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Apr. 14th, 2009 | 03:43 am

I'm poking around on the new Dreamwidth service, though I'm still not sure whether I like it or not ... I truly despise the default themes and fonts, but that's not going to be a problem once I can buy an account. I didn't reup my paid account here while I thought about things ... and I don't want to just assume that the new shiny is that clean, safe, well lighted place that LJ hasn't quite been for me. It's nice that I can haz a choice, but fellow flisters that have crossed the pond ... can you tell me if the water is likely to be chilly if I fall in?

Sin, freaking out about change

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What A Long Strange Trip ...

Feb. 19th, 2009 | 01:04 am
location: Slumped on the couch
music: The news

I've been watching Life on Mars for a while now ... not really in a fannish way - I have no desire to read or write or discuss the characters. But I'm riveted to the screen when it's on, and it stirs around old emotions and moments of recognition that have me thinking about the show and the when of the show in my head even when the shots are flying and the myth arc of the show is spilling over like a woozy acid trip that I will not be able to dine out on. I was in my late teens and twenties during the seventies ... and yes it has a familiarity that both resonates and horrifies me. I find myself questioning my own memories, when it all was so normal to me (and not at all dorky or weird) and ask myself if it was as bad as it seems on the screen and how I could not have remembered that it was that bad. Not just the clothes and the hair and the attitudes toward women and the way things were done (watching people having sex in a file room - all I could think during the scene was did they have a condom? And then getting whiplash when I realized that most of us didn't even think about condoms then ...) - but the narrowness of the little boxes we were in, or were put in, or climbed in all by our lonesome. I don't know what people that didn't come into adulthood during that time feel when they watch the show, but I doubt it torques their minds the way it does when your sense of nostalgia bangs into the reality of the normality of it all. I lived without a helmet on Mars and didn't even know it.

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I'm Alive!!

Jan. 10th, 2009 | 08:36 pm

You Scored as The Pretty-Boi Dyke

You can be a bit cocky at times and ever the heartbreaker, but no one knows that you're really just looking for true love.

The Pretty-Boi Dyke
The Stud
The Granola Dyke
The Femme Fatale
The Vaginal-Reference-Making Dyke
The Student Dyke
The Surprise! Dyke
The Quasi-Gothic Femme
The Sprightly Elfin Femme
The Magic Earring Ken Dyke
The Hipster Dyke
The Bohemian Dyke
The Little-Boy Dyke

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Temporary Retirement

Jan. 10th, 2009 | 08:01 pm
location: The couch
music: NFL Football

Lord knows I've been lurking somewhere in the Mariana's Trench for the longest time, but since I solved the angsty job situation by temporarily retiring (thus assuring a 50% income and medical coverage), I have no time excuse left not to post to this journal, at least until LJ goes under. Will be looking for another job that makes up the difference that doesn't make me spend all my time wanting to kill someone. Be assured that I've been keeping up with all the friends, even those of you who thought I'd died, even though I never said anything - except to Sandy (Hi, Sandy! Escapade is looking unlikely at the moment, more's the pity, since I could use some Ventura beach time right now!)

What am I doing? Well, for the last week I've been not getting dressed, sleeping until ten or later, and surfing the web. Plus playing with Firefox extensions, shopping Ebay for others who still have jobs, and making the 3 dogs and 7 cats happy campers. The in-house brother, not so much - but hey, I pay for the place, and he'll get happier when I tackle the Garage of Mysteries and the Room of Whatever I Didn't Want Find a Place For. Also checking librarian jobsites incessantly just so I know there are possibilities out there once I finish doing the first damn resume I've done since 1989.

Fandom interests? Still hanging onto Stargate SG1, but heavily into reading NCIS. SGA, House, Battlestar Galactica, and way too many TV shows are being watched, but haven't really committed to reading in depth. Still holding out on Supernatural, but that's just because I haven't ever watched it because I bought the 1st season and haven't opened it and I refuse to watch the rest until I watched the ones I payed for (plus avoiding that Wincest choice that you guys have been agonizing over for the past three years.)

Whee - time on my hands, so be afraid... very afraid.

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Yep, Fallen From Grace

Dec. 14th, 2006 | 06:04 pm
location: work
mood: awakeawake

I am Azazel. Find out what fallen angel you would be by taking the quiz at
Take The Which Fallen Angel Would You Be Quiz

Brought to you by Angel August's Abode

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(no subject)

Dec. 11th, 2006 | 12:02 am

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

This year I've been busy!

In March I gave katie_m a kidney (1000 points). Last month I pulled over and changed fluterbev's flat tire (15 points). Last Saturday I gave sidlj a life-saving blood transfusion (50 points). In October I pushed princessgolux in the mud (-17 points). Last Monday I set eliade's puppy on fire (-66 points).

