![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
IF YOUR AREA USES ELECTRONIC VOTING MACHINES, READ THIS NOW.
Pass it on. And that is all.
* Yes, it's past noon, but it's still morning, damn it. *woozes*
Pass it on. And that is all.
* Yes, it's past noon, but it's still morning, damn it. *woozes*
Fuck the what, heart?
Jun. 13th, 2007 06:53 amSo I was lying there in bed last night, trying to relax to get to sleep, I noticed that--as sometimes happens while wearing earplugs (necessary for me to sleep, due to Cyn's snoring)--I could hear my heart beat, and it seemed to be going a bit fast.
I waited for the clock to turn another minute and timed it. I had a resting pulse of 90. While flat on my back in bed, last having been active at around, oh, seven, when I was taking advantage of the fact that I was alone on the floor (helping some folks upstairs at the RMV do a big photocopy job) to tear around the office going 'wheeee!' while checking on the copiers.
And, no, this is not normal. I think I usually rest at about 60? Been a while since I timed myself.
Buh!
ETA: on the less buh side--yeah, I got into work at 8:45 and was helping them photocopy until 8. BUT extra hours are good (just found out that they'll pay me up to 40 a week, not 37.5, so I may push for that, since I'll be out next week), AND...fellow from RMV Training? English Major, writes or works on the Driver's Manual (not entirely sure which)? RECOGNIZED MY DESK DALEK. We geeked out all the rest of the evening and all the way home on the train--well, at least until he had to get off to switch to his line. YAY MY DESK DALEK HAS FINALLY BROUGHT ME GEEKZ.
I waited for the clock to turn another minute and timed it. I had a resting pulse of 90. While flat on my back in bed, last having been active at around, oh, seven, when I was taking advantage of the fact that I was alone on the floor (helping some folks upstairs at the RMV do a big photocopy job) to tear around the office going 'wheeee!' while checking on the copiers.
90?!?! FTW?!?!?!
And, no, this is not normal. I think I usually rest at about 60? Been a while since I timed myself.
Buh!
ETA: on the less buh side--yeah, I got into work at 8:45 and was helping them photocopy until 8. BUT extra hours are good (just found out that they'll pay me up to 40 a week, not 37.5, so I may push for that, since I'll be out next week), AND...fellow from RMV Training? English Major, writes or works on the Driver's Manual (not entirely sure which)? RECOGNIZED MY DESK DALEK. We geeked out all the rest of the evening and all the way home on the train--well, at least until he had to get off to switch to his line. YAY MY DESK DALEK HAS FINALLY BROUGHT ME GEEKZ.
Great flaming ukeleles!*
Jan. 10th, 2007 01:39 amThat's it. I'm a fantwat. I am officially 110% fantwat. I just crossed a boundary line of fantwatness I thought I NEVER WOULD.
Roleplay.
In bed.
........
My BRRAAAAAAAAAIIIN.
........
To answer the inevitable questions:
Zoisite/Jadeite.
Me on top.
No, you remember correctly, I'm not generally toppy.
Yes, it was good.
No, don't ask about the ukelele.*
At some point I need to make a long involved [sexfiltered] post about this recent spat of coming into touch with my hitherto unknown toppy side through Shitennou-Related Unmentionable Roleplaying. But at the moment, I'm going to go crash, 'cause I've got booty call in twelve hours. Assuming I can sleep now. ASLFSJDKLJFSDKJFH.
Face. Palm.
*Irrelevant, I say. Irrelevant! Pillow silliness. But an excuse to make ukelele jokes. Always good.
Roleplay.
In bed.
........
My BRRAAAAAAAAAIIIN.
........
To answer the inevitable questions:
Zoisite/Jadeite.
Me on top.
No, you remember correctly, I'm not generally toppy.
Yes, it was good.
No, don't ask about the ukelele.*
At some point I need to make a long involved [sexfiltered] post about this recent spat of coming into touch with my hitherto unknown toppy side through Shitennou-Related Unmentionable Roleplaying. But at the moment, I'm going to go crash, 'cause I've got booty call in twelve hours. Assuming I can sleep now. ASLFSJDKLJFSDKJFH.
Face. Palm.
*Irrelevant, I say. Irrelevant! Pillow silliness. But an excuse to make ukelele jokes. Always good.
Stuff. Rather a bit of it.
Jan. 15th, 2003 12:15 pmOotP has a release date! And squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
My teeth hurt and my gums are bleeding. Dentists can be annoying that way. Slight coffee stain on one tooth, but she says it went away.
Er,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
carmarthen, I promised you Grima?
I actually wrote this rather a bit ago, on the train; I kept on not typing it in and posting it because I was very, very uncertain about some of the characterization, both in terms of things that shouldn't be there and in terms of things I missed. Still am. But maybe you LoTR types on the friends list can give me some idea whether it worked? *wibbles*
( Grima, *very* first draft )
rabican, the mouse smut I dabbled in yesterday was inspired by this treasured paragraph I wrote a very long time ago, which you might enjoy...
