enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
It is a hypothetical question about a family that's supportive except when it isn't. )

My two-part question is: how easy or difficult is it for you to imagine that person X might be deeply hurt despite the assurances and caveats, and how rare or common would you guess it is for someone in X's place to feel that way?

The specifics of the question are genuinely hypothetical, but I am sufficiently boggled by the answers I've gotten from someone else that I figured I'd do a reality check.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
We said goodbye on Friday.

About the end. )

He was the very model of a modern feline gentleman, by which I mean that he was charming, courteous, adventurous, affable, and felt himself entitled to pretty much anything that happened to catch his fancy, human attention most definitely included. We had the most wonderful conversations. I will miss him.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
the short version is, it's not good )

Anyway, my online presence is erratic enough that chances are you won't have noticed any difference while this small drama has been unfolding, but if it should happen that you have, or that you do, that'll likely be why.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Is a phrase that can be accurately applied to me, at least in terms of intentional actions.

So is "would carefully rescue a fly that was caught in something sticky". And "would coo delightedly over a fly that bounced back from the ordeal", as it turns out.

It's possible that I am the weirdest recovering entomophobe. But, you know, I'm good with that!
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
After accidentally spending four straight hours developing a story idea when I should have been sleeping (please don't get your hopes up, anyone, since the chances of me actually writing this approximate zero ([personal profile] emef, "anyone" means you (yes it is Person of Interest))), I again contemplate the eternal question: am I actually manic, or just a writer?

In other news, I learned... yesterday... that not only does such a thing as spreadable cookie paste exist, this inexplicable substance is actually vegan. I have not come to any conclusions about what to do with this information.

I will now become unconscious for a time.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Some things I dreamed last night:

  • Someone published a book that consisted of a lot of glossy photos of him and his dog cosplaying as Calvin and Hobbes and having adventures. It was pretty cool, actually.
  • I had a really earnest conversation with a high-ranking religious official of some kind (I base this on his ornate hat and robes and his air of compassionate dignity) about the fact that I owned and sometimes used a razor. In hindsight, his doubts about this practice don't seem to mesh with his clean-shaven look. Maybe he used a depilatory? Anyway, I'm pretty sure we were on an airship. And maybe in the middle of a murder investigation.
  • A guy was telling his female BFF that once they carried out their nefarious plan to wipe out the rest of humanity, they'd have to repopulate the earth, so he thought they should spare his girlfriend, too. And a dude of his BFF's choosing, if she wanted, he added magnanimously.

I've been told that I have weird dreams, but I don't get it. What on earth do the rest of you dream about?

(I will concede that the dream from the night before last about the con artist who felt marginally regretful about her plan to rip off Harold Finch and his new husband, Bucky Barnes, was a little out there.)
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Me yesterday: Hmm, I wonder if I'm catching that cold that's going around.

Me today: Yup, caught it.

Me six hours ago: I'm not yet so pitiful that I can't, on some level, enjoy feeling pitiful. Given the progression I've observed in others, I'd better make the most of this while it lasts. Oh discomfort and languid malaise; oh woe. *puts hand to brow*

Me one hour ago: ...On the bright side, aches and fatigue make for a much better illness experience than congestion and sore throat. If this can just keep on the way it's been going until my immune system rallies and fights it off, I will have far fewer complaints than usual.

Me now: Why is consciousness. *falls over*
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
I want you all to know that I have enough sense not to stand on one foot while I floss my teeth.

...just not enough to do the same while brushing them.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
And neither do I. The bleak loathing I feel towards it cannot be measured, or estimated. It may be that this is the dark energy which makes up 68.3% of the known universe, or it may be that the animosity I now bear is infinite.

The snow seems to be infinite. Not all the world is snow -- other types of matter are permitted, so far, to exist -- but I suspect that it goes on forever.

We are running out of places to put it.

The snowfall we have received is in excess of requirements. Are you missing snow that your locale had been allotted? I think we have it. Please join me in contacting the weather authorities to arrange its prompt delivery to its intended destination.

We're told to expect more snow tomorrow.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Have you ever found yourself with just enough of a thing that you felt you ought to do something with it, but too little of it for anything you could think of to do? That seems to be where I am with energy at the moment. I wanted to start this paragraph with a concrete comparison -- one involving food preparation, maybe -- but I couldn't manage to think of one. You see what I mean.

It's a frustrating situation, but possibly a good one, if it means that I'm returning to the world of people who can occasionally do things. Because I do like to do things, occasionally; I tend to feel much happier about life when I do.

In the meantime, have some disorganized and spoilery and largely cranky thoughts about recent television. (Content note for the Almost Human one: I start out by saying there's an abusive relationship at the heart of the show, and I absolutely mean it.)

Elementary 2x13, All in the Family )

Almost Human 1x08, You Are Here )

Sleepy Hollow 1x11, The Vessel )

Intelligence 1x02, I cannot be bothered to look up the name )

Person of Interest 3x13, 4C )
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
For me. I don't feel any particular resentment towards the season; in fact, I spend a fair amount of it not feeling much of anything at all. Emotions require energy, is the thing, and I'm in very short supply of that. In a way it's freeing: at other times of year, when I think of something I might do, it exists as an actual possibility, with all the potential for anxiety and guilt that that entails, but now I just think, ahahahahaha -- no, and tell myself to hold that thought until I am no longer living in a light-starved hell.

Yesterday I ate a chocolate bar, which is notable because doing so required me to first open the wrapper, something which in the preceding days I had not found the wherewithal to do.

I promise you that this is very funny when you are the person living it.

I do actually have some energy. My shoulders ache from snow shoveling, which is good, because I got that ache being very careful about my technique so as to avoid wrenching my back. I spent a couple of hours rolling around in a wonderful horrible new plotbunny today -- I'm not going to write it, but it's good to know that at least my ideas haven't dried up. I even, unrelatedly, managed to make someone laugh.

I keep thinking of posts I might make -- about recent events on Person of Interest; about the fact that Almost Human is eating my brain; and then there's one I really do want to write someday, even if it's in a very disorganized fashion, about some of the zillion and one largely disparate factors that seem to contribute to whether a given story is judged "good" -- but I guess I'm making this one instead.

(Edited to capitalize the last word of Person of Interest. Oh touchscreen keyboard, don't you know it's unkind to kick a person when they're down?)

Better days

Dec. 3rd, 2013 11:51 pm
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
They re-aired "Relevance" tonight in Person of Interest's usual timeslot, so I watched it.

It's such a good episode.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
The same cat that couldn't seem to go more than a couple of hours without attention last night, even when people were sleeping, just reappeared after an apparent absence of something like seven hours. This is a cat that takes care to sleep in the middle of much-traveled paths, you have to understand, a cat whose voice can fill the house and often does; occasionally it is possible to overlook his presence, but only ever for long enough to trip over him. I was starting to think he'd managed to get outside and freeze.

I'm glad he didn't freeze.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
As a fan, I seem to spend a lot of time rationalizing the random, baffling, and/or downright offensive things canon throws at me -- and actually, it's pretty fun to do, at least when I'm not too upset about the need for it. So why should I wait for weird plot developments to hone my elaborate justification skills?

In that spirit: Make an outrageous statement about a fictional character, and I will attempt to explain why it is self-evidently true.

Recommended fandoms: Person of Interest, Sleepy Hollow, Elementary, Criminal Minds, Burn Notice, Firefly/Serenity, the Star Trek reboot (pre-Cumberbatch only), and -- straying a little farther from the fannish track -- Fairly Legal, Common Law, or the short-lived BBC series Outcasts. Feel free to try anything, though, especially if you wouldn't mind an answer based entirely on Wikipedia blurbs and Google image search. :D

ETA: Oh my gosh, I love you guys, your prompts are the best, and I'm totally going to get to all of them. It might take me a few days! But this is way too much fun for half-measures, I tell you what. <3
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
I do not want a Google+ profile. No, more: I want not a Google+ profile. It is an active ambition and heartfelt desire of mine to continue to live a Google+ free life -- and that, Google, is why I have deleted my Google+ presence each time you have created one for me.

Which you have done on three separate occasions to date.

I get that you want to make money off our unique little data-rich lives, but each time you try this, my laughter about that touching "don't be evil" slogan of yours acquires a slightly wilder note. I realize that it's to your benefit to railroad as many of your distracted and not particularly privacy-conscious users as you can into this presumably lucrative project of yours, but surely there has to be some disadvantage to antagonizing the few of us who care enough to fight the issue?

The thing is, Google, I don't want to hate you. You've made my life easier on countless occasions. But lately, you keep going out of your way to make it harder, and it's kind of frustrating. Actually, by this point, it's kind of infuriating.

You have been a useful evil, Google. Please do both of us a favor and stop pushing before we find out whether you're a necessary one.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
I think it's so sweet that I keep reaching out that way. Take my most recent subject line: "I wish to tell you about myself." How touching is that? I'm trying to share real truths about myself, here! With myself! If that isn't beautiful, I don't know what is.

I guess I can't always live up to my own example, though: I didn't open the message.


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