Quote of the Week

"I'm not interested in the future. I'm interested in the future of the future."

--from Timeline, by Michael Crighton; attributed to Robert Doniger

Da-ko-ta

So, as I mentioned, I had to take an emergency trip down to Wilcox, yesterday. Whenever we drive out of town for work, we're supposed to take the company van if it's available and procure a rental car if it's not. Of course, since there was no warning on this, there were no rental cars available, yesterday. The receptionist (who arranges these things) told me the best they could do was a truck.

After having a rent a vehicle while mine was in the shop in February and being in this situation, I was just cringing. They'd stuck me with a Silverado for a day until they could get me a car. I could not see over the hood of the thing while standing on the ground. It maneuvered like an extra-large brick trying to be a sports car.

Mercifully, Cindy said, "It's a small truck. A Dodge Dakota." Now, a Dakota isn't (or at least, didn't used to be) a small truck. It's a mid-size. But having stolen Kendra's once when she had one (my fuel pump failed, she was dead to the world, and I had to be at a test I'd paid $100 for. I got her permission retroactively), I knew I could drive one. Bigger than I'm used to. But no problem.

Imagine my surprise when I get out to the parking lot and see that the "small truck" is a quad cab. Yikes. But it was an emergency and I was already late, so I bit the bullet and crossed my fingers.

If I ever need to buy a truck, I might have to get me one of those. I thought it was going to be a nightmare dealing with a vehicle that long, and admittedly, I didn't take it down narrow roads or parallel park with it or anything. But it actually handled really well. I didn't have the nerve-wracking feeling of being too wide for my own lane (which I've had even with mid-size cars on the occasions when I've driven them). I had no trouble turning or parking, the thing had all kinds of get up and go and the brakes were a little touchy (since it's geared for hauling), but not bad. I just made sure to leave lots of room when I was changing lanes and it was all good. What a pleasant surprise.

Even in that short a time period, I started to see where the power of the vehicle could be tempting. I often complain about men in big trucks, because they drive like men in big trucks. (Oddly, I see very little of this with women). On the one hand, it's just more threatening when someone comes roaring up on your bumper in something with headlights level with the roof of your car. On the other hand . . . give in to the Dark Side of the Highway, Luke. Feel the power of your V6. Use it!

Another test to screw up the formatting of my blog:

GRYFFINDOR! You scored 20% Slytherin, 16% Ravenclaw, 72% Gryffindor, and 16% Hufflepuff!

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart. Gryffindors are known for their courage, audacity, and devotion to what is good and honest.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 38% on Slytherin You scored higher than 13% on Ravenclaw You scored higher than 95% on Gryffindor You scored higher than 3% on Hufflepuff

Link: The Sorting Hat Test written by leeannslytherin on Ok Cupid

This is the first one of these I've seen that shows you all the variables afterward. Also the first one where one or two borderline answer choices (pick a familiar, and other such foolishness) don't put me right on the borderline of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Am I the only one who always figured I'd end up in Ravenclaw? I never do, and it surprises me.

Beer O'clock!

I had to make an unanticipated trip to Wilcox today to fix a computer on an emergency basis. The problem was icky, but not hard to solve, and Wilcox is kind of a nice drive. Lots of mountains, you get to pass the rhyolite flow at Texas Canyon, and you get to see a little bit of the Wilcox playa as you enter town.

As I was leaving Tucson, there was a traffic delay on I-10 south of the city. I was just waiting for the accident, and sure enough, there it was. A semi had rolled off into the median and spilled its guts. I could see blue and silver stuff, and I suddenly remembered something from the traffic report (overheard on the radio while I was half-awake this morning) and laughed.

The semi was full of Bud Light. Not only did they have the truck to clear away, they had all the beer. Mind you, I heard this at about 7AM. It was about 10:45 by the time I drove by.

As I drove home, at 2:30PM, I saw a sportscar that somebody rolled. I figured that accounted for the slowing, but no, no. That was only half of it. They were still cleaning up the beer. Half a dozen guys were out there with shovels, shoveling cardboard and aluminum into bins for disposal.

Drive time: about three-hours round trip. Plus beer. Brent says it sounds like a Simpsons episode.

Mesomorphs

My sister has come to the remarkable conclusion that she, and probably I, are mesomorphs. For those who aren't familiar with the terminology, ectomorphs are naturally thin. You've seen these people: they can eat fast food and potato chips all day and all that happens is they end up with a teeny little pot belly. Endomorphs are those who run naturally to fat--they can loose all the weight in the world and they'll still just look big, somehow. Mesomorphs are the in-between folks, who run to muscle.

She says it took her a long time to come to this conclusion, but as soon as she said it, I immediately applied it to myself. I've always been plump, even as a kid. On the other hand, as a kid, I was eating two bowls of cereal for breakfast, high-fat cafeteria slop for lunch, and a good-sized dinner. It has to do with, as Kendra once observed, still cooking for the farm even though none of us live on a farm anymore. I probably ate more as a kid than I do now. And yet . . . I've always been one of the most flexible people I know, regardless of weight. Likewise, I've never had trouble meeting the 50 lb. lifting requirement of some jobs. A friend once said that Nina and I were the strongest women she knew. (Nina is 4'11" and can out-lift me any day of the week).

And now that the weight is coming off and I'm starting to see myself again, I'm starting to realize that all the markers I thought meant I must be an endomorph are actually more indicative of mesomorph: broad shoulders, a tendency to look unhealthy if I get under about a size 12, and the fact that I weigh more than average at any given dress size. I'm told the "average" woman weighs 140 lbs. and wears a size 14 dress. When I was 15 and weighted 140 lbs., I was a size 8 closing hard on a size 6.

I can't say it's never been my goal to be thin. I was fifteen and stupid, once. But for years now, it's been my goal to be strong. The other day I walked out of the bathroom at work and two women were dithering around the water cooler. They'd just emptied it and they were looking for someone with muscles (their word, not mine) to change the bottle. So they grabbed me. And I changed the 5-gallon bottle of water, which I do quite routinely in this suite. Not a big deal. And one of them said to the other, "See, there are advantages to being a wimp."

I so totally don't understand that attitude, any more than I understand women who want men to hold doors for them. You're a grown up. Don't you feel good about being able to do things for yourself?

Last week's weigh-in: 186 lbs.

The tongue is faster than the brain

In the morning mocking of my boss, I told him that he had such alacritous and conscientious employees--we both had our purchase card paperwork done before 8:30 AM on the first day of the four-day window. Then I had to stop and think if alacritious was a word, or if I had just made it up out of the appropriate roots and particles to mean "the quality of behaving with alacrity."

And, as I wondered to Brent (our network administrator, with whom I share an office): "And if it isn't a word, does that make us 'alacritous intolerant'?" (Say it out loud, it's funny faster).

We also learned, after I was reaching for "insolvable" and somehow came up with "insoluble" the other day, that I am obviously not part of the solution--I am part of the precipitate.

In other news, I don't understand people who don't read signage. There is a perfectly good sign at the left-hand turning bay for our office complex reading, "Left turn arrow begins with green light." This is important information in Tucson, where we have a lagging left unless it's posted (lagging left has statistically fewer traffic accidents than leading left). This sign does not read "Left on green arrow only," and yet people will sit at this light with no one oncoming until those of us stuck behind them begin honking, because they haven't really read the sign. And people who fail to read the sign entirely will run the red light making their left turn, because they expect that green arrow to be there and aren't used to really waiting to be sure it is before they drive.

My office will probably be moving in three or four months. Given the odds of traffic stupidity around here, this may contribute to my longevity and the health of my car.

Is that a Freudian slip you're wearing, or are you just happy to see me?

I just read the word "condom" for "common." I think I need to get laid.

Quote of the Week

"Pain is inevitable; misery is optional."

--Dreamlove (Internet Relay Chat)

New Pic for Blog Thumbnail

This should work for awhile. It cropped nicely.

Hey, does anybody have any idea how to curl hair as long as mine? I don't know if a curling iron will do it (no, I don't own one to test with) and nobody I know owns hot rollers anymore. I might curl my hair for Saturday night of the high school reunion.

Resistance is Futile

It is so very much a Friday.

This is me. At work. Why yes, that item duct-taped into the corrugated cardboard box is a computer. Why do you ask? As it happens, it's a computer with intermittant and hard-to-identify hardware failure. We think it's either the processor or the systemboard. We're trying to force a thermal failure so we know what part to replace.

Thank you for teaching me that duct tape does not require scissors, Amy.

And, since this came from my boss's camera phone and the resolutions' not the best . . . the shirt says, "Doesn't Play Well With Others."

Funny

the Prankster (47% dark, 34% spontaneous, 27% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN | COMPLEX | LIGHT Your humor has a slightly more intellectual or even conceptual slant to it. You're not pretentious at all, but you aren't into what some would call 'low humor'. This isn't to say you wouldn't laugh at a good dirty joke, but you'd definitely prefer something clever to something moist. You probably like well-thought-out pranks and/or spoofs and it's highly likely you've tried one of these things yourself. In a lot of ways, yours is the most entertaining type of humor. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Conan O'Brian - Ashton Kutcher

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 37% on dark You scored higher than 43% on spontaneous You scored higher than 43% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on OkCupid Free Online Dating

Truth in Advertising

I read this in my best friend's LiveJournal today. It made me laugh. And want to cry, a little.

Why are so many of the beautiful, witty women I know going wanting? We have sex drives and senses of humor. Most men I know say that's what they want.

Holy hurricanes, Batman!

It's not my car karma after all. Have a little look at some of the effects of the storms that went through last night.

