kittydesade: (every night i burn)
Russian )

And then I need to do corrections on the other. Oh god, why am I doing two serials at once. In a way. Okay, we'll call it several serials, because the hell with the fairies for now I have no idea what's happening next. We'll start something else! I'll figure out where the fairies are going later. Too sleepy can barely brain in English.

I don't even with my old fucking town today. The most chaotic news I've heard out of there is that there were three shooters, one incapacitated in some way and two on the loose, and six dead, ten shot. I have no idea how accurate this is as of this writing, that's just the last I heard. I'm tired. I'm tired of these fucking morons insisting that everyone has a right to the kind of guns our founding fathers couldn't have dreamed of at the time, I'm tired of people putting their mental and physical comforts above the safety and well-being of others. I'm tired of this allegedly great nation being a paragon of such fucked-up-ness that we stand as a warning to every other goddamn civilized country of what not to do. I'm also tired of Breaking Bad, but that's a whole other thing.

At least my writing seems to be going well. Even half asleep I'm managing to pull together some words for a draft. I'm managing to get packing done. I did my Russian. I'm getting a surprising lot accomplished for having gotten absolute shit for sleep last night. Let's hope this continues till I can go to bed tonight. Otherwise I may have to punch something.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (rarr. death.)
Russian: still horrible, and not in the difficult way )

Keep moving. Do the Russian, do the languages, do the writing. Keep moving. Instead of shark week I've hit shark mode. Keep swimming, don't stop. On the plus side shark mode is not like red queen mode, it's not a constant run, it's just a constant keep moving, even if it's crawling on one's hands and knees.

Speaking of hands and knees, I really need to start in on the kink bingo.

Hopefully this upswing is more of an upswing now that I'm away from boy issues (he is getting taken out behind the coal shed and beaten for SO MANY REASONS RIGHT NOW) and have gotten some goddamn sleep. The lack of sleep is not the boy's fault. The crushing disappointment of yesterday is not entirely the boy's fault, though sleeping through what I thought was our intended dinner and a movie date is. Along with the ants. ... Okay, that's really the extent of his crimes for now, but I still ... he is on my last nerve right now, and I don't have many left. But as far as other things go, I may be stabilizing. I just seem to have hit the point where it takes very little to tip me over. Which means at least one extra hour of sleep, being more careful than usual about not overdosing on cheap sugar and eating balanced meals, and getting my exercise. The more physical components of depression I can alleviate the better.

Yes, I said the D word. For those of you in the cheap seats, SITUATIONAL DEPRESSION. Not the fucking other one. I am not ill with a chronic illness, though if that comes to play I will dolefully murder everyone. I have SITUATIONAL depression. Which is a goddamn head injury. Yes, this is a sore point right now, I have not bitten anyone for it yet, but let's get our terms straight. If for no other reason than chronic/severe/etc, long term forms of depression are treated VERY differently than situational depression. And if anyone tries to treat me for long term depression I will alleviate my situational depression by punching them repeatedly till they go away. Treatments or suggestions for situational depression, on the other hand, are much welcome. Money, gifts, chocolate. Booze. Cabana boys. That sort of thing.

.... Okay, so that button's still there. Good to know. The other possibility is that instead of getting better with sleep and minding my food is that I'm on an upswing and will soonish crash, which will suck. I'm keeping an eye out for that.

Um. Okay, no, I have way too much shit to do. By the numbers: Gods and Monsters by THIS EVENING, edit the fuck out of Blood in the Gutters, two Kink Bingos that I have vaguely planned, and one other thing. Clean house, make the boy finish pinning up my goddamn hem so I can fucking hem that costume and finish Huntress and be done with it, finish weeding/cutting down all the fucking pokeberries and ailanthus. Because they're pissing me off. That's not actually a depression related thing either, they've been pissing me off for a while, I'm just now writing about it 'cause I actually cut down the pokeberry that was in my way this morning. Too much shit to do. At least work is slacking up for a day or so. Oh god, and I have a dentist appointment tomorrow morning. Don't wanna. Might actually bite the hygienist.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (disapproving hauser)
Gaeilge )

I can't even with this washer problem anymore, you guys. It's anything from a couple hundred dollar fix to a few thousand dollar fix and I can't even. I am going to go pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep for the next year.

(No, I'm not. I'm going to eat breakfast and exercise like a good girl and go to work and blah blah blah. But I really want to.)

And I'm really tired of not being able to get ahead. There's always something. We were looking good for about three or four days there till this washer problem came up. And now we're either back where we started or even deeper in the hole? I don't know. Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll be a couple hundred dollar fix. But when does that ever happen. (Although the boy did just remember that we actually have homeowner's insurance, which might cover the biggest pain in the ass right now. That would be nice!)

(For that matter, why the hell couldn't Kiva advertise for paid translation positions, why is it all volunteer. Fuck you, I work for those translations, pay me. Well, except for the Spanish ones. But the French and Russian ones I'd work for. So fuck you, pay me.)

I suppose it could be worse. The problem is pretty much confined to the washing machine, so it's not like we can't laundromat for a bit. The house itself is fine, no leaks, no mess. Well, the house is a mess, but it's an ordinary spend a day picking it up mess and I've got a three day weekend coming. Neither of us is coming down with a horrible health thing. I didn't get hit by the trolley that slammed into the building across the street from the store. (Yes, that happened yesterday.) The car's running fine, the cats are healthy, we have all our stuff, everything else is going all right. It's just that right now we're in the first OH GOD WHYYYYYY stage of this problem. And in the same boat as most of the rest of the country, which is we're about staying ahead but minor to medium sized catastrophes knock us on our ass for months if not years to come. Woo.

I don't have happier stuff for you guys. Sorry. I have new dragon eggs. That's happy, right? Yay pixel pets, free entertainment!

And I do have the ability to go and get new plants from Home Despot, I should add. Because that still indicates a certain level of discretionary income. So, note to self to write down when I get to work because I can't find my notepads here: Basil, yellow peppers. Stupid cats. Stupid basil not growing as tall as I feel it should.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (bad day)
Gaeilge )

I can't begin to tell you how exhausted I am from all the disaster news lately. Boston Marathon. Fertilizer plant outside Waco. Congress and its pack of obstructionist bought and paid for assholes. How is it only Thursday? The boy's stopping by the store and Home Despot tomorrow morning for food and tomato cages, at least. Also possibly anti-groundhog chicken wire, we'll see how well that works. Also I might try that spreading used cat litter around to keep the groundhogs away, because territory marking, etc.

Had the bizarre impulse last night to go send an email to my high school alumni wossis. I have no idea why. The inferiority complex is huge, my fellow high school alums include speechwriters for the Obama administration, directors of off-Broadway theatre companies, apparently well-known writers/stand-up comedians, and Chelsea Clinton. Yes, I did go to one of those high schools where most of the kids could count on nepotism to get jobs once they went through the college routine. Or were there on scholarship, like me! So, yeah, bit of an inferiority complex there. And I still have no idea why this tempted me to go contact them and tell them what I'm doing with my life. Still, I suppose my accomplishments are no less impressive for not being the sort of thing that everyone might hear about or that reaches millions, so. Why not? Maybe? We'll see if I lose my nerve.

Today's statement of intent is, once again, White Lightning. I do have a patch job on Twisted Thread to finish, but otherwise White Lightning all the time, since I got one and a half blog posts done yesterday. And hopefully today will be less horrible. I am all about less horrible.

I guess in the balance, I learned over the past couple of days some efficient fine-tuning techniques for putting beautiful colors on wool? And that really does look like it will turn out pretty, so there's that. Now I just need some thrift store crock-pots to try it out in. And to clear out the garage, because that floor will be easier to clean up than the kitchen or anything.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (bad day)
Русский яызк, и другие языки )

So, um. Yeah. This is happening, with more questions and things as I get them to come to mind. And more languages as I get time.

I used to translate at a free clinic for prenatal/post-partum checkups. Well-baby appointments, etc. Since this was a free clinic for low/no income people, there's really no PC way to say this, we ended up getting a lot of Spanish speakers who had no English. Which is fine; my grandmother volunteered as a translator, and I did too. I didn't have much medical Spanish but I did sit at the front desk, take appointments, etc. When everything went down yesterday, apart from fantasies of putting on an Iron Man suit and flying people to hospitals, doing analysis on the remains and flying off to kick ass, etc. (Such are my coping mechanisms.) I also thought, well. If this happened, assuming I didn't freak out completely, I could be of use. I speak four non-English languages well enough to get through some basics. I could be of use. And I imagined going to some triage station, going "Hi, I speak Spanish, German, French, and Russian, do you need me to translate?" And, you know, failing that, I have full use of my limbs and can fetch and carry, but.

Such are my coping mechanisms. I can do this thing that not a lot of people can do? FINE. Put me to use. Please.

Anyway. So for the next few days I'm going to be pulling out all my old skills out and brushing them off and applying them to the other languages I've since learned. I've actually been meaning to do that anyway since part of my backup plan involves translating at gov't offices, which will essentially be the same hundred or so lines over and over, with the occasional random person who comes over and has something completely out of left field. Which is why I'm doing the larger practice, too. But having this dictionary of phrases will be good. It's something I can do, anyway.

So tired. All of my LJ comments for the last I don't know how long seem to have gone into my spam folder, thanks, yahoomail. Still haven't heard from my friend in Boston, pondering shooting him a DM to see. I doubt he was in that mess. I hope he wasn't in that mess. (C, heard anything from zombie_dog?) I'm just really, really tired now. And I have too much shit to do and I don't want to do any of it. And I'm going to be on my own this weekend 'cause the boy's going home for the weekend and. Meh. Just, meh.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (rampage)
Gaeilge )

Okay, at this point I'm pretty sure my body is just fucking with me. I do not approve.

Yeah, I have no idea what caused that dream last night, mostly comprised of being harassed, belittled, derided, and I think sexually stalked by some horrible combination-creature of two authors I particularly dislike for various reasons, mostly telling me it's so cute I'm trying to get published and I don't know how I could possibly think anyone actually likes my writing and meanwhile I'm pretty sure they were trying to steal my notes. All. Freaking. Night. This brought on by the same two authors in the names for an anthology... something. I don't know where the hell that came from but it can go back away now.

Still frustrated and annoyed with the state of my living room, but at least less frustrated and annoyed. Upon reflection of this, not even going to try to finish the post this morning, but this evening when I get home I'll do the last episode, polish that up, and do caps and post that over an hour or so, at my leisure and not trying to do fifty frillion things at once. And then dinner and more cleaning and so on. Dinner because the sauce involves booze and must therefore be watched.

Right. In light of that, though, today's workday projects should probably involve either coding ... say, the essays and/or the character sheet, basically, the tools section, and working on a first draft of the Nathan-v-Duke post so that's ready to go whenever it needs to go. Still not entirely sure what my thesis is, but that's more of needing to work out the words than not being sure I have one. Evening, post, dinner, more cleaning. Going to try a french fry recipe tonight, where recipe entails more of a set of cooking instructions than anything.

... No, seriously, this has to be a bipolar fit, because I'm having the blue meanie attack of why do I bother, no one gives a shit, I write and I write and it never goes anywhere, while this plagarist gets a fucking Clarion workshop, book deal, and movies with Aidan fucking Turner. Plagarist. Proven. And I can't do music, and my house is a wreck, and there's probably half a dozen things I'm not thinking of right at the moment. Basically, why are you whining at your journal because no one cares. Might as well sit on the couch and eat a whole bag of cookies and watch hot men on your screen because that's as close as you're going to get to satisfaction of anything.

(Which, heh. Translates roughly to: whine on journal. pull self off of couch, put away Irish study books, finish doing at least back stretches, pull self together at vanity, make sure lunch is packed, go to work, get coding done for website tools, write blog post, do line edits on one of the novellas in the anthology, and overall keep slogging because while I might self publish this anthology and only ten people might buy it? At least I'll have tried. ... Which is absolutely no comfort today but fuck you brain chemistry or whatever is causing this. I am going to get shit done and you can go sit in the corner till you agree to behave yourself.)

Eh. Keep calm, get shit done, and naked-Thorin-in-fur.
kittydesade: (never again is what you swore)
No. Today is not the day to talk about gun control.

Ten fucking years ago was the day to talk about gun control.

Today is the day to talk about how we can make up for an egregious lack of common fucking sense with regards to our medical care system, our mental health care system, our attention to our fellow man, common fucking decency, putting our love of things that go bang and rat-a-tat-tat above our love for our fellow human fucking beings, pushing people we think might be violently unstable off on the grounds that "someone else will help them," ignoring the problem because we don't want to make waves, a despicable lack of empathic long-term planning or looking at the consequences our wants are having on others, blaming the victims for not being armed themselves and failing to act in their defense against their own fucking murder, and not doing a goddamn thing to prevent this happening again. And again. And again.

Oh yeah, and gun control. I lied.

Never has my icon been so appropriate.
kittydesade: (Default)
German will go here at some point when I have spoons.

Aten't dead.

I mean, if this shit keeps up, a lot of other people in my immediate vicinity might be, but I aten't.

Thank you guys for all the hugs and good wishes. Hugs back; I've just been way too tired to respond to things individually. Tracked down email and snail mail addresses, so that's going, no news of prognosis/timeframe as of yet. Cat owner was found and not murdered, much as I'd like to, for the most irksome offense of then asking us if we could keep it for another week because she was moving. Um. No. We're moving too. Come pick up your fucking cat. Or don't, and we'll just find it a new home with someone who cares enough about it to make some goddamn plans.

Though I shouldn't bitch too much, probably, I'm also getting an object lesson in best laid plans ganging the hell agley. In addition to every other damn thing I now have to deal with a mail order sale going on this week, free shipping. Fortunately it's a short working week because shipping isn't happening on Thursday or Friday because US holidays. Well, Thursday is an actual holiday. Friday is a UPS holiday to celebrate the occasion of DON'T GO OUT STAY AT HOME AND AVOID THE THUNDERING RAMPAGING SHOPPERS. Also known as Black Friday. Either way, I get a fucking four day weekend that would be a lot more of a weekend if I got to actually relax. As it is, no. I have to pack. More. Because... dun dun DUNNNN...

The boy is sick. Again. I was kind of thinking still but it might be more like again, either way he's spiking a 102 degree fever at the highest. We took him to the Urgent Care this morning and he got a diagnosis of bronchitis and a pack of antibiotics, and I will be picking up juice and tissues (and cat litter, less relevant to the sick) on the way home from work. And hopefully by Thursday he will be in any sort of position to move more shit over to the house and I might even get a couple of days of just relaxing! My god, it's a revolutionary concept, this relaxing shit.

