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!
kittydesade: (komm zu mir)
Deutsch )

I hate house-buying.

I have come to this conclusion that, admittedly, I already suspected. I hate looking at houses because I'm incredibly picky. Not that I have an idea that this room should open up onto that room and the other room, but I have an idea of how much space I want, and in what rooms, and how much I want to pay for what. Which makes me picky even in a buyer's market, which this is, and dear lord have I mentioned we are getting an awesome interest rate? Ahem. But I hate looking at houses, I hate dealing with the fucking goddamn paperwork, I hate legalese, and I hate bureaucracy. At least everyone involved is being a perfect doll about everything.

So, the upshot and cause of this tirade is that there is no inspection tomorrow, because the bank just now decided to let us know that they want the house under contract before they'll turn on the utilities, which makes an inspection largely futile. Tomorrow, then, instead of going out to Old Hotness (*weeps*) to inspect it, we'll go over to our realty lady and sign the sapling's worth of offer paperwork. Put down our earnest money, make the whole thing contingent on a good inspection. I'm reasonably confident that it'll be okay and, more importantly, the boy is reasonably confident that it'll pass inspection. And he's much less biased and ready to piss a circle around the house than I am. And then we'll have that started, and then the inspection can happen, and there will be pictures for everyone. So it's not a major setback. Just a very, very irritating one.

Anyway. My last arm warmer is almost off needles! After that I can work on all the hope chest things ever. I've already got one placemat started, I'm not sure what to do other than placemats and doilys. People! Help! What else should go in a hope chest? Other than sheets, because I am damn well not embroidering sheets with stupid little patterns. and I don't have an actual chest to put this stuff in. Oops. But, you know.

Argh I can't wait to tell you people about Old Hotness. Argh, I say!

Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (fandom - tron)
Deutsch )

Flist! Droll! "Comme j'ai dit" auf deutsch, ist Als ich habe gesagen oder Wie ich... ? Parece que no puedo hablar o pensar solamente en un idioma... o en el idioma correcto. Auf Deutsch! ich kann nicht sprechen oder denken? auf richtig Sprache Ich kann nicht in der richtigen Sprache reden oder denken. По-русски, я не могу говорить или думать ... я не знаю.

And if you can read all of that you're about as crazy as I am.

BRUCE. BRUCE IS COMING BACK TO DRAGON*CON. BRUUUUUUUUCE! Which, you know, as early as it is this assumes he stays on the rolls till then, but still and nonetheless. There is a Bruce on the guest list1 This makes me happy in a big way. And I think I'm almost done with the next chapter of Juke Joint Jezebel, which would be nice because I'm not at all happy with the way this chapter's shaping up. Either I'm losing my touch or it's not as bad as I think it is, and I can't tell which argh. This is why betas exist, folks. This is so why betas exist, among so many other reasons.

Blah Blah Megaupload (NYTimes) blah blah shut down blah blah piracy charges blah blah bitchcakes. "Investigators said there was no connection between arrests in their two-year investigation and the political firestorm that erupted this week over a pending vote on the Stop Online Piracy Act." Their pants have been on fire for so long that they are no longer pants but merely a thin layer of ash covering their naughty bits. I have all the Carol Kane pointing for them. All of it. The only other thing I can think of is that Anonymous is going to be cranky. I think. I could be wrong. Actually from what I got of a brief Google of Megaupload some music executives might be unhappy too.

Me, I'm going to curl up with my writing and this other much more happy headline 30 year fixed rate mortgage rates falling to a new low and grumble and chew on imaginary people's livers. Well, real people, imaginary livers.
kittydesade: (my saviour my failure)
日本語 )

Русский язык )

FUCKING B7 CHORD.

Other than that, Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye is a pretty easy song, really.

Every once in a while I think Sherlock is right, and I want to cock my head at people and ask Dear god, what is it like inside your funny little brains? It must be so boring. Getting into all the myriad sources of this over the last 24 hours would take too long. But really. Is it nice in there? Peaceful, quiet?