We were just missed by the power outage, though we had brown-outs sufficient that I had candles burning because I didn't feel like fumbling around in the dark if we did loose power totally. What we got at our place turned out to be wind. From the inside of our apartment you could barely hear it: a little wind, a lot of rain. But we're on the lee side of the building. As I was taping up my back window, I discovered that I wasn't the only one to get the shattered glass treatment. The car two over from mine had the back window shivered, though hers was holding together from the tint and the angle of the glass. There may have been a couple other damaged cars that just left for work before I did; I have no idea. Ours is the only real parking "lot" in the complex--the folks in street parking seemed to have a little protection from houses across the way.

I stopped to tell the apartment manager he should probably check our roof because we'd heard stuff sliding around, only to find out he already planned to be up on every roof at some point today. Turns out, our building had its roof re-done after the whole thing lifted off in a storm last year, but that was before his time, so he's not sure exactly how it was done. The buildings across the way, with tile roofs, have not fared well. There are branches on roofs and trees listing and all kinds of messiness. Hell, I saw a power pole basically hanging form its lines with a crew working on it on the way to work.

The apartment manager says the figure he heard was 100-110 mph winds. It was very local, but that speed's about a class two or three if it were a hurricane. Given the damage I saw, I can believe it. In Casa Grande, where there's nothing around to break the wind for miles, this kind of damage was unusual, but not unexpected. In my part of Tucson, it's almost unheard of.

And we're just starting to pick up moisture from Hurricane Emily. The hurricane is coming in right over through that portion of the Gulf of Mexico that we draw our monsoonal flow from. The ride may just get wilder for the next several days. Wow.

Car Karma

My roommate walked back into the apartment this morning with a look of trepidation on her face and asked, "Have you looked at your car yet this morning?" And when I said no, hemmed and hawed over telling me until I started to walk over to a window. Then she finally managed to tell me that the back window of my PT Cruiser is shattered.

At a glance, it looks like something . . . maybe went through it, maybe just hit it with enough force to shiver it, during the storm last night. I don't see anything on the inside, but the angle is not good. It doesn't look damp, which is good--hopefully it happened on the tail end of the storm, not during the downpour. Needless to say, it's not damn weatherproof at the moment.

The best news so far is that I called the local auto glass place my dad favors and they can get me in today at 4PM. I have factory dark glass, so I wasn't sure a replacement could be had today, even if an appointment could. The nice folks at Empire Glass even did a conference call with an agent from the national bit of my insurance company (the local office wasn't even answering their phones yet this early in the morning) and got everything arranged.

I have a zero glass deductible. All that's left is to go out there and try to tape some plastic into my window to protect from minor rain showers. And try to drive to work with essentially no rearview mirror. Needless to say, I don't expect to be doing off-sites today unless there's a company van available. Jump off that bridge when we get to it.

But still . . . three fender benders and a shattered window in the first seven months I've had the car. What the hell is wrong with my car karma?

Monday Morning, Coming Down

Sitting upright shouldn't hurt this much. I don't know what I was fighting in my dreams, but my neck hurts unbelieveably. Since I was fine yesterday, I choose to believe I slept on it wrong, rather than that I'm approaching chiropractor-time again. *crossing fingers* Two ibuprofen barely makes a dent in the pain.

My job is interesting from the standpoint that I can go from completely swamped to nothing to do in about 2.5 hours. After two weeks of overtime (I even worked the Saturday of the holiday weekend), I find I suddenly have nothing to do. No one has called me for tech support in about three business days. At least I have an on-site scheduled for half an hour from now. That'll keep me busy for a little while. Mind you, things will change back again at some unspecified point in about ten seconds.

I need to come up with a different picture to stick on my blog. I was trying the one I used for my high school reunion bio, but it looks pretty awful as the thumbnail that shows up on my blog page. The next picture I really have is my 175 lb. picture, which I don't really want to use because I'm not quite there yet. I took some with my digital POS camera in the mirror yesterday; maybe one of those will work out. If not, heck, maybe I'll use the mirror-picture of my sexy underwear (the ones that say "sexy" all around the waistband), just for the hell of it. That's not against some Blogger law I don't know about, is it?

Hey Nina, did you ever find the one of me dressed up as a bondage fairie?

Okay, I guess I'll buy this.

Gryphen You scored 75 Wings and 76 Tail!

Congradulations, You are now a Gryphen. Equally balanced in both Wings and Tail, or at least close enough. You are a Nobel and Resourceful person. You are wealthy(not necessarily in money) and respectable, but you're not afaid of getting your hands dirty every once and awhile. You are well liked and show true drive. Becareful of being too bull-headed, but always stick up for what you believe in. People respond well to others with Confidence, which you have plenty of. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it, you'll be surprised by how many people will gladly help you out.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 50% on Wings You scored higher than 99% on Tail

Link: The Wings or Tail Test written by bonesomething on Ok Cupid

Naked Saturday

I got to indulge in one of my favorite small pleasures Saturday morning: walking around the apartment naked. This doesn't happen very often, one of the only things I miss about not living alone. My roommate was out of town.

My run out to Wal-Mart to secure the afore-mentioned iron-on paper also resulted in a new pair of denim shorts, a new denim mini-skirt, and a pair of denim capri pants. (End-of-summer stuff, sadly). I am most pleased. Also quite broke.

I met Pete for coffee. We talked for about two hours. Not about anything in particular. Stuff. College stories. Places we've lived. People we've known. It was great. We'll do it again sometime soon-ish. His eyes are blue.

I love my new pearl earings. Black stick pearls, which are actually irridescent blue.

I think I'm finally becoming a teenager at this late date. I find myself getting into indie music and messing around with make-up. I mentioned this to my sister. She about died laughing.

My PT Cruiser's odometer currently reads 6666.

Oh, and for reference, owning a Lexus does not give you the right to drive like a dork.

el fin

The Present

Fresh iron-on paper did indeed solve the problem, and Joanne's birthday present was finished yesterday morning before the party.

I gave her a roller derby teddy bear. (Yes, my sister plays roller derby). The Build a Bear Workshop in the Tucson Mall had most of what I needed. They even had rollers that could be added to the bottom of any shoe to turn it into a skate (which was the real sticking point) and little red bear panties (because let's face is, if the bear's going to play roller derby, they're going to end up in the air sooner or later).

What they didn't have was an appropriate skirt, which is how I ended up sewing a black, A-line teddy bear skirt by hand. It actually came out fairly well, despite a couple of screwed up stitches and the fact that I didn't bother binding the edges, etc. I used two of the pirate stickers--a skull in a pirate hat--on the outsides of the roller skates. And the iron-on was to get her team logo (she plays for the Surly Gurlies, a pirate-themed team) onto the T-shirt. I found exactly one graphic of their merchandise shirt online, and Nina did me the great favor of applying her mad Photoshop skillz to it so it was a little less pixelated than it otherwise would have been.

Joanne was just delighted. I wish I'd had a camera for the look on her face.

Quote of the Week

"They'll have me whipped for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace."

--The Fool, in The Tragedy of King Lear, by William Shakespeare

It's late and I'm random.

I'm almost finished with the birthday present. I'm even pretty pleased with how it's turning out. I've also done my whole quota of hand-sewing for the year in the last three days. My iron-on paper, on the other hand, isn't working very well. I think it's just too old. I'll buy a fresh package tomorrow and try again. Good thing I was smart enough to do tests before the real thing.

Pete and I are going to try to meet for coffee or something before the party tomorrow. Wish me luck. :)

This week's weigh-in: 189 lbs. First time I've been under 190 since May 2004. A miraculous thing happens when I drop below 190. I start to feel good. I've missed that.

It's not the length of the wand, it's how you flick it . . .

12", Holly, Dragon You scored 42 wisdom, 38 bravery, 21 emotional, and 11 martyrdom!

Holly is a powerful protective wood that good for use against evil, but it also represents dreams and fertility. Your dragon's heartstring core makes your wand very effective in hexes.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 58% on wisdom You scored higher than 64% on bravery You scored higher than 47% on emotional You scored higher than 17% on martyrdom

Link: The Harry Potter Wand Test written by sputnik845 on Ok Cupid

Did you know I consistantly come out as Gryffindor on Harry Potter tests? Gryffindor, maybe one or two questions away from Slytherin. I find this very strange--I always imagined I'd end up stuck in Ravenclaw.

Swimsuits. Ugh.

I live in Tucson, AZ. How come I can buy a swimsuit in February, but not in July?

I've been invited to my sister's birthday party this Saturday. It's a pool party. And my swimsuit--which is the best swimsuit I've ever owned and fits perfectly at my current weight--is beginning to suffer seriously from Old Swimsuit Disease. You know, when the spandex starts to wear out so the fabric acquires a nap? Eventually, it gets so bad you can see through it. Mine's not quite to that point, yet, but I'm still not sure I want to wear it out in the sunlight (I'm primarily a hot tub-at-night kind of person).

I stopped in at the local Wal-Mart just to see what they had. While nothing's on clearance, yet, we have reached the portion of the year where most of what's left is a random selection of two-piece suits, which may or may not actually have two pieces. The results of the Wal-Mart trip: One bikini bottom which fit, one suit which would have been perfect if they'd had it one size up, and one suit which probably was perfect but was too expensive to bother trying on.

Yesterday, I had to hit the Foothills Mall in search of pirate stickers anyway, so I stopped in Ross and found the same problem, only more so. I found two suits worth trying on, and a bottom, and a top. The one-piece would have been fine except that the way the back is structured and with shoulders like mine, it would never actually stay on. The two-piece is such a good swimsuit I bought it even though it's too small, excepting that it will fit fine eventually--probably during some awkward month like November when we still go hot-tubbing here in southern AZ.