So, over the next 11 days I have to somehow move the rest of our shit out of the apartment and over to the new house, write 40k words for Nano (that I don't have to do, but since the story is sitting right there in my head I would sure as hell like to get that done) and, preferably, get my Yuletide story finished. I mean, I've still got plenty of time and it's probably half done and all the way outlined, and it'll go easy once I've done it. But I'd like to get Yuletide out of the way given the sheer number of unknown unknowns that came running up to greet me with outstretched arms last week. No. Fuck off unknown unknowns. Fuck off, surprises. I am done with those.

I am so, so goddamn tired, you guys. I want a break. I really, really need this upcoming weekend to be an actual weekend, and I doubt that it's going to be. At least I do seem to have the cash to spare to book a day at a local spa, because I am finally down to the point of, fuck everything and all my brainweasels about not being pretty enough to be deserving of spa treatments, I want someone to pamper me goddammit. Currently looking at one of these with an eye more towards relaxing crap than beauty treatments. Although depending on how freaking painful it is I might throw in a brow waxing there because vanity. And then just get that touched up every so often. I like those people, they've been good to me when I've wrenched something at work (they're literally the next block over from where I work). So, yeah. Anyone care to offer an opinion who has done spa days more than I have? Which is ever. Because I've never been. Yes, I fail at letting people pamper me. Mostly because I have this issue where clearly I'm not beautiful enough to be one of those people who does spa things, which is stupid, yes, I know, I have body image/self-identity vs societal-girl-identity/etc issues. Many of them. Right now I'm too tired to listen to those weasels, so. That's the state of the Jag for now. I'm going to try and update at least once a day as things change, even if I don't get any language study done because yes, the language books are almost all packed now.
kittydesade: (lioness)
Русский язык )

I really, really need to straighten my head out as to how to translate gerunds and progressive verbs in my head in Russian. Argh. If I have this right Russian uses an entirely different convention, but I keep freaking out that I don't have it right and am making shit up. Bleh.

Also, all this voter bullying bullshit? That can stop right the hell now, please and thank you. Voter bullying, voter tricking, all that shit. Cut it the fuck out. I would like to think this is still the United States of America, and not any of half a dozen other countries (Russia, I'm looking at you) where the elections are so corrupt you might as well just rig them your way altogether. If you're not doing that already. God, I want to punch all these people in the face. Coercing people to vote the way you want them to, scaring them away from voting, tricking them so they don't vote? That is not what this country is fucking about. Fuck. You. So much hate and rage. Not that I like Romney but fucking hell, this offends my sense of patriotism on so many goddamn levels. And they call themselves patriotic. Our founding fathers, who they so often call on, are generating electricity in their graves. Enough to power New York City till after the polls close.

Anna's right, I shouldn't read Yahoo news this early in the morning. And the boy wants to go vote early tomorrow, so there's that, which means I need to hustle my butt and research the candidates for the non-partisan positions. I've already all but decided to vote straight party ticket because there is not a single goddamn Republican I like, which is truly depressing, but I should double check for third party candidates I like better. Blah. So much work. But worth it.

I have no idea what I did to tweak my back last night, but I really, really hope it's over. Not even middle of back pain this time, some muscle group right under my right shoulderblade extending around to my underbust ribcage area. Ow. Up to nausea-inducing levels of pain at times, though I slammed back an 800 milligram tab of ibuprofen which seemed to have killed it, and today I did a number of dance/yoga stretches that seem to be helping. But fucking ow. I disapprove in the strongest terms. Of course then I was an idiot and watched Center Stage which resulted in me going I FEEL BETTER I CAN TOTALLY DANCE AROUND THE ROOM and Anna going SIT THE FUCK DOWN YOU IDIOT. Oops.

And no fashion show for anyone today, because it turns out what Kohl's means when they say 41" bust they actually mean 45" or so. Um. No. So, returns it will be and I will get another batch of shirts that are more my size. On the one hand, I like being a M-to-L. On the other hand, goddamn. The sleeveless t-s turned out well, though, apart from needing to put in boob darts, I think. That's easy enough done. Except for the fact that I won't have my sewing machine set up for a month and a half. Someone remind me to do that. And finally on the fashion front, I have discovered that thing I was looking for! Apparently it's called Polyvore, this thing that lets you assemble clothing to create a look and even if you can't see it on a body, you can see all the items together. Since I'm not fussy about getting the exact item pictured, this will be awesome for planning out what I actually need to get vs what I have vs what I'm looking for. Woo! This might not turn out to be the world's most unfeasible idea. Seriously, I have been jeans and t-shirt girl for ... almost 15 years now. Except for special occasions and laundry day in college. Getting me to dress with some vague care beyond I-feel-cranky-it's-a-Rorschach-T-day is going to be an interesting time.
kittydesade: (hey dude)
Gaeilge )

Holy god that was terrible Irish. That's going to require several hours of studying. Ow.

Still have poached egg eyes. I think Murdock's not used to me waking up later and he keeps trying to walk all over me and wake me up when I usually get up. Which is anywhere between half an hour and an hour before when I WANT to get up. Fucking cat. It's still dark out, let me sleep.

My brain is a strange, strange place sometimes. I'm just saying. (And now all of you are saying sometimes?)

I have Queen stuck in my head. There are worse things, I suppose, but I still have Queen stuck in my head. It's like living out of the Bentley. And I have writing I want to get done today and very little brain to do it with already. And I really, really am tired of my eyes feeling all hot and runny. Maybe if I'm very, very lucky I can get caught up on sleep this weekend? I have the sneaking suspicion things are going to be like this for a while. At least the next several weeks. And at least this has an end date, though! A more solid one than the last time.

Oh, hey. Something else to make me feel like crap. Todd Akin says Cut for weakly frothing rage, which, the lead in should tell you all you need to know. )

I can't even muster a good rage for that, but god I want to throttle him. And the article I got that quote from, that wasn't even the bad part. Ugh. I think I gotta go write something. Preferably something involving brutal beatings or assassination. Where's my Human Target fanfic.
kittydesade: (fragile heart)
Gaeilge )

I don't even know what to say or where to begin to say about Tony Scott. I knew of him, he wasn't my most favoritest of directors, but then again neither was his brother, necessarily. They both made some movies I enjoyed. And yet the suddenness of this seems to be leaving everyone reeling, as though a piece of the sky snapped off and left a big gaping nothingness where blue and cloud should be. Everyone says they didn't see it coming in the aftermath. I've never had anyone close to me do this, so I can't say if that's true or not. I imagine, like most other things about human behavior, it's variable. His friends and family get to pick up the pieces now. And the rest of the world who comments will undoubtedly use this as a springboard to stump for the Suicide Hotlines, depression counseling, things like that. Which is good. I mean, it's good to be kind every day. Like the sudden surge of good will around Christmas, maybe we should try at least a little to be kind every day. But it's good that we're talking about it.

I hope he is at peace, now. I hope his family and friends can find some sort of peace.

Less seriously, I saw Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter last night. It was exactly what you'd expect from a movie entitled Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. There was Lincoln. And vampires. And he hunted them. It was shiny and full of gratuitous violence in well-choreographed cinematic slow motion. Also axe twirling and stovepipe hats. It did make me want to watch Night Watch again. More vampires!

Today's mood is decidedly erratic. I'd say volatile but that has other connotations. Need to get my head on straight and adjust, accept, something else beginning with a? Only I don't wanna. This is going to be awkward. And interesting. At least work is relatively busy.

And I am not going to hash over what Todd Akin said any more than I already have this weekend. Which was mostly you fucking jackass and your science is broken and get the fuck out of my country's legislature. He is wrong, the reasons he is wrong have been repeated continuously since he was wrong on television and the internet, and everyone knows there is a wave of misogynistic douchebaggery trying to drown women in this country one asinine comment at a time. Yes, he is contributing to my cranky. No, I have nothing much more to say than that.
kittydesade: (bad day)
Русский язык )

So, my computer spontaneously shut itself down last night. The keyboard went haywire and non-responsive, and everything started trying to shut down. It stopped when I hit "cancel" when the "these programs are impeding shut down" window popped up, but that was the only way I could stop it. I couldn't even make the keyboard work to boot up in or out of safe mode, which really freaked me out. And then again this morning, although this time I cancelled the shutdown and installed updates in case one was really being persnickity. And I ran AVG virus scan, which came up empty, and other than that I've got nothing.

This is a bad time for you to be freaking out on me, computer. I'm just saying. Of all the times you could have picked, this is definitely one of the worst. I already nearly had a breakdown over money this morning while on my walk. This after my aunt offered to float us a loan and knowing that my grandfather would probably just flat out give us money if I really asked. Which reminds me that I need to write to him again and let him know it's almost done. Also that I need to scan in some docs today.

Of course, then it crapped out AGAIN. In the middle of trying to scan the documents. Then I went to work nearly in tears. Then the boy came home with a new keyboard, plugged it in, scanned his chunk of documents, everything seems to work, so it was one or some combination or all of updating, rolling back to a restore point, replacing the keyboard, and cleaning out the hardware.

I'm just going to go ahead and post this now while everything still works, while I still remember it's here, and hopefully someone will remind me to go back and parse the Russian later today.

kittydesade: (facepalm - dean)
Deutsch )

... there was going to be a pile of bitching here about the house buying shit but, really, I don't know anything solid yet and getting tweeted at by Jackie Earle Haley with truly horrible puns makes everything better. I love you, Jackie. Never change.

Ahem. Okay, so, yeah. There's supposedly some things that will cause yet more delays with the appraisal and thus the house buying, but the appraiser says that the house is "habitable though it needs some serious TLC" is the toned down from techspeak version. So I don't know what that means in terms of whether or not the appraiser will sign off on everything, or if they're just saying "Um, dude, this house needs some serious TLC, are they sure about this?" After all these goddamn delays I am about ready to scream at the slightest hint that something might be snagging again. I'm trying to be rational but, people. Please. If I have to submit a detailed report and timeline saying that I will repair the fucking thing and this is my schedule for doing it and this is my estimate of costs and this is the breakdown of every goddamn repair, I will do it. Do not test me.

I might declare for fuck everything takeout tonight. No, I shouldn't, I'll probably end up making, ooh, sweet and sour chicken. That's healthy comfort food. God it's tempting, though. I am so fucking sick of all these delays I'm starting to sound like the fucking McManus brothers. Or a character in fucking Deadwood. (That should be the actual town name, Fucking Deadwood.)

Maybe my journal should start having one of those warnings. "Warning: I say 'fuck' a lot." I suppose I could always change it to 'frak.'

Right. No takeout, going home, doing the thing where I have good, healthy comfort food for a change. Lots of protein, some sugar, some rice. And then writing all the things I'm in the middle of, and more rewriting of BigBang Mixups, and things and stuff. No point in freaking out until I know for sure there's something to freak out about. And calling Mom, because Mom is usually able to make everything better, and in this case she's doing a good job. Except I called her in the middle of both our workdays. Oops.

It's my birthday on Saturday. Can I PLEASE have my house for my birthday? Pretty please? It's not even that it's unpossible, the deal is almost through, it's just taking forever and a data figure. So, please, universe? Can we just finish this up for my birthday? I promise I won't ask for any more marriage equality victories for, oh, two months, at least.

(Though that would be a nice birthday present, too.)
kittydesade: (o captain my captain)
Deutsch )

And then, you know, I typed up a wall of German in two days on the Holocaust, WWII, and the Cold War. So that was cheerful.

I keep trying to think of something I can do to speed along this whole process of waiting forever for the bank to get the plumbers in so we can finish the goddamn appraisal. And short of doing an end run around our dear, dear Realty Lady, which I don't want to do, adn calling the selling bank and going "LOOK, FUCKERS. DO YOU WANT THIS TOXIC ASSET OFF YOUR BOOKS OR NOT" and offering to pay $Boston towards the plumbing repair I can't think of a damn thing. It's not even the uncertainty anymore, although that's definitely bugging me. It's the goddamn waiting. And waiting. And them being the ones who insist on it going fast and being done. And then more waiting.

... Wait, teens are getting drunk on hand sanitizer? Seriously, world? Fuck this, I'm going back to bed.

Only not. 'cause I have shit to do. But of all the goddamn moronic things. And this fucking bank, dear god. Never, ever bank with this bank. I will tell you which one it is when this is all over. Never do business with them. Ever.

Fuck everything, writing forever. I spent the better part of an hour this afternoon, between putting away fresh boxes for outgoing shipments, tossing back and forth The Continuing Adventures of Sam and Larry Adama (Caprica), and now I think I have to write some of it. Maybe just as a small series of shorts for AO3. They are the most adorable couple ever and never got enough screen time on Caprica and I want all the adorable. It will make the world better. Not just because Sasha Roiz is sex on two very long legs.
kittydesade: (affairs of dragons)
Русский язык )

I don't even. So, yesterday I get a couple of emails that basically amount to we might not be able to complete the appraisal because of the problems that need to be fixed. And the selling bank isn't going to fix it, and apparently there is an exception paper that could be written out but everyone has to talk to someone else and check and can't this just be fucking over with already? I'm not even sure what I can do about it, everyone has to talk to everyone else today and then get back to me. I put all my mortgage ladies in contact with my realty lady, so hopefully that can get untangled today. Right now ...

Fuck Everything, Half-Naked Sasha Roiz forever.

No, okay. Right now things are happening at an incredibly fast clip, but at the moment it looks like I can get an estimate of the repair in writing from the plumber I contacted and brought out to have a look, and there's a new contact person at the bank who isn't a fucking moron. He says he might be able to get them done. I'm hoping he can because this is about to drive me homicidal or something.

Right. Nothing more I can do unless I really want to make a pest of myself calling people every half hour or so. I hate it when there's essentially nothing I can do except beg, plead, and throw myself on the mercy of other people whose job it is to keep an eye on the bottom line. I really hate that bottom line shit. I mean, I understand it? I just don't like it. But I have other shit I could get done right now, so. Come on, Jag, let's do the other shit.

I did see some interesting survey about racial self-identification of hispanic peoples on US census things. It made me wonder a little, am I a second generation immigrant if only one of my parents immigrated? (And, for that matter, did my biodad immigrate or was he a second-generation immigrant himself? It's one or the other, I'm sure.) Does it count if he is only my biodad and my actual Dad who raised me was born and raised in the States, himself? It's funny because these aren't questions I ever think about, myself. I am an American. Whether I'm being patronized and treated as, for lack of a more accurate term, a fellow white person who can reach out to those "hard-working Mexicans" (and 6-7 years later I still remember that fuckhead) or whether I'm being looked down on as someone who belongs with the hired help, I am still an American. It's never occurred to me to define myself otherwise. If I have to self-identify as one race or another, I'd probably pick white maybe 40% of the time and hispanic the other 60%. Depending on whether or not I think it'll lead to me getting treated badly by police, shafted for a job or a place in a school, depending whether or not I can tell the person means I feel like a part of this group or that group... depending on a lot of things. Racial identification isn't something I think about a lot, either. Not until someone asks me. Which is more of a class and geographic luxury than anything, really, due to where I grew up and live now.

Anyway. I swear, my next entry will be kittens and bunnies and something fluffy to break from all these heavy thoughts. Pictures of hot men. Something. I am so tired and suddenly all the plans I had for the rest of ever are back in a state of tremendous flux. Okay, not all the plans, but a big chunk of them. At this point it's not even maybe losing the house of awesome that irritates me, it's the lack of certainty. I want to go home and curl up and sleep, and I can't.

Right. Shut up and soldier, soldier. I have filing I can do, writing, editing, I have German I can do if I get desperate for stuff to do, I have word gardens I can plant. There are other things I can do while I wait for word to come back, so let's get on and do them. (Also at some point I really should start writing my own Russian things. At some point.)
kittydesade: (bad day)
Deutsch )

Well. Fuck.

I was hoping the inspection would clarify some things. and it did! It ruled out a number of potential problems. The electrical is fine, the foundation, the roof is in surprisingly good shape given all the doom and gloom of earlier. The leak in the bathroom is probably rain coming through a couple of loose shingles and is, as I suspected, more time damage than great gallons of water damage. The attic is apparently huge, despite access to it being a hole in the ceiling bordered by wood edging and covered by a piece of plywood, no pull-down ladder. One would have to be installed. But someone was doing electrical work up there recently and left a portable light plugged in, the inspector said. That amused me. The outlets are almost all grounded (and there are a LOT of them) and almost all work, there's a couple on the second floor and a couple on the first that are either not grounded or don't work at all. When they re-did the electric they did it pretty well even if they put the case on backwards. There's some older water damage and other kinds of damage to some of the exterior wood, nothing major, nothing that can't be a five years down the road problem. The paint on the outside is still peeling but that's a cosmetic problem.

The heating is fucked. A new heating system needs to be put in place. The ceilings on the first floor are high enough and the architecture simple enough (essentially boxes on top of boxes) that I don't think it would be a more-than-standard major proposition to put in forced-air, but until now it's been running on hot-water radiators, almost all of which are cracked, and the boiler done died. As far as my admittedly limited research shows, a forced-air system would be 10k for dropping in new duct work and everything.

The other problem is that we couldn't get the water on. The city water was on, we had one exterior tap with a hose hookup that dribbled out some water and the inspector could hear water rushing somewhere, but nothing came out of any of the taps. And we couldn't find any valves that hadn't been turned on. So then we turned the water off again so it didn't gush all over wherever it's hanging out. According to Folks (both relatives and the inspector, from what I remember) it could either be as simple as something that isn't turned all the way on that we haven't found yet or a cracked pipe close to the source/intake from city water that might be easy to fix. Or not. It's Schroedinger's problem.

And those are, by and large, the only two problems so far. I just got in the results of the radon test, that's fine, the inspector didn't make any other noises about things being dire, he took moisture readings everywhere there was water damage (there was another place that had water damage on the ground floor, but it was by a radiator and didn't leak in the rain so I didn't think it was a danger, and it didn't give off an abnormal moisture reading) and the normal walls were about, um. A 10? I don't know what the units of these things are. and then the leak in the bathroom was about a 31-33. I don't know what any of that means in abstract terms, but in relative terms I know that means the leak area isn't wildly out of step with the rest of the house. Pretty sure, anyway.

My plans for tomorrow are to dig in to forced air heating systems and educate myself there, and collect phone numbers and maybe call around for very rough estimates on forced air heating system installation and plumber opinions and whether or not they can come out and poke the pipes and try and find out what the hell is going on in there. Also talking to Realty Lady first to see if they can do that. That really annoys me. Not knowing what the hell is going on annoys me in general, in this situation it bugs the everliving fuck out of me. So. Those are the plans. These plans are, of course, subject to change depending on what the boy and I discuss tonight.

Heh. I am kind of glad and grateful that I have family support, now that they've been reassured that I'm not chasing after this wholeheartedly even with the attendant problems. I almost chewed on people today, 'cause of oi, with the I don't know if you can handle it. Yes, I can fucking well handle it! I can handle it by doing some research, calling around, and getting more information before I make a really big decision, that's how I can handle it. Yes, I'm in love with the house. No, I'm not going to run and buy it if something's terribly fucked. The boy won't let me, first of all, and second of all I'm not that stupid. I'll be sad. But I'm not dumb. Argh. Still not five years old, people.

Really, really tired though, which is no doubt contributing to the cranky. So. Horsies forever, or at least for a little while, and then writing. Because even if I can't do anything just yet about Old Hotness the Alleged House, I can do something about my deadlines.
kittydesade: (bad day)
Gaeilge )

Still so-so-so pissed about the boiler thing. On the other other hand, I'm going to call up the inspector today and see if it's reasonable to do a two-part inspection or if I should just tell him, no, sorry, I'll try this again when the bank gets their head out of their ass. On the plus side... I may have mentioned this before but last night's frothing rage was considerable. On the plus side, they're getting in bids for the work now which indicates to me that they plan to replace the boiler. Which is good because while I can accept and cope with the cost of repairing the leak in the bathroom ceiling, I do not want to have to fucking replace the goddamn boiler because they didn't fucking check the heat beforehand like they said they were going to. Or possibly like the listing agent said they were going to, which makes me want to smack him for not being sure of his facts.