As far as yesterday's kerfuffle I have decided that rather than be irritated by someone who doesn't know how to hold himself proper to the pose/stance/movement, I'm just going to use this to remind myself that if I want to kick that much ass, I have to work for it. And be more efficient at my workouts. Hip-drops hip-rolls kicks of various kinds chest and shoulder isolations back straight tailbone tucked soft knees aligned body parts. And just from being irritated over all of this has made me hold myself better, so something positive there. Just because it can be done doesn't mean it should be done casually, improperly, or in a vacuum.

... Although dancing in zero-g would be kind of sweet. I think. There, I cannot say, having never tried to.

It's a bit like me saying no one can bend their fingers proper to a B7 chord, when probably a few hundred guitarists do it every day, just because I haven't practiced properly to do it. Even if it is a fucking annoying chord.

And god knows there are covers and comics and other drawn images of people that defy the laws of nature and create ridiculous expectations in people about their bodies. Those would make great examples for such an article. I would be much happier if people would use them instead.

There was a question in here about the "Canadian shack" explosion I saw all over network and then I decided I was better off not getting involved as far as saying things with words. I did do some reading and some digging, and now I'll be over here working on my now much delayed SPN fic and other stuff.

Also, if you know me and Anna together at all and in any way, go read this. Seriously. This shit is old and tired and people need to stop fucking hurting my friend.

I am crawling under the internet and not coming out for a few days.
kittydesade: (hey dude)
日本語 )

Gaeilge )

Stealth period is stealthy. The headache and slightly feverish feeling has gone away, or more like the headache replicated and divided itself between my head and what Deadlands would call my lower guts. And this is after spending last night asleep off and on.

Oh look, the headache's back. Fair warning: picture shows a destroyed violin of apparently a goodly age and sound. Because Paypal is made up of idiots and douchebags. I disapprove in the strongest terms possible in many languages. I need more languages so I can disapprove more strongly.

Slow progress on writing is slow, but given how much better I feel today and how woozy I apparently was feeling yesterday, I think I know why. Not so much to do today at work, it looks like, a couple of big things to go out and half the incoming can be turned right around and shipped back out, so that's something. Not much mail either, I think, which means I can get that done and sit down and bang out a few words, because I have so much crap I need to bang out. Recovering from Yuletide is a bigger bitch than I thought.

We didn't even make it to look at the house we were going to look at which, admittedly, was a foreclosure. It's apparently under contract now, and wasn't available after the 29th. No one told the listing place, though. So, bugger that, but there's a few other houses that we can look at. At least one is listed as "needs work" which makes me guardedly optimistic. As long as the work is something we can do for less than what we'd save... I don't even know what they mean by "needs work." Cosmetic work? Putting cabinets in? Plumbing and electric? We'll see, I guess. Which, crap, I forgot to write down the address and listing number, I'll get that tonight and then talk to the Architect tomorrow and then see.

Oof. Right, today, picking up my desk, catching up on all the tags ever, writing and a bit of packing. I can do that.
kittydesade: (facepalm - dean)
Deutsch )

Well, that was a thoroughly disheartening conversation with my mother in which she decided that telling me my monthly payments would be twice and a bit what I expected/what we could afford, and then spent the next twenty minutes or so attempting to take it back, tell me I'd get plenty of help from the family (which is probably true) and that there were plenty of affordable homes in the area (that might, for all I know, be trailers or fixer-uppers) and generally be of no help whatsoever. Oh mother. I love you, for most things you are helpful and reassuring, for this? Apparently not so much. I now feel even worse about buying a house than I did, even poorer than I did, and am terrified of going anywhere near the goddamn credit bureaus, let alone a loan application.

The questions I did want to ask, folks on my flist! You who have bought homes, tell me! My current impression is that it is easier to get pre-approved on a loan once you have an idea of what you want to aim for, spending wise, and then go house shopping for that range. Yes/no/where did you get that idea you crazy woman? What does getting pre-approved for a loan even look like? What kind of paperwork is involved, I mean, do they punch in numbers on a computer and then it spits out your suitability for whatever, and then they give you some paperwork to sign and you show that to the realtor/real estate agent/people with houses who ask? What ducks do you want to have in a row before you look at houses? What does making an offer look like, do you just say something or is there a written part too? I know the definition of escrow but the practicalities bemuse me. Enlighten me, o mighty internets!