So I ended up with blue bottoms and a red-and-white striped top. Which really isn't as bad as it sounds. I'm still not quite comfortable with the way my middle looks in a two-piece suit (I'm comfortable walking around in lingerie, but not in a bathing suit--what the hell is wrong with me?), so I'll throw a white mesh swim-suit cover over it and kind of have the Wonder Woman thing going on.

And what were the pirate stickers for? My sister's birthday present, mwahaha. But I can't tell you about it until after I've given it to her. I gave Gilbert the URL to my blog, and I don't know if he might have given it to her. So I'll play safe instead of sorry. Hopefully someone at the party will have a camera that takes better pictures than my POS digital . . .

My mommy has a new short story out!

My mother's latest short story was just published in Asimov's Science Fiction. Look for "Point of Origen," by Catherine Wells, in the August issue.

There's a quietly favorable review at: http://www.tangentonline.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=485&Itemid=259.


You may be able to find a copy at your local big-box bookseller. If not, or if you don't have a bookstore the size of a small planet nearby, you may be able to order it online. :)

I dreamed science-fiction last night. Maybe it was a sign. ;)

Arr! Ess! Tee!

My pirate name is:

Iron Anne Cash

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you a tough person. You're musical, and you've got a certain style if not flair. You'll do just fine. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

Who's bombing my mountains?

I headed south on Oracle Road this morning for work and had a nasty surprise. There was this big cloud dead ahead of me, over the mountains. And a long plume of it hanging down. Only, a couple minutes' inspection made me realize that plume wasn't going down, it was coming up. And the cloud wasn't cloud--it was smoke.

The Santa Rita mountains are on fire, south of Tucson. People think it will be a beneficial fire, clearing out fifty years of underbrush. But it still looks like somebody dropped a bomb. Though a much smaller bomb than the Aspen fire on Mt. Lemon (in the Catalina mountains) in 2003.

My eyes have itched all day from the smoke.

Question #2

What's the most important thing you want out of a first date?

Words, words, words

I talked to Pete tonight for the second time on the phone. Pete's a guy I met through eHarmony. It's really easy to talk with him. This isn't the case with everyone I meet, and I think it's the thing I value most about people. All of my jati, and most of the guys I've ever been seriously interested in, I've been able just to sit and talk with, for hours . . .

Forgiveness (the sequel)

My mother and I have been mostly forgiven for buying my dad's new computer. I transferred the last of his programs and all of his files that I could find today. I don't doubt a few have slipped through the cracks. At first, he was quite grumpy when he first mentioned "this computer you guys bought for me." But while Mom and I went out for a walk, he was in the other room, playing with the new computer, and seemed quite pleased.

Please gods, let me not have to go through this again for another five years. At least.

Awesome movie, awesome music!

I saw Spanglish today. Great flick. Movies that play with multi-cultural themes have a special place in my heart to start with. This one also had great writing and an incredible sense of humor. And a strong ending. They didn't succumb to the temptation for a Hollywood ending, and in not doing so, somehow, it was perfect. See it. Definitely see it.

On the way home from my parents' house, I was listening to KFMA's New Music Test Department. I heard "Two Girls," by the Paranoid Social Club. There are audio clips on the site. Go listen, 'cause I don't know how to describe these guys. "Two Girls" is hilarious, but they're doing something musically that gets stuck in my head. One moment, it's rock, the next, it's bluesy, the next, there's almost a rap vocal . . . oh, just go listen. :)

Quote of the Week

I've got the chains, you've got the straps,
I've got a pair of black leather chaps!
You've got the rope, I've got the whip,
Tell me who's the captain of this ship!
B&D, S&M, everybody spank your friend;
S&M, B&D, keep 'em under lock and key!

--Jozabad

Bio for HS reunion memory book - comments welcome

April Lynn Dimenstein
avalon@hilander.com

I attended Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, AZ from 1995-1999. After coming to the conclusion I'm more a tree-hugger than a tree farmer, I changed my major from Forestry to English. I graduated magna cum laude with talents for poetry, fiction, and getting into trouble. My job prospects, unfortunately, were limited to deciphering other people's handwriting or asking, "Would you like fries with that?"

I become a Microsoft Certified Systems Engineer in January, 2000 and decided to move to Boston, MA. I spent eighteen months there, working as a guerilla tech and learning how to play a fair number of seven-card poker games and walk in 6" heels. I made some good friends there and found my spiritual path.

When the bottom fell out of the tech market, I returned to Arizona and sneaked into the field of adult education through the side door. I spent two years in Casa Grande running a computer lab for GED students and tutoring them in subject areas and job skills. I remembered more algebra than I ever thought I would. In 2003, I moved to Durango, CO, where I did technical support for a small internet service provider and made family out of some of my best friends.

