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I was just faced with a CAPTCHA that included the word "finifter." Only not really, because of course they weren't actually f's, they were those old-fashioned stretched-out s's. So I typed "sinister"...but the computer didn't like my answer. :-(

(Of course, I'd suspected it wouldn't. But I do think it's a little unfair to use that sort of thing in CAPTCHAs.)
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Since I wasn't directly affected, and neither was anyone I knew at the time, it doesn't much matter, does it?

We now return to your regularly scheduled not giving a fuck.
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Is the word "inconsiderable" ever used without a "not" in front of it?

Uprooting

Aug. 2nd, 2011 02:46 pm
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*sigh* So, my housing situation once again appears to be in a state of upheaval. If you-all know anyone who's looking for a housemate in the Bay Area -- either someone to move in with them, or someone to househunt with -- send 'em my way? Budget's almost the only quantifiable constraint at this point.
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This financial aid form I'm filling out asks "Are you or your parent in a Registered Domestic Partnership with the California Secretary of State?"

Took me a minute to realize they meant to ask whether I was in a domestic partnership that was registered with the Secretary of State.

(Heck, if the SoS were my domestic partner, I probably wouldn't need financial aid.)
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Summer has arrived,
and World Blog Haiku Day is
upon us again.

It's been several years
since I last made mention of
this holiday here

because, to my shame,
it has repeatedly slipped
my mind completely.

But this year it seems
a miracle has occurred, and
I have found myself

at the computer
and paying attention to
my desk calendar

in what for once was
a timely enough fashion
to enable me

to make this post with
all reasonable dispatch.
And now it's your turn.
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Does anyone happen to be interested in taking a five-week class in beginning voice or piano technique?

Reason I'm asking is, if a couple more students don't sign up, the classes won't continue. And that would make me sad, seeing as how I was looking forward to taking 'em.
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Awesomest Baycon I've had in years. Possibly, awesomest Baycon ever.

Highlights included winning this year's Zendo tournament, after half a decade of consistently making it to the finals and then being trounced; helping one of the guests of honor playtest and revamp the hell out of a new game; and kicking ass at Just a Minute (and as far as I can tell, entertaining people in the process). I also got in some dancing, some karaoke, some very nice hangout time with folks I don't see enough of, and some very nice...other kinds of hangout time as well.

And I did not get nearly enough sleep last night to make up for the weekend's sleep debt. But I'm not complaining. I think this evening will be spent organizing my con schwag and emailing new acquaintances.

*prrrrr*
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Wow. The LJ Spam Collective has moved beyond comment-spamming and into Writer's Block spamming -- and at least one of the spammers is bothering to provide plausible if brief answers to each WB question before zir posts degenerate into plugs for security cameras.
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I imagine I'd say something like "Hey, it's great to see you but, um...what are you doing on my doorstep?"

Seriously -- my first boyfriend was a sweetheart and I often wonder how he's been all these years (it's been at least a decade since we spoke), but I also suspect we never actually had all that much in common. If I ran into him again, I imagine it would be nice to catch up, but I'd want to keep it fairly brief; our conversation might get awkward in the same way a blind date would if it dragged on too long.

And if he somehow tracked me down and showed up at my house without so much as calling ahead, I'd be kinda creeped out. But then I would be if just about anyone did that.
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At the most recent Poly Speed Dating event, I realized I was making my post-date decisions in an irrational way. At least some of the time I was checking "no" even when I was interested in someone, under the assumption that there was no point in checking "yes" because the other person didn't seem sufficiently interested; and at least some of the time I was checking "yes" even when I wasn't really all that interested, with the feeling that I wasn't really committing myself because the other person would probably check "no" and let me off the hook.

And of course this was ridiculous because of the way speed dating is set up: If the other person checks "no," it doesn't matter what you check, so assuming they did check "no" is not a useful way to make your decision. If your decision doesn't make a difference unless the other person says "yes," then you've got to assume they will say yes so that you're deciding based on the assumption that your decision actually means something.

This evening, I was thinking of what other situations might be analogous to that, with an eye toward rendering the general principle in more abstract terms. The first analogy that came to mind -- though admittedly not a terribly interesting one -- was the idea of pretending you can't afford to travel and then trying to decide where you would most like to travel to, versus pretending to have won a free trip to a location of your choice and then trying to decide what that choice would be. Clearly, only the second mental exercise is going to give you any information about yourself that's actually useful.

And then came tonight's Writer's Block:

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Dear Writer's Block: If you've started reading my mind, does this mean we're going to get some more interesting questions from now on?
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He was the new kid in my first-grade class, and I think the crush started when he showed me how to do a proper push-up. Hell if I remember anything else about him except that he was cute. But then again, one of my best friends at the time was pretty cute and I think I had a bit of a crush on him too.

But no, I didn't tell either of them. Until junior high or so, crushes were pretty much just pleasant feelings with a little bit of fantasy to them; they weren't things it would occur to me to act on. And even now, I don't usually come out and tell people I'm crushing on them; I typically just flirt a bit, see if they seem receptive, flirt a bit more if they do, and so on until one of us actually asks the other out, or until it seems clear that that's not going to happen.
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Dude.

You know how they say the common factor in all your failed relationships is you?

Similarly, if more than half your students are failing your midterms, maybe the students are not the problem.

(The really depressing part was when I complained about this to a student in another department, only to find her seemingly unable to comprehend what was wrong with this picture.)
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We talked for hours, about everything.
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FOGcon membership for sale. $65 or best offer. Message if interested. Whee.
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Aaaaaaand yet another comic that hits close to home.

(The worst part is, I do that sort of thing even when I can tell the person didn't mean whatever they said literally.)
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Why no, this comic doesn't hit uncomfortably close to home. Not at all.

*looks shifty-eyed*


(In my defense, I don't feel a desire to correct people so much as I feel a desire to have them not be wrong. And giving them an autocorrect mechanism isn't going to stop them from being wrong, it's just going to stop them from sounding wrong.)
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The guy who does yardwork for my co-tenant just knocked on the front door to tell me the dome light in my car was on. I thanked him for telling me, and went out to turn it off -- and he followed me out there and kept talking. Told me he'd been wanting to meet me for a long time but my neighbor had said not to bother me (which I guess means he'd jumped at this excuse to talk to me), told me his name and flat-out asked for mine when I didn't spontaneously offer it (I fucking hate that). And finally flat-out asked me out, in almost as direct terms as one can without mentioning the word "date."

This based on about two minutes' conversation and, what, six months of mystery? And if he has seen as much of my clutter as I think he might've seen through my windows, I'd think that would be more of a turnoff than anything. I guess maybe the "mysterious recluse" thing has some kind of princess-in-a-tower allure...?

But jeez, I dunno, man.


(Meanwhile, the aforementioned dome light is also behaving oddly; it should've turned itself off last night and I don't know why it didn't. I'm waiting till I'm sure he's gone, though, before I go back out to check if my battery is dead.)
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This is kind of my life. Or at least it is my life when I am trying to get anything useful done.

*sigh*
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In the checkout line tonight, my eye was caught by a tabloid cover hinting at "Sarah Palin's Lesbian Secret!"

"This I gotta see," I thought as I picked up the magazine and flipped through it. "What, is her 'secret' that she hates lesbians?"


...Sometimes I hate being right.


(The article pretty much admitted it wasn't exactly a secret, either.)

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