Or, you know, don't. I'll be over here still cowering from my mother's "oh, *$500 over your month's wages* is about what I'm paying for that much house."

Seriously, there are two parts of my brain very much at war right now. One of them is running in circles panicking, tears flowing down her face, trying to stick her head in the oven because she's dirt poor and never going to be able to afford anything ever and what's the point of living??? And the other one is pondering dinner recipes and making lists of the rest of the shit she has to get done tonight, like Japanese and writing and reviewing for the Music Theory test. It's very weird in here right now.

This was going to be about more than just house buying, I swear, but I think I'm out of cope for anything more serious, so you get house buying panic. Sorry. Kind of.
kittydesade: (christmas angel)
Gaeilge )

Picked up a Yuletide pinch-hit. Yes, already. I know how it's going to play out and after a couple of hours of racking my brain over how to get the event and item/person arc to match the character arc I finally found what I think is the perfect event arc matching and now I know what I'm going to do on Thanksgiving. Be thankful for my Dragon, among other things, but also write the hell out of both my Yuletide stories so I can send them to my betas and get them uploaded next week sometime. Which might be the earliest I ever have anything finished and uploaded. I've figured out how to budget my writing time, it's like a Christmas miracle.

Anne McCaffrey passed, which I'm sure most of my flist knows by now. Rest in peace, dear lady. You provided many a good start for many a girl and boy in science fiction and fantasy. Particularly for the lady authors of today.

Also in depressing (but less depressing!) but somewhat inevitable news, one study rejects the faster-than-light finding, based on the fact that the particles didn't shed as much energy as they should have if they had gone that fast. On the one hand, BOO. Do not take my dream of FTL travel from me! And on the other hand, the scientist in me knows and is glad that this is a necessary step in the process. As fun as groundbreaking, view-changing new discoveries are, they should be tested to make sure they're true and not just a mistake. So, we'll see what happens with that. The experiment was replicated, and so far two mistakes have been found, one eliminated and one still existent, so we'll see whether or not there's anything to this.

Blah stuff. Things. I am, now that I think about it and now that I've gotten here, very glad that I'm off tomorrow. I can sleep in, I can get a pile of writing done, I can relax and clean up a bit and have a breather. Although really, the mail order sale hasn't hit as hard as I expected. Which is, no doubt, its cue to sock me in the face somehow.

Oh lordy, that was the other thing. Sons of Anarchy, I hear, was renewed for a season 5 but at this point I don't even know where they're going to go with it, considering what happened last night. I can't say I was surprised by any of it, but Kurt Sutter has a habit of really hammering down on the actions have consequences button. Once again, mostly I just want to curl up around Tig and hold him and pet him and let him cry it out or what have you.

Oh, and there really are only 500 people in the world, and 400 of them are on the internet. Science says so.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (morning ugh)
Gaeilge )

I can't even begin to tell you how unbelievably tired I am. Emotionally, less physically right now but that was last night, everything. Part of me wants to go back over the last couple of months and figure out if that's justified, the rest of me isn't going near that. Probably just reading over everything that's happened... off the top of my head, coming back from the con, people at work going on vacation and then breaking their hip, leaving us three people short. Prepping for a show. Dealing with said show and another craft show down the street at the same time, leading to probably a doubling of the usual amount of foot traffic in the store while simultaneously having two people off the other side of town at the trade show. Unpleasant revelations from my past. Boy sick for an entire week with viro-bacterial brochomonia. I'm fairly sure I was sick for a weekend in there, somewhere. Dentist appointment. Okay, yeah, that's enough describing all the various exhausting things that have happened to me above and beyond the multitude of things I normally do.

... Okay, it took me about two or three minutes to remember what I had to change and then how to change the keyboards on my computer, this is bad.

The boy's going to try to go to work tonight, I don't know how good of an idea that is but at least he says he feels a lot better. And he kind of looks it, but I still doubt his ability to get through a night's work, to say nothing of the wisdom of walking into a petri dish with him this sick. ON the other hand, if he goes to work hacking and wheezing as he is, they can't very well argue about him malingering at home. Bastards. I know his supervisor knows he's still sick, he called the other day at a more civilized hour to ask how he was doing.

Still haven't gotten sick. Still a little bemused by this. Normally, given the close quarters, when one of us gets sick the other gets at least somewhat of a cold, a something. Right now? Nothing.

Right. What do I have to do today? Try and finish my Original Big Bang draft, I guess. Work some on the Horror Big Bang, and my daily Mary Sue comfort fic. Filing at work, plus whatever else comes in. German, Japanese although yesterday ... no, the day before was just rules, yesterday there were no languages. Guitar. Music theory can wait a day. And I guess that's it. Doesn't look so bad, assuming nothing else comes up and socks me while I'm down. Hopefully I can make it through the day at work. If not, time to curl up with my knitting and let the Elf Lord poke the new computer.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (bad day)
日本語 )

Gaeilge )

I love how "James Tolkan" has become "that guy what'shisface from the elevator.

The plague is still here, of course. The fridge and pantries are well stocked with both real food and takeout, and we have at least an adequate supply of tissue-like products. Medication has been obtained and once again I don't know why we bloody well bother going to Urgent Care for an upper respiratory anything because all they can say is it's either viral or bacterial pneumonia or bronchitis. Which, yes, does cover about 80% of the possibilities, thank you, we could guess that for ourselves. So they sent him home with antibiotics and codeine-laced cough syrup. Yay.

The pharmacist did at least say that he should be better by probably tonight, going by when the pharmacist said it. If he's not at least sort of better by tomorrow morning, we'll figure out something else. Woke up at 4 in the morning with him coughing and wheezing, which still scares me half to death at 4 in the morning. He doesn't have asthma, he shouldn't damn well sound like that.

Plus there's the whole depositing next week's paycheck thing that I'm fussing about now, although I suppose since that went off all right I can just do the same again, and then I'll have rent monies. But it's still a worry. And. And and. If I catch this bug, this nasty, and I do have asthma? Ugh, I don't even want to know what that would be like. It's possible it's just hitting him harder but, ugh, I don't know. Tired, worried, not sick, but sick of being tired and worried. Apparently life hasn't been in the habit of handing out breaks for one thing or another for two months now.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (irksome)
Deutsch )

Argh. Argh argh argh.

Let me posit a situation to you, dear readers. You're passing a cop on the street. Nothing terribly hinky seems to be going on. Said cop pulls out his gun, looks down at it. Frowns, waggles it, then puts it back in his holster and does not snap the holster shut. How do you take this? What do you do? Do you find this unusual? Worrying? Normal? Uninteresting? Inquiring and cranky kitties want to know.

The other massive annoyance of the day: now I really need to get my ID renewed because I can't get a working debit card without it, but this means dealing with social security because this state's DMV won't give you an ID without the actual social security card. Can't use your passport, your medical insurance, tax forms with your SSN on it, no, you need the actual card. Which went through the washer years ago. ARGH. I mean, I've been meaning to do that anyway, but I really really hate that so much of what you need to do in this country you need to do based on a piece of identification that you're supposed to have on you at all times and is made of fucking paper. Hopefully this won't involve too many hoops. I may hurt something.

Well, no I won't. It'll be frustrating and it may take a while, but it's not anything I can't get done by flashing the contents of my Important Shit folder and going and showing things at offices. And until that's done, and all my bills are paid anyway for a while, but until that's done I have enough cash to get by for a week or three. Still cranky.

And I have a sick boy at home to deal with argh. At least most of my errands are done. Still need to beat up the tea place for great teas, but that can happen at the end of the day. Oof. Now, work-type work. All the packing and all the unpacking and bleh. This week better improve from here on out, 's all I'm saying.
kittydesade: (bad day)
Deutsch )

According to news article implication, Herman Cain came up with this ridiculous 9-9-9 tax code based on a video game. Okay, maybe not, but apparently it resembles the tax codes found in Sim City. Not Sin City like I first read. And, you know? I don't care if it's true or not, but that should become political fanon. Just because it implies he's so incompetent he can't come up with a sound economic plan based on real economics, he has to go after VIDEO GAME ECONOMICS.

