vvvexation: (Default)
Whoa. I just glanced at my Recent Entries page and the poll I posted a while ago was showing up in some Cyrillic language or other. Then I refreshed and it was in English again.

Has this been a night of strange portents, or what?
vvvexation: (Default)
Y'know, I'm starting to think there might be a grain of truth at the bottom of the theory that comics make kids dumber. I've read four volumes of The Sandman over the last thirty-six hours and I now find the thought of sitting down to a "real book," even a lighthearted work of fantasy, rather daunting. Hell, I'm almost as unmotivated to pick up a novel as I normally am to pick up a work of nonfiction, and for the same reason. Graphic novels are just so much easier to get sucked into.

Then again, if I really do have ADD, perhaps this is more true for me than it would be for most people. (I won't know if I do for at least another week. Medical wheels are turning slowly.)

It's been a very nice thirty-six hours, at least; besides reading comics, I also received a guided tour of some very spiffy parts of The City, played silly card games, participated in an informal episode of Naked Chef, and spent a lot of time just hanging out, which I was very glad to be able to do someplace other than my house (and in much better company.) That kind of relaxed, casual togetherness is something I've been really missing lately; most of the people I'm dating I don't get the opportunity to just hang out and be near without anything special having to happen, because I just don't see them often enough or for long enough.

...

Ugh. I'd just finished writing that when I heard an odd clattering noise coming from the kitchen. Strange noises in the middle of the night are never what you might call soothing; I was tempted to shut my door firmly, burrow into bed and not come out till morning, but figured it would probably be a better idea to investigate in case it was something that was only gonna get worse in a few hours. I tiptoed out to the kitchen, flashlight in hand, ready to bolt at the first sign of Anything Big and Scary, to discover the noise was apparently coming from an inch-long insect of the jumps-like-it's-on-a-hot-griddle variety, with one o' them rock-hard carapaces to account for the disproportionate amount of noise it was making at each lopsided landing (it didn't seem to be aiming itself anywhere in particular, or having much luck landing on its feet. Injured? Quite likely.)

I was going to leave it alone and hope to find it gone the next day, but when it managed to flop out into the hallway I became afeared that at this rate it might make it all the way to my room, and realistically I couldn't leave the door shut all night, as I was going to have to use the bathroom at some point and with my luck I'd have forgotten about the insect by then and thus would fail to shut the bedroom door behind me and it would no doubt blunder on in, at which point I would no longer be able to ignore it because there's No Way I could sleep with something like that in the room. If the noise didn't succeed in keeping me wide awake, the wondering where in the room it was now and how close it was to leaping on my face would.

So I dropped a large plastic cup over it, and then dithered for a good ten minutes before sliding a piece of cardboard underneath and escorting the poor arthropod outside. That cup-and-cardboard technique always seems so precarious to me, as I always imagine the insect is just waiting to bolt from the cup and scurry up my arm the instant I let the cardboard slip so much as a millimeter (of course it's never stiff enough or my hands steady enough for that not to happen at least once during the trip outside), and when the particular insect in question is the sort to literally batter at the walls of its impromptu cell the entire time--well, to say I find the prospect nerve-racking is an understatement. But I finally girded my loins and did it.

...

And no sooner did I write that last sentence than a chirping noise began to emanate at intervals from what seems to be the direction of the bathroom. I haven't geared myself up to leave my haven once more to investigate, but as it seems to be happening like clockwork every forty-five seconds, I can hope it's merely the smoke alarm needing batteries or some such. I just wish my roommates were awake to fucking deal with this. Once again it's a case of "the one who's bothered by it is the one who has to fix it." This I'd gladly ignore, but I suspect I'll be unable to sleep unless I shut it up, and will have some difficulty figuring out how to do so.

...

For once I got my wish. 'Tis e'en now being fixx0red. Apparently it's gonna take a while, but at least now it's in the hands of someone who has some clue what they're doing. Sheesh, what a night.
vvvexation: (silly)
"Welcome to the home of extreme ironing - the latest danger sport that combines the thrills of an extreme outdoor activity with the satisfaction of a well pressed shirt."

Nope, it's not a hoax. It's been in the papers and everything.

"I think my mum's quite proud of it really," Shaw said. "She likes ironing, so anything that encourages people to iron she's happy about."

