back through June and see what I'd been writing in here, anyway, so I'd have a better grasp on what people like Mrs. Fuzzy and my father have been reading. Thus, lemming time. I think this is a good lemming, because it forces me to make content out of some posts that otherwise might have gone low-content or content-free, mostly because they were carriers of context, and while I remember things in context, my possible eventual children won't have been there for all this.

3. I don't trust myself to keep motivated to work out without some record of what-all I've been doing.

4. melcocha is ill. She needs cheering. I send a random sample of household life at her. (Private post.)

5. I had fun on Labor Day. Where I think I am just a calmer person, other people may think I'm a better person. I really don't see that. What I do see is legacy of a small kid, some ADHD teenage boys, and other stuff to hone my patience and forgiveness. In the grander scheme of things, there are betrayals and then there are betrayals. That was a small one in my universe.

6. I still am not very motivated, am I. Also, I can't remember what day of the week it is.

7. I can give valuable good advice by just being there and handing out hugs. (Private, chat log.)

8. Headaches are bad. Darkside is good. (Private, chat log.)

9. Darkside, like many Cancers, has a soft side he doesn't show to just anyone. I'm not just anyone.

10. Blackadder was made for crossovers, since it's a family over the ages rather than one character, though the continuity is charming.

11. I actually did remember what day it was that time. Work is good for my walking.

12. Sometimes old friends ask really weird questions. (Private, chat log).

13. Roommates have the good links. However, when they IM you the good links while you are playing addictive Flash games, you are understandably aggrieved. (Private, chat log.)

14. I'd just need ink eradicator tape to stick on my yellow stickypad, and then some quality time with a red pen to turn rather plain and mundane into silly & fen for Jury Duty.

15. juuro is excellent. Wasps are painful.

16. Singing at work when you're on the phone and randomly get handed calls with little to no warning is contraindicated. Sometimes, the QA Monitor is listening. Sometimes, the QA Monitor has to roll a will save against falling out of her chair laughing.

17. Some of Diane Duane's later Young Wizards books need handkerchiefs as standard issue with the book. Cats are silly. Good lotion is good and bad lotion is bad. (Private, chat log.)

18. Dinosaurs learning to hunt are really cute; I am unable to remember which movie in a series any given scene is from, though I could probably have Google be my friend if I were really motivated. Or, I could rent them and see myself...

19. I seem to be good at prayer. Has lateforthesky given birth yet?

20. Just as Jewish is both a culture and a religion, so is Quaker. So while I wasn't raised religious-Quaker, really, I was raised secular-Quaker, and therefore have the general isolation that anyone raised in a small, conservative religious background will have from the mainstream US people. (Private, chat log and copy of comment on what someone honestly thinks of me.)
high energy magic

Freewill of the Week

Gemini Horoscope for week of September 9, 2004
If you believe your body is inherently sinful or if you're offended by references to your private parts, stop reading now. Still here? Good. The fact is, dear Gemini, that this is a perfect time to celebrate, explore, and reinvent your relationship with your genitals. It's your sacred duty to strip away every negative association about them that you may have acquired in the past. Do whatever it takes to arrive at the understanding that your sexual organs are among the most sublime gifts the Divine Creator has given you. Have fun with them, worship them, teach them greater discipline, and in general lift them to the exalted state they deserve.
*eyebrow* Hmm, I've had my eye on an item that might help with that goal...

Cancer Horoscope for week of September 9, 2004
This week you may frequently experience a psychological state called "schizofriendia." As defined by one of my readers, Lewis, schizofriendia is a condition in which people hear voices in their heads that are unfailingly supportive, encouraging, and keen to offer constructive advice about how to make the most of everything that happens. It's true, my fellow Cancerian, that in the past the little voices in our heads have only occasionally been reliable sources of information. But they will more than compensate for that during the Golden Age of Self-Healing that's just ahead.
With any luck, one of those voices will be mine.
ieee coin

SWEET! My floppy drive works! Awesome!

My floppy drive was evidently having a bad day last Thursday. It works today. Hooray!

By "works", I mean it sounds normal, and I can see the contents of a disk without there being any sort of disk read error.
  • Current Mood
    ecstatic ecstatic

Lemming time: If I were a Trek captain...

Collapse )
I replaced a project journal with the name of the actual person behind it (coincidentally, the person I snagged this lemming from), and replaced a far-too-personal (and locked and boring) journal with the (more interesting and informative) public journal of the same person.

This one might make more sense if you switched the love interest and the worthy nemesis around. Might. Not promising. I like the ship name; it's a very Gryffindor name, which amuses me.
Housewife's Lament

Room: day off

Today's Wednesday, so I got to sleep. I got to re-make my bed again as well. I had loaned the futon to Sis and marxdarx to see if it would help them with their back issues; sadly, it didn't. I got it back today, and re-layered my bed.

Collapse ) I feel like the Princess and the Pea, only without the pea (unless my cat gets mad and even, in which case I'll be the Princess and the Pee, and eris_raven will shortly thereafter be Wet).

Wound up taking the heretofore unused spot-cleaner to the puddle on the floor in the west bedroom. The chiller unit has not stopped the leaking. There is water running under the paint on the walls. It is worse this year than it ever has been before.

At this point I would not mind a tube run down from the chiller unit, under the door, and into the sink, because it would be better than all this godawful garbage that the thing is getting up to now.

Tonight's laundry night, because there was cat piss laundry. Eris took the wet rug over the puddle as an invitation. Argh? I packed up a box to send to my parents. It has two skirts the wrong size, and a jar of prickly pear jelly.

I like the way my bed is now. It's all comfortable.

Tomorrow: plasma, mail box, get elastic, get measurements, find black fabric, find pattern for old-school high-collar shirt (Hancock?), maybe print out, and writing group.

Busy. Yep.
running, bomb tech


I walked outside to go to the laundry room to transfer the cat-piss load from the washer to the dryer and I smelled a familiar, bitter, smoke. I couldn't quite place the scent at first, but just before I glanced over at the old lady next door, I placed it. Cigar.

The little old lady next door, the quiet one who never makes any trouble (though there is regular banging on the adjoining wall when she or someone assisting her puts up pictures or hooks or something) was sitting in her smoking chair enjoying a fat, stinky cigar.

I haven't smelled the smoke from a cigar in four years. It brings back memories that I can giggle over, now, but at the time they were sufficiently upsetting. My obnoxious ex BJ used to smoke cigars (I think?), and our Elder Roommate in the Bachelor Apartment from Hell did. I would sit there with eyes watering and nose clogging, having to put up with their bloody indoor windows-closed smoking unless I started coughing. If I started coughing and couldn't stop, they'd open up a window or something.

Once that happened when I was asleep. BJ told me, when I finally did wake up, that I'd been coughing in my sleep for about 20 minutes, and he was getting worried.