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Earth below us...

Loonies blog everything. :D
My favorite soap opera has updated: http://community.livejournal.com/lightningwatch/28390.html
http://www.thekansascitychannel.com/family/10722750/detail.html -- that is one BIG cat.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2007/01/11/violetblue.DTL -- little signs. Around their necks. HEE.
http://www.rebelscum.com/story/front/UPDATE_R2D2_Mobile_Entertainment_System_102853.asp -- OMG, Fuzzy needs one of those.


samurai_ko tagged me to do the 10 weird things/habits/little-known facts about myself thing. I am a memebreaker! I do not like to transmit junk information intact without a good reason, even if the good reason is something trivial like "it amused me". Memes with language like "you must" trigger my "this no longer amuses me" button, and I go out of my way to alter them and strip them down into something I consider socially responsible. And even though this was a disclaimer on the meme, I might as well consider that my first weird thing!

I brush my teeth in the shower. I brush my teeth at random other times during the day as well, but the time when I absolutely must brush my teeth before bed is when I'm taking my shower at night. I keep toothpaste and toothbrush in the shower with the rest of my shower gear. So does my roommate.

There is no such thing as "part of the way into the frog pond" for me. Either it is "Not in the frog pond at all," or "Where's that spare change of clothing and hot shower?" This was tested at multiple times during my childhood and early adulthood. Arizona has few frog ponds. Perhaps this is for the best.

I have successfully seriously hacked my brain and body at least twice. The first time was when I expressed envy that a childhood friend could raise either eyebrow like Mr. Spock. She said that she'd taught herself to do it. I sat down with a mirror and flipped the muscle commands that I was using on the one side of my body over to the other side of my body, and learned how to raise either eyebrow alone. I didn't quite successfully do it, and I used slightly different muscle groups to do it. I've since forgotten which side was the eyebrow I started with. The second time was when I realized that I was at a loss in face-to-face verbal communication, but I could keep up perfectly witty and literate IM conversations in real-time, and type faster than most people. I re-wired my brain to allow output of my writing buffer to my mouth. The possible third time was when I decided that I was not going to keep getting lung-based colds on a regular basis anymore. That also coincided with my move to Arizona.

Since approximately age 12, I have slept holding a token of my #1 SO-type in one hand, and a rock in the other hand. The definition of "SO-type" varies widely based on circumstances. It's a toy lightsabre and one of a number of chunks of fluorite or rose quartz at the moment. The weirdest-ever token was a single Birkenstock. (Yes, I did wake up with Birk-prints on my face on more than one occasion.)

Pants are more likely to trip me up than a skirt is.

I have a bizarre phobia involving unexpected lights in dark places. It's related to my phobia of lightbulbs burning out when I turn them on.

As a child, I believed that the self I could see in mirrors was not actually the one of me that I actually was. I had long conversations with my mirror-universe-twin in the neighboring dimension.

Dad trained me to be a first-class grammar bitch. I used to have a near-instinctive sense of perfect grammar. (This has become blunt with the advent of the internet.) Writing with proper capitalization, punctuation, and grammar is the natural order of my writing, and it takes some effort to deviate from that. Even if I know someone and like them, I will not add them as a friend if reading their LJ causes my inner grammar bitch to wince in agony. It's their journal, so they may write in it like that if they want to, but I'm not going to read that. There have been at least two instances of spelling-based defriending, with face-to-face buddies who spelled badly enough to completely baffle any spell-checkers beyond hope of actually guessing the words correctly.

A bonus #11: Even though I was raised outside of fandom-in-general, I get it down both sides of my family. A maternal aunt of mine has a gaming shop in Michigan somewhere. Dad was rather seriously fen before he gafiated and got married and all. In retrospect, Mama shouldn't have been quite as surprised as she was that I turned out the way I did.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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