Hee.
vvvexation: (Default)
Finally, an icon generator with real depth of detail! The cartoonier ones are all well and good in their way, but I'd just about despaired of putting together an icon that would actually be recognizable as me. Thanks, [livejournal.com profile] kaligrrrl!
vvvexation: (silly)
From : service@paypal.com <service@paypal.com>
Reply-To : <service@paypai.com> <--[It may not be obvious depending on which font you're using, but PayPal here is spelled with a capital i [Edit: Okay, that's even weirder; it shows up as a capital i in Courier and a lowercase i in Verdana]]
Sent : Thursday, May 27, 2004 7:46 PM
Subject : PayPal Service Fraud Warning !

Dear PayPal valued member,
Due to concerns, for the safety and integrity of the PayPal
community we have issued this warning message.

It has come to our attention that your account information needs to be renew due to
inactive members, spoof reports and frauds.
You must to renew your records and you will not
run into any future problems with the online service.
However, failure to update your records will result in account deletation.
This notification expires on May 31, 2004.

[blahblahfollowthislinkblah]



Guess I'd better to send them my informations right away if I don't want my account deletated, eh?

Incidentally, how the hell can I suddenly have such a bad crick in my neck after having the shit massaged out of it last night?
vvvexation: (blah)
I'm applying for a job I'd really like, but although I'm confident that I can do it and do it well, it seems very likely that my lack of credentials and other such official endorsements will keep me from even being considered.

Right now I'm composing a letter to enclose with my application, explaining why I think I can do this job despite how thin the application is, because on the strength of the application alone I don't think I'll be asked to come in for an interview. If the letter does get me interviewed, I'm a bit more confident of my ability to sell myself, but first I have to sell myself in the letter, and that's damn hard because the odds are looming over me and my confidence is flagging. I need to stop thinking that I'm begging them to give me a chance and get into more of a "they should damn well want me and all I need to do is inform them of that" mindset. Easier said than done.

It doesn't help that I'm badly in need of a job and this is one of the few that might actually make me enough money while letting me work decent hours, never mind that it's also one of the few I could get any kind of enjoyment out of. Being very invested in this makes it much harder not to freak out about it, and freaking out precludes getting anything done.
vvvexation: (silly)
I got a package o' medical shit I'd ordered today and found they'd thrown in a free sample of some fancy-ass multivitamin. How pointless is that? As an advertisement I suppose it works just as well as a leaflet without the free sample in it would, but there's certainly no benefit to be gained from including the sample unless their extra-spiffy new vitamin is actually potent enough to have noticeable health effects after only one dose.

I decided I'd take it anyway just to save me a day's worth of my usual multivitamin, but upon opening the package I was forcibly reminded of the reason my usual multivitamin is my usual multivitamin: most multivitamins besides my usual one come in pills THE SIZE OF NEW FRICKIN' ZEALAND.

The three such pills I so foolishly freed from their packaging sit now on my desk: speckled ellipsoids, vaguely resembling dinosaur eggs. The thought of attempting to force them down my throat, already slightly sore, fills me with a sort of horror, yet so does the thought of admitting defeat and simply throwing them away.

So they sit and silently mock me. I attempt to stare them down, but they show no fear; their countenance remains stoic, imperturbable.

This can't last. I predict that by nightfall, I will have thrown one or the other sort of caution to the winds, and either chucked them into the trash in a wanton display of profligacy, or challenged the fuckers head on and subjected myself to a long evening of painful gagging. Probably the latter, because I'm just that much of a masochist in all the most pointless of ways.

(Incidentally, the package also included a sample packet of hair-loss-reducing shampoo. I can't even begin to imagine the rationale for that. I did not order Rogaine from these folks.)
vvvexation: (silly)
Yay! My 100th friend-of!

(Though it does feel a teeny bit illegitimate, since #100 is someone who wouldn't've known of my existence if I hadn't friended them. Ah well. I know at least some of y'all stumbled on me randomly and for some reason thought I was nifty, and that is good to know.)

Elevation

May. 21st, 2004 10:18 pm
vvvexation: (Default)
Yesterday, when I rode the elevator in Evans hall, I noticed a row of stickers high above the door that said "I TOOK THE STAIRS."

There appeared to be smaller text underneath saying something about a National Get-More-Exercise Day or something, so evidently it wasn't some kind of elevator boycott, but whatever it was...the person who put them there obviously hadn't taken the stairs, had they? There were enough of them and in a hard-enough-to-reach location that there's no way someone just reached a quick arm in and stuck them there--they'd have to have stood in the elevator for a good minute at least. So either they were in fact riding the elevator or they had a compatriot hold the door open, thereby keeping everyone else from using the elevator--which last, come to think of it, might indeed have been a rather heavy-handed attempt to enforce this get-more-exercise thing.

So, guerilla personal-trainer tactics, or merely deliberate irony through conscious self-contradiction? Or worse, plain and simple unconscious self-contradiction?

(Wow. Instead of parentheses, this seems to be an Entry Full of Hyphens.)

Patterns

May. 21st, 2004 01:28 am
vvvexation: (blah)
I was up horribly early this morning and was almost ready to crash by early evening, but then proceeded to stay up just as late as I usually do. For some reason, the thought of going to bed early triggers some serious kinda despair. As far as I can tell, on some level I think going to sleep is an admission that I've got nothing better to do, and therefore that my life is empty. With that kind of thinking going on, I'm not sure how I manage to sleep at all...somehow around 1 or so it becomes okay to go to bed, but why that's clock-related and not time-spent-awake related I don't know.

I ran around and got a lot done today, but it seems like my list of things to do is even longer now than it was before. A lot of people weren't in their offices when they should've been, which is no doubt a sign that I should've tried to see them before finals week. Yay further reasons to beat myself up even when I do get things accomplished. But how can I relax when I still haven't accomplished anywhere near enough of the things I need to?
vvvexation: (yell)
Grrr. I have to wonder: does the fact that the shortcut to the alternate modem I tried using for a while (which I uninstalled weeks ago) keeps reappearing on my desktop no matter how many times I delete it have anything to do with the fact that, now that I'm back to the old wireless router, I keep getting kicked offline every few goddamned minutes?
vvvexation: (Default)
This is probably annoying, but I've always been curious as to how fast these suckers really do spread, so how could I pass up one that actually tells me?



Problem is, the meta-nature of it probably skews the propagation rate. I can't figure out if it would skew it up or down, though; I can think of reasons for both.

Indelible

May. 18th, 2004 04:13 pm
vvvexation: (Default)
Okay, that's weird. My Delete key just quit working.

No, wait, now it's working again. Even weirder.

Obstacles

May. 18th, 2004 01:22 pm
vvvexation: (yell)
Who would've thought it'd be so hard to find a local therapist who takes Blue Cross? And who would've thought they wouldn't be offering any good philosophy classes this semester at decent times of day?
vvvexation: (Default)
Today I finally got to see the cardiologist I've been waiting on for weeks and weeks. He told me, somewhat unexpectedly, that as the medication I'd been taking had fucked with my head and any other one I tried would likely fuck with my head even worse, I shouldn't try any further drug intervention. In fact, he wouldn't recommend it even if I hadn't been hit so hard by the side effects, because the particular sort of arrhythmia I've got is almost certainly a benign though annoying one. Laying off the stimulants as I've been trying to do will probably help, and he also suggested magnesium oxide and getting more exercise.

I'd been hoping he'd prescribe something that would be a bit more effective than that, but I find I'm less annoyed than I would have anticipated. He did say that this sort of thing often goes away by itself after a number of months, which is a relief as I'd figured it was likely to be permanent; also, I realized when I thought about it that it's gotten slightly less bothersome lately. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the main reason I found it hard to be upset is that he was damned attractive. I don't think I've ever had a medical professional ping me in quite that way before, and it was a bit of a challenge to keep it from showing in my face. I was terribly relieved that he wasn't present during the electrocardiogram, as the whole being-half-naked thing would have had me rather flustered.

He told me I didn't really need to see him (or any other cardiologist) again, but he gave me his email address in case I had any questions in the future. For once I'm actually kind of glad that I'm not a lot bolder than I am, because it would be terribly inappropriate to email him for any other reason. Really it would.
vvvexation: (Default)
So, yeah, much partying was done by me this weekend. Which was really nice, because performing is starting to be more of an emotional drain than it's worth and it was good to have a place to unwind after each of the weekend's concerts, and people to unwind with other than my fellow choristers. Not that they're not nice people and all, but I really don't have much in common with them and so I can never feel totally relaxed around them. (I suspect some of them would quietly freak if they knew I was bi, let alone poly.)

Friday's concert left me feeling a bit tetchy--having to hang around afterward for a solid hour because everyone else is chatting with their friends and my ride isn't leaving till everyone else leaves always annoys the hell out of me--so rather than join the hunt for a place to eat that was still open, I decided to bum a ride straight to [livejournal.com profile] olego's place, and found that I was amazingly not the first person to arrive despite being half an hour early. Some nicely mellow hanging out ensued, including the first game of charades I've played since high school--in fact the whole evening reminded me rather pleasantly of the nights I used to spend chilling with my high school friends, both before and after we went on to college. Wine and cheese were served in abundance; I of course avoided the wine but made sure to sample every single cheese (despite having forgotten to bring any Lactaid), and found the blue and the gruyere surprisingly good, the English Huntsman most excellent, and the chevre divine as goat cheese generally is. *sigh* Also, I discovered that that ankle-length black skirt that flatters me so well flatters just about anyone. Boys in dresses are fuuuuuuuuuuun.

Saturday was even fuller of partying, as the gathering I was dragged along to began in the early afternoon and ran late enough for me to return to it after dashing across the bay for a second concert. The boy who did the dragging happens to be the one fellow I'm seeing (or at least seeing regularly) right now who isn't already acquainted with most of the others; in other words he's part of a completely disjoint social group into which I've now been precipitately thrown, to amazingly good effect. New social circles don't often turn out to be this much fun. (Okay, so it wasn't an entirely new circle--there were a couple of people there whom I knew in passing and who I know are acquainted with some friends of mine, but that's hardly a surprise given that there are, what, three degrees of separation between any two Bay Area geeks?) Anyway, pinball + Zendo + brain teasers and word games + lots and lots of food = happy happy V. And I was highly amused to discover that The Boy's roommates, who he hadn't yet informed he was dating anyone, had figured it out anyway because it was quite obvious he was hiding something. Boys who can't dissemble are adorable.

I seem to be making a lot of generalizations about boys today. I suspect this should be a chapter in the Guide to V: If you are a boy, all you need do is put on a dress and be hopelessly transparent, and I will evince a tremendous desire to take you home and pat you and pet you and call you George.

Come to think of it, that's likely to happen if you're a girl too. The problem is, if you're a girl I'll worry that I'd be coming on too strong if I actually tried to pat you and pet you and call you George--and that's if I've even gotten past assuming you're probably straight anyway. (See, my problems with women run even deeper than being a lesbian sheep.)
vvvexation: (Default)
A fair number of people are doing the meme where they post lines from 20 songs on their playlist and challenge people to identify the titles and artists. I'm not planning on joining this particular flock myself, but I find it oddly noteworthy that every single time I've read someone else's list, I've been able to peg exactly one of the songs on it.

This, of course, is yet another Piece of Randomness from which I don't really have any interesting conclusions to draw. Wish I did, though.
vvvexation: (Default)
I just got a piece of Dutch spam! At least I think it's Dutch. I would say I think it's the first time I've ever gotten foreign-language spam (unless you count ASCII garbage as a foreign language), but I suspect I've probably gotten Spanish spam or something at least once before and not even noticed. But Dutch is much more interesting.

Then again, I probably find this more amusing because it's 2 in the morning and I just got back from a Party of Much Nift. More details after I've slept a bit.
vvvexation: (Default)
Bah. Mere weeks since I added a second hapax legomenon to my interest list, and already it's no longer one. And the other person didn't even get it from me.
vvvexation: (Default)
Every time I get an interesting fortune-cookie fortune, I feel like I should hang on to it, but there's no real point in doing that unless I set aside a place to keep them all so I don't lose them, and I can't think of a suitable place because really, what's a good place to keep things that small? Besides, I'm trying to cut down on my pack-rat tendencies and stop hanging on to random objects. So I end up just throwing them away. But now, thanks to the magic of LiveJournal, I can keep them in memory without having to stash away the actual pieces of paper. (Of course, I technically could've done that from the moment I first bought a computer, but I'm just so much more motivated to write down silly things when I can inflict them on a bunch of my friends (and a few random lurkers--hi, lurkers!) at the same time.)

(Incidentally, I think that may have been the first time I've ever used parentheses within parentheses. I feel so...naughty.)

Anyway, tonight I ate at a place I can't remember the name of, but I think I'll want to go back if I'm ever in that part of town again. I didn't think much of the service, but the portions were large and they served most excellent sesame balls along with the fortune cookies. I'm a sucker for that sort of thing. And the fortune that prompted this entire post was: Reasonable people endure. Passionate people live in bed.

Sounds good to me.

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