I wrote that somewhere between at 10 and 11 this morning. By 11.30 I was exhausted again. I keep forgetting at the most inconvenient times that emotional stress is almost as bad as physical stress, and in some cases worse, and I will need more sleep. The end result being that I am taking forty five minute naps in the middle of just about everything except my day job. I really, really am getting tired of this, universe.

On the very dubious plus side, I doubt the boy is in any shape to run game either this weekend, so we will be doing nothing but curling up, watching television, reading books. Making food. I'll be doing writing, he's off work too, so we can just hide in our apartment and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. And sleep. A lot.

There was a Metaquotes going around on LiveJournal a while back about people dying, the folks who stay with them, and whether or not it is noble to say, I can't do this, and back off. And a lot of people arguing that yes, it is good to know your limitations, and a lot of people arguing that you should suck it up and stay with your friend/loved one in their last hours because otherwise you're a terrible person. And as this has become an abruptly personal issue for me in the last 12 hours, as personal as it can get for me at the moment? Fuck. I have no answers here, just, fuck. Sitting with the dying is hard. It is draining, it is exhausting, it is debilitating and painful and hard. All on its own, no arguments needed about who's suffering more, I hate those arguments. There does not need to be a bitching contest about whose suffering is worst, as though there are quantitative or qualitative degrees of suffering and if you only make it to a 7.6 on the Pathos scale, no whining for you. Fuck. That. I don't know if it's nobler to sit with the dying or to know your limitations and when you'll be more of a wreck and a burden on the dying than a help, I don't know if there's a solution and I doubt that if there is one it can be summed up in a sentence or even a few paragraphs of a Metaquote. People are complex creatures. What I do know, did know and do know again now, more abruptly than I wanted to, is that sitting with the dying is hard.

Fuck. Just... fuck. I'll be under my blankets if anyone needs me.
kittydesade: (fragile heart)
Gaeilge )

Got a bunch of stuff done last night. Little fiddly bits, but a lot of things. Printed stuff out, pulled together documents, made lists. Made lassi. And then I got on the phone and talked to my Mom for a couple last bits of information and got yanked completely off my equilibrium.

There's a... a thing. That happens, sometimes. If you don't know all the details of your past or, hell, even if you think you do. I thought I did. I thought I knew the worst that was in my past, as far as my bio-dad, who I haven't seen since I was three or four. And then I called my Mom and got some stuff from her for an official thing, and there was a place for information about my bio-dad. I put 'unknown.' I still got off the phone with my mother with the option to contact him, because I'm going for my annual physical in a couple weeks and having a medical history would be really nice. But other than that, I don't think I want to know. And what she told me makes me even want to know less.

The shortest version, the version I feel comfortable putting out there (although it's my day to check in and I really need to unscramble this) is that she told me not to Google him because I would find some really unpleasant shit. And then she told me the gist of the unpleasant shit. And, Mom, I love you, but if you tell me don't look at this because you don't want to know and then tell me anyway? What's the point of telling me I don't want to know.

I have no idea how this affects me. Or, no, I have no idea if it affected me before I knew, because now that I know it sure's hell affects me. It makes me question a lot of shit in my life. It makes me scared. It makes me angry. It makes me want to destroy all the contact information and it makes me want to call the guy up and scream down the phone what the fuck are you? Which, according to one of my aunts, he has patched it up. And changed. And all that. So I don't know. It's just, bad shit. All of it that I found out last night. I called up my Mom to get one piece of information and got knocked completely base over apex.

Something something. Today almost everyone in the store except two people have doctor's appointments, so this is going to be one hell of a day. Expect either silence or explosions.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (morning ugh)
Русский язык )

I have had one day off, completely off of both work and volunteering, in the last fortnight. Literally, fourteen days. And now I go in to work for another five days, and then I get a weekend. It is a minor miracle that I haven't done something terrible yet. Particularly given the current state of debt crisis negotiations our country's financial meltdown. On the plus side, if it is a plus side, nothing's been done to extend the tax cuts beyond 2012, either. And hopefully the general public stays fed up long enough for people to be elected who won't extend the tax cuts. Fucking trickle down theory, why does anyone think it works.

