(no subject)

19 September 2017 09:56
rachelmanija: (Default)
[personal profile] rachelmanija
I just spent several minutes trying to figure out where the hell the mysterious rustling noises were coming from.

One of my cats (Alex) was entirely hidden within the depths of a shoebox-size Priority Mail box. He has just now emerged, and his sister Erin has vanished inside.

No cat photos because I don't have an X-Ray camera.
umadoshi: (walking in water)
[personal profile] umadoshi
I'll work backwards (chronologically) in this post.

I just finished registering and paying for the Friday evening class (for which [dreamwidth.org profile] wildpear and [dreamwidth.org profile] seolh were already registered), so I guess it's now a definite Thing That Will Be Happening. Time to spend the next week and a half trying to get back in the habit of stretching regularly. >.>

There was some uncertainty before I successfully got registered. The online registration process was straightforward for the trial class, but two things happened almost simultaneously re: the actual class. 1) I got a follow-up email from the studio saying they hoped I'd enjoyed the trial class and listing the beginner timeslots that still had openings...a list which did not include the one I wanted (AKA the one my friends were already registered for, not to mention being the only one that could conceivably work with Casual Job going on), and 2) the online class schedule/registration form showed "(3 Reserved, 5 Open)", but didn't have a "sign up now" button (which some others did). TBH, I still have NO clue what's going on there, but after exchanging some emails with the studio, we established that the class did have openings, and now I've given them money, so I should be good to go.

As for the actual trial class on Friday, it could get long, and involves fitness talk, so I'll put it under a cut )

A writer writes!

19 September 2017 09:18
typographer: Me on a car in the middle of nowhere, eastern Colorado, age four (Default)
[personal profile] typographer
In the old days, when reading usually meant you were holding a physical book or magazine or manuscript in your hand, if something you read so infuriated you or was simply awfully written, you could literally throw it against the wall (or into the trashcan) in disgust. On Sunday this last weekend I really, really wanted to do that after reading a particular blog post. I’m not going to link to it or identify the author, because that would just be harassment—even though the author of the blog post is a professional who uses their blog to give advice and has (self) published books offering advice on writing. Instead, I need to follow the advice I give all the time: if you want more good things in the world for people to read, don’t complain about what’s out there, make something yourself.

Over the years I’ve had many conversations with aspiring writers...

(The rest of this post about writing and gatekeeping is at: FontFolly.Net.)
tyger: Axel's Avatar Kingdom chibi. Text: Axel (Axel - chibi)
[personal profile] tyger
Have to be up in less than 5 hours. Didn't even realise what the time was until Azy was grumbling about being up. ARGH I hate early mornings. Haaaate.

In other news, JavaScript is terrible and I hate it. THIS MUCH. (I spent an hour and a half bugfixing one part of the week's homework. Which I spent like two hours on in class as well. Just. Why. Why does it take so long and do so many weird things???)

And now I go to bed and hopefully go to sleep easily enough. (Am sleepy, at least?)

BookFest St Louis–this weekend!

19 September 2017 08:04
ann_leckie: (AJ)
[personal profile] ann_leckie

So, here I am in St Louis and if you saw yesterday’s blog post you might have noticed there are no St Louis dates on the tour.

BUT.

Thanks to Left Bank Books, there’ll be an event in the Central West End called BookFest St. Louis. There will be lots of writers there, and the vast majority of panels and whatnot are free! (I think there are, like, two exceptions.)

There’s going to be a Science Fiction panel at 5pm on Saturday, September 23, with Charlie Jane Anders, Annalee Newitz, Mark Tiedemann….and me!

If you are in St Louis this weekend, come to BookFest! Left Bank Books is a lovely store with a very nice SF section and worth visiting on its own, but just look at all the folks who are going to be here! Do come to the CWE this weekend if you can!

Mirrored from Ann Leckie.

(no subject)

19 September 2017 07:45
balsamandash: Peggy Carter (Agent Carter) running in profile (mcu] a moving target's hard to hit)
[personal profile] balsamandash
We are in the car on our way to the airport. I am excited but mostly terrified.

Gonna try and take pictures while we're up there. Gonna try not to have a panic attack on the plane, too. XD

But I am excited, under the nerves. Travel! New places! [personal profile] forests_of_fire! Should be fun.

Well, I survived.

19 September 2017 11:17
miss_s_b: (Default)
[personal profile] miss_s_b
I did GLEEEE and it felt like it was a good one and I got a whole four hours' sleep and I chaired the first debate of the morning and it didn't all go horribly wrong and nobody tried to suspend standing orders on me.

The next thing is Not The Leaders' Speech. Which, the way things are going, will be in the sodding directory by Spring.
halfeatenmoon: Sketch of a cloud in black ink on white background. (Default)
[personal profile] halfeatenmoon
FIC STUFF

I wrote The brand upon his soul as a gift for [personal profile] plaid_slytherin  during Soul Exchange. It's a 3700 word bit of Les Miserables fic in which Valjean and Javert form a soul bond when Valjean is branded at Toulon.

I feel like it's got a bit of a life of his own! It's not like it has masses of comments, but someone made a Chinese translation and when I signed up for Remix Madness, someone made a remix, too!

Branded (The Is He From Heaven Or From Hell Remix) by Anonymous

Please go read it, it's so good. It retells the story from Valjean's perspective, with the same kind of painful feelings about the soulbond as I gave Javert in my fic, but that feeds into Valjean's encounter with the bishop and the way his path has changed in the most perfect way.

Leaving Academia

19 September 2017 03:16
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
Here is an essay about a professor leaving academia

I went to U of I.  There were parts of it that I enjoyed, and the culture wasn't that bad.  But I can see parallels.  For me it was more a matter of looking at the way education was going, and deciding not to get involved in public education as a teacher.  It was obviously going down the tubes, and that was decades ago; it's infinitely worse now.  So too, many colleges.  :/  I couldn't stop it.  I could sure get the hell out of the way.

Poem: "So Closely Allied"

19 September 2017 02:34
ysabetwordsmith: (gift)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This poem is spillover from the February 2, 2016 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from [livejournal.com profile] my_partner_doug, [personal profile] wyld_dandelyon, and [personal profile] chanter_greenie. It also fills the "separation and reunion" square in my 1-23-16 card for the Valentines Bingo fest. This poem has been posted as a birthday present for [personal profile] callibr8. It belongs to the series Polychrome Heroics.

Read more... )
the_comfortable_courtesan: image of a fan c. 1810 (Default)
[personal profile] the_comfortable_courtesan

Dear Hannah! I daresay you would know best, but you do not show at all, are you entire sure you are with child?

La, Maurice, I can assure you that women – most of 'em - know the matter’s afoot. At least once they have already been about the business a time or two. One does hear tales of young girls that did not realize their state, and women at a certain time of life that supposed ‘twas the climacteric come to ‘em.

He began to drape stuff around her and take measurements. If we gather it thus - you see? – makes a pleasing effect and none would suspect what lies beneath.

Mind you do not make it too fine – I shall not be about giving speeches the while, and going to as few meetings as I may. But one may not eschew all company, and there is the matter of village gossip.

He looked at her. It was entire pleasing to see such a happy young woman in his fitting-room. So many of the ladies who came to him had some matter that troubled them, or were discontent by nature, and even a little flattery, and dressing them very well, did not entirely soothe their spirits.

You manage matters 'twixt the pair of you very well: how is Miss Ferraby?

Entire well. We are indeed fortunate. But 'tis agreeable to come to Town and see family and friends. But indeed, I should ask is all well with you – Lady Bexbury said you had been having some little trouble?

Quite resolved, he said, greatly hoping that he was not the subject of conversation over that lady’s supper-table.

She said somewhat to the effect that 'twas indeed good of you to see me now you have so much business come upon hand now 'tis all remedied.

Sure, you are family.

Why, I am daresay there are those among our connexion would not wish make that acknowledgement, was all known.

Maurice looked at their reflections in the pier-glass. Provided, he says, one does not flaunt, maintains a due discretion, so that it does not have to be openly spoke and known about –

Hannah’s eyes met his in the glass. She did not need to voice her understanding.

Some moments later, while she was putting on her accustomed garments, she said, but really I do not understand why people make such a bother about it. So unnecessary. Sure society is very cruel to unwed mothers and their offspring, but one may see that there is some reason – may not be a good or charitable reason, but if 'tis not the fear of the fathers about bringing scandal upon them, ‘tis the more general worry that they may come upon the parish and cause expense and raising of the rates. She sighed. And at least one may talk of that, and say that that harshness causes unhappy women to destroy their infants, and make arguments for more humane treatment. But when something may not even be talked of –

He patted her shoulder.

After she had left, he scribbled down a few notes and sketches for the gowns he would have made for her, and then told Miss Coggin, the head of the sewing-room, that he would be going out. Did not have any ladies coming for fittings the afternoon; did any come in hopes – vulgar creatures, murmured Miss Coggin – she might go take their measurements and requirements and ask 'em to return once they had been given appointments.

She pursed her lips in the way he knew meant that she would bring any ladies that did so to a fine appreciation of the consequence of the establishment.

He set off on a journey he did not particularly want to take, but was to undertake a prudent matter to dispatch. He took a hansom cab to some distance from his final destination: for although the tavern he sought was not precisely within the notorious rookery of Seven Dials, it was on its border. He picked his way fastidiously along the streets, keeping his walking stick in his hand in a manner that suggested it might serve as a weapon as well as a fashionable accoutrement.

From long habit he looked about before entering the place. But it was very unlikely anyone who might recognize him would see him here.

Enquiring as to whether Nat Barron was on the premises, he was directed by a jerk of the thumb into a back room.

Nat was there among various members of his gang. One of whom – presumably a new recruit – said, 'ere, oo’s the pooff: earning himself a smack or two about the head from Nat. Show some respect, Maurie may look the gent but he’s an old friend.

Nat Bannon and Maurice clasped one another’s shoulder, looked into one another’s faces, and then Nat motioned him to sit down, pouring him a glass of the gin he kept for himself.

Got somebody that needs warning off? he asked.

Maurice shook his head. I think word has got about after making a few examples.

For what had gained him the position he now enjoyed at the club was this connexion that enabled severe warning to be given to any that used knowledge gained there for the purposes of extortion. In return, Nat acquired the good feeling of fellows in high places that might well be useful to him did necessity arise. 'Twas entirely mutually beneficial.

Pity, said Nat, as you see there are one or two fellows here would be the better of some occupation to work off their feelings.

Maurice took a sip of gin, and disclosed to Nat the recent trouble he had had.

Oh, and you want us to show this spying fellow the error of his ways?

Why, it might gratify my feelings did you so – Nat smiled and shook his head and says, talks as good as a play – but I thought, a fellow that has a memory like that, might be of use to you.

Nat nodded slowly. A good thought. You always did have that long view.

Maurice shrugged. If a long view was considering that luring fellows into alleys so that Nat and his boys could rob them was an occupation with a rather short future and like to end badly for him, whereas obliging gentlemen in comfortable indoor surroundings was not only remunerative but provided him with considerable insight into gentlemanly habits and behaviour, yes, he took the long view: and the even longer view had been completing his articles of apprenticeship. But he also made sure to stay on Nat’s good side. Passed on any useful gossip he learned from ladies in the course of his day, and had constructed this very beneficial alliance 'twixt Nat and the club.

Sure he owed Nat a considerable debt for the protection that in younger days his friendship had afforded an undersized pretty boy disinclined to the usual boyish pursuits and happier to play with girls.

May not linger, he said, but thought you should know of the fellow as soon as might be, before goes completely to ground.

Maurice walked to where he might find a hansom cab and directed it to take him to his lodging. Once there, he washed himself very thoroughly with the very expensive soap, to get rid of any lingering stink of Seven Dials before he went to the club, where he was bidden to a committee meeting to consider upon new members.

Smoothing pomade into his hair, he had the unwanted memory of a larger hand stroking it in a fashion it was entirely foolish to suppose affectionate, rather than the pleasure one might take in stroking a fine purring cat.

But that was past and done.

At the club he was ushered into the committee room. It was ever gratifying to him, even if these marks of respect were founded upon those early connexions.

Sir Stockwell sat at the head of the table; Chumbell at the foot; Colonel Adams, late of Bengal and with the most fascinating stories of dancing boys; Sir Hartley Zellen, whose fine looks were becoming a little florid, and his hair thinning; Terence Offerton; Lord Saythingport, that had a wife, an established mistress, and had at one time offered Maurice an establishment.

Ah, good, Allard, said Sir Stockwell. Mysell-Monting cannot come, but we have a quorum, nonetheless. Now, the matter of fellows we may solicit to join our number –

Various names were put forward, of whom Maurice knew little but any public reputation they had. Some former comrade of Adams in the East; a scholar known to Chumbell – a Cambridge man, but nevertheless a sound fellow, very sound; a naval officer acquainted with Sir Stockwell; a couple of young fellows in Saythingport’s set –

Sir Hartley cleared his throat. Has not the time come to consider MacDonald? he said. Sure it would have been somewhat vulgar to approach him very shortly after Lord Raxdell’s dreadful demise, but ‘tis nigh two years ago that the accident happened. An excellent fellow.

Is he not, replied Saythingport, given out most exceeding radical in his views?

Why, said Sir Hartley, he is a philosopher and will throw out a deal of hypotheses, but our set have always found him sensible and practical.

Is he not, squeaked Chumbell in great excitement, considered something of a classical scholar?

I would know nothing of that, said Offerton, but has quite the cunningest hand at billiards, next after Jacob Samuels.

Why, said Sir Stockwell, as to his abilities in classical learning, I was late conversing with Admiral Knighton, that says that his lady wife, that is known for her most remarkable unwomanly capacities in that sphere, holds him in quite the highest esteem. Also considers him a very clever fellow himself, that has a particular knack for sounding out mysteries.

Maurice felt his face settle into a mask as of one considering these arguments. 'Twould be entire vulgar to blackball MacDonald, that had done him such great service in his own difficulty. But one might confide that Saythingport, and possibly Adams, would do so.

But, when the balls for each candidate were tallied, there were no black balls for MacDonald.

Maurice’s heart sank.

sinisterporpoise: (Default)
[personal profile] sinisterporpoise
 I am up after sleeping a few hours for the second night in a row. I don't think it's a matter of me not getting enough sleep. I think it's just a matter of my sleep patterns being interrupted, and I can only blame myself for this. I shouldn't have gotten so caught up in the Fallout storylines, and shouldn't have thought about the way they treat the non-feral ghouls as being a statement for racism, or my live for K-L-E-0 being an anti-trans joke that backfired on the developers. (But don't worry, she only tests the weapons she sells on people that deserve it.)  It would be nice if there were more of an option for a more pacifist run, which you *can* do in Fallout New Vegas.  

In any case, I hope I can get back to sleep tonight. I've avoided playing video games tonight to try to reset my system clock, but it's not that easy. It might be easier if I were not know in front of my computer. But it seems that once again, I'm seeing the Trump administration and its continued failures at being compassionate human beings. I suppose the latest problem is the administration trying to end DACA. I just don't see the point of punishing the children for the actions -- or crimes if you want -- of the parents. The children had no choice. It's like punishing humanity forever or at least for thousands because two people ate an apple they weren't supposed to.  It's tempting to blame this on Mike Pence's influence, but I don't believe even Mike Pence is that terrible of a person. His boss, on the other hand, is definitely as bad as he seems to be.

I am getting back in the swing of things, but I have to admit I didn't do as well on a routers and switching test tonight as I would have liked. It's true I'm not interested in computer networking, but it does have some relevance for a server administrator. I think one of the classes should be replaced with C for people on the Linux path, since knowing more Cisco IOS commands isn't all that useful.  (Not Apple iOS. They are completely different things. Cisco IOS came about first.)  Laying cables will have to be a task left to someone else. I also dislike that these courses are only offered at night so I can't ride the city bus back home even if I wanted to.

Now, well, to the person worried that it's a video card problem on their Mac -- it's actually possible, but I wouldn't start with fixing that option.  But if the air duster doesn't work, it'd probably be a good idea to take it to an Apple store. It could be a problem with the power supply  or the cpu fan. 

Poem: "Learning and Growing"

18 September 2017 23:14
ysabetwordsmith: Victor Frankenstein in his fancy clothes (Frankenstein)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This poem is spillover from the September 5, 2017 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from [personal profile] sweet_sparrow, [personal profile] technoshaman, [personal profile] readera, [personal profile] gingicat, [personal profile] ari_the_dodecahedron, and [personal profile] librarygeek. It also fills the "vampires" square in my 1-1-17 card for the Dark Fantasy Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by [personal profile] janetmiles. It belongs to the series Frankenstein's Family.

Read more... )

*facehands*

18 September 2017 22:54
lireavue: A male lion, left forepaw covering his face in classic facepalm. (facepaw)
[personal profile] lireavue
I would like to be done with having this broken-ass excuse for a brain ANYTIME okay.

Things, in no particular order.

*I am apparently losing about a month to PTSD and the resultant depressive spiral/anhedonia/miasma of Awful. Thus far, a month. Who the fuck knows how much longer: I FEEL like I might be climbing out, somewhat, but I honestly don't know, and every time I think I'm starting to get a grip something else comes along to knock me over again? So I'm just acting like it's NOT going to end and applying the appropriate coping mechanisms. It's immensely frustrating.

*Despite this I'm slowly, slowly picking up weaving terminology and I know where to go for lessons, so that's something, I suppose.

*At some point I'm probably going to have a BUNCH more awkward conversations that amount to "no he's also an asshole" and I am very tired of these conversations. I would like to skip to the part where we admit there is abuse and now we figure out how to handle it.

*Jag talked me into watching all of The Defenders in two days and now I want all the femmeslash fic ever. SO MANY POSSIBILITIES, YOU GUYS.

*I would probably feel a fuck of a lot better in the overall if I could convince myself that exercise was a thing, even in the most minimal way possible, but I am TOTALLY out of spoons for convincing myself of new shit after dragging myself through routines on a daily basis, AND it's supposed to be disgustingly hot the rest of the week. Especially for September, but generally as well: turn on the AC kind of hot. Maybe I'll try and get my brain convinced that wandering out to the playground picnic table and sitting at a pokestop with some knitting is a good idea in the morning, some day this week. I don't even fucking know.

*There probably should be a few more things here but every time I try to write an entry it all falls out of my head because, see aforementioned broken-ass brain, and also it's nearly 1130 and I've taken my melatonin, so I should probably try and sleep.
ysabetwordsmith: Damask smiling over their shoulder (polychrome)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This poem was written outside the regular prompt calls. It fills the "chocolate" square of my 4-1-17 card for the Month of Rainbows bingo fest. It has been sponsored by [personal profile] bairnsidhe. This poem belongs to the Mallory thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.

Read more... )

good life choices

18 September 2017 23:45
starandrea: (Default)
[personal profile] starandrea
I've done everything I was planning to do today and it is still a very reasonable quarter till midnight. Moreover I have finished book one of the Keeper Series, so there is nothing stopping me from going to bed and getting a good night's sleep.

...HA HA BOOK TWO HERE I COME ♥

these are musical musings, of a sort

18 September 2017 21:51
[personal profile] chanter_greenie
Forgive me for a second, folks. Chanter's going to ramble about Broadway.

So, the mayor/storyteller/one of the primary narrators in Come From Away intrigued me from almost the moment I heard his voice and his lines. As information for those who haven't heard the soundtrack, and I'm trying to avoid the heck out of spoilers here, there are multiple people describing events in Gander as they happen during the show, some openly timestamped, some not. We get perspectives from both local folks and plane people throughout - that's the whole framework of the musical - but as true narration goes, it's the Ganderites who get the timestamped snippets. There's a newbie reporter, two or three different schoolteachers whose time references are less to-the-minute but still important, at least one man whose name is never revealed, and the town's mayor. It's that last who also, and again I won't spoil without employing a cut tag, proves himself quite the spoken word storyteller in the course of the play. Aaaaand of course, my interest was well and truly snagged when he did so.

Oh, and just to be clear, I'm musing about the character in the musical here, not the real man or the actor who plays him, neither of whom I'm going to name.

Probably inaccurate daydreaming and shameless elaboration under the cut. Here there be mild but present Come From Away spoilers! )

After I wrote the lion's share of this down, I found a very recent article talking about the real people who inspired this musical. There was a quote in there from the real man, the actual mayor, and though I won't muse about him, it is a little eerie just how easily what he said about religion and skin color not mattering when people are in need could have come out of the musical version of the man's mouth, or the storyteller's as I imagine him. If somehow I've gotten his appearance right, I... Part of me wants to know, and part of me does oh so very not. I got close with his age, which is eerie enough; the article gave it as of 2017, and if you backdate to 2001, it's right on. Creepy! I definitely don't want to know if I've somehow got the actor's description - no thanks.

A little further daydreaming. Wherein Chanter is obvious. )

Do I need a Broadway tag? Or a 'Chanter has issues' tag? ... A maple leaves and warm fuzzies tag? Ah frak.
starandrea: (Default)
[personal profile] starandrea
High Sensation-Seeking Highly Sensitive People (Elaine Aron)

It's like being a thrill-seeking introvert, I sometimes say, because I feel like that casually evokes some relevant associations even though it's awkward and imprecise. It's accessible, and that counts for a lot in communication, where being right isn't as important as being understood.

So someone once asked me, "How can you ever be happy?"

I was as baffled by this question as I was by the dentist who took one look at my bite (my upper and lower teeth don't meet in front or on the sides, only at the back two molars, a phenomenon which is largely invisible in everyday life even when specifically demonstrated as it just looks like I'm not biting down) and said, "How do you eat a sandwich?"

I... put it in my mouth and chew?

But the best part is, I'm a gemini with pisces ascendant and a libra moon. There are three astrological signs of duality, and I'm all of them. I'm always happy. And sad. At the same time, about exactly the same things.

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