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( Русский язык )

I have no idea what the hell happened last night. It was supposed to be a restful, sleepy night. And it kind of was! There was Leverage, there was Japanese and poking the guitar and nommy foods.

And then I went to bed and curled up and was almost asleep, I'd say probably into starting to dream asleep, when all of a sudden I hear this very loud, sharp sound that was somewhere between a bang, a crash, and a scream. And my eyes open and the first thing that registers is that I can't see a damn thing. And then I go through my mental checklist of, first, where's the nearest weapon (long knife and sword under the bed), next, is there a blackout because that could have been a transformer blowing (there isn't because the clock light and fan are still on at least), third, is it all in my head? (increasingly looking that way) and lastly, is this one of those weird future/sideways visions that are increasingly about death? (probably not).

(The weird future visions is sort of the bastard child of precognition and hindbrain extrapolating from facts. The night or so before Andrew Koenig and Jeff Conaway died/turned up dead, I had a dream about reading their obituaries in the paper. In both cases it would seem to be fairly easy to extrapolate except it was the exact same text and website as in my dream, which was a little freaky.)

So instead of sleeping like I wanted to do I got to wander around the house, call the boy (whose phone went straight to voice mail of course), and poke the internet for something diverting while I calmed my heartbeat to normal instead of jackhammer speeds. Not what I wanted to do.

I have no idea how much of what I want to get done I'm actually going to get done today, but on the plus side, I re-read my Horror Big Bang last night and I didn't hate it. It didn't suck. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with it, although I'm pretty sure it's not going to follow the outline, but since I haven't shown it to anyone but my beta team that doesn't matter so much. I do still need to get out and get the monofilament thread, if it's at the bead store. I should also walk up to the fresh corner and get some apples. I should at least try to pick up my workstation some. Things, stuff. Incoming is relatively quiet, at least. Who knows what outgoing will be like. Blargh. I'd take a day off but, Dragon*Con. Cannot afford. Ah well.

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( Deutsch )

Apparently that bizarre phenomenon I experienced last night is called Exploding Head Syndrome. The only reason I know this at all is because TV tropes had a link to it. But the symptoms fit. On the one hand, it's a relief to know what happened, that it didn't mean anything other than my brain tripped a wrong switch briefly, and it happens often enough that people know it's harmless and have given it a name. On the other hand, who names a harmless sleep phenomenon Exploding Head Syndrome?? Really.

In less morbidly amusing news, I went over a friend's checklist for going out to meet some musicians tonight, and had remembered what it was like again to go out in a strange place to meet strange people, as a woman. Men, do you think about things like this? How your clothes hang so that people can't grab them, if you're carrying something you can use as a weapon in the pinch, where the doors are and how good or far you can run in your shoes, how to juggle keeping an eye on your drink and your stuff at the same time. Because I do. My female friends do (all cis, for the curious, at least as far as I know.) These are things that we assume we have to think about as a woman, because our experience teaches us that the men damn well aren't going to think about it. Not all the men in our lives, but certainly most of the men in the bar/club/discoteque/coffee shop. They don't think about how it might seem to a woman in an elevator with a strange man, if they ask to see her socially because they think she's pretty.

And, pretty much, you can blame this on a culture that does its damndest to confuse what should be a very basic principle: No Means No. If she, he, or they say no, you listen. And you respect that no. End of Line.

But people don't listen. And people don't respect the no, and then they whine and they cry about how confused they were and how they were led on, and fucking no. You were told no, so goddamn take it. This is not a gray area. There is nothing ambiguous about a single syllable word. But people think they're entitled, they think they're owed something, that the rest of the world and that person in particular owes them something for putting on that short skirt, or smiling at them, or existing. And now I'm bitter and cranky and I didn't want to be.

So, yeah. That happened. And now I'm cynical again.

Better news. The Elf Lord managed to pick up an electric guitar. He thinks it's a Gibson-esque, and he's referring to pickups in the plural so that's a decent sign. I'm not sure why, since this is the guy who wondered why you would electrify and amplify a perfectly good acoustic instrument, but what the hell. It's an electric guitar. That alone is amusing.