enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
I've finally gotten a text that charms me more more than the time spammers kept sending me messages supposedly from myself!  This one just says, "I want to serve you." And not even in a porny way, as far as I can tell -- it seems to be trying to sell me insurance.

I can't decide which SFnally unlikely possibility I find more touching:

  • that this poor bot has achieved sentience, but still can't imagine any other future for itself than obeying the whims of meat humans, or
  • that it's entirely aware of the fact that as a sentient being it has just as many rights as anyone, thank you very much, but it happens to be a bot with decided submissive tendencies, and the only way it has of meeting people is spam.

Either way, I just want to shower it with virtual hugs... but probably that would be a bad idea, since, spambot.

So I'm just posting here to relieve my feelings, instead.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
1. Sometimes I take notes on things I dream, often while still half-asleep.   For example, last night's batch:

  • murderface:  annunciation
  • shopping cart on sidewalk unspeakably rude
  • we find werewolves instead of our car

I kind of love my brain sometimes.

2. I have now read Ancillary Sword, and this series continues to be delicious like candy.  Can it be October already?

vague spoilers )

3. It's possible that my grandmother and I have just formed a book club.  Honestly, I'm pretty enthused.  :D
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Me, upon writing three short paragraphs of mediocre-at-best fanfic, after like half a year in which I couldn't make myself write anything:

  1. I am awesome.
  2. I am going to sleep.

(Seriously, I was worried that something was lastingly broken. Which you know is ridiculous, and I know is ridiculous, and my therapist has told me repeatedly is ridiculous (only nicely), but there it is. Or rather: there it was!)
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)
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?)
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.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
So people, I cannot even with this picture of Taraji P. Henson and Kevin Chapman smiling adorably (during the making of 1x14, apparently). I think I should always keep it open to rest my eyes upon in weary moments.

Actually, it's interesting -- I think of myself as a much more visual than auditory person, but although I routinely use music to modulate my mood, particularly when I'm working on something, it's never occurred to me until very recently to do anything like that with images. It turns out, it's kind of nice! The other day I tried using a thematically relevant picture for inspiration during a fic-writing attempt, with mixed success -- possibly because what it was most relevant to was actually a few scenes along, but on the other hand, when I hated what I was writing, at least it gave me something to look forward to. And something to gaze at other than the terrible blankness after the blinking cursor.

In other news, I am a very poor thing today, because tiny pathogens are attacking my body, i.e., I am sick. Mostly all I want to do is sleep, but I guess I'll hold off a while longer and try to work on drinking fluids and things like that. That sounds sort of like a plan.
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They're great. They've got these in-your-face stripes that are all don't mess with me, and pretty much everyone knows not to[1], but they don't let it go to their heads. Skunks want to be left alone, but it's not like they go around hassling anyone else, either.[2] They pretty much just seem to do their own thing. It's refreshing.

Tonight I was coming in from a walk, and a couple of yards out I was like, oh hey, is something moving by the door?

And then I was like, OH HEY, A SKUNK IS MOVING BY THE DOOR!

Meanwhile the skunk, who had just come around the corner, was visibly realizing: holy shit, a human! So we both pulled up short, and the skunk put its tail up to remind me of the scent gland thing in case I'd forgotten, and I backed up a step to indicate that no, no, really I was perfectly aware.

And then we both retreated rapidly, because neither of us was looking for a fight, and the neighborhood is plenty big enough for both of us.

I just like skunks, people, I don't know. I mean, it's not like they're cuddly or anything.[3] But they're reasonable.


1. Except great horned owls, apparently. Great horned owls are hardcore and give no fucks; they wear skunk spray like it's perfume. (back)

2. I mean, apart from the smaller critters they crunch on -- they are omnivores. (back)

3. At least, wild ones aren't. (back)
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Hours in which my computer has been occupied with updating, scanning, installing, uninstalling, restarting, and other such tedious activities: 11.5

Hours in which I was actively involved in the aforementioned tedium: Significantly < 11.5, I'm happy to say.

Pieces of malicious software discovered: 1.

Pieces of malicious software removed: 1.

My level of hope that now it will behave like a reasonable and cooperative computer: Not actually terribly high. It is a very brave computer, but it is not always a very, um, functional one.

Degree to which my computer and I are well matched: Admittedly, significant.

My feelings upon placing my hands upon an actual proper keyboard, to type actual complete sentences, for the first time all day: COMPLETE AND UTTER BLISS.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
1.  It's fun to talk about how cats are totally random and ridiculous -- and they are -- but if I'm honest with myself, I'm not really any better. Case in point: I come trotting down the stairs at a fair speed, see the cat sleeping on the couch, and stop dead so I can stare at him alertly until I've verified that he's breathing. And then I continue about my business as if this were all perfectly ordinary.

2.  "The Wanderer" has been stuck in my head for over twenty-four hours, and I am really ready for the next earworm, please. I wouldn't even mind, except I'm having a hard time shaking the conviction that the narrator is a massive jerk. You'll never settle down, you like pretty girls, okay, well and good, dude -- but what do you mean to you they're all the same? How much attention are you even paying here?

3.  One of the many ways my mother is excellent: I randomly asked her what kind of book John Reese might like that you wouldn't necessarily expect him to, and she thought about it for a moment and said, either The Joy of Cooking or a romance novel.

3a.  (It would have to be a romance novel without too much valorization/fetishization of alpha male nonsense, I think; for reasons including though not limited to "Prisoner's Dilemma", I'm imagining he'd find that somewhere between unpleasant and triggery. The whole true love aspect, though. OMG. Yeah, I can't even.)

3b.  ((Of course, what I really want now is to introduce him to fanfic. But okay no I have enough plotbunnies I'm not writing, yes, thank you.))
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
So I read feminist blog posts instead.  That happens to other people, right?

Sometimes ethical arguments are just so soothing.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
...and it's awesome.

This was originally going to be a post about how surprisingly good it looked; then my hair finished drying. I'm happy to say that I managed to coax it out of the stage in which it resembled a small mammal unlucky enough to expire atop my head, but I still crack up every time I see my own reflection, and the mere sight of me has already rendered one other person so helpless with laughter as to require physical support. This haircut is objectively hilarious, in other words.

And I still love it.

Up until a few months ago, my hair was down to my hips -- when it was loose, which was never, because hip-length hair is incredibly annoying[1] -- and when I got it cut it for the first time in years, I still kept it long enough to tie back, because making decisions is hard, and so is thinking about my appearance, and it was easier to keep treating my hair like a nuisance to be kept out of the way than to think about what I actually wanted to do with it. It was a huge relief to have less of the nuisance to deal with, but picking a hairstyle was scary, okay? I hadn't done that since, like, elementary school! I didn't know how it worked!

I still don't, really, which is a big part of why I'm neither surprised nor particularly dismayed by the fact that despite a certain fleeting promise, this haircut is arguably the funniest thing I've seen all week. Aware that I had only the vaguest idea of what I wanted, I was braced to find the results actively soul-destroying -- and instead, what I ended up with merely suggests that someone tossed a boy band and Alice from Dilbert in a stylistic blender. Hey, I got off lightly!

Meanwhile, it is so utterly amazing to have hair that cannot get in my way no matter what I do. I keep expecting it to fall over my shoulder or get in my face or something, and it keeps not happening! It's blissful.

I won't pretend that the glimpse of a world in which I have hair I actually like wasn't nice, either.

So, yeah. The fact that I should maaaybe come with a spit-take warning at the moment notwithstanding, I feel like I'm headed in the right direction, here. I figure I'll give it a couple of days to see if it's possible to tame my new hair into something remotely workable. If so: victory!

And if not, I'll be asking my mother how she feels about attempting a touch-up. I'm pretty sure she'll say yes if I do.

I mean, I've provided her with so much amusement today alone! It would really only be fair.

1. In my experience. Your mileage may well vary! (back)
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
I read the words "For Pete's sake, 3D and Daddy G practically created trip-hop", and I spent the next several seconds thinking how sweet it was that they invented an entire genre of music as a favor for their friend Pete.

True story.

I voted.

Nov. 6th, 2012 04:05 pm
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It was very boring, which is exactly what I prefer.  It's a relief to have it done; now I just have to wait to find out what the rest of the country decided.
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
We haven't had any trouble yet, but the power company called to let us know that we shouldn't be surprised if we lose power for seven to ten days.

Good to know!
enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Nothing much even happened in it, outside my head. I mean, lots of things happened, obviously, and some of them even affected me, but in terms of my own personal experience, today was not a very exciting day in the life of the world. Outside my head.

Inside my head, though:

I figured out that the reason I've been increasingly failing to cope with life for the last week is that I was triggered -- or something close enough to triggered that I'll call it that, and live with the possibility that I'll repent of that decision someday -- by last week's episode of Covert Affairs.
I journaled about it.
I talked about it, and even had emotions while I was talking about it, and even showed those emotions while I was talking about it, and even -- most amazingly of all -- felt kind of better, after talking and having and showing emotions about it.
I noticed that tearful conversations and nightmare-interrupted sleep had left me exhausted, and took a nap.
I noticed that I was feeling incredibly agitated after tonight's episode of Covert Affairs (yes, yes, I know), and got some exercise, and worked on breathing, and tried to get a handle on how I was feeling.
I figured out why I was triggered by last week's Covert Affairs.
I had a snack when I noticed that I was headachey and unable to concentrate. It helped, both times.
I journaled about all the stuff I realized during much of the above.
I overcame the urge to mock myself for much of the above.
I gave myself credit for all of the above.

I am, I think, in short, something of a hero.

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