serinde: (ze fiber arts)
In which I had a Moment of "I simply cannot wear any of these old things again"; which is ridiculous, really, but I know enough to get out of my own way if there's something actually motivating me, however illogical it may be.

So, there is an SCA event hight Mudthaw, and it's pretty big locally, and more so this year because our dear Baron Dave was stepping down and various & sundry of our peeps were getting significant awards. Therefore, of course, one wants to look one's best and hold up our side and all that good stuff. Combining this with the ever-present elephant in my mental room of "OMG do I not have enough clothes for two weeks of Pennsic", I determined at the beginning of this month that I should make a new dress.

Planning. )

Process. )

Presults. )

I feel a little discombobulated this morning, because I have been so monomaniacal about this project, and now I have a certain amount of "...now what?" I feel some urge to start working on another dress, being on a roll and striking while the iron is hot and other such figurative language, but I also don't know if I should do something else like, I dunno, laundry or vacuuming or sensibly planning out other obligations coming upon me. I seem to have two possible methods of working: "all in" and "avoidance". I'd like to even that out a little bit. Still, it feels really positive to have completed a project in a question of weeks rather than months or years, which are the usual units of measure.
serinde: (Syringa vulgaris)
For as long as I can remember, people have told me that I should be a writer. Which makes it every flavor of ironic that I have never made any advancement whatsoever in such a direction. --I lie; there is a carefully-hidden plastic binder containing a number of scrawled pages produced at approximately age 14 that embody the worst type of Mary Sue-ified teenage crap you can imagine; and even at that tender age I couldn't re-read them without cringing. But other than that minor fit, no. Why should that be? I'm certainly a more-than-competent wordsmith; why have I never made a conscious decision to focus on that skill? Time to unpack. )
serinde: (ki)
Today marks the end of two (work) weeks of the New Regime; I get out of bed at 6am, do half an hour of yoga to Dengue Fever's "Cannibal Corpse", make a cup of tea or coffee (depending on the day), and drink that while I write morning pages for half an hour. Then I get ready for work and all that. Weekends are slack-permissible. I have fought the lizard brain down and not missed a day, in spite of tiredness, malaise, and purring cats.

Therefore the lizard brain has developed a new tactic. "It's been two weeks," it whispers. "What's changed? It's not doing any good. You might as well sleep in, or lounge in bed petting a kitty."

This is, of course, arrant nonsense. No, doing yoga hasn't made me lose weight--but I knew it wouldn't; not even when I was doing an hour of it three days a week. That's what the bike is for. And yes, my left leg is still very weak and not able to keep up--but it will take more than two stupid weeks to make that happen and I know this because I have been in physical therapy enough to be clear on how long it takes to see progress, particularly with a chronically, multiply screwed-up limb like this. The yoga's purpose is to keep me loose and flexible and to kick-start my metabolism in the morning, and it is doing those things. Secondarily I'm wanting it to help me get into that meditative, Zen-ish state, but this is harder when I have to tell myself what pose to do next rather than just follow a teacher.

Similarly, no, writing morning pages hasn't cured me of mental wharrgarbl and emotional roller-coasters & confusion--but that's not what it does. It drags all of that out into the open to be looked at, understood, and hopefully addressed. Eventually, yes, one expects a milder internal climate, but this is an ongoing and extended process and not to be sorted in a couple of weeks.

Finally, it has not cracked me loose on more public writing; one notes that my last Foojournal post was the one describing what new regime I was enacting, and there's been nothing since, here or elsewhere. OTOH, I have been focused on sewing, and secondarily research. So mental things are moving, and I will take that as a reason for cautious optimism. Wait and see, I think.