I need a nap. I'd like a nap. I'd like another day off, but sadly I don't get a weekend for a while. Actually, there's a lot of stuff I'd like, starting with the ability to organize my brain. I have no organization right now, and very little cope. One thing at a time, Jag. Get dressed, get everything together. Go to work. Deposit boy's share of rent. Pay bills. Update [community profile] witchesbigbang/[livejournal.com profile] witchesbigbang spreadsheet at lunch. Do German. Have lunch. Do day job work. Pick up desk. If there's time, finish a friendship bracelet sample. Whatever you do, don't fall down. Come home, do Japanese and guitar, do writing. It's okay. We can do this. There's not even that much incoming, although there'll be the usual mess outgoing. At least half of that pile is a pick-up order.

Oogh. Still need another day off. Ah well. One more week. And I'll enjoy it come Dragon*Con.

And then I forgot my power cord at home, and the battery on my pocket ninja is drained. So now I'm on the molassesputer till the Elf Lord gets here with his power cord. Which he hopefully brought. YAY. Wait, no. The other thing.
kittydesade: (facepalm - dean)
Oh right. I was going to post this.

Starts out in the back of this van with a guy who may or may not be my boyfriend. He keeps shifting back between an ex and the boyfriend. It's raining, we're half-heartedly trying to keep the windows and doors closed but rain like ash keeps coming in. And we're talking. I don't remember what we're talking about but eventually I have to get up and go somewhere.

Somewhere turns out to be this classroom that looks like it's in the anthro building at college. Actually it looks like the old classroom, go in and turn left and you're there? The desks have been cleared to the side from the floor and we're learning magic. We're learning magic from this roundish older guy who's trying to teach us something that gives me the creeping jeebies. I'm not sure what the techniques are but eventually I get fed up with it and start pushing questions at him. I keep pushing questions until it turns into a battle of wills. Then it turns into a battle of magic. By this time I've realized that he's actually teaching the indoctrination lessons of a cult leader who's a major dark magician, and while the teacher doesn't have much power in and of himself the person who's pulling the strings does. I go head to head in a magical battle with the teacher, who keeps manipulating shadows and energy. I win, because although this class was supposed to teach some kind of fundamentals of magical theory I'm actually more powerful and, through what I've gleaned from intuition etc, better skilled. I manage to pry the guy from his master's control, and at least a part of it involves the pipe music from Dark Crystal. Go figure. I use that as a focusing device; another student joins in on a flute because she recognizes it. The people in the background, the other students, tehy actually recognize it as the music from Dark Crystal too, but since I'm singing I can't actually explain to them how I'm using it as a focusing device. By the end of the song the teacher is out from under the influence of the dark magician, at least for now. The pathways are still in him to be influenced by the man.

Then the nightmare really begins. I ask the class, including the former teacher, if they want to learn real magic. I'm a little shaky about this but since I know magic and I know I'm not under the influence of anyone, I'd be a better teacher than the other guy. So I start getting the desks set back up and go to sit on the front desk, and the guy goes to the bathroom, and then the screaming starts. The dark magician has apparently learned that his lackey is loose and decided to take steps. And while I watch and try to put a cage or a shield around the man, his heart slowly bursts in his chest and his eyes turn black from the blood and he dies screaming. Yay.

There were more details to the magical battle but I can't remember them right now. Then I woke up.
kittydesade: (bad day)
Русский язык )

We'll start with that fucked up dream where I was wandering around some place that apparently used to be a camp or a school I went to, and was now being occupied by Christian fundamentalists. I can probably squarely blame this on the "good news" packet left on my doorknob yesterday. (And if I could find the originating church I would probably leave them a note that says "I appreciate the intention, but please save the $1 it cost to print this for me and donate it to a homeless shelter fund or a soup kitchen instead.") And I was walking around with this stereotypical SWS twink looking young man (pasty, dark scraggly hair, in need of a sandwich, wide trusting eyes, rather cute in a starving goth kind of a way and probably gay, given SWS and what happened next) when we start getting dirty looks from everyone. So we get ready to leave, and there's this older, 50s to 60s skinny country-style thug looking man. Who tries to give me a folding pocket knife by way of a threat. And I try to get out of there even faster, but somehow me and the twink get separated and the next thing I know the poor boy's lying on the ground with a knife hilt buried in his chest and I'm trying to keep him alive.