Deep breaths. Calming down, forming a battle plan. Our Realty Lady asked last night and we discussed it a bit, whether or not we want to look at other houses. The problem is we are never going to find anything so awesome as this house; quite aside from the historical value for the size of the house and the price we're paying it is a steal. The other option, though, is getting a renovation loan for New and Busted, which might not be a bad plan either. Same-ish square footage, more recent construction, different kind of work needed entirely. I don't know. But Bri doesn't think we need to, and while I don't want to... I also don't think this is going to be something that's going to prevent us from getting the house. It's just fucking annoying. If the inspection turns up something completely new, that might prevent us from getting the house. But we won't know until they let me get the inspector in the fucking house to begin with.

I said I was going to stop abusing italics. I lied.

I'm so tired of house shit sapping my energy. At least I've done most of the things I need to do today regarding that. I just need to call the inspector and scan in the letter of explanation as to why I suddenly had a chunk of money deposited into my account. "Family members gave me monies for house" should be common enough that I don't think I need to go into much detail, but I ended up being uberformal anyway.

If I'm very very lucky, today will go well, I will have cope not to chew everyone's heads off, and I will get some writing and writing-related things done as well as all my languages. If today goes somewhere around the state of the last couple days, between the randomass credit card and the randomass boiler cock-up, I may declare the rest of the week Horsies Forever. There is only so much shit I can cope with at once, and writing vs house shit seems to be it. Maybe Horsies forever will become knitting and Arabic writing forever, though, because calligraphy is actually kind of fun.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (fury)
Русский язык )

Well, that was a little terrifying. We were going over the bank paperwork the other night and on the mortgage application there was a credit card debt listed to the Bank of Assholes (no, I don't like them, why do you ask) with a partial number so we couldn't even look up and see what the hell it was. Cue lots of snapping, mostly from the boy to me until I stomped on his foot and told him to quit it, and then a couple of cranky phone calls to the BofA. And then this morning we finally get ahold of his parents and it turns out it's theirs and not ours. What it's doing on our mortgage application I have no idea. His credit card also turns up twice. He has one credit card. We each have one, actually. And, actually... oh, never mind, I'll just pay that one dollar charge when I get the bill, it shouldn't be more than a day or so till the paper mail catches up anyway.

So, that happened. And then I ended up going to the bank when I should have been doing German, and at least I got the mortgage paperwork turned in. There's only one thing left to turn in that was sort of a last minute thing, but that's just "type up an explanation, sign it, scan it, email it." And then I got a call from Realty Lady saying that the bank was turning everything on and they just now discovered that the fucking boiler didn't work. Because they're incompetent douchebags who couldn't be bothered to investigate this four fucking weeks ago when they knew someone wanted to look at, inspect, and likely buy the house. They're getting bids on it now, and they ... ugh, I can't even. So pissed off. So. Very. Pissed.

I kind of want to go back to them and be all "SO. Want to revisit that earlier offer of $Shire now that the house needs a new goddamn boiler?" Incompetent sheepfucking douchenozzles. I want that house. I also want them to do the damn work they said they were going to do, which involved making sure the goddamn heat worked. They said that.

I'll stop abusing italics now.

日本語 )
kittydesade: (bad day)
日本語 )

Yeah, no, our fridge is well and truly dead. Looks like it's takeout and canned meals for the next couple of nights until we can get a new one from apartment management. Whoop de fucking do. Can I have my new house yet? So I can put my new goddamn fridge in it? Pizza for dinner tonight.

I should say something deep and profound and meaningful here. Or maybe something else analytical about Once Upon A Time (and, mainly, Rumplestiltskin) and I kind of feel like I should say that as much as I wanted to shake Belle for being an idiot I realize that I'm also cranky because I expect her to know things that I know, and take that knowledge for granted. With the knowledge and experience she had to work with, she actually did a damn fine job. So, there, I said it. Also, she is the first main female character in any goddamn episode of Once Upon A Time I haven't loathed for being a dippy twit. Well, no, there was Gretel. Second main female character of an episode. There, I said it.

But mostly I'm just tired. I'm tired of this house shit, I'm tired of this apartment being too damn small and/or things not working (heater at the beginning of winter, fridge now, the carpet cleaning they promised never showed up), I'm tired of idiots making dinner plans and then canceling with us at the last minute because they stayed up all goddamn night like morons, I'm tired of the Republican fucking morons who seem to be dominating their party's front lines. And the news in general. I'm tired of the boy's work drama (long story I probably shouldn't share) and I'm tired of being tired and never catching up on my goddamn work.

Fuck the world, I'm going to bed. (And by going to bed I mean writing and going to bed on time rather than early for once. Which is sort of like going to bed but less fun.)

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!

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