The milestones I'm looking for sound something like this:
* Getting up and doing being a reflexive habit, not a mental dialogue every. single. morning.
* Signs of my left leg getting stronger. Right now, rising into high and then crescent lunge is very difficult and shaky. My end-goal is for it to be as stable as my right side, but I'll take any visible improvement to start with. (Hilariously, I'm perfectly fine in Tree pose on that side, which is generally considered much harder. i do not even.)
* When I have any kind of mental agitas, correctly identifying and using the right tools to deal with it; which, I think, exhibits as "not losing several hours/an evening to wallowing, moping, internet uselessness, or other unhelpful and unproductive behaviors". This doesn't mean I can't slack if I feel that's the right pill for my ill, but it should be an active and mindful choice. (I can actually point to a level-up here; on Tuesday, I suddenly felt un-obsessed with the dress I'd been working monomaniacally on, and was sliding down the rabbit hole of totally wasting the evening. I stopped myself, sat down, and wrote down a list of everything I didn't feel like doing. After that, I realized I kinda felt like finally organizing my contact synchronization and upgrading my laptop to Mountain Lion, both of which needed doin'. Profit!)

I'm hoping that when the weather breaks and I can ride my bike more, this will help reinforce the benefits I'm getting, too. It usually puts me in a better state for the day (and also reduces my appetite, yay).
serinde: (academentia)
As previously threatened, I have this week started getting up earlier (6am), I do half an hour of yoga, make a cup of tea, and then write for half an hour. Heretofore, "writing" has meant "morning pages", but what came out of said pages today--coupled with a sudden screeching left turn last night into a whole new distracting line of potential 14th century research--is that I also want to increase my output of semi-public production, whether that be organized personal nattering here, creative writing ... elsewhere, research essays, or posts to the blog [livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred keeps trying to get us to collectively start. At the moment, I am leaning towards preserving that half-hour for morning pages; I think their role as Colon Cleanse For Your Brain is critical. Moreover, if I actually get into a serious writing groove, I don't want to have it arbitrarily cut short by having to proceed to work. (But I can flag things in that brain dump to write about or research later.)

I have decided to give myself permission to take the equivalent of a coffee break at work to write small posts like this one; I will accordingly reduce the rest of my usual fuckin'-around-on-intarwubs periods. Not that I have oodles of it anyways, but what I have is better spent thus than hitting reload on Facebook for the umpteenth time.

For more in-depth writing, well... I haven't historically had a lot of success with reserving a regular evening or time slot for $PERSONAL_THING, though I understand that's how Serious Writers roll; for me, the exigencies of the moment have always steamrollered it. "Oh, but I gotta do laundry." "Oh, but I gotta pay bills." "Oh, I just don't feel it tonight." I could try that again--and actually commit to it this time, make it a priority--or, the technique which worked for the last couple of knitting projects, is to commit not an entire evening to $THING, but set aside 1-2 hours. With knitting or sewing, it was a little easier; I could say "I'm going to watch one episode of Burn Notice/two episodes of Tiger & Bunny/[etc.] and do handwork" and that reserved a clearly defined chunk of time, but also left enough of the evening to eat, clean up, and do a couple chores as needed. I feel that writing and research will be more difficult to parcel out this way, but if I don't, I think it will keep not ever happening.
serinde: (determination)
[personal profile] serinde: This is another element of the thought I had this morning, about how I think part of the reason I am so emotionally out of whack these last couple weeks is due to lack of time for reflection and writing and things.
[livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred: *nods*
[livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred: Kinda hafta schedule down time in when the calendar gets like this.
[livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred: I'd hoped to have some last night, but alas.
[personal profile] serinde: The other element is that I do not have the oomph to do any of these things after work. And there is only so much morning to go around, unless I want to be like [livejournal.com profile] cobrawoman and get up at 4:30.
[personal profile] serinde: Maybe it is the right answer, but I mean, ulaeulauelauelauelae.
[livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred: Yeah, I learned a while back that I can only do one thing before work.
[personal profile] serinde: I have the bandwidth if I had the time.
[livejournal.com profile] nedlnthred: But scheduling an hour of down time for tea after work, before meeting whomever is one option.
[personal profile] serinde: In fact it would be really glorious to do half an hour of yoga, then make a cup of tea, then write and drink tea for half an hour, and then get ready for work.
[personal profile] serinde: OH HEY IF IT IS GLORIOUS I SHOULD DO IT
serinde: (Delirium)
In which I begin to wonder how much of my mental static has been because I haven't slowed down enough to reflect and write in, like, months: no morning pages, no thoughtful posts, just stupid Facebook ephemera. (When I'm riding my bike, I get at least some pure thinky time, and that's something, but I've been able to do that all of thrice since the holidays.)