THEN. Oh god, then. Then I wake up, for the second time since the boy hit the snooze button on his alarm. Now, the cats have had 2 and a half years of training that I get up at 6ish, I feed them breakfast. So who do they go walking all over and pawing at when the alarm goes off at 5 and they don't get fed? I'll give you a hint: it's not the boy. So he got to sleep a little longer and I got to wake up a little earlier, and then THAT was the dream, up above, that I had. I wake up, stumble around the apartment, throw on some sweats. Think, maybe I should just go back to bed. But do I? No, I go stumbling out of the apartment. Without my keys. And I realize it just as the door locks behind me.

Thank god for kind-hearted early to work maintenance men who aren't even on the clock yet. I love you, maintenance guy. I think I even got his name, so I will have to send him a card or something. Christ, this has been a shittastic morning and it's not even 8 am yet.

Rrgh. Okay, better things. Adorable pictures of Bruce Boxleitner sitting in an old, ugly looking (yet probably fairly comfy from the look of it) chair with his glasses and a book and a geeky looking t-shirt. The fact that Draco is going to be at Dragon Con again, and maybe this time there will be less of a line, or I'll be able to get there quicker. The fact that despite that morning snafu I was pretty much able to complete my routines FUCKING ON TIME. RARR.

Oh. Less rarr. This didn't happen today but we figured out that basically what's happening with my laptop is the screen is, well. Burning. So I can either just cave and get a desktop where I can actually replace all the components (for a while) as they burn out, or I can replace the laptop screen. Neither of which is cheap. So, yeah. At least my credit card is paid off so if I have to get a new computer, I can. The boy is advising to wait till he's got a month or so of work under his belt; as irritated as I am by a lack of instant gratification, I'm inclined to agree. I have my pocket ninja, anyway, I'm not going to be completely lacking in computer time. Just annoyed.

(And seriously tempted to put a donate button up here. Every dollar gets you a hundred words of fiction or something. But on the other hand, I can afford a new computer way better than some people who don't have steady jobs. Stupid fucking economy.)

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (sister salvation)
日本語 )

I have mirin and a bamboo mat and nori and a fierce desire to start making my own sushi. Unfortunately I do not have the knowledge to make my own sushi. I'm sure the internet does, though. And books. Books are useful. If anyone wants to rec a title or a website that would be lovely, otherwise I will trundle over to either the library or the bookstore and occupy a bench for a short while. Or I might actually attempt to read that Japanese cookbook I have. It's in German.

Go on, picture the catastrophe that could ensue. I'll wait. And giggle.

Oof. Pleased, rather, that I've got help on the link roundups, although I could use one or two more hardy souls. I'm really disappointed in, oh, everyone. This isn't the country I signed up for. On the plus side, we're slowly becoming a decently organized team as far as getting information goes. On the other hand, if we were to add budget fuckery in general and How The Middle Class Is Getting Screwed to the list, we'd need at least double the news crew. And possibly a dedicated journal. The idea is actually kind of appealing in that I should never ever do this way.

I could also use another filthy assistant at least. The procedure is pretty simple and right now it's me, Anna, and two others. Spend about 30 minutes on this in a 24 hour period, much more and we might all go nuts. Take three states from the unclaimed list (it's in the gdoc). Collect somewhere between 2-4 links, toss them into the g-doc in their state, alphabetized, and add a 1-3 sentence summary. What kind of summary? Think, the opening paragraph of a news article. Action taken, agent of action, recipient of action, location. And then you're done. I'll be collecting it all and posting it around 10pm EST when it looks like it's gotten big enough, and aiming for 3x per week. It may end up being more depending on how much fuckery is going on. We're aiming for collective bargaining rights fuckery, although we'll accept turning a state into a dictatorship fuckery. Michigan, I'm looking at you. You can PM me or poke me via comment or email if you have my email (or the LJ email works too), or talk to [personal profile] lireavue.

Also, I'm Yelena. This pleases me. Even if I did sleep with Spider Jerusalem.

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

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