Overall, I've been nice (982 points). For Christmas I deserve a new bike!


Write your letter to Santa! Enter your LJ username:

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More Confession

May. 21st, 2006 | 03:35 am

Um ... well ... I'd better confess the rest while I'm at it. I've been cheating on Jack/Daniel with Gibbs/Dinozzo. Only for two weeks ... Really. And I think I've read everything that is even slightly good once and everything that is pretty good twice, and the few, the proud and excellent three times, and I've even skimmed some stuff I can't really admit to ... just to get a G/D fix, and only a few things really satisfied my cravings, and what do I do now?

Do you think J/D will forgive and forget?

Sin looks out over Webspace and checks for updates at NCIS Fanfiction one more time ...

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Punch Drunk With Love

May. 21st, 2006 | 03:23 am

Okay. So I haven't posted the many, many posts I've composed on my drive home from work. Not my fault. Blame TV. I've been frantically trying to keep up with all the shows I've been mainlining this year, always one show away from not having enough space left on the DVR for tomorrow. House and Without A Trace and Numbers and 24 and Lost and NCIS and CSI-Miami and Alias and disaster flicks and oh my god here comes 10.5 Apocathingie and I haven't even watched the recording of the Avian Flu thingie.... and thank God SciFi Friday is on hiatus. What happened to nothing on TV? Obviously TV can't have gotten better ... can it? Or I'm losing my standards ...

I'm gonna need a lotta absolution for this.

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Rising From the Dead

Jan. 5th, 2006 | 06:43 pm
mood: contemplativecontemplative

OK, now you're wondering what's going on. Only that my old username was too closely linking to my real name and I didn't want to go Friends-locked. I got uneasy when people from my work life started getting blogs on LiveJournal. I know it is still easy enough to find, but now I've got a little plausible deniability.

As for my long silence. Well, things got a little crazy for a while, and once they calmed down I was in that space where you don't want to do anything at all except flip channels on the TV and read fantasy novels.

What went crazy?

1. Hurricane Rita. Even though I was on the far fringe, I still got wind gusts over over 70 mph. Which meant that a middling sized tree leaned onto my roof, and the kitchen window fell out.

What did I learn from Rita? Don't assume duct tape and plastic sheeting will attach to anything that's wet. And what did I learn from the aftermath? People who lived in Houston before electric power and air-conditioning were totally insane.

2. Three days after Rita I was scheduled for gastric bypass surgery. Since the hospital was in the Medical Center, and it had power, the bypass was on. Everything went swimmingly with the surgery, my sister flew in to hold my hand, and I really only used the morphine pump to make my knees feel better.

Two days after I walked cheerfully out of the hospital I was finding it harder and harder to catch my breath walking from the bed to the couch, and I was finding it hard to even think about food and water. On the third day I called the doctor. My sister drove me back to the hospital, though I insisted we stop at Sonic so she could get lunch and I could get ice water. (Mouth - meet the Sahara)The doctor met me at the ER, got me a wheelchair, and whisked me past the waiting people into a cubicle. I began to get an inkling that things might be a little serious, especially since they didn't make me complete my paperwork.

What did I learn from my ER experience? Well, for one thing, it's damn hard to cling to your modesty while people are yanking your clothes off, popping in catheters and tubes, and asking you intimate questions. My heart rate was 170, my heart was in atrial fillibration, and my blood chemistry was totally whacky(my PH was 7.0, and they kept telling me it was surprising that I was coherent). I knew they were expecting a pulmonary embolism, but decided not, though they put me through a cat scan to make sure. After two doses of adenosine failed, much consulting went on until someone decided it was ketoacidosis. (Yes I'm a diabetic, but my blood sugar was only 210 at the time, since I wasn't eating much - Jello and V8 juice mostly.) After nine long hours they found an ICU bed, and I was admitted in "guarded" condition.