It is also, I think, indicative that my immediate reaction to this thought was "oh Christ where'm I going to fit this in?".
serinde: (ki)
So the leadership program of great renown had its last session the first week of this month; and once that heat was off, as well as the start-of-semester wharrgarbl dying down, I determined to make another go at the various lifestyle changes I had worked out back in June. If you don't feel like making the clicky, it boiled down to these:

1) stop what I'm doing by 10:30, be in bed by 11
2) do some yoga or other calisthenics in the morning, rather than coffee-and-stare-at-internets; carry coffee into work
3) ride bike more
4) spend less money; take lunch more, cook more
5) be diligent about tracking what I eat

Concurrent with this, right after the program ended I was feeling unusually down. There are, of course, any number of possible contributing factors--kitty, major project stress, seasonal change?--but it made a useful benchmark.

For each of the last three weeks, I have done yoga 4 of 5 work mornings; rode my bike to & from work either two or three times; been increasingly good about food tracking (it's not 100% but we're getting there); and been cooking and taking my lunch more often than not*. I've also been going out less. I have not been entirely diligent about bedtime, but I'm in bed by 11:15 more often than not.

Results thus far:
+ I am in much, much better state of mind, on the whole.
+ Weight is at last starting to creep downwards.
+ I have spent a lot more time working on my stuff, whether it be knitting, sewing, cooking, or domestic improvements.
+ My complexion has gotten clearer (!). This makes little sense to me, considering I haven't eaten less sugar or chocolate, neither of which is usually my downfall anyways, but there it is.
+ The apartment is getting closer to where I want it to be.
+ Biking is becoming easier! I am in my top gear (of 7. don't judge me.) for much of the ride, and I can get up the first half of the OMG DOOM DOOM hill under the GWB.
- So far the yoga has not yet seemed to improve the weakness in my left leg.
- I keep waking up half an hour before my alarm, at what seems to be the end of a REM cycle? Then drifting back to sleep, then snapping awake when the alarm hits.

This looks like pretty unqualified success, and although it's really hard, in that first five minutes, to drag myself from the warm snuggly bed and go to something exercise-y, I always feel better when I do; and one morning the lizard brain had convinced me to lame out, and within ten minutes I found myself on the mat anyways. So it is full speed ahead, and maintain these changes as best I can through the exigencies of the holiday season.

* of course then I spent money I shouldn't have on fripperies, but I mean, one problem at a time
serinde: (determination)
Apparently yesterday's mental vomit cleared the poisons from the system. Although I did wake up a few times last night, it was for purely climatological reasons ("too chilly with the fan on, turn it off" "too stuffy with the fan off, turn it on"). And that shall be addressed with the purchase of a ceiling fan, which I shall undertake today. Watch this space for hilarious tales of home improvement follies--though at least, after blowing a fuse two sewing nights ago, I know which circuit to turn off while messing with the electrics.
serinde: (Delirium)
I have been sleeping ill for the past month or two. First I chalked it up to not exercising, so I made an effort to exercise more. Then I figured it was the idiots on the freakishly loud motorcycles, but do I not live in the city and should not I be able to cope? Then it was too hot, so I blamed that. The last few nights have been lovely sleeping weather, though, so I'm having to face up that the reality is somewhere else (particularly since I've been sleeping like a log at [livejournal.com profile] sweh's). I'd had a few suspicions already starting to niggle, and I think I have it confirmed: I'm not perfectly at ease in my new digs yet.