( Envelope Porn )
Made some progress recently in figuring out what the hell is going on in The Charman's Riddle. Being attacked by fascinating ideabunnies, but I will not speak of them. Will probably attempt to write the fic all at once, despite its size, or at least have very detailed outlining of the later chapters, as continuity slips might otherwise occur. Too tired to do very much writing in much of anything, though. Must go work on second chapter of LoS as soon as I finish the paper that must not be named.
"Tell me if you want me to gag you. Although I would prefer to hear your screams."
--Lucius, to Tom, while holding a riding crop, in Walls of Paper, Chains of Ink.
My teeth hurt and my gums are bleeding. Dentists can be annoying that way. Slight coffee stain on one tooth, but she says it went away.
Er,
carmarthen, I promised you Grima?I actually wrote this rather a bit ago, on the train; I kept on not typing it in and posting it because I was very, very uncertain about some of the characterization, both in terms of things that shouldn't be there and in terms of things I missed. Still am. But maybe you LoTR types on the friends list can give me some idea whether it worked? *wibbles*
( Grima, *very* first draft )
rabican, the mouse smut I dabbled in yesterday was inspired by this treasured paragraph I wrote a very long time ago, which you might enjoy...( Envelope Porn )
Made some progress recently in figuring out what the hell is going on in The Charman's Riddle. Being attacked by fascinating ideabunnies, but I will not speak of them. Will probably attempt to write the fic all at once, despite its size, or at least have very detailed outlining of the later chapters, as continuity slips might otherwise occur. Too tired to do very much writing in much of anything, though. Must go work on second chapter of LoS as soon as I finish the paper that must not be named.
"Tell me if you want me to gag you. Although I would prefer to hear your screams."
--Lucius, to Tom, while holding a riding crop, in Walls of Paper, Chains of Ink.
(no subject)
Jan. 14th, 2003 07:45 amMother ranting about my internet addiction. Most distressing. Did not believe me when I told her I have friends. Did not believe me when I told her it gives me support and improves my writing. But I do, and it does, and I think that's connected both to my intense urge to write recently and my bend towards fanfiction. More later, when I get back from work.
Add to that going to my friends page and finding thatsnaples is taking all her stuff offline, partially due to the lawyer scare, and staring again at the new RS.org splashscreen due to answering carmarthen's question, and it was not a happy pre-work internet time. I fangirl Snaples immensely, both her writing and her art, and now, among other things, I'm having guilt spasms over not telling her that *before* she decided to change her email address, change her livejournal, and pull her website.
Oh, and my mouse is sticking immensely. Woe and angst.
Add to that going to my friends page and finding that
snaples is taking all her stuff offline, partially due to the lawyer scare, and staring again at the new RS.org splashscreen due to answering carmarthen's question, and it was not a happy pre-work internet time. I fangirl Snaples immensely, both her writing and her art, and now, among other things, I'm having guilt spasms over not telling her that *before* she decided to change her email address, change her livejournal, and pull her website.Oh, and my mouse is sticking immensely. Woe and angst.
Utena theorization.
Dec. 15th, 2002 04:30 pmI have concluded (as a result of my asking Caroline a technical question concerning penises, and she asking Lucky, and he wondering) that I know what Miki is timing with his stopwatch.
He is timing how long it takes Akio to get an erection.
Yes. His stopwatch is keyed to Akio's crotch. I'm sure this makes sense.
This means I need sleep.
Also attempting to deal with Caroline's descriptions of assorted groups of HP characters doing the Lady Marmalade dance.
In other news, I finished my major 3D project several days ago, should be uploading a web-compressed version soonish so y'all can see what I do in front of a Maya workstation for hours on end. Well, the current version sucks, but it's still possibly vaguely interesting. And I made more money playing piano today. Yay nice Christians who'll pay you for playing their hymns and not complain if you mess up because it's a tiny provincial church and you're way better than anything they could expect. And in still other news, the bunny Professor Coulter gave me is growing. Whoo, kinky sex magic.
He is timing how long it takes Akio to get an erection.
Yes. His stopwatch is keyed to Akio's crotch. I'm sure this makes sense.
This means I need sleep.
Also attempting to deal with Caroline's descriptions of assorted groups of HP characters doing the Lady Marmalade dance.
In other news, I finished my major 3D project several days ago, should be uploading a web-compressed version soonish so y'all can see what I do in front of a Maya workstation for hours on end. Well, the current version sucks, but it's still possibly vaguely interesting. And I made more money playing piano today. Yay nice Christians who'll pay you for playing their hymns and not complain if you mess up because it's a tiny provincial church and you're way better than anything they could expect. And in still other news, the bunny Professor Coulter gave me is growing. Whoo, kinky sex magic.
I am stupid; Surrealists are not.
Nov. 26th, 2002 05:49 pmThis currently has my vote as Best Thing Ever:
I observe the following bit of dialogue between André Breton and Fobert Desnos, or I read it as if it were a fragment of a play with stage directions:
A.B. (to Robert Desnos). The seismoteric tradition. . .