What did I learn from my ICU experience? That there is no such thing as a comfortable hospital bed, no matter how many pillows you ask for. That alarm thingies keep going off and nobody comes to turn them off and if you weren't attached to a pole pumping 4 IV's into a central line in your chest, plus a catheter, you'd damn well get up and unplug the damn thing. Also, for some odd reason, they need tubes of blood at 3:30 every morning, and have to wake you up to get them. Then the surgical team comes at 5:30, wakes you up and stands around you asking questions. Then at 7:00, the medical team comes and wakes you up and stands around asking questions. They all tell you to rest. Ahem. See Sin roll her eyes. Finally, after 2 days, they get your heart into normal sinus rhythm, and then another day and a half to get your blood chemistry normalized. So now, they want to send you to the "floor" since discharging you from ICU just isn't done. You have had several different nurses over the last few days, so you aren't surprised to meet someone new the night they've told you that you'll be transferred once they find a bed. He's cute, very gay, very chatty, and you realized that, hey, you still do have one spec of modesty. Though ashamed of yourself, you ask for a female nurse to come and perform that very intimate act where you can't reach. Finally, they find a bed, and you are whisked off to the floor. At 11:30 at night. There you are, used to constant attention in the ICU - well, pretty much - I mean, they'd even go warm up my nasty oatmeal with protein powder in the staff microwave - and then, you're in a private room, by yourself, and nobody cares, except for the 3:30 bloodletting thing.

What did I learn from my regular hospital room? They can try to make it look like a hotel room, but the hospital bed is still damn uncomfortable. I spend two days there, and try really hard to get them to let me go. Then I have another atrial fillibration go-round, and they drag in a portable EKG, and a portable echo, and give me more medication. The next morning, the whole medical team stands around me, tells me I can go home, and recommends that I see my cardiologist asap. Then, by the way, one of them says that when they did the cat scan, they found nodules in my lungs and that I really should get them checked out.

Huh. Okay.

The saga will continue, but I really have to go do some work ...


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As an egg, when broken

Jul. 26th, 2005 | 02:49 pm
mood: depresseddepressed
music: The sad sound of a sunny day, when it should be raining

As an egg, when broken, never
Can be mended, but must ever
Be the same crushed egg for ever—
So shall this dark heart of mine!
Thomas Holley Chivers

My heart has been broken by a television character.

Jack, oh jack, we hardly knew ye. Those of you I lifted an eyebrow at, when Daniel ascended, when Mulder vanished, when Blake disappeared and people really liked that Tarrant guy -- now, only now, do I feel your pain in full measure.

Despite all logic and reason, I've been mourning Jack for days, and no amount of rereading old favorite J/D stories can soothe the savage beast in my breast. Alas, a re-reading of Willamakee juxtaposed with a Five for Fighting rendition of Superman, actually had tears welling up in my eyes. I stand before you shamed, a wreck, doomed to lament forever that Jack has moved on (as well he should, according to military protocol) and Daniel will be caught looking up through his eyelashes at Col. Cameron (which does not fall trippingly off the tongue, Cameron/Daniel?, Cam/Dan?, sob … plus I keep on getting a sound picture in my head of him calling Daniel Blue Boy… which will pass right over the heads of those of you too young for the High Chaparral,) or at least my entire flist will go baying off over the cliff, writing C/D – leaving my Jack, all alone in his Watergate apartment or worse, hosting a Congressional aide named Cheryl.

I know, and indeed, even support with every liberal bone in my body, RDA's need to be in LA with his daughter, yet, yet, in my darkest moments I wonder how he can do this to me, his faithful fan. And I though I embrace the beauty that is Ben Browder, having faithfully watched his ass through seasons of Farscape, I say, and indeed even cry out to the heavens, "What shall I do without my Jack?"

I can think of only one thing, denial. So deep in my heart, Daniel and Jack, together forever, in my own private season 9. Do you ask how, oh flisters o' mine?

Can you say "AU" baby?

See the following, ruthlessly snagged from my reply to sherrold's entry of some days back so I didn't have to type it again, and not hidden behind any ljcut, 'cause … if I have to read the LJ FAQ again, this will never get posted …


Jack finally realizes that he can't hold Daniel back, plus no one will let him go - which sucks, 'cause now they've got the gene therapy they don't have to grab him for emergencies either. Plus, he sees that he's come close to/did mess up several times by making judgment calls that while he thought he was just basing it on his knowledge of his ex-teammates capabilities, really was because he can't trust himself to make the right call in time, which makes him crazy because, well, Jack is all about the swift decision using instinct - which now he can't rely on.

So, Jack sees it's either retirement or take the next step up. And much as he likes fishing, his info flow about Daniel will dry up completely if he retires, and plus, he can get in some flying hours between D.C. and Colorado. So he makes Daniel promise to not get himself killed and takes the promotion.

Now, remember the scene between General Beau and Jack? Jack stumbles a bit on the reason he's back in Colorado, 'cause 1. he's really there for a torrid farewell with Daniel, and 2. 'cause he's selling his house to Daniel, along with his bigger bed, and the big screen TV, since they won't fit into his apartment. This gives Daniel a place to put all his stuff, while he goes off for a while to Pegasus - since he's really tired of unpacking (his house was just a rental), and gives Jack an excuse to stay with him when Jack "visits" the SGC.

And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it...

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