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Aug. 18th, 2015 10:24 am... Well. The first part of painting the America Chavez jacket went way better than I thought. Hopefully the second part goes as well! That'll probably be tonight, and then the third part over the weekend because that's the whole back panel with the white star. Which given what I'm doing now, I've realized can just be cut out of cardboard and traced out, and then it's pretty easy to follow an outline on the denim, so that ought to work. I'm actually really excited about this costume, I didn't think I would be so much. But I am.
Miniboarding, on the other hand, has become not so mini. Yes, yes, you all knew this was going to happen. I started out doing okay and then I now have to pause for one to two minutes to let my typing catch up with what I'm watching. I hope this doesn't keep going on the whole taking longer thing or this is going to get very awkward. (I just finished typing this when we started speculating about picking up Killjoys once Haven ends, and then we're doing Helix and Killjoys, both of which are short seasons thank god. We just can't keep from making work for ourselves.)
Dear fucking god some day a) my brain will find a different subject to fixate the weasels on and b) I may ever learn to keep my fucking mouth shut, move on, and not set foot onto that minefield. I can see the weasels coming. I can see me shrinking down small and alone and worthless and unwanted, and I can hear what they're saying, and I know exactly where this is coming from possibly, if I put some effort into it, all the way back into elementary school? No, probably into middle school is where it started. And yet I went and I set foot onto the minefield anyway and lo, there was an earth shattering kaboom. Fucksake, self.
Sigh. Deep, heaving, irritated sigh, and finding some fucking work to do. Anymore these days, unless I have time and space to sit down and wrap something nice around me that's what it seems like I do. You know what it is, you know those damn weasels by their names and the scars from when you smacked it on the nose with the meteor hammer, now put them down and do your damn work. You have MANY work to do anyway. And when that's done, take a breath and go do something nice. Listen to a good math or arts lecture, that's always fun.
Fucking weasel field. Pop goes the goddamn shitstained weasel.
Anyway. Okay. Yes. Doing the work. Day job can stop being so wacky chaotic any time now though. For the purely selfish reason that I'd like to get some other things done during the day. Or... Oh, hell, I don't know. Let's see if I can chop down some of my to-do list and WEASEL I SEE YOU CREEPING UP THERE DON'T YOU FUCKING THINK I DON'T.
( Rotating To-Do List )
Khan Academy:
Arrow:
The Flash:
Miniboarding, on the other hand, has become not so mini. Yes, yes, you all knew this was going to happen. I started out doing okay and then I now have to pause for one to two minutes to let my typing catch up with what I'm watching. I hope this doesn't keep going on the whole taking longer thing or this is going to get very awkward. (I just finished typing this when we started speculating about picking up Killjoys once Haven ends, and then we're doing Helix and Killjoys, both of which are short seasons thank god. We just can't keep from making work for ourselves.)
Dear fucking god some day a) my brain will find a different subject to fixate the weasels on and b) I may ever learn to keep my fucking mouth shut, move on, and not set foot onto that minefield. I can see the weasels coming. I can see me shrinking down small and alone and worthless and unwanted, and I can hear what they're saying, and I know exactly where this is coming from possibly, if I put some effort into it, all the way back into elementary school? No, probably into middle school is where it started. And yet I went and I set foot onto the minefield anyway and lo, there was an earth shattering kaboom. Fucksake, self.
Sigh. Deep, heaving, irritated sigh, and finding some fucking work to do. Anymore these days, unless I have time and space to sit down and wrap something nice around me that's what it seems like I do. You know what it is, you know those damn weasels by their names and the scars from when you smacked it on the nose with the meteor hammer, now put them down and do your damn work. You have MANY work to do anyway. And when that's done, take a breath and go do something nice. Listen to a good math or arts lecture, that's always fun.
Fucking weasel field. Pop goes the goddamn shitstained weasel.
Anyway. Okay. Yes. Doing the work. Day job can stop being so wacky chaotic any time now though. For the purely selfish reason that I'd like to get some other things done during the day. Or... Oh, hell, I don't know. Let's see if I can chop down some of my to-do list and WEASEL I SEE YOU CREEPING UP THERE DON'T YOU FUCKING THINK I DON'T.
( Rotating To-Do List )
Khan Academy:
Arrow:
The Flash: