azurelunatic: "Food Pr0n", cherries.  (cherries)
Dear past self,

It's okay that you didn't take the chocolate-covered cherries out of your pocket before using your jacket as a pillow.

The jacket washed better than your heart.

You will survive that relationship, though.

Love,
future self
azurelunatic: Blue-iced cupcake with sprinkles.  (cupcake)
3:31 AM 8/11/2010
I seem to have either allergies that are kicking my ass, or a cold. I ventured forth for foodstuffs earlier in the evening, and have been sitting around drinking lots of mint tea and feeling as stupid and slow and cut off from everything as if I were one of those Vonnegut characters who have nasal telepathy and a head cold.

I also have a random cut, and no idea how it got there. TMI )

1:07 AM 8/13/2010
Cold-type-thing confirmed. I had a really horrible couple nights, and went with my aunt in the morning to get fruits (I bought more than I was actually actively hungry for, because I knew I'd be hungry once I got my nose back), then we headed to Target. I got decongestant. My aunt looked at rice cookers for my cousin. I headed home, decongested.

I'd thought that I'd surely miss the announcement of whether Walker would lift the stay while we were out shopping, but evidently not. We were waiting on pins and needles; Ursie jested with JD that he could "pull an Azz", and influence the news to be released by taking a shower, like I did last time.

The news went up slightly after noon: the stay on his judgment will be lifted the evening of the 18th, which means that the happy couples of San Francisco have just under a week to plan their weddings if they're going to hit day 1. I surprised myself by actually busting out sobbing. Never mind that I don't have any current plans for a wedding; never mind that I don't have anyone I'm seeing right now; never mind that as queers go, I'm bisexual, and as bisexuals go, based on past data I'm statistically more likely to form a long-term bond with a man. It still affects me personally, and it's my people. No matter whether I never date another woman in my life, this is still my people.

Bawling over with, I started in on putting together the sangria, and wound up in a long and far-ranging conversation on Facebook chat with good ol' Shawn, who has also been suffering from a cold. I also pinged [livejournal.com profile] wibbble to see if he was the person who had suggested that fascinating-looking remote tech support firm while Madman was still behaving badly and driving me to tears. Because he's behaving now. We determined it was probably not him. I did my eyes in the bi rainbow again, for celebration's sake. I do like having a diversity of eye shadow. It makes me want to play with it, play with all the lucious colors. My inner painter needs to be sated.

Feeling much better than I had in three days, because I could finally breathe, I sallied forth theatre-wards, for I was to meet with the boys for some entertainments. I was a n00b on the Muni, but as a reward for my taking the wrong train, I did get to see a bit of hilarious and inexplicable byplay on the N. Heading inbound, just about around Safeway, this kid marched up to the front of the car, yelling about something. He got off the train from the front door, and, as he passed the open middle door near where I was sitting, he hurled something hard through the door and into the train, which sailed past the face and over the mobile phone of the random hipster guy lounging on one of the benches (it was a very empty train), clattering against the wall and falling to the floor. The guy got off his mobile in shock. It turned out to be a barrette. Surreal event for the evening, CHECK.

At length I arrived at the Castro Theatre; fortunately they do let in latecomers, and I was only a bit late. We were watching Fruit Fly, which has joined my list of adored movies. I must watch it again. I must in fact purchase it at some point. I came in just about as the "Fag Hag" number (language) was starting. I had not heard some of those. It was late enough that I did not want to barge through the seats and step on toes, so I was not actually sitting with the boys, but this is a movie that one can miss the first ten minutes of, and watch by oneself, and still enjoy the hell out of it, and I am sure that the enjoyment would have been fairly multiplied had all stars been in the right spheres, &c.

There was applause and laughter throughout the film. I did notice that no-one seems to charge their phone at all. :D Though the curled-up-in-bed-with-phone is particularly genuine. And the damned air conditioner building! It was as much a love story for the city as it was the story of these people. The ending was a bit inexplicable, but hey. It's a thing of beauty.

So then I went home, and curled up on the internet with my fishies.
azurelunatic: Animated woman's gloved hand dripping with her own blood.  (bleeding)


For me, 90s music is going to be about 1996 and the far-reaching implications of that year until all the horror has been smoothed away by the passage of time and the re-visiting of those memories so many times that it fails to shock, and then fails to sadden, and then merely just is.

