Friday (belatedly)

The third-party-summarizing-the-hijinks-of-a-crazy-character doesn't really get old for me very fast. I'm transferring that over to Lovie summarizing her own hijinks.

Exchanges:
Me: *bats self in head with cluebats*
hcolleen: *gives me funny look*
Me: "It's not ice!"¹
hcolleen: "You need to learn the difference between 'what the hell are you doing' and 'get that the hell away from me'."

I am slightly synaesthetic. I also only rarely think in pictures (unless I do). Sounds have texture to me. I can assign abstract shape and color to the textures when I focus on them, but if I can't render it down to text, I feel the sound, as if it had a shape and I was exploring it with my fingers or clinging to it or feeling it against my skin. I feel emotions the same way.

I've been in and out all day. There is some laundry done. There is some more unpacking. I finally retrieved my brace from the car. I took a nap earlier.

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1) "It's not ice!" dates to a particular moment at writers group where I fished out a chunk of ice from my Italian soda and held it out to hcolleen, who recoiled and gave me a Look. I kept holding it out. She kept recoiling. Since then, my reaction to that reaction from her has been "It's not ice!", because it's not. (Unless it is.)

Multimedia message

Fictional!

It's been a long day.

OK, there needs to be some sort of something somewhere -- someone already has it out there, I am sure -- where someone says what the problem is with having zomg amounts of icons, and why some of those suggestions are likely to be rejected until either a) the cows come home, or b) $THING is fixed. Because I need there to be one so it can be linked from any/all suggestions that request bottomless (topless?) icons.

All boxes are now out of the living room. I've hacked away a little more on Lovie. She's depressed right now, and I don't know how to write her depressed, because she is such a downer in that state.

So instead of hacking away on Lovie while she is in this state and I'm feeling a little discombobulated, I'm working on getting my floor cleared off.

Management and I have a mutual love of "One Night in Bangkok". (I think if Management had an LJ, she'd wind up on my friendslist, quite honestly.) The other day when I was having a meeting with her (I show up, spend time in her office, and creativity emerges) the song came on her iPod, and all was silence until it was over.

I'm typing up random notes from pieces of paper around my desk. Lovie is all over everything. One of the notes is from writers group, or something. I can't remember where. "Nothing says Christmas like a dildo," was the quote. I think it wasn't from someone in the group, it was from someone nearby. At any rate, it was on a page with some other Lovie notes.

Oh, and if you gmail and you have a need/wish to see the NaNo, let me know. It'll be at my discretion as always, but if I already show you my bizarre writings, you have good odds.

I need to get the paper shredder set up, and set up somewhere that makes sense, and set up somewhere that the whole household can use it conveniently. The place that suggests itself is the hall office, but that might not make sense if it causes interference with the wireless router.

I just now (nearly 10pm) braided my hair. After showering this morning, I had my hair loose. It's been nearly constantly braided and up since I got this job in July, because I haven't had the time to mess with it.

I have the work laptop out on my desk now. It feels bizarre and powerful to have more than one computer at a time out and ready to play with. I mean work with. (Oh, who am I kidding.)

I unpacked my box of badges. This has resulted in a new (old) fan pinned up on my wall, some wooden stars (as if we didn't have enough!) to distribute, keys I'd been looking for, and the badge that says "Talk nerdy to me", which I can so wear to work.

I can't remember when my smile evened out. It still takes me a while to go from the initial quirk of one corner of the mouth to a full and even smile.