That is, it feels like "home", and I don't feel alienation or MY GOD WHAT IS THIS PLACE when I'm about my daily wossnames. But when I lay me down to sleep, any random noise that I hear snaps me awake and alert. Not the jerkweeds cruisin' up and down, I mean, but anything else: a creak as the floorboards cool, the *thump* of Ranger jumping heavily down from the couch in the other room, a strange jingling noise down on the street which I think might've been someone dropping their dog's leash; but any small noise, I go to full-on alert and find my hand reaching for the knife hanging on my bedpost.

I don't think I'm a particularly paranoid human, even as much as a single female in NYC maybe ought to be. I don't have any degree of apprehension when I'm out and about, nor when I'm awake and puttering (even if it's equally late at night), so it's not as if the new neighborhood (which, yes, does have a crime rate higher than the UES, and has had a spate of recent muggings and sexual assaults) is itself what's triggering it. Home invasion isn't really the favorite flavor up here, and even if it were, I'm on the fifth floor for heaven's sake; there are a lot of targets further down. No. I think it just has to be that there's more random noises, I'm not used to them, and since this place isn't one room I can't just open my eyes, see that all's well/identify the sound, and settle back down immediately (and then the noise is checked off as "you can ignore this").

I am sure this will come with time, but until then, I'm feeling seriously and increasingly dragged-out, which is messing me up in other ways.
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
One likes to have a new dress for Pennsic, but the more I advanced in my research, the more I'm convinced that I haven't any of the right fabric to make a summer-appropriate dress in my period, and I don't have time to fuck around hunting. So, I thought I'd just make some new underwear, because one likes to at least have a clean chemise each day. Cut out two of 'em, did one by machine and the other by hand. I just have to do the hemming and they're both done.

Then, as I got further along in my research, I was more and more convinced that this lining-the-bodice-only is entirely Wrong (and this is what I'm teaching a class on at Pennsic), and this combined with the fact that the lining on my ole trusty green wool gown isn't a great job, I decided to put my money where my mouth is, ripped out the lining, and started binding the edges with silk ribbon & scraps. (LOL SPOILERS: the neckline's done, the button side of the front is done with a few more buttons to sew on, haven't started the buttonhole side.) This has been time-consuming but I think it will be okay, although I may have to do a little frobbing at the top of the CF gore.

Minor project: I found a half-done foofy linen shirt, which I have no idea why or for whom I cut it out, but it must be fairly recent 'cause the work ain't half bad, and it's the right size and style so I'm going to finish it for August as it will go nicely with his kilts. Shouldn't take long, except that I keep having a twitch to do some blackwork on the collar and cuffs. STOP IT IT IS BOY STUFF HE WILL NOT CARE

Then, this morning, I got annoyed with the over-large necklines on the other new-ish chemises from, er, year before last? So now on the docket is to take them in because I hate throwing a shift over my head and having it immediately drop to around my ankles. Again, not huge, but fiddly work. And 2x annoying because I shouldn't have had someone else, however more experienced and knowledgeable, mark it for me. (I think this means I have leveled up.)

Following directly off that is that I was testing various sizes of chemise necklines to make sure they don't show around my gown's neck (because that is Not Done in the 14th c.), and was testing against my newish red wool gown, in which I am tolerably well-pleased; but now I'm hella annoyed that I cut down the sleeves to match the armscye, which I later determined to just be Wrong and Too Small. And I decided that this is something up with which I shall not put; so now on the docket is to cut out some triangles and fit them into the upper arms, and correspondingly embiggen the armholes. Again, not huge, but fiddly work. (WHER MI GREEK CHORUS) Of course, then I think, well, this shouldn't have a bodice lining either. And I could cut that out, and I probably could get away with just keeping the linen along the frontage, because the wool itself is a good tight weave. Though, this hurts, because I did such a damn good job on attaching the lining. It's all handwork and it's very careful and I'm proud of it. But it's still wrong.

