January 28th, 2005

running, bomb tech


The wind grabbed me the moment I stepped out the door for work and told me that I was not driving today, I would have plenty of time to get to work. I locked the door, then eyed the beautiful fluffy thunderheads with suspicion, but the wind told me I'd be late to work if I went back inside to get the umbrella, come on!

So I walked with the wind all the way to the corner, and dashed laughing across the road after the red hand started flashing, and made it just fine.

Once I was across, the wind changed its fickle mind, and told me that I really didn't have to go to work, and I had everything I needed with me to go on an Adventure, if I just walked the other way and took the bus out for a cruise, or wandered...

I didn't listen to the wind, and I walked to work. It poked at me spitefully, and didn't give me the pollen from that tree that might have been a willow like it usually does, because it knew I wanted to smell it, and it was mad.
high energy magic

Eat Me, Drink Me

I have to layer myself with illusion upon glamour upon false seeming at work. I've learned how to turn the grimace that is the anti-joy of working with the Master of Misinformation into a big broad smile, and I've learned how to stand up straight and tall when I'm feeling like hiding in the corner and snapping at the next person who talks to me.

Yesterday, there was a young man at work who Smelled Like Us. He was there again today. I notice that he'd been seeking me out to ask questions of, and he had a lot of questions today. As he was about to leave, he caught sight of something. "Nice necklace!" he declared.

I was wearing two necklaces today: the one I always wear, and the one that Alice made for me. Even though the one that Alice made is the prettier and flashier of the two, I knew he was talking about the pretty silver star. He is one of our number, and he will either sooner or later meet the rest of us who work in and around there.

When I'm busy, when I'm outside work, I always think of the place as being a big dead zone, but that's not quite true. I chase the little silvery eddies with my fingers and my nose open, sniffing out where I need to walk next. When I'm at the computer, my fingers dance as they figure out what to put next where.

Today, though, the unrelenting mundanity wore me down after the new guy, the Attenuated Elf-Boy Geek (he doesn't look quite haut, too scruffy, but that's a name for now), left. My feet were beginning to hurt after too many hours pacing the wards against the Phone Goons freaking out at the sheer mudanity of the workplace, and I snapped at break and needed a hug, but there were enough people who would have barged right through the few wispy remnants of my safety-barrier shields and directly into the concertina-wire-and-glass protective shields about so I couldn't risk asking for a hug. My outer shields are for your safety. My inner shields are for my safety. It's a rare person who can comfort me when my outer shields are trashed and my inner self is freaking. And in order to function at work, I need outer shields functional enough so not only are outsiders safe from me, but outsiders don't even know there's a me inside that they should be scared of.

There were two present who could have done it successfully, once I was able to stop being task-oriented and able to sit down and eat, but neither of them did, and it wasn't safe to put out a bid for hugs.

By the time I was back on the floor, and had just spent what felt like the better part of two hours digging dismembered paper clips out of plastic memo-pockets screwed to the sides of the phone cubicles, and collapsed in a chair next to Figment to do a bit of paperwork and rest my abused feet, I was ready to snap again, and this time, not just at people who already know me. I wanted to just put my head down and cry and ask for a shoulder rub and a hug. Instead, I just sat down.

"You want to know a trick for getting interviewers to behave?" Figment asked me, with his Evil Genius smile. "Tell them that if they don't have enough to do, you can always get the dialer turned up... Amazing how that makes them shut up and behave."

Embryonic sobs turned into a massive fit of (thankfully silent) giggles, and Figment narrowly escaped me falling upon his neck in a heartfelt embrace and leaving a ghostly sigil of faded red lipstick on his cheek or ear. Instead, I shared my conclusion as to what should happen to those who dismembered paperclips and stuck their sundered limbs in the memo pockets: those metal bits should show up in their shoes. He agreed.

A bond that's deliberately left unconnected, because letting the bond connect fully would be a violation of gods know how many different oaths and so forth, itches like wings that haven't quite popped out of the shoulderblades yet, but will sometime in the next few days or hours.
  • Current Music
    Refreshments - Down Together
Azzcalm, Quiet

Items: brothers, oaths, wings, elves, and coffee

Thursday is Free Coffee Day at work. The coffee vending machine dispenses coffee happily, and I have to bust a larger percentage than usual of phone goons with open containers of non-water liquids in the interviewing area. This also contributes to my continuing wakefulness at this hour. It's still Thursday, to me.

cadhla's contribution to Rabbit Hole Day was the delightful conceit that those of Irish ancestry sprout wings seasonally. Assorted people contributed their own ethnic background's little magical quirks. Since FatherSir's side of the family is Scotch-Irish, in cadhla's universe, my wings fortunately waited to come out until after the visit from Corporate was over. But the other half of my ancestry, Mama's family, is Finnish. So that meant that I'd have been dealing with more elves than usual.

The thought that the Vikings feared the magic of the Finnish is definitely an interesting one. I wonder if all of Mama's family was Muggle, or if she was a Squib.

To forestall the perhaps-inevitable questions about why not try something with Figment, because there's the potential for a bond there, and he seems very nice, there are a few things in the way that I view as near unto insurmountable.

First, and it would be this way even if everything else were not so, I've put myself under oath to not do anything new, romantically speaking, as in, take on any new partners, or progress relationshipwise further with anyone I have previously been involved with. This doesn't preclude declaration of interest; I may be holding myself to strict oath, but I'm not stupid. I wouldn't have made the oath if I'd thought it was a bad idea to take it, and I did put a hard time limit on it, at which point I will be released of it, and can go ahead and follow up on any prospect where there is still interest.

There's absolutely no guarantee that I'll still have any interest when the term of the oath is over. I form bonds quickly and intensely, but only rarely do they stay intense for particularly long. This is an excellent reason why a waiting period is recommended. I may have to keep this, after the term of the oath is over. I've been liking it. It gives me intense peace of mind, and is much better as a long-term solution to my problems of impulsive and poorly thought-out romantic activity than having any bondmate as a gate-guard to my genitals.

Second, courtship aimed at Figment would be crass at best. Understatement of the year. His wife died in the past few months, under circumstances as sudden as Tien Vorsoisson's death, but without the estrangement and mental abuse to make it a relief. Even Miles wouldn't court Figment for at least a year, if not longer. Not even in secret from him.

Third, and most problematical, is the matter of religion. Figment is Mormon, though he has a sense of humor about it. I am ... not Mormon; in fact, I'm some bizarre variety of eclectic technopagan who's been tapped by (it seems) both Eris and Raven. While we're perfectly suited to be colleagues, anything more serious than that is near-automatically out. It feels as if the universe has intended me another brother, the brothers that my mother put her foot down over. Since I gave Alia her brother back, it makes sense for my universe to give me mine.
  • Current Music
    Johann Sebastian Bach - Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D: Allegro
running, bomb tech

Futon Frame & Glasses

I'm very happy with the world and myself, because my futon frame has arrived, and so have my glasses, and I have picked up both, and now I can see.

It was over four years since I last replaced my glasses, and I was in bad need of replacement. I'm going to have a bit of a headache until my eyes adjust.

I ran into Professor Sheldon while we were both shopping, and we chatted for a bit. That was pleasant.