My then-best-friend, my high school best friend That Idiot Shawn, the guy I was in love with at the time, was getting the annoying end of the custody shuffle. He was also in possession of too much imagination, too much sensational TV, and self-medicated ADHD, using under-the-counter substances. Top that off with him being an irredeemable drama queen, and you may have an idea of how much chaos he was capable of causing, unaided. Enter me, the sheltered, naive girl who grew up without television and under the impression that everything a close friend or family member told you was the truth to the best of their knowledge. I believed in weird coincidences and the supernatural, because of weird stuff that went on in my own life. He believed that weird coincidence and the supernatural made for really good drama. He told me his rich fantasy life, complete with all the things he'd ever wanted to be and the way things would have played out if he'd been in a movie. He didn't bother to tell me where reality began and his dreams ended, partly because he thought I'd just know, and partly because -- well, he enjoyed the power he held over me.

This was on the radio then. I remember it being a year of bitter and symbolic songs with that thread of despairing hope and deep-rooted anger, because listening to the radio was like looking in a mirror. His world was crumbling around him, and he was taking mine with it.
azurelunatic: Mulder. "I cannot be without you" "Another heart is cracked in two" "If you walk out on me, I'm walking after you" (Mulder)
This one is for everyone at Gossamer who didn't get feedback from me in 1997 through 2000.

It's been years.

There's a mermaid on the wall of the shower, and she's got her back to me, hunched over, studying the ripples in the water like she can see something there that I can't see, not even if I squint hard enough to see stars. I remember the black screens and amber letters, logged in too late to my shell account. Thin client, they'd call it now. Dumb terminal. Dumb angel, and saving grace in a world full of madness when the 24 hour study area in the library was the only sanctuary I could think to find.

All the geographic-distance between the screaming fangirls meant e-mail. E-mail meant culture and archives. I dreamed in gossamer, gold and green and all the lovely colors I couldn't see on my screen. I never responded, always lurking. Bad fangirl, no feedback. I was never a part of the culture, but there I was lurking on the outside, watching the words patch the hell I was living in. The characters always got worse, but they came together in the end, didn't they; they were meant to be together, and all the aching and poison words couldn't keep them apart. You could tell by the chemistry it was meant to be so. And in the end, it was.

Autumn leaves and crystal blue skies and that little treasured hope of independence and higher education turned in to twisted winter and bitter bare birch. The words were solace. I wouldn't let myself cry over myself, so I watched them burn in their silent orbits around each other, mute hateful torture. Sometimes they laughed, and I laughed with them. It was safer than crying. If I started, I would never stop...

I memorized the names of the ones who wrote them best. I had to believe that it was inevitable when they wrote them that way. I wasn't sure whether I liked the ones where they got together at the end or the ones where they weren't yet there but they'd make it there someday. I tried to write down what had happened with us, make it happen to them, but the words wouldn't come. It wasn't time. It wasn't right. I had more waiting to do, and someone with better words than I did had to write them as they were.

The years turned the anguish into dust, and from the dust grew flowers. They're still broken and beautiful, and the mermaid in my shower sits watching them. Why does she dream of unhappier times, when today is so full of life and promise?

Oh, my dystopia. We were perfect, you and I.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
There are two males in my life (present and past) who get referred to in a very similar tone of mingled affection and annoyance. They are Darkside and Fuzzy Modem. I offer here a breakdown of some of the most common similarities and differences between Darkside and Fuzzy Modem.

Read more... )

Summary: Google Spreadsheets has a lot of improvements to go before they master export to HTML. Darkside is so much ♥, in a perfectly sour, sarcastic, and antisocial way. Fuzzy is a walking reality show waiting to happen, and my best position there is spectator, not co-star.


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azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
The shrimp did what to the cabbage? Only this time the phrasebook isn't Hungarian, and there's only one dodgy word. Warning for dodgy language. Via [livejournal.com profile] pauamma.

Mad restaurant science. Via [livejournal.com profile] wyldemusick.

The Hobbit!

I remain thankful that in times of crisis, Darkside has never pushed me away when I've reached out to him. Once upon a time, I was madly in love with That Idiot Shawn. And I pulled a stupid stunt and ran outside in the winter with bare feet and ran down the frozen iced-over road after D.C. with her pager that had fallen off, and I came back with frostbitten feet. It was fine until my feet started to thaw and all the ruptured and damaged nerves started crying. I reached for his hand and he pulled away from me and said that he would not allow me to hold his hand because that would be too much like we were a couple. (We were involved in bed at the time.) The layer of dead skin on the bottoms of my feet eventually fell off after blistering all over (the bottom of my feet was one huge thick blister), and the doctor said I was lucky to have not lost toes. And Shawn did not let me hold his hand while my feet thawed.

Darkside may not reach out to me if he's in pain, but he does not push me away when I really bloody well need comforting. Could this be yet another reason why he's my best friend? Hmm.

Make Life Awesome!

Long hair vs. Bone marrow, FIGHT! Context: People with long hair often have people come up to them and ask if or when they plan to donate their long hair to $CHARITY. It's similar to the annoyance factor of people coming up and touching pregnant bellies without invitation, though less invasive of personal space and more self-righteous and sneakily mean-spirited. Why "mean-spirited"? Because in many of the exchanges, there's an undercurrent of "if you are enjoying your long hair for yourself while there are LITTLE KIDS with CANCER who have NO HAIR, you are a SELFISH AND MEAN PERSON!!1!111"

Today, I plan to enjoy a trip to the plasma place.

I am intimidated by the job application process but will persevere!
azurelunatic: Cartoon woman with messy blue hair in a bun, without her glasses, in a nightgown.  (Azzsleep)
Now I'm trying to figure out which of the actors in The 40 Year Old Virgin looks like Mr. Shallow. He's the young one with the tattooed arms in the movie, but I haven't the foggiest what name goes with that character. But he so looks like Mr. Shallow. And that's totally hot.

Have been reading romance novels lately. Eeeuuuurgh? Some are decent. Some are very bad. If I do publish there, I doubt Darkside would read me even out of a sense of duty.

V returns on Tuesday.

At dinner tonight, someone indicated that I was sitting on the Has Relationship side of the table. Which was very weird. I don't technically consider myself In A Relationship as far as all crucial parts of relationships like hugs and kisses and any attempt to stay together goes. I do consider myself taken as far as being available to new relationship prospects goes. It's a very weird limbo, very much like the one I found myself in back in high school. That one had a lot more emotional anguish and a lot less personal satisfaction. This one is a comfort zone and a warm, mutually agreeable, trusting friendship. But does it count as a relationship? It brings me some of the same satisfaction of one, because I love openly and happily, and I know that I am cared for deeply. But one of the things where I know it's a relationship is where I can spend significant physical time, when there is physical time, curled up next to, being petted, and wrapped securely in their arms. It's very much not a relationship. Sorry. Curled up next to is iffy. The rest are generally right out.

My own personal creativity has bottomed out because of all the creative effort I have to expend at work. Price paid for job that takes hard-work-creativity time? Less to spend as wished on personal projects.

I seem to have become the Neighborhood Muse for a bit here. First the hisssstorical thing. Then Shawn calling me in a tizzy because he's stuck and needs a muse-moment. Then the other thing that Dawn was talking about. Goodness.

I'm having Sunday off. I need Sunday off.
azurelunatic: Animated purple vibrator on blue background.  (Divine Oscillations)
Dream involved a comedy of errors in an attempt to sleep with Shawn.

If I were being perfectly frank with myself, I'd be either somewhat scared, [livejournal.com profile] garnetdagger considers a "danger" (her wording) of me falling for him again.

When Dagger says "danger", she means it. If Darkside and I are somewhat of a social mismatch ... well, if a random reader thinks we aren't, there's nothing I can say that would be able to convince them that we're not, but ... I have problems with self esteem and social situations. It's difficult for me to trust that someone actually cares about me sometimes. But when I'm in my right mind, I have no doubts that Darkside does care. For someone who doesn't express emotion well, he's done a good job at somehow reassuring me that I'm cared about. (the swap between my right mind and my wrong mind is vast, and anyone catching me in my wrong mind should send me to bed.)

But. Shawn is distinct danger to me, because (BDSM terminology) he's not a good Master. He does not provide the care that a submissive needs, doesn't do the "I am master, I'm in charge, which means I'm responsible" wellness checks. There is history. There is bad history. Dagger has forbidden that I take up with Shawn again, which means that as much as Shawn and I would get on like a house afire in bed now (memory says that our kinks are eminently compatible now that I've grown more into mine) ... no. Absolutely not.

Thank you, Darkside, for being a wonderful man and respectful of me...


My teenage fumblings of sex with Shawn were just as much of a comedy of errors as the dream was, which I find refreshing and amusing. Oy. Oy vey. My sex dreams tend to be extremely realistic, and feature the correct personality of my partner(s) as I know it. And. Yeah. Not happening. What [livejournal.com profile] garnetdagger says, goes.
azurelunatic: "Where's the goddamn NERF BAT when you *really* need it?" Animated cartoon tech support loses her cool.  (nerf bat)
Once upon a time in high school, I had this best friend. We'd spend hours on the phone, because that's the sort of friends we were. And he'd get himself in alarming trouble, because that's the sort of guy he was.

One day, while we were on the phone, he found himself standing behind the couch (he may have been lounging on the back of the couch? Or something?) with a need to get out.

So he tried sidling out. This did not work, as the couch was pushed up tightly against the wall; the reason he could be where he was standing was because there was a window behind the couch, and that created enough space for him to stand. So he tried pushing the couch.

This was even less successful. As he probably should have already known, but discovered loudly right in my ear, the windowsill behind him housed his mother and stepfather's reasonably impressive collection of potted cacti. Pushing the couch forward meant pushing his bottom backward, and behind him was not open air, but a tasteful selection of succulents with thorns.

Of course, neither of his parents were home to push the couch to let him out. He was stuck.

After I stopped giggling at his expense, I suggested that he fall forward, letting his torso down onto the couch, and his feet would follow, and all would be good. He argued with me a little, and continued in his fruitless attempts to push the couch forward for a bit (spearing himself on the cacti behind every time) but after he got tired of playing pincushion with his butt, he followed my advice and escaped.
azurelunatic: Egyptian Fayoumis hen in full cry.  (loud fayoumis)
In high school, I had this idiot best friend Shawn. Last night, I talked to him voice-to-voice for the first time in about six years. (Six years ago, he stopped by my workplace to shop for a new hard drive with a friend and his daughter; we chatted briefly. Then I left town and we stopped speaking; we started IMing and e-mailing every now and then a few years back.)

He moved back into town within the past month, and he e-mailed me his number. ([livejournal.com profile] nilo, he's not of your generation nor is his daughter old enough to be in elementary school quite yet; no need to worry.) We talked.

He's finding it difficult to get a job, because of drug tests. (He's still smoking every substance known to man and then some.) He related his current tale of woe: cunning plans and grossness. )

Only Shawn. *sigh* Only Shawn.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
I suddenly realized that Darkside had heard whether or not I was on good terms with my exes or not, but had probably never encountered direct evidence of that entire polyamory thing. Between calls at work, I got a long litany of my exes and other people I would have had reason to romantically love at one point or another written out, and whether I love them now or not, and why. My object with the litany was to demonstrate that unless something happened to make it otherwise, I would keep on loving someone until the end of time, or I died, or something like that. It worked out that either there was some definite thing that happened so that I stopped loving them, or I still love them.

A few slipped under the radar, I am sure. I will have to include Queenie. I have slipped out of contact with too many, and there have been drastic changes here and there, and that's sad. But I still trust and respect many of my exes, and that's where my love has its roots. Some of my exes have proved that I can and should not trust them, and a few of them have demonstrated that I should not respect them overmuch either.

A large factor in my trust and respect for Darkside is that he compels my honesty. There are not many people who I feel that I must tell everything to. I am capable of lying with a straight face to the public in general, if I have a reason that I should lie. After getting caught lying on some things a couple times, I learned how to lie convincingly. I just told my lies exactly the way I told the truth, with the same level of detail and enthusiasm, throwing in plenty of extraneous corroborating detail. And while I considered myself, for the most part, exceptionally honest and straightforward, I, like Miles, never realized how much "subtle spin" I was putting on stuff until I had someone who not only appreciated my honesty, but compelled it.

How does he compel my honesty? He is honest and open with me, to whatever degree he is open. I would be doing his trust a disservice if I did not repay him in kind. If he doesn't wish to tell me something, he tells me that he'd rather keep that to himself. He is the antidote to Shawn. He won't let me lie to myself, either. I trust that he would never lie to me, but I know he's not so great about open and honest communication with himself. Ah, well, we all have our little flaws.

And he's honorable. If I am in need, and he knows about it, and it's something he can do something about, he'll help. He has had any number of opportunities to betray me and hasn't. Most telling is that he could have betrayed me by not encouraging me to do what was right for me -- he would have just had to offer me no opinion, and not help me figure out what was right. It wouldn't, technically, have been betrayal, only that he would have been standing by as I turned traitor on myself. He didn't, even though it meant inconvenience for him. So he has demonstrated his honor to me.

His honesty and honor are what win him my trust. Those and his kindness win my respect, and his charm and wit win my fondness. Trust, respect, and fondness are the seeds of love.

And when the seeds of love take root, they stay rooted so long as trust, respect, and fondness are still there.

I can't love Shawn again. My respect for him is growing slowly as he earns it, and the fondness is back after Darkside healed me, but the trust, the undeserved trust, will never return. Trust, respect, and fondness have all departed for BJ, leaving me wondering why I made that mistake. I am fond of [livejournal.com profile] digitalambience, but there is history there too with trust and respect. I trust, respect, and am fond of the Lady E., my first and most beloved fiancée. I trust, respect, and am fond of River, lately beloved of [livejournal.com profile] swallowtayle. I respect and am fond of [livejournal.com profile] pyrogenic, and while I suppose I trust him, I would have to spend more time interacting with him in the present to say that definitively.

Actual innate respect differs from showing respect for someone. Showing respect for someone is a basic social grace. Actual respect for someone is something that is earned through that person's actions. While I behave respectfully towards the people I speak with on the phone, do I actually respect the ones who curse at me? Absolutely not.

I was probably going somewhere with this, but I have no clue where. At least more of the structure of my mind is being revealed, now.
azurelunatic: Egyptian Fayoumis hen in full cry.  (loud fayoumis)
I was chatting with good ol' Shawn last night about the fact that one of our buddies from high school is going to be a father soon.

Shawn: "When are you gonna squeeze one out?"

Gee, Shawn. Your eloquence and tact are an example to us all.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Darkside and I once had a conversation wherein we discussed our relationships with our exes now that the romance has been turned off.

It turned out, with me, to be about 50/50. His situation was a little more complex, but I'm sure he'll be realizing just how good it is sometime.

We'll start with the ones I actually sortakinda dated.

Kermit: pretty good, actually. We chatted last night, after not really getting the chance to speak for years. Yay for Hotmail.
Bugs: Not so good. I broke up with him rather roughly.
the Lady E.: Fairly good. We chat on AIM from time to time.
Good Ol' Shawn: Darkside counts this as a Bad, Very Bad. It's since progressed to an "Okay, I guess."
That One Chick: *sigh* If we still were in contact, we'd probably do well. We aren't. *sigh* This counts as OK.
River: Good. I still worry about him...
BJ: Bad. Very Bad. If he tries to contact me, the cops will likely get involved.
[livejournal.com profile] digitalambience: Darkside counted this as a Pretty Darn Bad, especially given the hissing and casting of fireballs that accompanied the worst bit of the breakup. (It's since gotten better.)

At the time of the discussion, that left me 50/50, before the improvement with Shawn and [livejournal.com profile] digitalambience. (Letting Shawn know that I'd flipped off his bride as she walked down the aisle, and hearing his reaction, really did wonders for our friendship.)

[livejournal.com profile] yaksha42: Really good. We still hug and hang out; he monster-sits from time to time.
Also, as I'm not really having that "affair" with [livejournal.com profile] godai so much anymore, he possibly counts. *hugs and snuggles the Dave* And we get along well, when we have time...

That's improved my Good To Be Involved With score quite a bit. I don't get on with only 20% of my exes, and if Bugs and I got back into contact, I think we could be civil, if not friendly, since we were high school freshmen when the relationship, and breakup, happened. The most disappointing portion of the stats is That One Chick, because I really do miss her as a friend...

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