A small town economy led me back to Tucson in the tail end of 2004. I'm presently working as an IT ninja for a local social services organization. The technical interview involved my quoting Geoffrey Chaucer and Douglas Adams, and the job continues to be entertaining, most of a year later.

Someone asked me, the other day, what the best year of my life was. The answer is twenty-eight. Right now. It just keeps getting better.

favorite songs, past and present: "Bravado," by Rush, "The Only Time," by Nine Inch Nails, "Voodoo Dollhouse," by Spaz Kitty, and "Illegal Tender," by Louis XIV

hobbies: Writing science fiction and fantasy, dancing around a bonfire, Louis XIV concerts, playing in the mud, role-playing games, hiking, camping, six-inch stiletto heels, crocheting, and freaking people out.

favorite quote:
"Don't go by night, they said. But she did. Don't stray from the road, they said. But she did. Don't follow the fire, don't listen to its music. But she did. They meant well, but they didn't understand." --Charles de Lint

I'm going back just so I can be petty.

It's the year of the dreaded high school reunion. I can't believe I'm paying this much money to go spend two evenings catching up with people I didn't want to be around the first time.

You have to understand that, for me, public education was equivalent to emotional abuse. As part of the reunion, a "memory book" is being made. Everyone is supposed to either fill out the little form that was mailed with the reunion paperwork or do their own 8.5" x 11" page of catching up on the last ten years. One of the questions on the page was "What's your favorite high school memory?" I thought about this long and hard.

Sometime in eleventh grade, several of us from the Yearbook class were doing some deadly dull duty at a football game and hanging out at a table together. One of us, a girl who'd gone out of her way to pick at me every time she saw me since we ended up in our first shared class in eight grade, made some kind of an off-color joke. It was the first time in my memory that she'd made a joke in my presence, and I wasn't the butt of it. And I realized that someone other than me was finally growing up.

At this point, I realized I would not be filling out the pre-made form.

About six weeks ago, I took my first crack at the bio, pulling out all my writing and yearbook experience. I wrote long and I wrote funny, with the expectation of putting a picture on the page and trimming the content for length. Also, the first draft was not polite, nor did I expect it to be. The second draft wasn't much better. The third was approaching publishable. Then I put it away for six weeks so I could look at it again with fresh eyes and make sure it wasn't as offensive as I feel is really deserved.

I played with a picture today, got it doctored up to where it looks good in black and white, and slapped it into the layout. Then I started trimming again. I have a draft now. I'll post it in a little bit for proofreading and comments.

A friend of mine from high school and I were talking, oh, almost two years ago, now. She said she'd resolved only to go to the reunion if she was in a place in her life were she could look at all the people who'd looked down at her during high school and feel that she was better than all of them. Then she asked me if this was petty. I said, "Petty? Yeah. Is there something wrong with this? Hell no."

I made that same resolution, oh, probably well before I ever graduated high school. It's an extension of the thought that got me through high school, and it can really be attributed to my eighth grade science teacher, Mr. Heilman. (Remind me to tell you about Mr. Heilman sometime).

After some not-particularly-unusual cruelty had me in tears in his class, he pulled me aside. He pointed to the boys who'd been harassing me. "Look at them," he said. I did. "Think about where they'll be in five years." He paused. "Now think about where you'll be in five years."

I did. For the first time, I really did. And it might have been cold comfort, but it got me through things I don't think I'd have gotten through, otherwise. And now that I've come out the other side, yeah, I'm going to this reunion so I can gloat.

Not that I necessarily will gloat, understand. But I want to know that I can, and to be really honest, I want them to know that I can, too. Even if I never say anything. I have a great apartment, a job I love, good friends, my jati, and romantic prospects of several flavors. I didn't peak in high school like so many of those kids did. I was just getting started.

"Don't wake me for the end of the world unless it has very good special effects."

Today started with my house key shearing off in the lock. Mind you, the way the lock's been behaving, it wasn't exactly unexpected. I've also bashed my thumb between a desk and a power supply hard enough to have an ugly black mark coming up beneath the nail. Oh, and we tested the repair to the stove today. It's a lot better, but there's still an unpleasant tingly sensation when using the one burner, so I'd better get back in touch with the apartment manager, if Kendra doesn't beat me to it.

For only having four work days, it's been a very long week.

On the positive side, Kendra and I have decided to have a Halloween party. Now I'm thinking about costumes.

Oh, and I bought a plane ticket to visit Scott and Nina later in August. I can manage Tucson to Durango on three days, since America West's hub is Phoenix. Looking forward to this, and feeling somewhat guilty about all the people I can't visit. Too many friends and not enough vacation.

And never enough sleep, lately.

[subject quote stolen from Prince of Chaos, by Roger Zelazny]

Odd Quiz

You are funky, outdoorsy, and down to earth. While you may not be a total hippie... You're definitely one of the most free spirited people around. You are very impulsive - every day is a new adventure. However, you do put some thought behind all your actions. Still, you do tend to shock and offend people from time to time!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

"You Can't See It, It's Electric!"

The weekend, while excellent on the whole, very much did not go as planned. As a result of this, I ended up not eating dinner Sunday night. Which meant not cooking dinner Sunday night. Which meant, since I needed left-overs for later in the week, that I was cooking hot dish Monday morning before driving up to Phoenix for a 4th of July party.

Or trying to cook. I put the water on the stove and pushed the button (our stove is so old the controls for the range are push-buttons on a panel on the wall, not knobs on the stove itself) to set the element heating. I walked away and came back ten minutes later to see if I had boiling water, yet. I picked up the metal lid of the metal pot and had a sudden intense moment of "something's not right here."

It took me ten or fifteen seconds to figure out what was wrong, because it didn't exactly hurt. My arms felt funny, and I realized they were twitching. Now again, our stove is old, and only about half the rings in each element actually heat. You'd think I'd have clued in faster, but maybe the electricity was making my brain run a little slow. That's right, I had live current running through my body. There's a metal strip on the side of the stove, and I just happened to have my hand on it, completing the circuit.

Needless to say, I dropped the pot lid. Kendra and I tested, cautiously, several times, and determined that a) it's only the one burner, b) it probably gave up the ghost when I was boiling eggs the night before, and c) Kendra is a mutant on her mother's side of the family, because she couldn't feel anything.

Cooking continued on another burner, and I called our apartment manager. I apologized for disturbing him on the holiday, but thought he'd really rather know than not know. I was right, and they plan to have someone out to look at the stove today. (We like this apartment manager. More has gotten fixed in the couple weeks since he took over than in the six or seven months prior to that).

I have now officially been electrocuted. Disturbing, but it doesn't seem to have done any lasting harm. Funny thing is, I mentioned this to some of my co-workers today, and probably a third of them had similar stories to tell about some large appliance gone awry or a brush with a low-level electric fence.

Fortunately, as like one of my physics teachers used to say: It's not the volts that kill you; it's the amps.

Quote of the Week

Morning red, morning red
Will you shine upon me dead?
Soon the trumpets will be blowing
And I must to death be going
I and many merry friends

--from Shadow's Son, by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling, and Karen Wehrstein

Obsessing

I had another good dream last night.

A really good dream.

At what point does attraction become obsession? And how do I get my subconscious out of the act?

I do foredream occasionally, but for the most part, my dreams are just my subconscious firing off random neurons while my superego's out of the loop. My dreams can sometimes be interpreted, but always allegorically. For example, when I'm stressed out or in times of great change, I often dream about tornados. I very seldom dream about people/places/events that are current in my real life. Real people do show up in my dreams, but generally not until I've known them for some time. New apartments and new jobs generally don't turn up in dreams for at least six months.

And my most common dreams have little or nothing to do with reality. Spelunking on Mars. Jumping out of a tower window as the ocean boils below me. Developing symbiotes to avoid becoming lunch for man-eating plants. Pregnant by a werewolf. Being Batman. This is run of the mill for me, and I'm really quite comfortable with that.

I dreamed about him again last night. This is the third time in just a few months. I'm afraid to even put his name down here because this does go on the web, get added to search engines, and could make me look like a potential stalker.

It's never the same dream. But I always approach him, and it's like talking to someone I've known forever. And he's so damned nice it scares me. And all the things that in the waking, logical world let me go on with my life disappear, when I'm asleep. The obstacles come up, but they're overcome, with not too much difficulty. Even if it takes a couple spiral passes before we get it right.

Sometimes I don't see him. I see the blond woman from the bardo. The one I haven't met, yet. Fuck, this scares the hell out of me.

And it was such a good dream . . .

"Coming!" "So's Brad!"

Sorry for no post yesterday. I worked, and it turned into a nine-hour shift in which things were breaking as fast as I fixed them. After all that, it seemed like a good idea to go out and do something.

Kendra and I grabbed her little sister, Annie, and went down to The Loft to do the Rocky Horror Picture Show. RHPS is definitely one of those things you do, not see. I'd gone to pretty lukewarm Rocky in Flagstaff as a college student, and really wonderful Rocky in Boston. Of course, in Boston, they card you at the door and pat frisk you to boot.

When you really do Rocky, you have to dress up. You just have to. These are the "after" pictures, and out of the three cameras I own the only one I could find was the POS digital. So on the plus side, you have pictures now, not after I scan them on my dad's computer. On the minus side, out of about 25 shots, we got three that weren't completely unusable. And Kendra took two of them (she's always been the better photographer; I just fake it).

Yes, I know, they still suck. And this was with the high resolution setting. I'm scared to wonder what they might've looked like on low-res. I so need a real camera.



Kendra just bought wonderful new boots, which unfortunately, you can't see very well. We dressed Annie up out of my toybox. (It amuses me that we got the 17-year-old into fishnets and 5" stiletto pumps).



This week's weigh-in: 193lbs. I officially fit into my corset again, so I just had to wear it. It's also the first time I've worn these shoes with fishnets, and one of the few times I've worn them with stockings at all. Talk about slippery! The whole thing looks better in person--In order to make these usable at all, I had to edit in such a way that I lost a lot of the finer detail.

The show was high energy, loud, and obnoxious. Frank and Riff were really good. You knew Frank was going to be good the second the cape came off. You just have to have a certain presence to look like you own the room when you're a tall man in a corset, stockings, and four-inch heels. And oh my gods, he really could run in those things. He even made it look easy.

Brad and Janet needed help, Janet especially. I think they were both new--they didn't quite have their cues down. And the flip side of what I just pointed out about Frank was true for Brad and Janet: They were not comfortable with what they were doing. Janet was the epitome of "I can't possibly make those silly arm-motions she's making on the screen, so I'm just going to stand here and look uncomfortable."

Rocky was very, very gay. I did not know it was possible to flame while miming pumping iron. Until last night. It was hilarious.

Some of the things they did with props were very funny. They had a lot of carefully made props for the various scenes, but they also did a lot of make-do. One of the primary props was a plain wooden bench that mainly served just to give them two levels to work with. So it was a banister, a table, a motorcycle, and anything else they happened to need.

The funniest bit was when Frank comes out with the whip, punishing Riff Raff for losing Rocky. Because they didn't have a whip. Frank was using Magenta's feather duster from a previous scene. Really, when you need a whip and all you have is a feather duster, what can you do but play it up? So every lash of the whip started out as a lash and turned into a furious tickling by the end of the stroke. I would have busted a gut laughing, except my guts were all bound up in a corset and quite unable to bust.

They did something interesting with the very fast costume change at the end (for the floor show). Half the roles switched actors. Brad, Janet, and Columbia. It was actually very effective (and the floor show Brad and Janet were better), it just took me a moment to catch on.

Mmm . . .

I had a good dream last night. The kind where you lie in bed for ten minutes after the alarm goes off thinking about it, because you want to be sure you remember it. Or, I guess, the kind where I do. Other people might find it disturbing, but hell, it was my dream, and the tone of it was really nice, and a little sexy.

There was some kind event: a dance, a convention, a gathering . . . I don't know. Several days worth. The clearest thing I remember--the one I spend my ten minutes thinking about--is that I came to the head of the line, to get my membership/admission. And you could pay the admission, or . . . participate? I'm looking for the right word. There was something definitely sexual about this.

The guy taking admissions was someone I knew, and was happy to see. Oddly, it could have been Jim or Scott or neither of them . . . just someone who fit that kind of niche in my mind. And he moved something aside on the table where he was taking fees to show me a small candle in a glass jar. I knew, then, that the fee was a small amount of sensual pain, and I had always intended to pay this way. I'm a little kinky, after all. I passed my hand over the flame . . . not too much, not to actually burn, just to feel it . . . and watched him enjoy watching me.

Over the course of the several days, I kept falling in with him. Wanting him. I don't remember what happened after that, though.

Why do people do this to each other?

So, one of my best friends says to me about another, "I'm done with her. I'm tired of her bullshit. I guess she accomplished what she set out to accomplish--she wanted to sever it, and she did."

She walked out, in tears, not knowing where she was going. I didn't stop her. I didn't know what to say. I guess there's nothing to say. At a certain point, you just cut yourself off from the trauma-inducing people in your life. Because you just can't live on the roller-coaster of their affections. I can't argue against that, as much as I feel like I ought to. Sometimes, there are no more second chances.

I feel angry. I feel a little teary, myself. But at the same time, it's all at one remove. There's just an empty space. Death does that, even the death of a friendship or a relationship.

It's been ten years. Most of us have grown up. Most of us.

Competant and Oversexed?

Bi/Slightly Straight You scored 5 (-52 being completely gay, 0 being bisexual, and 52 being completely straight)

For the most part, you are bisexual. You have a slight preference for the opposite gender, but either gender would suit you. If you are sexually inexperienced, it is possible that this will change after you do some experimenting.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 28% on Orientation

Link: The Sexuality Spectrum Test written by tall_man_54 on Ok Cupid

What really boggles me is that I scored higher than 28% on orientation. What does "higher" mean? More straight? More gay? More sex?

A profesional. Congratulations! You scored 84!

Way to go! Your just the sort that everyone wants on their party. You know your job, and you get it done. A real hero at heart.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 20% on XP

Link: The RPG gamer Test written by shatari on Ok Cupid

Well, I do have this habit of walking into any job I take on and making friends just by virtue of being a competant human being . . .