Oh yes, and I'm gonna make a second bog dress/shmata to wear to the swimming hole &c. But that is about 10 minutes of machine work and hardly worth mentioning.
serinde: (body)
I had put off thinking about most lifestyle arrangements until after moving, because how do you know what things will look like til after you're settled; and then until after all the California trips were done with, because ualeaualeualeualeaue; but all that's done and the apartment is mostly settled (although there was enough of putting that off to warrant a separate post), and although yes the stress is ramping up at work and I Don't Wanna Think About Being Virtuous, the fact is that I know I will feel better if I realign things. So, herewith, the long mental burp.

Cut text working yet? )
serinde: (on the short bus)
I have finally realized that, when considering duty vs. pleasure and effort vs. relaxation, my brain is only admitting of a single axis, which is not correct--a thing that should be self-evident from the way I phrased it above. I seem to have been considering duty == effort, and pleasure == relaxation. E.g.: I went away to Baltimore this weekend, and pure pleasure indeed is what it was, but also physically wearing for any number of reasons (SHUT UP NOT JUST THOSE), enough so that I came home with a nasty head cold and agonizing flare-up of the Probably Sciatica; and having dragged my sorry ass to work today in spite of it all, I found myself feeling guilty and twitchy and irritable that all I wanted to do was flop on the couch and make food magically appear. Because, see, I'd slacked off all weekend, see? So I need to settle down and get some work done around here, see?

Does not work that way.
serinde: (maneki neko)
I observe that my last several non-cooking posts were heavy on the stress and upset, so let me take a moment to reassure the Gentle Readers that matters are improving on most fronts. Ranger is in fine fettle and appears to have entirely recovered from his abscess. I have not yet been able to take him back to discuss the potential kidney issues, but he's eating, drinking, relieving, active (for age 17) and engaged; even his coat is looking better. I have been diligent in getting settled into the new place, and although there is still a dauntingly long list of Things To Do, it is definitely in a livable state. Not yet an entertain-able state, perhaps, at least not IMAO, but matters are progressing. And, I am finally reunited with all my STUF, including that which had been stored in [livejournal.com profile] sweh's garage for the last four years.

Work is still getting ahead of me. The first session of the leadership program was terrific, though intense (duh), and there's a lot of homework and what-not I have to do; the idea is that you take these principles and apply them in your daily work, and then you need to Show Your Work. So there's that, and then there's also the big software implementation project I am running; and when you add that to the day-to-day, plus me being gone for a week, then various other people being gone for training, and now I'm going to be out three days for training on said software...I feel like it's all getting ahead of me. I'm not as stressed as I was last year about this time, thank fuck; it's not spoiling my sleep and I don't have electric worms running along my nerves; but I have definite moments of EVERYBODY PANIC. Well, I knew it would be a tough spring. Keep on keepin' on.

I am putting out cautious buds on the creative front as well. A Super-Secret Knitting Project, which is using a number of techniques I've never done before, is going well and may even be done on deadline for a change. At the last minute (and I do mean the last minute) I put my blue, unlined GFD into the A&S competition at Mudthaw...which, to be honest, I thought was a display not a competition, or I might not have done it...and got tolerably good feedback, and in the course of discussion of it I somehow committed to teach a class at Pennsic and also at Southern Region War Camp; and I'm excited to get to work on the summer sewing. (Though I need to bung the spare room/sewing room into better shape before that can advance.)

The main stressor, other than direct work stuff, is that there's so much I want to do and there aren't enough hours in the day. I can win some time by managing my time more wisely, but I fear I am still going to have to re-engineer some expectations, and I hate that. And I haven't even started folding in workout choices--extra time/extra hassle if I start commuting by bike, or timing and logistics if I start going to the neighborhood dojo or yoga studio. But I know I'm going to need one or more of those in order to not go mad. I really love the local hang-out/cafe/bar; they have a quiz night, they have a KNITTING CIRCLE, they have good live music, but if I go there much I shall be in the poorhouse, let alone the time sink. And I want to chum around with the peeps who live up here. At the same time, I want to stay in and nest and bloody well finish Skyrim and catch up on TV shows and and and.

This working-for-a-living thing. What bosh.
serinde: (what has this flag become?)
Because everything happens at the same time, I also was called for jury duty this week. (In sober reflection I should have taken my postponement, but I was thinking that a) whatever other time they called me for would undoubtedly be even less convenient and then I wouldn't be able to postpone again, and b) I believed everyone around me who had had to show up maybe one day and then that was it.)

Now, it must be understood that I do not have a problem with this; indeed, if this week/month weren't so full of the ualeauleauleaue, I would be really excited to serve on a jury. I truly do believe it is part of what makes society go 'round, and I truly do hope that if it's ever my turn in the legal barrel that intelligent, well-rounded, competent people will not try to do whatever they can to avoid it, and I truly do feel it to be an honorable and worthy thing to be doing. (The last and only other time I got called, when living in Jersey City, I got as far as juror selection and they bounced me--to my dying day I will believe it was because, when they asked "What's your favorite TV show?", I said "Buffy".) But also, this is trial jury not grand jury, so I expected the most that would be asked of us was one week--which I could spare, with difficulty it's true, but if I worked like a dog at night it could be okay. Whether or no, it's still important to show up, and now they tell us that there is wifi in the juror waiting room and all, so I figured worst-case I'd be sitting around for a day or two but I'd still be able to get a lot of work done.

Life In 60 Centre St )

And I told the truth and the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but I feel crappy about it. I had two powerful duties, and they conflicted, and I had to choose one; and I think I chose the right one, but that still means I failed on the other.
serinde: (brew-up)
The general state of the state is...a state of flux, in nearly every corner of existence. I still don't have a peep back from the co-op board where I want to move; I'm following up on that as I can, but at the moment just trusting that it will happen (and trying to silence the shrieking in my skull). I'm packing that which I can right now--starting with the easy stuff, books and DVDs and fabric and so on--in a collection of boxes kindly gifted by [livejournal.com profile] cobrawoman and [livejournal.com profile] sedai, and others I dumpster-picked from the student caff downstairs. I've also made another leap of faith by commanding U-Haul to deliver some specialized boxes (dish barrel and glass packs) early this week; they ship UPS so it may even make it safely into the building, Deo volente.

I had some emotional pinwheeling that was really screaming in the inside of my head for the last couple of months, making me unable to sleep or concentrate, all that rotten business; but, for the third leap of faith, I've actually talked about it, like I was some kind of grownup or balanced, rational being or something. Nothing is different in a real or practical sense, but getting it out of my head and into the world has at least made me able to sleep again (though, like Macbeth, I may have murdered sleep for others, and I am grieved at that).

Work is good, actually, but I am pre-loading some worry and strain. Next month is going to be a right bastard; I have to prep for this leadership program--oh, I didn't mention? Yes, I've been enrolled in a year-long leadership development program, very eminent, run by the dude who was CIO at MIT for twenty years, no fucking pressure at all why do you ask--the first session of which is in Stanford the last week of March, and there is homework one must complete beforehand. Plus, we are kicking off a major application implementation on March 1, and this is almost entirely my pidgin; it will stand or fall based on what I put into it, and it is costing us a number with a lot of zeros on the end, so I had bloody well better not be at home to the Fuckup Fairy. Plus there's the usual day-to-day stuff that keeps me off the street. And moving in the middle of it, which is always glorious for concentrating the mind on the work at hand.

