May. 4th, 2001
I hear from my contacts that the Thin H Line is dead. Kaput. Gone under. Why? Because some complete creep of an ex-girlfriend got people to call up the place where he worked and complain about the strip. He was given a choice: job or comic strip. Apparently he chose the job.
I hope to see it revived someday, and meanwhile I have the archives I so thoughtfully saved for myself....
I hope to see it revived someday, and meanwhile I have the archives I so thoughtfully saved for myself....
general apathy
May. 4th, 2001 04:14 pmThink I've fallen into one of my low periods for a bit. Hope I emerge soon. Just have no energy and no desire to do anything other than surf on the internet, though the amount of stuff I actually *have to* do online, or *want to* do online is at an all-time low. My lungs are all cloggy from that cold I stupidly got myself. I don't even want to go swimming. I just want to sleep and read or write, and not even really read at this point. I had to read the latest Sith Academy stories in bits and pieces in order to read them at all. My concentration is going.
I haven't even definitely told Sparky there's ritual at our place Monday. Full moon, y'know.
I haven't even definitely told Sparky there's ritual at our place Monday. Full moon, y'know.
My HP doesn't really dig why I consider chaos to be such a large part of my life. One of my specialties is imposing order upon disorder, and finding patterns in nonorder.
Guess I can't really explain it here either. Chaos makes such pretty pictures, though, and I'm so much of a drama queen that I have to like chaos, 'cause you wouldn't have any drama worth speaking of without chaos.
One of my old friends from high school told me that my worst problem was trying to find the pattern, the plot, to my life. He said that it's just a great big jumble of fairly random events, and to try to fit them into a neat plot like a book is a way that madness lurks. He'd had that difficulty too.
Still, I search through my life for evidences of past lives, predestination, possible plotlines and congruences with my past. In one reality, I'm already married to Godai and we have seven kids. One single birth and two sets of triplets.
Again with the resonances. I know I'm jumping at the drop of a pin, but when he said that to me, I started giggling 'cause of the guy (also named David, for some odd reason) who I was going to marry once upon a time, and have triplets with. At that exact moment, David who I was once planning to marry said hello via AIM...
Synchronicity's a witch.
...and as I say that, the back falls off of my chair. Signs and portents all over the frickin' place. And I reach out and grasp the candle rather than my plastic cup of Mountain Dew, just because it's closer, and contemplate taking a drink until I realize that not only is it pink, unlike Mountain Dew, it's also on fire.
Guess I can't really explain it here either. Chaos makes such pretty pictures, though, and I'm so much of a drama queen that I have to like chaos, 'cause you wouldn't have any drama worth speaking of without chaos.
One of my old friends from high school told me that my worst problem was trying to find the pattern, the plot, to my life. He said that it's just a great big jumble of fairly random events, and to try to fit them into a neat plot like a book is a way that madness lurks. He'd had that difficulty too.
Still, I search through my life for evidences of past lives, predestination, possible plotlines and congruences with my past. In one reality, I'm already married to Godai and we have seven kids. One single birth and two sets of triplets.
Again with the resonances. I know I'm jumping at the drop of a pin, but when he said that to me, I started giggling 'cause of the guy (also named David, for some odd reason) who I was going to marry once upon a time, and have triplets with. At that exact moment, David who I was once planning to marry said hello via AIM...
Synchronicity's a witch.
...and as I say that, the back falls off of my chair. Signs and portents all over the frickin' place. And I reach out and grasp the candle rather than my plastic cup of Mountain Dew, just because it's closer, and contemplate taking a drink until I realize that not only is it pink, unlike Mountain Dew, it's also on fire.
I'm still turning up files on my drive that my ex downloaded and left there. Don't know what the hell he was thinking, putting them on there, but some of them are good.
Some of them completely suck from my pov, though. Can we say religious differences? I think we can.
But he has otherwise good taste, though a bit heavy on the country and the sappy. Sappy I can stand. Sappy with a distinct (though he'd deny it to the end) country twinge to it, I cannot. Especially when he's got it on repeat, just the one song, and he thinks I like it, and we've got Serious Memories to it.
Argh.
But anyway, why waste this good Forward Momentum?
Some of them completely suck from my pov, though. Can we say religious differences? I think we can.
But he has otherwise good taste, though a bit heavy on the country and the sappy. Sappy I can stand. Sappy with a distinct (though he'd deny it to the end) country twinge to it, I cannot. Especially when he's got it on repeat, just the one song, and he thinks I like it, and we've got Serious Memories to it.
Argh.
But anyway, why waste this good Forward Momentum?
Sneakernet
May. 4th, 2001 11:12 pmHaving discussion with friend about the female understandings of information transmission.
Sometimes women, just to be sneaky, tell something to someone who knows someone else knowing that word will trickle through to the person it's intended to trickle to but it doesn't always work well when a guy is the intermediary.
For example, if I had something I wanted to tell some particular guy, but I didn't want him to hear it from me, I would tell someone else who knew him, who would pass it on to him. Gossip, you know? "You know, I was talking to that guy Dave the other day, and it turns out that way back when, when you two were in fencing class together? He had such a bad crush on you, and would have dated you SO fast if only you'd been 18."
In that case, the intermediary was a guy, my then-fiance, who promptly got whacked around with a pillow, because he'd told me about Dave way too late for it to have done anyone any good.
Of course, I'm not sure that Dave intended for me to hear about that.
In another case, I told a guy something that any chick in her right mind would have passed on, and he was completely clueless as to the fact that he was expected to pass it on, considering that he'd just happened to mention that he knew the guy and talked to him often. I whacked him with a virtual sandbag a couple times, and he seemed to get the message.
Still don't know if he passed the information on, though. Maybe I need to wallop him some more. But now that I've told him, the *point* of the gossip connection is lost. It needs, to be proper, a certain amount of spontainiety, or else you're a chicken who can't say the things that need to be said, and relys on other people to do the dirty work.
A chick, on the other hand, would know that it was her guy-friend who needed to hear this through the grapevine, and would pass it on to him, and if he didn't know what was going on, he might never know that the information had been passed to him deliberately. It needs to be done more subtlely if the eventual recipient is a chick, because by the Chick Codes, if there's only one intermediary, it's bound to be seen as a personally delivered and direct message, because unless the first chick didn't know that the second chick was friends with the third chick, the first chick would never have talked about the third chick to the second chick unless it was meant to be passed on.
Confused?
Sometimes women, just to be sneaky, tell something to someone who knows someone else knowing that word will trickle through to the person it's intended to trickle to but it doesn't always work well when a guy is the intermediary.
For example, if I had something I wanted to tell some particular guy, but I didn't want him to hear it from me, I would tell someone else who knew him, who would pass it on to him. Gossip, you know? "You know, I was talking to that guy Dave the other day, and it turns out that way back when, when you two were in fencing class together? He had such a bad crush on you, and would have dated you SO fast if only you'd been 18."
In that case, the intermediary was a guy, my then-fiance, who promptly got whacked around with a pillow, because he'd told me about Dave way too late for it to have done anyone any good.
Of course, I'm not sure that Dave intended for me to hear about that.
In another case, I told a guy something that any chick in her right mind would have passed on, and he was completely clueless as to the fact that he was expected to pass it on, considering that he'd just happened to mention that he knew the guy and talked to him often. I whacked him with a virtual sandbag a couple times, and he seemed to get the message.
Still don't know if he passed the information on, though. Maybe I need to wallop him some more. But now that I've told him, the *point* of the gossip connection is lost. It needs, to be proper, a certain amount of spontainiety, or else you're a chicken who can't say the things that need to be said, and relys on other people to do the dirty work.
A chick, on the other hand, would know that it was her guy-friend who needed to hear this through the grapevine, and would pass it on to him, and if he didn't know what was going on, he might never know that the information had been passed to him deliberately. It needs to be done more subtlely if the eventual recipient is a chick, because by the Chick Codes, if there's only one intermediary, it's bound to be seen as a personally delivered and direct message, because unless the first chick didn't know that the second chick was friends with the third chick, the first chick would never have talked about the third chick to the second chick unless it was meant to be passed on.
Confused?