Saturday, August 03, 2002

Computers Are F*cked


Why I Hate MSN

Damn messenger service--kicking people off without warning. Leads to a lot of inexplicable silences and so forth.
It was kind of an interesting night, actually--right after the connection cut out on me, Tenchi scalded his hand (we're stuck with Catlady's teakettle since she destroyed ours by "accident", and hers is possessed or something), and the parents arrived. And I sat there for twenty minutes begging, pleading, and arguing with my connection, trying to get back to the convo I was in. No such luck. So I finally gave up. >_<

Sorry, Dawn, but it's nothing personal. Honest. Heh, you've got enough on your plate without my usual adding to the mix.

*Swaying, utterly absorbed by the tapestry of song unfolding between her headphones* DAMN this is a gorgeous song. I have like four different versions of it ^_^

Huh? Oh. Luzon's "The Baguio Track". Tip tip: The John Digweed Muir Bedrock Mix kicks the most @$$. It's all floaty and calm and slightly desert-ish. Fans of downtempo, New Age, or even non-fans of dance music could get into it, easily ^_~ The Paul Oakenfold version is louder, harder and more screechy, although the screechiness could just be the cheapness of the MP3 ;^P The penalty of getting everything for free.

Behold, Slayer's Inviolate Law of Commercialism: Everything free is worth exactly what you paid for it.

Anyway, I think I was trying to say something relevant. Or not. I can't remember *is under the spell of her music*. Duuuuude, the colorssssss, LoL ^_^

I had an interesting dream last night--a tension-dream, the kind that aren't nightmares, that make you grit your teeth in your sleep anyway. I'm sorta twisted up and staked to the ground, Gulliver's Travels fashion. And like the would-be giant, I'm menaced by hundreds of little creatures--butterfly type things, beautiful and irridescent. With huge razor-sharp teeth in their ugly, twisted faces. Biting and nipping, twisting their claws in my hair, cutting my skin and mocking me.

Nooo, I don't have a martyr complex, not at all ;^P

No, come to think of it, I had nothing important to say after all. Oh well.

Farewell and good travels, I may be back with some online quiz results or something later :^)

Now Playing: Traci Lords, "Distant Land"

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Saturday, July 13, 2002

Cookie Post


Put A Smile On Your Face

*Bobbing back and forth to Vitamin C's one-hit wonder.*

I love that song, actually. It's a better summer song than, say, Soak Up The Sun, which is the big one this year. *Shrug*.

I dunno. It's the kind of music I put on when I'm sick of being such a downer. Aqua's Happy Boys and Girls always puts a big stupid grin on my face. The unkillable The Way You Make Me Feel (Michael Jackson =^D) is guaranteed booty-dancing material as well.

Aww, that kitty cat quiz is so CUTE ^_^ Can I try can I can I huh? Here's what I got:



Take the Purrsonality Quiz!

AWWW lookit! Lookit! Isn't that just something you want to snuggle and talk baby-talk nonsense to? It looks so fluffy and cute ^_^

And now that I've nearly induced emesis, group hug!

*Hugs you and you and you and you and definitely you as well*

FEEL the love, people =^D

How are things personally? Not that you really really want to know, but I'll tell you anyway. ;^D

Told ya: I'm a powder-keg. Just back off a bit and let me blow up, and then I'm fine and all's right with the world. I've given the Emperor his customary ass-chewing and now it's back to business as usual. *Smiles contentedly*.

That's another thing: I won't do that to friends. Not on the webjournal, anyway. That kind of thing gets all messy and public and creates entanglements that I don't need and you wouldn't want. My favorite hero said it best: "Bring it on, I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneakin' around."

However, should you ever make it onto my blacklist...*rubs hands together and grins, showing all her fangs*. None of you have managed to do that, though. It takes a lot of things (*points one post down*), attacking in tandem, to actually make me angry, and lots lots lots more to make me villify anyone.

When it comes down to it, I don't enjoy hurting anybody. It's just that if someone keeps after me, I will strike back, with every intention of debilitating them--don't want them running around home-free to hurt others, you know? I live by that old, (purportedly) Irish saying:

May those that love us, love us.
Those that do not love us, may God turn their hearts.
If He cannot turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.


Do I take stuff into my own hands? Too frequently, yes. Is it right? Maybe. Hell, I dunno. It's just how I do things.

If I've said this once I've said it a million times: I won't pretend to have all the answers. I don't even know all the questions yet! ^_~

My latest scenery fascination is clouds. Actually it's a recurring thing--a new love affair with an old flame. Blame my mom for owning a car with a sunroof when I was younger. :^D Used to sit and just watch them for hours as the road rumbled by under my feet. They're so pretty ^_^ All swift and clear, yet fluffy and inviting at the same time. The shades of blue they wear in-between are always shifting, always changing. Endless fascination ^_^

Then, of course, you have your different types of clouds: those spiderweb crystal fragments way up top, cirrus, the high-atomosphere clouds. Then you've got stratocumulus, which are the itty-bitty ones more resembling a "regular" cloud, and then cumulus which are your stereotypical fluffy clouds. This doesn't take into account the many different degrees of cloud you get with thunderstorms, either.

Heh. A friend of mine said recently: "I dreamed about you. You were a...gay weathermen's rights activist, or something."

Hmm. Pointless cerebral flotsam, or prophecy? You be the judge ;^D

Uhh, anyway. *Sips coffee*.

I have to know what kind of cookies you prefer, don't I, before I start bombarding you with them? LoL *nudge wink*.

You people are so swell for putting up with me ^_^

On that note:

Slayer's Spiffy Word of the Day: emesis (n./v.) : vomit, or vomitting. To upchuck, etc. Also emetic (adj.) inducing vomitting.

I just say the cutest things LmAo >^D

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Friday, July 12, 2002

WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP


Yeah, You Push It

Alright. Let me level with you.

For the last three months my computer, and thus my connection to the Internet, were commandeered by Catlady. You know how I was never on MSN, never seen or heard from, and taking weeks at a time to answer an email? That was her handiwork.

Fine. I put up with that. I consider myself a reasonable person.

She departs, only that I may do so as well, taken to a godforsaken armpit where the phrase "cable modem" is thought to be some sort of witch doctor's charm. My uncle has fallen under the spell of one of these "cable modems", and at least let me use it to let my parents know I was alright when I got there--Kahn would not have stood for more. By the way, thank you, uncle. Yours are the small mercies, and I'm more grateful than you know :^)

So it's been nearly four months since I last used a computer without worrying about people getting on my case for it. I'm feeling the withdrawal, here. This means I will now talk your ear off, whether you want to listen or not ;^D

"How did the trip to Wisconsin go?"

Let me break it down for you:

It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times. I may hate Dickens, but this once, he was right.

The good things: my utterly most swellest spiffy, spiffy grandparents. (I have no idea how such wonderful people had such disappointing spawn >^) ) My aunts and uncles, and their gracious senses of hospitality. Birch trees. Fireflies. (I think I'd give up some of my soul if the Devil offered to trade it for birch trees and fireflies moving to Florida, they're that swell. I sh*t you not.)

The bad things: like I need to mention Kahn and his Lady? (I've been thinking of calling her Vorpax, actually. She's the wrong skintone for it, but she definitely annoys me that much. Though that might actually make people think she's pretty and sexy or something *evil grins*.) Enormous supermutant mosquitoes that make the Floridian ones look like gnats. No bookstore/cafe`/music shop chains. No computer. Hay fever. A total inability to escape "family togetherness" except by napping. No TV. Restaurants that don't serve mustard on their burgers unless prompted to do so.

The antics of the royal couple are rising to a fever pitch. It's like the closer I get to being free of them, the nastier they are. And after me, Tenchi and even my mom went to such huge lengths to create and present them with such nice gifts. (I spent all of my earnings for June on your birthday gifts, Sir, you ungrateful sheepf*cker.) Seriously. I stayed up 'til 2AM composing his Father's Day card. I won't even tell you the lengths my own mother went to, making a lovely apron for his new wife. Grrrrr!
>=^F

Now, let's be fair. If there's anything Milord Kahn is well-versed in, it's the art of bribery-by-gifts. I think his words were, "I couldn't go on an overseas tour without bringing something back to my kids." "Something" being, among other things, a bootleg DVD of Lord of the Rings via` the markets in Shanghai. He may not know anything else, but he knows his presents. I'll give him that. See? I'm not biased >^D

This latest episode was prompted by three things: soap, toothbrushes and deodorant. Or rather, a lack of all three. Yes, it's true: neither I nor Tenchi packed these things. Our luggage was full (remember the gifts?), and Kahn usually makes such a song and dance about "providing" them for us that we figured he would this time, as he always had before.

Big mistake. What, him? Share? Him, give us anything? Perish the thought.

Fortunately, our aunts and uncles are sweethearts. They had one extra toothbrush, which Tenchi used, and mouthwash and suchlike, which I made do with. And so for four days, neither of them caught us. In fact, if Vorpax weren't so paranoid, they never would have caught us at all.

"Suppose I tell you the truth," says I, "and say I didn't bring any?"

Talk about the sh*t hitting the fan. BOOM. She looked ready to have apoplexy and die on the spot.

I think her phraseology was something like: "You want to be treated like adults, but you're acting like children."

Who? Us? We're not the ones throwing a temper tantrum, dearheart. At any rate, one thing leads to another and he's in my room, looming up in that old way he used to use when sh*t was about to go down. I'm on my feet and in his face.

"You will never speak to me this way again. Never." I don't care if my voice is shaking. (Tip: you ever want an easy target, make a dain bramaged person mad. Their voice will do all kinds of crazy sh*t you can laugh about later >=^P Hence why I will never ever use vidphone, on pain of death ;^D) My hands are fists and I know how to use them.

"I'll speak to you any way I like!" *Cue the creepy mask-breathing sound* "I am your father!"

One thing becomes another thing and after much more fighting and the obligatory tears (I can make myself cry on cue,) I end up on one sofa in the living room, Tenchi across from me, the royals on the sofa opposite ours.

"I want to know something," says Vorpax. "When your father came into your room, for a second there you looked terrified. That scared me. Like you thought he was going to hit you."

An ugly hiccupping sort of sound that might be laughter. "Oh yes," I say, Katie Hepburn as axe-murderer. "Absolutely."

Her, soft and cajoling: "Why would you think that?"

Burning holes in his head with my eyes. I never even look at her. The words are clear as I can make them--I want to be sure he hears them forever, for the rest of his life. I hope they echo in his head on those nights he stares at the ceiling and wants to scream but no sound will come out. I want them to be the soundtrack running in his brain.

"You used to hit me with a belt."

Funny how such a short sentence can cause such a huge reaction.

Of course, he swears left, right and upside-down that he did no such thing. I know better >=^F Although, knowing him, I believe that he truly believes it. And either way he apologized. That doesn't make it alright, but what the hell, I'll give him a few points for trying. If only he would clean my shoes with his tongue for the rest of his life, I'd consider the debt about halfway expiated ;^D He's got a lot more ass-kissing to go, though. And at the bottom of it, I still don't like him. *Shrug*

We clash too much because we're too much alike. We're both powder-keg people. We both want things OUR WAY, or else. We both have a superhero complex. We even have the same nervous tick: there's this vein running down the midst of our foreheads that turns black as tar when we're angry. And when it comes right down to it, neither of us have any use for each other. We just don't "fit".

I love the man, but I can't stand him. Does that make any sense?

Ah now, it's not all bad. Clouds have silver linings and so did this trip. Met all the members of the side of the family who never used to speak with me, and for the most part, they're great. (*Shuffles names around to protect the innocent*.) Aunt Leda and Uncle Robin. Leda is the eldest of Kahn's siblings, and offhand, the one most like her mother: talkative and soft-spoken at the same time, with an intense nature-loving streak and an unbelievable green thumb. Robin, her husband, is a gruff, patient fellow with markedly conservative ideology. Aunt Elizabeth is like an old-fashioned magnesium sparkler--bright, quick and long-burning, flitting from task to task with almost superhuman energy and dazzle. Her husband, who shares first names with the Lionheart, said maybe two words, but he's a bigshot judge or something.

I learned things about the family history. Not lineage-type nonsense. We haven't any. We were all dirt-farmers, Back When. What I learned were the stories kept under lock and key, hidden for years, never spoken of. My grandparents, Alieda and Daniel, tossed casual remarks back and forth with lightning speed from across the nursing-home lunch table.

For eighteen years, I'd wondered what the deal was--what it was no one would say. I wanted to laugh when I realized it. The Great Boogeyman, the Unmentionable Thing, was this: they both married twice. Daniel because his wife left him, and Alieda because her husband died. This was the Big Secret that had cost them both so much over the years. And so what? They're happy together. They always have been. They sat there holding hands and laughing about it. Calling each other pet names. It must be as it was when they were younger, before "What Will People Think"-itis set in. It was a rare and beautiful thing, and I'm so glad I saw it.

They told me other things, of course: the woods near Alieda's girlhood home once held wolves, so many of them that none of the children wanted to be caught out along the highway (part of the route home) when the sun went down. Daniel used to have to boil water on a cast-iron stove to heat up the engine of his Model T in order to drive into high-school in the mornings. The big draw at Alieda's thirteenth birthday party was some newfangled type of instant dessert called "Jell-O". I'd never have known any of this if I hadn't sat down to lunch with them. Just me, Tenchi, and the grandparents--their memories took up the other two seats, off in the corner away from the table. It was one of those family moments that, in TV movies, occur all the time. It was the first, last, only time it happened that way for us.

I'm not going to pretend they've got time left. They don't. Their care will be stepped-up again very shortly--Alieda has no short-term memory left and is beginning to wander and get lost. Daniel's progression is more insidious. He's simply a little slower, a little weaker, sleeping more and eating less. If they're seperated, and they will have to be in order to be "managed" properly, one of the two of them is going to die. That's just how it happens, I guess.

Quirk of the visit/Twilight Zone-style surprise: My great-uncle, who I'd known for years solely by his nickname, is literally my Uncle Owen.

*In whiny Luke Skywalker voice* "Uncle Owen? Aunt Beru?" Heh. ;^D

And if you actually read that big huge tangled mess, thank you for your patience and your cookie will be arriving in the mail ^_^

Bye then ^_^

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Monday, May 27, 2002

Temperamental


And Other Things I'm Not

A Keirsey personality whatsis? Oooh, I've seen that thingum in bookstores before!

As mom put it, I come from the ancient tribe of "Iwanna-wanna Metoo Metoo" ;^D so I answered a free version of the same sorter and this is what I got:

(Additional comments of my own are in italics ;^p)

I am an ISTJ:

ISTJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuality is a watchword of the ISTJ. The secretary, clerk, or business(wo)man by whom others set their clocks is likely to be an ISTJ.

As do other Introverted Thinkers, ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold.

Actually, "heartless" is how I've had it described to me before.

Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss.

Read: if I'm actually jumping up and down when I greet you, you must be doing something right ;^)

ISTJs are most at home with "just the facts, Ma'am." They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach. Once a new procedure has proven itself (i.e., has been shown "to work,")the ISTJ can be depended upon to carry it through, even at the expense of their own health.

Personal Theme Song: "The Workaholic" by 2Unlimited. Seriously, it is. And I'm damned proud of it too. =^D

ISTJs are easily frustrated by the inconsistencies of others, especially when the second parties don't keep their commitments.

*Grrrr* people who don't even talk to me for four months and then expect me to be happy to see them (*cough* my father *cough*) *Grrrr*

But they usually keep their feelings to themselves unless they are asked. And when asked, they don't mince words.

And I quote: "You paid how much for that dress? Lady, they screwed you over good." =^P

Truth wins out over tact. The grim determination of the ISTJ vindicates itself in officiation of sports events, judiciary functions, or an other situation which requires making tough calls and sticking to them.

Beta-reading, anyone?

SJ orientation draws the ISTJ into the service of established institutions. Home, social clubs, government, schools, the military, churches -- these are the bastions of the SJ. "We've always done it this way" is often reason enough for many ISTJs. Threats to time-honored traditions or established organizations (e.g., a "run" on the bank) are the undoing of SJs, and are to be fought at all costs.

Do not mess with my domestic routines. Should you do so, I cannot guarantee your personal safety, nor your continued sanity. *Smiles beatifically*.

So I'm a stick in the mud. I've also been called that at parties. Often. Which is rather odd, considering that if you give me enough champagne I'm the first one to table-dance. >^D If I had to pick personal standards (and this is without help from the test), I'd say pretty much the following:

"Work hard, play hard."

"Use it up, wear it out, make it do or go without."

Or, as handed to me by my favorite fic-author of long ago (regarding the "good old days"): "It was all simple and right then." ;^D

*Blink blink* Come to think of it, no wonder I tested out as Elrond :^D

In other news: stepdad says no Mustang--not yet. He wants me to get a dependable four-on-the-floor workhorse car before I go chasing after the automotive equivalent of a hot piece of ass. ;^D Which is really more in line with my own philosophy anyway. It's just--damn, that's a sexy little car! RRrrrrRRRRRRRrrrrrrRRRRR =^D If things go well, and I mean like really, really well financially-speaking, he says I can get a more dependable car and then get something fast and cute to play with. ;^D Something that would seriously PURRRRRRrrrRRRR at stoplights ^_^

If I had something like that to look forward to, I might actually want a driver's license.

Actually, I do want a license, but a small thing called "reality" has prevented me from getting in any driving-practice. Seriously, it's been one thing after another. Here, let me outline the last three months for you:

First, stepdad started working nights. Then it was the meetings I volunteered for (those are still going on, but I have the next two Tuesdays off, YAY! :^) ). Then Catlady moved into our house. Then Tenchinator had surgery, and got stapled back together. (The three days during which I got no sleep whatsoever, I think some of you remember that ;^) ). Then the staples had to be removed. Added to this I have to eat, sleep, clean all the laundry in a five-person household, and maintain something like a social life both on-and-offline. I'm telling you, there is no time left for driving.

Note: I'm not being whiny, I'm bragging. I like things this way. *Is immensely satisfied* ^_^

Here's one from that movie Phenomenon with John Travolta, in response to the ever-popular "But why?" :

*Exasperated* "Because it gives me something to do, Nate!"

*As Celine Dion* And that's the way it is...

Later, folkies :^D

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Tuesday, May 07, 2002

F*ck!!


And Other Stuff I'll Never Get To Do ;^P

Heh, don't mind me. Haven't slept in *counts uncertainly* 30 hours? More than 24.

Fun fact: I am NOT a nice person without my sleep.

F*ck this anyway. Here's a look at my nights for the past week: struggle with my fic (which is always going nowhere, but never seems to actually get there--yes, for the sleepless that counts as a joke...) stay up til midnight 'cause it's about the only time I can chat on the Net without someone underfoot, and anyway I have nothing better to do. Amble off to "bed" by 12:30 or 1 AM.

This is where it gets fun. Lying in bed trying to unwind from the constant background tension, counting backwards from ten like the dumb sucker on some shrink's ninety-dollar-an-hour couch, getting nowhere fast. That one hour becomes a forever-like stretch of irritating numbness that promises, but never delivers, sleep.

2 AM: the cats fight. I mean those rolling-across-the-floor, banging-into-walls fights, the kind accompanied by little dustclouds in Cartoonland. All hope of rest is now completely gone. At least they're both declawed...

2:30 AM: mother and boarder, both of whom are still very much awake, bickering loudly about the cats. Wince, since neither of them have been declawed.

3 AM: stare at the ceiling. Wish for headphones, but cannot drag oneself out of bed to go downstairs.

4 AM: get up, turn on the light. Pick up the most unappealing book you can find, in hope that boredom will make you sleep, the way it does in movies. No such luck.

4:30 AM: realize that Lynda Van Devanter's Home Before Morning: The True Story of an Army Nurse In Vietnam is NOT light reading. Turn the light off and try for sleep again.

5:00 AM: Eyes are still open, as if eyelashes had been glued to forehead. Keep seeing napalm victims, multi-frag-wound-sufferers, septic cases and the like every time you shut your eyes, you silly overimaginative git. Note that knowing it's your imagination does not keep you from jerking fully awake in startlement every 30 seconds, afterimages of triage victims following you everywhere.

6:00 AM: Your body is so tired that your steps are weaving and unsteady, but your mind will--not--turn--off. Grunting grouchily to yourself, grab Juno Reactor's Shango on your way downstairs.

6:15 AM: Make yourself useful by starting a load of laundry and putting coffee on.

6:35 AM: To the opening chords of "Pistolero", begin your morning Internet rounds.

All this because I decided 48 hours ago that taking a capsule of melatonin every single night for the last two weeks in a row might not be the best idea I've ever had and that I might want to cut back or something. F*CK! Why the hell did I start taking it so often anyway?

Simple: the stress. I'm not good with stress, have I mentioned that? I have a weakness in my stomach-lining that's been there since I was nine, the doctor kept calling it a "borderline ulcer", whatever that means or whether or not there's any such thing. That was stress-induced, too. Note that I'm too exhausted to smile in self-depreciation just now. I'm laughing on the inside. Honest. ^^;

The sooner this woman gets out of my house and takes her devil animals with her, and the sooner Tenchi comes out alive from the hospital (sure it's only minor surgery, but I'm freaked, OK? He's my brother for D'hete's sakes!), the sooner I'll be myself or someone like me again. F*CK! Why am I telling you this?

*At the top of her virtual lungs*

F*CK F*CK F*CKITY-F*CK!

*Blinks at the above, and begins giggling deleriously*

G'night, folks. Or Good morning.

Home Before Morning. Huh. It has a ring to it :^D

Now if I could just get some sleep....

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Saturday, May 04, 2002

What's The Difference?


There Isn't One

I never said I have all the answers! *Buries head in hands and lets out a frustrated sigh* I don't even know all the QUESTIONS yet! ^^;

*As Anne Baxter* But such a beautiful enemy...

I don't care what anyone says, that movie rules =^D

What's the meaning of life? Here, let's ask Burton Bell what he thinks:

Born, bred, beaten
Born, bred, beaten...
We are the new breed


Yes it's true: Fear Factory broke up. *Cry cry whine sob cry* =^(

I suppose I'll go back to my Michael Jackson CDs *sigh heavily*...

Nah, not today, I'm up for Paul Simon today:

Behold the meaning of life:

To praise a soul's
Returning to the earth
To the rose of Jericho and the bougainvillea . . .

This is the only, only, only life
Sorrows everywhere you turn . . .

If I have weaknesses, don't let them bind me now
Summer skies the stars are falling all along the injured coast . . .

If I have weaknesses, don't let them bind me now
Summer skies the stars are falling all along the injured coast
Summer skies the stars are falling all along the injured coast
Summer skies the stars
Are falling...

--"The Coast"


Tip tip for the curious: "Rhythm of the Saints" is one of my favorite CDs EVER. Go listen, or don't, but if you do you'll be happy you did.

Well, faith is an island in the setting sun,
But Proof, Proof is the bottom line for everyone.
Proof!
Some people gonna call you up and tell you things you already know
Proof!
Those same people goin' crazy on you, sayin' that's not the deal we made, I gotta go, I gotta go...


--"Proof"

Hmm...Nah, that's enough entertainment for one afternoon.

Yesterday didn't go quite as planned: missed Samurai Jack, but oh well. They re-run them, anyway. Ditto going down to the basketball court--chickened out at the last. A whole pack of dudes built like oak trees, playing football. I have no wish to get brained by a flying leatheroid missle, thanks much. =^P

Tench and I took a detour into the subdivision tho' : one dude had wild rabbits in his yard! Little bunnies! ^_^
So we jogged into the neighborhood, sidled up along the back wall, and walked into his backyard (good thing he wasn't home ^^; ) to say hello to the bunnies. We chased 'em for a bit, then ran out of there and jogged back down the street, casual as you please. Bunnies rule! ^_^

Another point on the Route of Doom: there are three long stretches of wall bordering the ends of subdivisions on our route, which overlook backyards. The walls are all of differing heights. Behind one of the really short, crumbly-looking ones is a yard with a screened-in pool. No big deal, right?

Guess again. They have a HUGE dog. That thing is massive, an ugly old brindle pit-bull/Rottweiler/some sort of creature. And that thing is MEAN. It's at least six feet long, or it would be standing up, and it wants my blood. I'm not kidding, that thing wants to have me for lunch. It makes Fluffy (I'm assuming we've all read our Harry Potter) look like a demure little poodle.

Oh, and did I mention, most of the time it's not on a tether? Which means it could take that wall in a single bound if it wanted.

*As Nangla* Not my bones, y'won't, beast! *Shows blades* I ain't afeard o' your sort! *The way her voice trembles gives her the lie*

Damn I hate walking by that thing *shudders*. "Speak softly and carry a big stick." Yeah, great, swell. Now if only I could find a big stick...

I slept too solid, my back is killing me >_< Although that could also be because I did one too many shoulder-presses yesterday. Bleh :^P

On which note, I think I have some laundry to sort. Or something.

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Friday, April 19, 2002

And The Green Leaves They Grow Rarely


Time, Tide and Life In The Wastelands

Heyo :^)

They're talking to me again! Woo! *Bit of an MJ dance routine* =^D

To the who what in the why where who?

I'll level with you: I'm an auditory creature. I can hear our boarder and Tenchi in the kitchen, the slow drip of the fountain on the other side of the room, the quiet breath of the ceiling fan, and yes, the hum of the flourescent lights. I can hear what's going on outside, too--birdsong, and our neighbors having a yelling contest in Spanish with their 30-year-old son. Not that I know what they're bickering about, my Spanish is abysmal. And no, they're not yelling especially loudly. I just can't not hear them. I'm weird that way.

I'm basically a human tape-recorder. If some people can "see" their work already written, visualizing the way it looks on the page, then you might say I've got a copy of the audiobook running in my head before I ever stick pen to paper or fingers to keys. (Mostly fingers to keys. Stream-of-conciousness ranting, anyone? ;^) )

Anyway: I've been working on this fic for ages, since Mileena developed a grudge with me and left me to skulk around in the dark gluing random plotlines together like an idiot. Ditto ditto with Baraka. Even Brin wanted nothing to do with me, the ungrateful little twit. :^P

So, uh, they're back. Yeah. Woo-hoo. Major celebration *waves teeny-tiny flag* ^^;

And yes, yes, notes for the next part of Mirrorworld are in development--I'm having to go back and re-read all the stuff I've already written, to make sure I don't screw anything up. That's the only problem with epics, you can get murdered by the details...

Anyhow gotta run--that busy 'scope from yesterday is still in effect, apparently ;^)

Parting thought for the day: lookit me, lookit lookit, I'm a truck =^P


Which car are you?



A TRUCK? It's my evil roots coming out to haunt me! GGGGGGAAAAAAHHHH!!! >_<

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Wednesday, April 03, 2002

Some Other Brilliant Title


On A Morning Unbeautiful

There isn't a monopoly in common sense
On either side of the political fence...


*Cans the torch-singing* Gads, I hate cable television. Particularly the news. That's all I'm saying.
What do I use the television for? You mean besides as a fancy resting-place for my Beta VCR? (Actually, it's in the garage at the moment, but we won't go into that...)

Back to the original point: what do I watch on TV? Johnny Bravo, Samurai Jack, and a bunch of spy shows from the mid-80's.

Why? Why watch such low-level, go-for-the-gut, unsubtle, uncultured drivel?

Three major reasons.

1) I gotta be me

2) I LIKE cartoons and cheesy detective shows (Tom Selleck as Scooby Doo with a Ferrari, in a mansion, in Paradise, with NO BRATTY KIDS! What's not to like?)

3) By the time I've sat and processed loan applications for eight hours a day, my brain is too fried to absorb anything more thought-inducing. Including comic books.

Why am I telling you this?
Do I have to have a reason for everything? No? Well, there you have it.

Well, Tenchi's not dying from cancer, that's a relief.

Say WHAT? Oh right, better break out the explanations:

See, about a month back he told me he noticed what looked like a growth that shouldn't be there. I told the parental units, then made him repeat his fess-up to them as he had to me. And we all sweated it out and got him into the doctor. And...

It's fine. It's an ordinary muscular contusion, with some long fakey-sounding Latin name. Painful yes. Requiring surgery, without question. (He goes in for that in about two weeks.) But anyhow the point of the post is that he'll live.

He's alive, he's ALIVE, bwahahahaha... * < / Dr. Frankenstein impression > *

Got mail from Jaz =^D I felt so so sooo guilty about only giving her one short mail like that, but hell, she was busy :^) Missed thou :^) Was good to hear from thee :^)

And a certain Harry Potter fic-authoress: comments on your stories, should you be wanting them anymore, will continue to arrive as promised :^D Everything else is, for the moment, sewage under the bridge. ;^P

How did I end up a beta-reader anyway?

Girls work under floors
The failures tend the moors...


God I love that song. :^D

It's been an OK day. My fertility is asserting itself again =^P *Mutters the usual curses against biology*.

Soundtrack: New Breed (Fear Factory) You don't like my little jukebox from Hell? Then don't listen. =^P

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Monday, February 25, 2002

Am I Alone Here? Am I All By Myself?


Throw The Damn Ball!

Yeah, it's a Doctor Doolittle (remake) header. So? It's about how I feel right now. GrrrRRRrrr, stupid Monday. Monday bites. Monday means piles of laundry and hundreds of other stupid things that just absolutely require my total attention, or they won't get done =^P

Add to this the huge attachment that just landed in my lap, full of processing-work for me to take care of :^P (That one's not so bad, because theoretically at least, it means spends in six to eight weeks, if everything goes well). My first taste of employment, folks. Yaay for me. *Siiighh*

Oh wait *breaks out the Universal Translator* "spends" means "money", folks ;^)

On the upswing, I've put about three hundred more words into various non-work-related things. I also caught about two thirds of Robocop 2, so it's not as if my free time has been a complete waste. Oh wait ;^)

Did I mention our den has been rearranged? One computer faces the rear windows, and this one (the good one, with the fast processor and nice hard drive) is next to the sliding-glass door that goes to the backyard. Furniture removals include the Persian rug and the table. Furniture additions were the old couch, which is literally on its last legs, and a TV (yay!). We've mucked around with a cable splitter and some wires, and now you can watch TV in the living room or the den. Only downside of this is that you can only watch one channel at a time (meaning both TVs will display the same channel at the same time, regardless of where they are independently tuned...) But that's life, huh?

Anyway, had home-brewed coffee for the first time in two weeks =^) Thank the Elders...

Uh, yeah. Seeing as I'm coming down with a headache and you're probably bored to death reading this, let's call it a night, shall we? ;^)

See you on the other side, peeps :^)

*Jheti*

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Wednesday, February 20, 2002

When Are You Going To Update?


And Other Mysteries of the Universe

Patience...is overrated :^D

Anyhow, welcome back. The archives are in working order again :^)
Other stuff: trying to catch a friend of mine on the Messenger, but it's not happening :^( I'm either being directly avoided or it's technical failure. Either way I've got my hands full at the moment so it's his loss.

Anyway...

Tempted to just ask my betas what they want to see in the next part and drawing it up for them; the thing I've heard most consistently and with most force is "damn it get those two back together!" Meaning Mileena and Baraka. And this from one of them who was previously opposed to their union in the first place ;^) Somehow I think I done good :^)

Doing housework, watching Tenchi Universe , being utterly bored despite having stuff to do...
I'm lazy. I know I should be exercising and all, and I haven't for weeks. :^P Why? Who knows? I'd say I'm going through a phase but I'm too damn old for that ;^)

That and my allergies are really bad lately, which means I'm back on the antihistamines so it's back to being all spaced out and stuff. Considering that rational, continuous thought is being pretty difficult, I'm still being able to get stuff done.

Kathy's doing a big research project on Mars, and Tenchi and I have been helping with that. That's what I've done for about five hours over the last two days (err, two and a half hours a day) : scour up conjectural pictures of what living on Mars might be like. "Barbie and Ken Go To Mars", as it were. It's actually tougher than it sounds, because she needs semi-serious looking ones; it has to be actual concept art, not "Buck Rogers Goes To Mars" (although I did get her a scan of the poster, just for shits and giggles). Shits and what? Oh, it's a stupid expression from my native geographical area. It means "just for the hell of it." ;^)

Heh. Actually perused FanFiction.Net the other day; somehow (don't ask just how) I came across this parody of the Barbie universe. It was actually, while not funny at all, relatively well-made and I liked the ending ;^) I mean you know and I know, there is NO WAY Ken is straight, and the story proved it >=^D

Umm, moving on...

There's this fella Wesker, from Resident Evil. Pretty good-looking guy, referred to me by (who else?) Jaz :^) He looks sorta like a certain movie star from Mortal Kombat, but blonde and well, better-looking. Not so chunky ;^)

See you peeps later, I'm out to see who's online tonite...

*Jheti*

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Sunday, January 20, 2002

Rearden Metal



Thoughts about my latest quasi-assignment, Atlas Shrugged. It's an Ayn Rand book. Steep stuff for an intellectual puffball like me ;^p
The person who reccomended it to me also turned around and derided what he called, oh I don't remember exactly, "extreme Leninism" or "extreme Communism" or something like that. (And no, it wasn't Tenchi who suggested I read it ;^P) Which is stupid, to me. As far as I've read, the damn book is all about individualism and the ideal man ad nauseam . So that remark wouldn't have pissed me off so much if it weren't 180 to the actual book. I felt like asking him if he'd read the damn thing.

What the Hell is it? So far, basically the tale of three Great Ones, the real movers and shakers of society: Dagny Taggart, the railroad daughter's tycoon who's fighting to keep the Taggart system (the biggest and best in the entire world) running and on time. Henry Rearden, who raised himself up from a miner's child to become founder and CEO of Rearden Steel, creator of Rearden Metal, which holds up the Taggart tracks. Francisco D'Anconia, born into the high life. He was to be the brightest, the best, the one who could shape the entire world if he wished--and he instead squanders his wealth and his power, convinced that society is going nowhere.

Atlas Shrugged basically, so far, has dealt with these three and apparently will deal with what happens when they finally decide to stop keeping the world moving (on several levels). Although there's also the question: "Who is John Galt?" and I dunno, having not read far enough through the book; 'tis a massive undertaking. I do know he's important later in the story though...

So what's good about this book? Well, when the writer isn't smacking you over the head with her all-important Theme, it's pretty friggin' entertaining. And she had a sharp sense of imagery and a beautiful, musical style; again when she isn't smacking you over the head with the Theme, you get dazzled by the imagery. It's a pretty novel and a lot of planning went into it.

So, if you're up for enjoying what amounts to mentally "looking at the pretty pictures", and can bear with the didactic parts, it's pretty good.

Henry Rearden is my fave so far :^) He's cool :^D

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Tuesday, January 01, 2002

Last Entry For 2001, In Which I Throw a Hissyfit and Cry In My Beer

Assumptions. Those are what I hate most of all. Like the Marines say, "every ASSUMPTION has an ASS in it."

The "Emperor" has made a string of assumptions about his "trusted daughter" which may prove very, very painful for him.

Shall I let you in on my litte joke? Very well.

I'm "Mileena". I've been "Mileena" for awhile now. I dunno how that started, but Jaz picked up on it and now I've got John K. himself (author of the megalithic "Final Confrontations" series) calling me "Mil". So it seems to be taking on a life of its own. Oh, and BTW, in case the word "megalithic" doesn't actually exist, it's a compliment, meaning "grand in scale and/or depth; epic." Anyway.

If I'm "Mileena", you ought to be able to guess who "Shao Kahn" might be...

His newest contention with me is the issue of work.

It's quite simple, really: I do not hold a job. He is no longer financing child-support because, as you may or may not have noticed, I am not a child anymore. I am currently costing my mother (and I quote) "quite a bit" of money every month. And, therefore, by his reasoning, I should have a job, in order to buy my own food, pay one-quarter of the rent, and finance my own "costs", (I'm assuming cable, Internet, video rentals, etc.) He's told me this, more than once, with all certainty in his own mind that I will, like my namesake, leap to do his bidding. And so I told him I would.

However, like my namesake, I do not always mean what I say. (Read: I lied. I laid it on thicker than a politician in election year.)

Is that cruel? I don't think so, but I'm sure you might. You don't know him, after all. Ask me about him, sometime. The answers will surprise you.

I am frustrated, as well. Circumstances have kept me from talking to my friends for roughly two weeks now, off and on. Which I hate. I love to be near them and know what they're thinking and trade wisecracks and stories for hours at a time. An Ubergeek's confessional: excepting Tenchi, I do not have one single off-the-Web friend. Hordes of associates, yes. People who wish I'd be their friend, yes. People who just want a listening ear to gripe to--Saints and Spirits! I have an unending parade of those! >=^P

People, in general, are in awe of me, or threatened by me. Others judge my age in terms of my height (SHORT), and mistake me for a developed twelve-year-old. But they're not my friends. I haven't had somebody, non-Web, who just wanted to be friends since I was fourteen. I'll be nineteen in less than 72 hours.

Five years is a long time to be lonely...

There. Behold the official death knell of the Old Year. I wash my hands of it.

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Friday, December 14, 2001

Well hello again. After a long bath and a David Brin novel, the Universe looks that much brighter. You'd like him: Uplift ascribes to the idea that we're just "clients" of a massive Galactic intelligence that force-evolved us from monkeys through careful genetics =^) Which is an appealing side theory, and meantime the book is intelligent, entertaining, and above all, makes sense. His xenotypes have their own histories, cultures, languages, and thought-patterns. And oh yeah, Galactic Two sounds vaguely like Common in the Tales From the Outworld. What the heck are those? You'll find out soon enough ;^)

Have you ever been clean? I mean like so clean your hair squeaks when you wring it out? Feels good =^D My skin is all happy with me for putting lotion on it. Believe it or not, it DOES dry out in Florida in the winter, and I don't give a damn what anybody says about humidity. Humidity's nice, anyway. Most of the time. It only gets oppressive in June, and in August--the fabled Dog Days, where it's 101 (Farenheit) or more--in the SHADE. Days like that I wish I lived in Colorado or Arizona somewhere--at least I hear its a dry heat, over there...But then again, as I just said, I hate dried-out air almost as much as I hate June weather.

I love October: storm season. Thundershowers every evening, at around 5 o'clock. Thunder growling and the floorboards creaking in time as the rain and winds sing on my roof...One of about 4,221.8 perks I've discovered since moving into a two-story house: you can listen, really listen to the stuff going on outside. The effect just is not the same in a one-story building. I guess it's because you're higher up--either that or it's the hole in our ceiling ;^)

Nah, jus' kiddin'. We had that fixed weeks ago. it was a teeny-tiny problem involving a cracked board and a fistful of loose shingles. In other words it took three heated phone calls and a month and a half to convince the realtors that it merited repair--and then the job was done in an hour :^P

Whad' else? My cat's been eating the leaves off my Vietnamese Moon Valley Plant, lately. I call him (the plant) Fuzzball. He's really cool--got these self-standing, corrugated leaves that have a dust of fine "hairs" on them, probably a trick Fuzzy uses for pollination or somesuch in the wild...anyhow Kitana (the cat) figured out real quick that Fuzzy doesn't taste too good, and so she leaves him alone...Err, pardon the pun.

Eating a huge plate of scrambled eggs and chicken with salsa that Tenchi fixed me. Damn, the boy can cook. I'm jealous. I can't boil water without burning it first ;^P So much for the life of one Suzie Q. Homemaker, Esq. :^P

I'm off--got better things to do...

~*Squeaky Clean*, Jheti

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Wednesday, November 21, 2001

Well the pre-Thanksgiving dinner went surprisingly well, a lot better than it usually does. Meaning: nobody hurled gossip at each other until AFTER all the food was consumed ;^) And I got to watch Shrek, which is less appealing than it sounds. Perhaps it was the WAY I got to watch it: the volume was so low it was like it was in "Whisper" mode, and I had step-great-uncles (yes there are such a thing) shouting to step-second-cousins about football and a two-year-old stepcousin, who in all fairness being otherwise quiet and well-behaved, couldn't wait to share her Fisher Price "My First Air-Horn" with me--and the rest of the neighborhood. Any attempt to raise the volume on the TV was met with, "GOD TURN IT DOWN!"

As if God could work a Volume switch *grins evilly*.

Anyway, current events: dreaming about Mileena stabbing people, which is always fun. I'm excited about the new Mortal Kombat Advance. Or I was, until I found out it was a port of Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3 :^P But I'm still so excited that there's a "new" Mortal Kombat game out. It's been ages since I stepped up to an arcade console and got that little thrill of adrenaline facing off against another player--and then ripping them to shreds. I was starting to feel left out of the gaming loop, like maybe I was getting "old" or something. Because the simple truth is, all the games I like are 16-bit. The only, and I repeat ONLY next-gen game I am excited about at all is Luigi's Mansion.

As I told my dad: when as a major Mortal Kombat fan I am more excited by Luigi's Mansion than I am by the prospect of MK 5, something has gone seriously wrong with the series...Here's hoping IGN (company behind the port) can change all that. The screenshots so far look great. Better than those I originally had on my Super Nintendo.

Now I'm really starting to feel jealous. And old...

In other news: charges were dropped, child support reduced, and back-pay must be rendered. So says the almighty Court of the state of Florida. My advice? Do not move to Florida. Ever. The Court hates you :^P

Dad (the "real" one) took us (me and Tenchi) to lunch, in fact he was really very gracious and outgoing about the whole thing. Took it very well, considering. And besides he's a nice guy and it was a nice lunch. He took us home afterward, and took some digital shots of us outside, posing on the porch-swing in the sunshadow of our oak tree. I might post the picture here, when I learn how :^)

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