The Medallion

Omigods. Slash. Slash. Slash. There were about five minutes where not only was the slashy subtext so no longer sub, but the dialogue was near-unhearable because the theatre was laughing so hard.

Jackie Chan is so bloody cool.

...if only/alas! (webcam)

If only I had realized that I would want to take pictures of my naughty toys, I would have remembered where I put the cord for the webcam!

But alas...

Only a lass

Who'd have thought that the cord for the webcam would be plugged into the Massive USB Hub of Doom?

Grr @ tigereye

And that, peskyelf, is what happens when I decide to take some photos, and Tigereye decides to core dump on me.

Beauty: without/within

Ran into a locked post with a quote on beauty, and how beauty should be one of a woman's weapons. And the poster wasn't so sure that she was one of those that had been issued that weapon from the start.

I got to thinking about the relationship, the very real relationship, between inner and outer beauty. I've seen myself in the mirror, seen photographs of me, enough to know what a difference a few tweaks in this and that make.

There's a reason why the grey shorts and the bug shirts and the yellow shirts have been strictly set aside as home-wear. There's a reason why I've been trying to wear my hair down whenever possible. There's a reason why I put on concealer and lipstick when I go out (or try to).

I know how unlovely I look when I look like I'm not taking care of myself (pale lips, blotched skin, cross expression, unflattering clothing). I've seen, also, photographic evidence (as well as anecdotal evidence from others) that when I do have my hair arranged, my makeup done, and my clothes right, I'm striking, lovely, and even beautiful. And no matter how happy I look without makeup and in battered clothing, I always look better with color in my lips and with the illusion of clearer skin.

I may not be Marilyn Monroe or Bettie Page. But what I've got, I'll flaunt.

Moshing in the bathroom

I've been hearing some alarming thuddage coming from the bathroom. Turns out the cats have been playing in the bathtubs.

So I hear thuds, then see two cats dance/skidding into the other bathroom, with shammash saying, "Mrrowoo?" to eris_raven.

Now, more thud.

*smirk* Movies

Both my anime DVDs have been shipped.

Library

After a while of playing on the computer, I gathered myself together and headed off to return my library books. It's hot outside, and I always leak water from my pores after showers. My mastery of the bus schedule is improving.

I'm growing stronger after my month-and-a-half of forced inaction due to the foot. I can walk for longer, and walk faster. Near the mall skate facility, two to three girls were fighting, hitting each other, ripping at permed-and-streaked hair. I dodged in to tell an employee to call security; when we came out, the girls were gone.

The library was cool. I returned my five books. I always take notice of the shy teenage young men in the science fiction section. This one was too reserved for me to share book recommendations with.

I walked back through the mall in Patricia McKillip's Winter Rose. This attracted the attention of a giggle of teenage girls. "She's reading a book in the mall!" they called to each other, finding this the most hilarious thing ever.

I stopped in at one of the cheap glasses places and got new nosepads on my prescription sunglasses. One had fallen off, and I noticed it just before setting out. A bruise on the right of the bridge of my nose is courting me.

There was a long wait for the bus; the Red Line arrives early, and waits until its prescribed time for takeoff. The driver was in the mall getting coffee. I sat in the sun and read, then sat on the bus and read more. I'd thought of getting orange chicken, but the little shop is closed on Sundays, and I don't think I want to range far from home when my mind is slipping into spaces unseen...

Winter Rose does that to me. It looks to have elements of Tamlin... that story always throws me for a loop. It's so familiar...

The writing bug has bitten again. I have a story seed, "Body Log", and have gotten the first few paragraphs of The Necromancer's Prayer to disk.

Locking the door (again) (Marx vs. LF)

Door is shut; window blinds are open.

It depresses me to hear him with Little Fayoumis trying to do something serious, because of the many levels they're not communicating on. They're working on what looks to be an art project, and Little Fayoumis agreed to it gleefully. Marx has a certain vision of how it should be, and Little Fayoumis has never really worked with very many art things in this household.

Little Fayoumis doesn't have the word/shape connections yet in all cases; he doesn't have the artist's eye yet. He knows how to cut paper, how to draw, how to get what he wants on paper -- but not the words to say, "A robot's head is square, with rectangular eyes and a circle mouth." He doesn't have the practice to separate the elements of the drawing into the basic shape of the head and the details; to him, the whole thing is the shape, and any difference makes it not-so.

Combine this with a grown-up, impatient artist, who is great at playing with kids, but still needs more practice in working with them, and his artistic vision of the finished product?

I walked in my room and shut the door, because the tension was just too high. They'll sort things out, between them, but I'm not to be there while that's happening.

I'm a communications specialist. (I really need to get my CIS degree and re-enroll as TCOM.) Since Little Fayoumis couldn't say it in words, and the words were confusing him, (and I am sure that the reason he did not say, "I don't understand what you mean", to Marx was because he knew he would get something more he didn't understand, or a lecture about how he should have been listening even though he was trying to) I showed up with a piece of paper and a pencil and asked him to draw the robot head so they'd know what they were talking about.

That, fortunately, worked.

And I went and I swept out of the kitchen and I locked the door, which is shielded.

Confection

Was craving See's. Decided to play around with chocolate at home instead. The results are chilling in the fridge.

We shall see.

Dude! I love being a geek.

I was annoyed by my minimally-responsive spacebar for a few weeks. Tonight, I finally got the bright idea to pry it off, clean it out, and reinstall it. I found that the little wire wasn't hooked where it was supposed to be. So, I put it like so.

Now it works right again.

Haaaaappy Loony.

Movies! Yay, movies! (poll)

My friends should know that while I'm generally a person of relatively decent taste, there are some forms of lowbrow humor that I delight in.

Therefore...

[Poll #172232]

Computers & teen lit

Anyone who cites The Mark of Conte as a major deciding factor in their choice to pursue a computer degree should be given a psychiatric evaluation before allowing them to enter the program.

...That was one of my favorite books as an early teen. It's a good yarn, but the execution is... well... it's a poster child for the "Show, don't tell" thing. It is, of course, being the bad example...