R. D. (turns into a stack of plates)
From Nuits sans nuit et quelques jours san jour, the dream diary of Michel Leiris (translated by Richard Sieburth). It's undated, and the entirety of the dream. Makes me happy.
In other news, I managed to totally fuck myself over again. Went to the FWT office this morning to get an extension for my registration, and they gave me a form to fill out and said to turn it in by 5 today so as to not have to pay 50 bucks. So the logical thing to do is to go home, sit down, fill the thing out, and drop it off when I go out for lunch. No problem. But naturally I go home, put the form down, and instantly and completely forget about it until 5:15.
There are some parts of my brain I love. Like the musical ability and the writing talent, and the way I can understand characters, and the way I can dance, and the way I can make shiny things with Maya. But then there are some parts of my brain I hate. Like the total inability to cope with the real world.
More fic tonight, I hope, if the bunnies behave. *eyes bunnies*
I observe the following bit of dialogue between André Breton and Fobert Desnos, or I read it as if it were a fragment of a play with stage directions:
A.B. (to Robert Desnos). The seismoteric tradition. . .
R. D. (turns into a stack of plates)
From Nuits sans nuit et quelques jours san jour, the dream diary of Michel Leiris (translated by Richard Sieburth). It's undated, and the entirety of the dream. Makes me happy.
In other news, I managed to totally fuck myself over again. Went to the FWT office this morning to get an extension for my registration, and they gave me a form to fill out and said to turn it in by 5 today so as to not have to pay 50 bucks. So the logical thing to do is to go home, sit down, fill the thing out, and drop it off when I go out for lunch. No problem. But naturally I go home, put the form down, and instantly and completely forget about it until 5:15.
There are some parts of my brain I love. Like the musical ability and the writing talent, and the way I can understand characters, and the way I can dance, and the way I can make shiny things with Maya. But then there are some parts of my brain I hate. Like the total inability to cope with the real world.
More fic tonight, I hope, if the bunnies behave. *eyes bunnies*
Am I going mad? I’ve never felt like this before. I can’t sleep--I overheat in a matter of seconds if covered, twitch endlessly while naked. I feel like I can’t even close my eyes. Caroline is tossing and turning and moaning. There is distant thunder and lightening. For a long time i saw the flashes without hearing the thundr., hought i might be going mad, thought i was seeing things. there’s some sort of beetle in my room. it clatters in the papers and crawls up onto the desk. when i see it a jump. i nearly scream loud. i want to do something brutal to it, just because it scared me, because i am in this mood. i want to feel the cold weight of the barrel of a gun against my head. i want to scream and scream and scream, at the top of my lungs, primal, without thinking. the thunder is still there. earlier, as i lay trying to sleep, there were people outside, with flutes, a tambourine, twisted, tinny, diabolical, gleeful little tunes, a slide flute wailing like a voice. that music was the scariest music i’ve ever heard. it made me want to scream and break things and turn on the lights. it’s almost two in the morning. how late will i stay awake? i cannot sleep. i cannot sleep. i am ready to do something vast and supernatural. the music stopped and there was the scraping of a shovel on the ground. silence for a bit, with the flashes of light that i didn’t know were lightning, then music gain. i never saw who was playing it except in my mind: twisted pale shapes, gambolling in the shadows, grotesque, yet real, very real, as real as humans, human and not human--the y were burying something i am sure. the thunder continues. i close my eyes and i see ngels, evangelion angels, hulking masses of indifferent destruction. the flashes continue. i woke up earlier pale, coated with sweat, so overheated i couldn’t stand up with strength and felt that i would throw up. should i turn off my computer? flash flash. but the thunder is so quiet. i want to turn off my computer. but i cannot sleep. cannot cannot cannot.my breathing is irregular. i don’t want to wake caroline. i don’t want to make the rest of the house think i’ve died. i just want to scream.
i’m almost cold. this is a good sign. if i’m cold and my eyes are drooping then i can sleep. if i am like this, if my mind is flashing and there are flutes--my god, the flutes! no! no! no! no! asathoth--no--i want to scream. caroline tosses in her sleep and maons mindlessly, scratches--i can hear her nails against her skin, clicking. the flutes are gone but they’re still in my mind. as long as i am like this, what can i do? type blindly? i hve the window windowshaded. i cannot see what i type. i type blind, no shift key, no thought. dear god, dear god. my stomach hurts. i cannot remember how many spaces i put in things. am i getting ready to sleep? i migth be. i might be.i just yawned. wow. i yawned. such a good sign.
i’m almost cold. this is a good sign. if i’m cold and my eyes are drooping then i can sleep. if i am like this, if my mind is flashing and there are flutes--my god, the flutes! no! no! no! no! asathoth--no--i want to scream. caroline tosses in her sleep and maons mindlessly, scratches--i can hear her nails against her skin, clicking. the flutes are gone but they’re still in my mind. as long as i am like this, what can i do? type blindly? i hve the window windowshaded. i cannot see what i type. i type blind, no shift key, no thought. dear god, dear god. my stomach hurts. i cannot remember how many spaces i put in things. am i getting ready to sleep? i migth be. i might be.i just yawned. wow. i yawned. such a good sign.