I know I just have to keep on keepin' on, as the man says, and really that's what I do, and I can do it this time too; I know this even in the dark of the night. I could just really wish that it all didn't have to come down at once, and on top of all the other sorrow and chaos swirling around.
serinde: ("What fresh hell?")
I need to be out of my apartment in 2.2 months. That...is rather soon, when you put it down baldly that way. I had consciously put packing out of my mind, because that's one of those tasks in which early action does not redound to your benefit, mostly, and trebly so when Your Life In Boxes becomes a sliding-block puzzle on account of a total lack of storage; but the sweet spot of when to pack is at the pinnacle of a very, very narrow spike on the graph over time. And I think I am rapidly accelerating upslope.

So, pack what? Books (I can make do with the ebook reader), DVDs (I can make do with Netflix), stalled sewing projects (haw haw). The kitchen stuff I rarely use. Tchotchkes. ...that should keep me busy for awhile.

I'm also debating how best to acquire boxes. Last time, I caused U-Line to deposit an Imperial butt-ton of them on my doorstep, which was okay because there was a garage with no car in it to stage them in. I think that won't work here. But, it seems fiscally broken to buy them in batches-of-five from Staples or whatever. How do normal apartment dwellers deal with it?

I want to go to sleep, but I'm actually more awake now than I was at 5pm. I have also noticed the last week or so that I'm starting to get that electric-worms-under-skin feeling that accompanied last spring's extended freak-out. It would seem that I am stressed, and sublimating it. I would like that to stop now, but I don't know how to fix it.
serinde: (Delirium)
I haven't really posted about work since starting the new job a year ago. (Then again, I haven't posted much about anything, so it's not that I've been deliberately exclusionary.) But it is needful to set up some background before getting to the actual meat of this post.

Lo: Background. )

Primal conflict: man vs. self. )

What do you do when you don't know what to do? )

Takeaway: )
serinde: (Delirium)
Things that suck mightily include: finding out that facets of yourself which you depended on implicitly, which you thought were as solid as the rock of time, have in fact been silently undermined by enemy sappers over the past N years while you were off fighting on other fronts; and when you go to build on them again, all sorts of alarming creaky noises start up and the foundation is swaying back and forth and you're left going "seriously what the fucking fuck? and also, this is not me."

Repair crews are onsite, but clearly the rebuilding is gonna take awhile.

(I have been variably moody and moopy about this, but little jets of anger are starting to spark that I let it happen to myself.)
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
So, their current Majesties of the East need clo'es; and they put the touch on Tasha for this; and she was unable to do honor to their request at this time, so she and [livejournal.com profile] murieldechimay conspired, and thus Kasia and I were offered this mission, should we choose to accept it. Which, of course, we did.

Words words words )
serinde: (dancing zombies!)
Snapped awake this morning from a dream in which I was managing a desktop support team at NBC, and saw a call come in for an issue that I said "oh well I'll take this one", because it was put in by Jensen Ackles[1], who needed some sort of phone or VOIP or something attached to his computer. And I go to his office, which was also his apartment[2], prepared to dazzle with my l33t sk1llz, only to find he is running some wacktastic OS I had never heard of, hight "TCH", which acronym I knew in the dream but can only remember now that it stood for Total Control {Something}. And this OS was as obfuscated in its workings as early MacOS or OS/2, and I was fighting through screens of icons and could not get to anything that would actually let me look at what the damn thing was doing under the hood. And my brain cried out unto the silent spaces, "who the fuck would run this piece of shit, and why?" but my mouth spake only "This may have a compatibility issue, let me research a bit and get back to you".

Also, for some reason, he was splitting his space with Spock. Not Leonard Nimoy, mind you, but Spock.[3]

[1] Is he even on any NBC shows?
[2] I don't think I need Freud to figure that bit out.
[3] And they were IM'ing back and forth. There is little that is more weird than the thought of Spock on IM.

Profile

serinde: (Default)
serinde

September 2013

S M T W T F S
1234567
89 1011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
2930     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 20th, 2017 06:49 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios