kittydesade: (renard will fuck you up)
Deutsch )

At this point I am going to start naming these goddamn weasels. The "you're not good enough" "no one will care what you have to self-publish" "you'll never be one of Them" "nobody likes you" "go eat worms" weasels. Their names are Malcolm, Timmy, Willie, Patrick, Shanksville, Jerry, and Ed.

(Ed's the little shit who keeps gnawing on my ankles every time someone I knew in passing when they were an un-published struggling author gets a mention from a childhood idol. Fuck you, Ed.)

So, yeah. I'm editing, can you tell? Editing always sends me into this tailspin of you're putting all this effort into something no one will care about. Fuck you, Malcolm, I'm not doing this for the adulation, if I wanted adulation I'd write Nick/Renard porn. I'd twitch the whole way through it, but I'd write it. If I wanted adulation. Which I clearly don't, or there would be a lot more Sam/Dean in my AO3. I want to write stuff that I find fun and interesting. And occasionally, put it out there so if other people find it fun and interesting they can see it too. Only I don't want to do it half-assedly. So, slogging. And occasionally thwacking Shanksville in the face with a frying pan.

I have now done the daring thing and not taken my box to the store for two whole days! Nor have I needed it! It's a fucking miracle! I swear I had more things to say about house stuff but it has gone right out of my head. I'm tired. It's time to get back to editing and the last bit of languages for the day. Twelve days until closing holy FUCK when did that happen. And weaving class tomorrow. And editing and prepping my BigBang Mixups because the mixers I have emailed haven't given me squat in terms of feedback since the first one. Who is amazing and wonderful and DID give me feedback. So, fuckit. Fuck everything, finished fics forever.

Speaking of finished fics, oh god. Works in progress I need to get back to. No, not all of it at once, Jag. One step at a time. Pull your thoughts together, you're scattering.
kittydesade: (disapproving hauser)
... Oh fuck. We've hit that stage of self-publishing trauma.

I'm very sure everyone out there who's written a damn thing they've considered putting out anywhere knows this trauma. It's the voice in my head that says you're not good enough to stand against the likes of Seanan McGuire, Elizabeth Bear, Ellen Kushner, Tanya Huff, Shannon Butcher, all those other people you follow and watch and read and admire from afar and skulk in corners to stare at, texts clutched in your hot little hands. It's the voice that says sure, you'll get a couple pity purchases from your friends, but it won't amount to anything. No one cares. You suck, and you're boring. Why bother. Give it up before you find out, inevitably, that your writing is bland and dry and it'll just sit there, forlorn and unloved, and never go anywhere.

I hate this stage. It comes and goes as predictable as the yearly spate of vitriol from politicians seeking election, and about as unwelcome. I suspect it's whispering loudly today partly because of being in an editing stage on many projects and partly because I'm buying a house. An awesome house. Which means packing and decorating and knitting my hope chest and surely there's all these other things I could be doing that would be more fun, more productive, than the pointless and futile exercise of self-publishing. Right? Right? Go do that instead.

Fuck you, voices. Fuck you very much.

No, there's no reason to expect that anyone will want to read my self-published novels. Anthologies, really, the anthology is coming out first. There's also no reason to assume failure. There is every reason to assume failure if I don't try. If I don't make the effort to become better, to publicize or at least make some timorous yawps, if I don't put the goddamn words on the goddamn page they will not exist. My editor and best friend isn't going to do it. My cheerleader and other best friend isn't going to do it. They're not going to automagically appear. And once they're there, they're not going to get better for sitting and gathering dust. The unnecessary digressions aren't going to take themselves off for wishing, and the descriptions aren't going to take on a magical and appealing glow on their own.

So, strap on your gear, girl. You were never doing this for the publicity or the adulation anyway, and it's not your sole source of income. So what is the goal, here? The goal is to get it done. To be a writer who has published a book, even if it's not the traditional route of banging your head against the brick walls of publishing company till your skull cracks and leaks fluid all over their floorboards. To be a writer who has published a book she can be proud of, that she knows she has done her best on. And not half-assed. You don't want to put out half-assed stuff, do you?

I didn't think so. You think you're not as good as all of them? Does that matter? Will being as good as they are or not so help you in any way to edit what you've written, compile it, and publish it? Is this a tool that you can use? Or is it a tool with a barbed-wire poison-touched shaft that sickens you every time you grab it? So stop grabbing. Idiot. You know how to do this. These women and men who have gone before you, yes, they leave tools scattered in their wake that you can see. Go ahead, pick those up. Use them to sand and polish and refine your work. But that one there, the one that says they love her so they'll hate me? Or worse, be in different? That's a rabid animal waiting to bite you. Kick it out of your way and move on.

Are we feeling better? Remember why you're doing this. Not for money, not for glory, not for fame. This is your story, and you're telling it because it is your story, one of the many you have to tell. So tell it the best way you can. And that's it. That's all you have to do. Now take a breath, dry your eyes. Grab your gear, and let's get going. You've got work to do.
kittydesade: (fight like a girl)
Русский язык )

Okay, parsing shit is hard, takes forever, and works a lot easier when you can draw arrows to everything. Still, I actually do kind of think this will help me understand sentence structure and so on. I might start doing exercises like this for bits and pieces of all these end of chapter exercises, followed by writing a similar paragraph of my own from English to Russian. Yay self-guided study!

Science is neat. That is all. (Aka: making Stradivarius instruments available to everyone! Via CAT scan and CAD printers.)

Oof. Sometimes I forget how much I do in a single day. Three languages, music practice, making dinner, exercise, day job, and, um. Squirrels. I don't even know. Lots and lots of things, all the things, so I shouldn't blame myself when something slips through because I'm so tired I just want to curl up with a couple of stupid TV shows and enjoy. Really. Plus I have Plunkett and Macleane and I'd forgotten how fucking hilarious that movie is. As in, really. And dammit, internet, why must you fail me when I want to foist hilarious period movies off on people? Stupid internet.

Pulled out one of my old bellydancing videos this morning because I felt lazy and didn't want to choreograph my own dance warm-up routine. Which, in retrospect, is stupid because I don't actually have to choreograph anything, I just have to go over the exercises I did over and over again for twelve years when I was a kid. But still, it was fun, and it reminded me of just how far I've come from those days. Both in terms of mindset and in terms of losing dance tone. Yes, I'm still harping on that, no I haven't regained much of it. Solidifying goals will come in a check-in post tomorrow, I think, because that needs to be my new goal now that I've kind of sort of gotten to 50 pushups, depending on how crazy my schedule is and how much I've dropped off exercise. Sometimes it's only 48. :P Anyway, so, yes. Figuring out dance goals. Maybe not "do it just like in the video by February, but something more.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out how to get rhinestone letters on a tiara.
kittydesade: (balance - white)
日本語 )

Oh my god you guys. You guys oh my god.

(For those of you who don't speak Jagflail, that is a video of an awesome Spider-Man dance choreographed to Michael Buble's cover of the Spider Man theme)

Okay, so, I didn't get to do this the other day because I was busy being awesome, but I'm going to once again go through the list of things I have done lately that make me awesome. Firstly, I'm currently studying four languages. Regularly, dedicated, and making progress on all of them. Secondly, I do this around writing and a full-time day job. Thirdly, I also am taking a Music Theory course and playing guitar. Slowly. But learning guitar. Fourth, I cook most of my own and the boy's meals, home cooking, most of the time actual cooking with a stove and chopping ingredients and shit. Fifth, the past couple weeks I have been doing this around working an unusually high day job work load. Sixth, I also make time to engage in a little RP and watch TV. Seventh... um, I can't think of a seventh. But I am a multi-tasking badass. Maybe seventh would be taking care of the boy and doing dishes and everything else right now.

That said, now I have a headache so I am taking some aspirin and some water/milk/something so I can continue to be all the badass. And going to bed on time. Because that's what badasses do. They know their limitations and manage them till they dance a little jig. Ahem.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (randomity (nopejr))
Deutsch )

My head hurts. I just spent the last hour or so thinking in English and Spanish simultaneously. Which was gratifying in the sense that it took me remarkably little time to slip into thinking in Spanish, and all I had to do was double-check some of my vocabulary, but then there was also some trying to translate things into French, which was harder, and argh. And now German. I am so, so out of practice at thinking in two languages at once.

On the other hand, I'm actually somewhat gratified at being out of practice in thinking in two languages at once rather than being out of practice at thinking in/speaking Spanish itself. Which I still am, but I feel much more confident in my ability to get it back. It really is under there, lurking, it's just that I have no occasion to speak it anymore because no one in my at-home household speaks it fluently.

Still need a random languages icon. Oh, and now we're moving to French. Owmybrain.

Argh. Okay, so, some of the chaos has died down at least, but there's still a pile of stuff to do at work and now fewer people do do it, so we're still going nuts. Meanwhile I have multiple languages stuck in my head and while the environment is in English so I probably won't burst out into random other languages at any point, it's still confusing. Ok, no. This does make me feel better about my ability to hold several languages in my head at once.

Something that doesn't involve me babbling about languages. Still have no idea if I'll have internet when I get home or not, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to get much writing done for at least the next couple of hours. This is somewhat dismaying. I guess I'll get a lot of writing done when I get home if that's the case, but still argh. Mostly argh because if we're not going to have internet I'd like to know now so I can get the whole online course thing done while I'm at work. Ugh. Maybe I'll call later today and ask, when the boy might be likely to be up, and when I still have time to do the rest of the first lesson. I am, though, liking the format of this online course thing.

Ooof. Again, for my own edification, things I still need to do: music theory coursework and I got 100% on my quiz, call home about the internet. Walk down to the stationary store and pick up some other color gel pens and I got a nifty notepad case for a legal pad! It is gorgeous and made by local Ashvillains. Scrounge around at work for a bigger binder for all my CS things. Check in, write write write, guitar practice, Japanese, maybe finish the dishes. Make lunch for tomorrow. Frame wife. Blame Guildor. Augh.
kittydesade: (sister salvation)
Deutsch )

日本語 )

Gaeilge )

In Which Jag Talks About Fitness Things Most People Put Behind Cuts

There's a definite kind of malaise that comes from doing ... what, almost three years now? Of workouts and diet and not managing to keep the weight off. Or the mass, I'm not sure which. This may end up being sort of depressing sounding, but it's true. I fix one thing, and it doesn't fix the overall problem. I have made improvements. I can tell I've made improvements because THIRTY freaking push-ups is getting easy and I can sprint in more about eighth of a mile sections, in winter, without panting or wheezing. And I have asthma. This after I've been running and jumping up and down and over benches, so it's not that there hasn't been progress. It's just that I'm still a size 12-14 in jeans (depending on period bloat and dear lord why did society and biology conspire to give us size neuroses and period bloat?) and I'd really, really like that to go down. Just a size or two! I'll stop at 8, I have no wish to be a size 6 or 4 or 0. Because my genetics dictate that I have hips. And I like my hips. And I like muscle definition, so, yeah, a slightly below 30" waist and a little off my hips and I'll be golden, but it keeps. Not. Happening.

(For the record, I'm 5'1 to 5'2" if I'm wearing my boots with heels. I think I'm actually 5'1 1/2" or so when standing up straight. I can never remember because I so rarely stand up straight, barefoot, against a measuring thing.)

Sigh. No, my headvoices/also me's/inner common sense is right. I only jacked up my workout and started really paying attention to my diet about six weeks before Dragon*Con, and it took until pretty recently for the diet changes to even stick, and the three weeks after Dragon*Con were full of work craziness and delayed con crud and general exhaustion. So now it's down to, from this week (which has actually been pretty decent) through winter, how much of my good habits can I stick to. And see if that leads to a more permanent change. But, god. Three years? I know I can lose it, because I have periods of a few weeks to a month and a half where I'm down at a size 10/30" waist/however you want to measure it.

And then probably what happens is I either panic and go OH GOD I REALLY WILL LOOK LIKE A SUPERHERO AUGH or I go "okay I'm done I can stop now." Which is probably a kind of psychology I should cut the fuck out. So I'll look like a superhero. Isn't that kind of the point? I'll still be me, it's just that my outside will more closely match my inner concept of myself. Which is to say, curvy and kick-ass and full of visibly toned muscle ready to bounce offending persons off the floor. Yes, I'm a violent person. And no, it's not an okay I'm done I can stop now. Exercise feels good. It might be an, okay, I'm done, I can scale it back a bit now, but no. This is a life change. That's why we've been doing it in slow steps to make sure I can live with this. A life change of eating more balanced diets/more protein and less carbs, finding foods that fit that that I'll eat, and cutting the refined sugars the fuck out. Seriously, I don't drink, I don't smoke, I drink water, milk, and occasionally juice and that's it, I cook most of my own meals, but the candy kills me. Still, slow steps. It's a life change, not a diet or a workout plan. There is no, okay I'm done I can stop now. This is me.

Ugh. Three years. Well, three years in three months, so I guess we'll see where I am in three months and if I can still whine then. With a little bit of, not luck, but stubbornness, I'll get back down to where I was in three months the last time I panicked, because, let's face it, I'm not actually that far off from it now. And then, we'll see if I can push me a little further. That's what Courtesan School is about, isn't it? Pushing ourselves to be what we want to be, instead of settling for what we are. ... So, really, what the fuck am I doing here still settling?

(Yes, I'm violent and I swear a lot. Seriously, I'm a lot less aggressive than that makes me sound. I'm also lazy as hell.)
kittydesade: (lizard)
日本語 )

Русский язык )

Fucking Pike 90s how do they work. The answer, of course, is that they work slowly, while paying attention to the body and its responses, Jag. Duh. You know this. Further in the category of shit I already know, it doesn't matter if I can't get as many reps as I think I should be able to immediately as long as I'm not hurting myself, that's what practice is for. And doing it consistently. And staying hydrated. And doing it well. And also, you stuck 5lb weights on your ankles you idiot.

Maybe the question here is more, how do I work and manage not to injure myself being stupid and attempting to be badass.

... And, ouch. Speaking of being badass, local blood supplies are critically low. Which I guess makes it time to find the local center and make an appointment if they have hours that don't overlap with my work hours. Mind you, I hate needles. And giving blood has enough of them that it freaks me out. Still. If I'm going to be a superhero, I should do superhero things. Giving blood is one of them. I even have a blood donor card from last Dragon*Con. ... Crap. I wonder if that would ineligible me to give blood. No, probably not, D*C's in two months.

Ahem. What distractions. Okay, once again, sure there was something else I meant to share, can't think of it right now so just posting this and getting my dumb ass to work, where there will be corrections on ALL THE LANGUAGES. And by all the languages I mean Russian and two or three days' worth of Japanese. Meh.
kittydesade: (high hopes)
日本語 )

Tired. Cranky. I probably shouldn't go into the long version but the short version is that there are discrepancies between my ancient UPS software, UPS's listed data, and what I calculate mostly roughly by hand ish and untangling it took the last 30+ minutes of my day. It took about that long to irritate me to no end.

Ah well. I'll figure it out tomorrow, possibly with the help of the Lurking Bandit and the Aunt.

And in the meantime I will have fucking awesome stroganoff with Greek yogurt instead of sour cream did I mention how awesome this stuff is? I am substituting it for sour cream in EVERYTHING. It is low-fat to fat-free and HIGH PROTEIN and pretty much works in exchange for sour cream and it is the food of the gods. I swear. It's also somewhat pricey as far as putting it in all the foods ever goes. I can do it on my two-income-household with not too many expenses budget, my friend on her one-income-ish household with not too many expenses can't. Put it in all the foods ever, that is. But. Food of the gods. Also, cooking how does it work, or maybe that's just my dexterity. I managed to splash the sauce all over myself TWICE just now. Oy vey.

On the other hand, I now have ingredients for THREE different kinds of meals: szechuan chicken stir fry, beef stroganoff, and tuna couscous salad. All of which will later be packaged and stuck in the fridge for future bento. Laundry will get turned over and then I will have tasty dinner, sit down to guitar and writing and things like that. So it isn't all bad. Plus I have ghiradelli and mint oreos. Not sure which will make dessert tonight, but aren't those tasty options? Why yes, they are. I'm on a horse.

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: (lioness)
Deutsch )

I have an unpopular opinion to register: I actually liked Sucker Punch. It did not disappoint me.

Sucker Punch, and I don't think I'm spoiling anyone by saying this, was a fantasy inside a hallucination inside a very, very basic plot. Girl is locked up by evil stepfather. Girl must escape. Girl escapes by retreating into a world of her own where the prison is more gilded, she has beautiful things around her to make herself feel better, and she has more power in her own right. She isn't as dismissed in a brothel as she is in an asylum. And through imagining her prison as a different sort of prison she imagines her escape route by being... a badass chick in sexy clothing with big powerful weapons who fights and kills monsters.

There are a lot of things I daydream about being. Some of them I'm working towards now: the musician, the linguist. But I'd say easily within the top five fantasy selves is a badass chick in sexy clothing with big powerful weapons who fights and kills monsters. Without a scratch. I went to Dragon*Con as Silk Spectre and Cheetara because I wanted to be a badass chick in sexy clothing with big powerful weapons who fights and kills monsters, because if I dressed up as such (in a setting where I wouldn't be looked at oddly for doing so) I figured, maybe it'll help me think of myself as such. Which will then boost my self-confidence, and so on and so forth. Note: Nowhere in this plan does it involve me castigating myself for not actually looking like Malin Ackerman or the living embodiment of a powerful catgirl. Fuck waiting for me to get my ass and the rest of me in shape, I'm going to fantasize about being that badass chick, and I'm going to make everyone else see it, too. Surprisingly, that worked. Really damn well.

Does Zach Snyder's movie have problems? I'm sure it does, no movie is problem free. For one thing, he's starting to look like he's taking after Frank WHORESWHORESWHORES Miller. But did I enjoy it? You bet your sweet bippy I did. All hail coping with stressful situations by imagining yourself kicking ass in full cinematic style. Complete with wise old mentor figure and over the top weapons.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (caterpillar brain)
日本語 )

Every once in a while I wonder why I do this to myself. Why I bother to learn three languages at once, why I put myself through this when I'll never master all the stuff I want to master anyway and it's not like insert half a dozen excuses here. Little voices in the back of my head whispering, oh give it up already. It's not like you're getting anywhere. It's not like it really matters. It's not like anyone gives a damn. Fuck you, little voices. Fuck you right in the eye.

So, yes, it's been that kind of a day. Four pages of Japanese grammar typed up did not help. But on the plus side, I've gotten a lot done already. I do have two book blurbs to write, that I'm not looking forward to, because if the voices are whispering give it up it doesn't matter on the languages, they just won't shut up on the damn book self-publishing endeavor. This is where it's useful also to have Also Mes, or headvoices, or whatever else you call them. More positive whispers that say, ah, fuck'em, you'll have done something and you'll have done something you wanted to do, that you like. And that's worth it no matter what anyone says.

... No, you know what, bad little voices? Fuck you in the eye with a power tool. If the boything calls up from whatever hospital he's CNAing at and says "Hey sweetie, I got a patient here who's talking in a language no one understands, can you identify it?" I stand a hell of a lot better chance of identifying and being able to translate if I keep working and keep moving, and thereby it makes not only me feel better, but also other people. So, hah. Bite me.

On the other hand, hey, look! I finally made an expressive caterpillar brain icon! Soon to come, Bitch, Please and conquering the world-building leviathan. I think I'm going to forgo tossing the rest of it up at you because it's 5,000+ words, and that's just the questions. Seriously, don't tackle this thing unless you really want to build all the details of a world from scratch, oh my god, I'd forgotten how insane I could get. And am going again, right now. Whoops.
kittydesade: (PRO-CRAS-TI-NATE)
[Poll #1566543]

So, apparently the problem with being me and deciding that for my birthday I'm going to splurge is that I have absolutely no idea what I want to splurge on. Seriously. I am not a material person. I went splurging on things over the holidayish I just took, mostly on meals out but also on pretty blouses (which, I now have no need of pretty blouses ever more thank you) and eye makeup, but now that I've done that I find myself going to my bank account, eyeing it, being all "Okay, yeah, I have enough money here to splurge on something." And then being all, "well, what do I want to splurge on?"

Um. Hmm.

Seriously, there's very little that I can think of that I do want. I mean, foundation would be nice, and I probably need some more eyeliner since mine is a year or so old, ish. I think. I don't remember when I opened the second one but the first one is definitely a year old. And I could probably use some more lip color because I'm pretty sure I've had those three since college. But the thing is, I actually use it now. Still. Seriously. And it works, and I can't bring myself to go, yeah, I should buy new.

DVDs, I'm sure I have a list of, well, I can think of at least one DVD set that I wouldn't mind getting, which is The Shield, but other than that all of the movies on my wish list are kind of, eh. Comics, same. I want the Hellblazers, but other than that, meh. Books... I need to organize the damned bookshelves first. Which may be a task for the rest of the week/weekend (particularly while the boy is away and I can get cleaning done without him being underfoot. >.>) But I wouldn't mind owning a pretty complete collection of Terry Pratchett. But the want isn't strong enough to drive me to get any/all of it, even when I'm splurging with birthday money. Maybe especially then. It's like, now that I've given myself permission, I have zero interest.

So, yes. Tell me what I should splurge on for my birthday. Alternatively, suggest things I should do for my birthday that do not involve splurging on buying things! I already have the hot bath with candles and such thing lined up, that's on, but any other ideas are welcome. If you're going to suggest something fairly generic like books or DVDs, please do specify in comments, because otherwise I'll be sitting here going "... well, what kind of books/DVDs/etc do I want. Huh." and we'll be back here all over again. Or, again, failing that, suggest something that does not involve splurging that I should do for my birthday!

... And then the Elf Lord handed me a card. Aww!

Oog. I am looking forward to having a few days of resting after travelling so much and as semi-awkward as it sounds, a few days of resting without the boy. Seriously, there is a time to keep me up at night, and when I am trying to readjust my sleep schedule to normal after having been up for about twenty hours straight on 4 hours of sleep? That's not it. And don't then get pissy at me because you're tired and I'm tired and I didn't wake you or nap when you think I should have. I thought you needed the sleep, and I made the decision to stay up and go to bed early to reset. I'm a responsible adult and you don't need to try and get me to do things your way because you think it's better. (Seriously, I almost killed him last night.) Resting will be good. And then he'll be back from the 1535235th wedding this month and we can both settle back down.

There is one more big thing I want to do, which is to get my driver's license over the summer. Which will first involve me hitting up the social security office when the boy gets back to get my stupid social security card (seriously, they want you to use these for everything and carry them around always and yet they make them out of paper?) and then going and getting my learner's so I can legally practice. I haven't driven in a couple of years and I probably could use the practice. And then taking the stupid test. And then... something. We'll still only have one actually working car, but I'll at least have my license? I should also go for an eye exam since my last one was about two or three years ago and I should probably get my eyes re-checked and a new pair of glasses. Not until I get my license, though. I need to actually get in the habit of wearing them so that they don't become the next $250 paperweight.

So, I'm thirty. For some reason in my head this means I'm actually a grown-up. No, I don't know why. It's kind of nice, though. Apart from that, I feel no different. I'm happy with who I am, and who I'm working on being. It's definitely a good place to be.


Feb. 17th, 2010 04:27 pm
kittydesade: (every night i burn)
For a reference point, I'm about 5' and I come up to the middle of that 'Bang Head Here' sign.

Monday )

Today )

Keep in mind that for maybe half of these boxes, I have to run around the store and gather up what's in them. Then I have to pack them, with paper or air-bag storage or peanuts (I haven't used those in a while, though) or what have you. Then I weigh the boxes. This involves carrying the box over from where I packed it to the scale, which sometimes is about a foot, or hauling it over to the red scale which is lifting, turning around, hauling it over, and setting it down. If I know a box is going to be heavy I start out with it on the red scale (I swear, that thing is older than I am) and then haul it up off the red scale over to the pallet cart thing. Sometimes this involves dead-lifting weights of up to 50 or so pounds. Lately it's been about 20-35 pounds for the big boxes. I do this about four or five to seven or eight times a day on these heavy mailing days. Then I tape the boxes shut, send the papers over to be processed, etcetera.

Now, that's when it's simple. When it's not, like with these two days, I have to take out each cone of our brand of weaving yarn and weigh each color to make sure each cone is of a good weight. Then, if it isn't, I mark down the actual weight of yarn we're sending to the customer so we can pro-rate it. Thankfully, most of the cones we got back from our dyehouse are actually of a good weight this time, so I can just mark down the number of cones and be done with it. I have to double check every damn coil of reed. I have to play yarn tetris or box tetris on the cart till nothing falls off. So it winds up being 2 hours and 3 hours almost straight of bending, lifting, moving, bending some more, taping, bending some more, lifting some more...

And all of this, over the past three or four days, has happened around shipments coming in. 40 pounds of dye that has to go straight back out. A quarter ton of yarn which has to be sorted, labeled, and a lot of that has to go right back out. Some indeterminate poundage of cardboard boxes (100s of those) which, while very useful and I was starting to lack for boxes to ship things to people in, I had to haul all those and play box Twister, Tetris, and Jenga to make the box room navigable again.

My back hurts. My hands are chapped from paper tape glue. And I want to go home. Sadly, I have another hour and a half.

Whine whine bitch.
kittydesade: (Default)
Women power, seriously.

A friend of mine made a post which led to a discussion on body image, and the use of 'Rubenesque' as a descriptor either for praise and acceptance or for shame. So on and so forth. It reminded me, or maybe highlighted for me, that English at least as a language has very few positive descriptors for women, specifically for women body types. There's all kinds of adjectives that refer to qualities, like "stunning" or "sexy" or "gorgeous" but very few refer to specific qualities, and most people associate those words with whatever body types happen to be prominent and praised in the culture of the time.

Ladies! Start your mental engines. Describe in single words only the good things that come into your mind about your body.
kittydesade: (anton is my anti-drug)
Я учусь на историческом факультете.
Какая у вас специальность? Моя специальность история европейская.

ты учишься на философическом факультете.

Моя котёнка на столе.
Мой ноутбук на полу.
Мой рюкзак на полу.
Мой кот на рюкзаке.
Моя котёнка вверх кота. (?)

Well, that's some Russian, anyway. More Russian review tomorrow.

I'm actually back to feeling somewhat like myself again. Yesterday may have been overdoing it, there was some errands running and then a movie to celebrate the first time I got out of the house in four days. Literally. I spent Thursday, Friday, and Saturday in the house, not even setting foot outside to walk around the park. There was some ugh involved.

But, still. Feeling better, the room isn't spinning, and things are going better. Finished Kink Bingo and posted, finished getting my Silk Spectre costume together which involves:

1 black satin garter belt
1 pair black satin gloves
1 yellow leotard to be painted
1 pair black stockings (yet to be acquired in the proper size)
1 pair black lace-up 5" heel boots.

Let me repeat that.

1 pair black lace-up 5" heel boots. (I know I said 2", Fluffy, but we measured. These things are almost 5". 4" if you discount the platform.) I am going to be running around (well, tottering around) Dragon Con in 5" heel Fuck-Me boots. This is just a little bit disturbing. I don't usually wear things I can't either fight or flee in. I mean, I suppose I could apply boot heel to face in these but it's going to be like going en point, or at least en demi-pointe, all damn day. Eek.

That said, I am going to look fucking fantastic. I dare anyone to say otherwise.

I did, at least, get some writing and editing and coding done while I was sick. Not nearly as much as I wanted to because there was a lot of sleeping involved, but on Saturday I got a little bit of stuff done. The house is sort of a pig sty. The boy caught the rampaging crud too, albeit less so than I did, so we didn't get any tidying done. I got the laundry done mostly because I didn't want to get sicker. And I got my hair cut on Sunday! I now have bangs!

Yeah, still catching up on everything. This is not exactly what I planned to be doing the few days before Dragon*Con. Ah well.

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!
kittydesade: (beautiful day)
Apparently the snow day yesterday and some things on my friends list (sardine sandwich touchdowns? really? *so amused*) are the universe's way of telling me, "Lighten up! Relax. You can do this. You have the technology." Or, you know. Something. Apparently Courtesan School is now a way of making bionic women?

Or something.

I think the universe may also be telling me to pick up mini painting again, but I refuse to inhale primer/sealer fumes and sealer won't work when it's fucking ten degrees outside oh my god.

Yesterday, as some of you know, was a snow day. I went out, there was still snow. I checked the weather, it was NINE DEGREES. I did both again around eight thirty, when I usually talk to my aunt if there's weather outside of a nature that would prevent me from walking over. We discussed it and she must have said about five times, you don't have to come in if you don't want to. Well, I knew there was stuff for me to do (as it turned out very little accumulated over my snow day, which, thank you universe) so I said I'd see.

The boy went out about nine or so, walked around hte apartment complex and up to the street, and came back and pronounced it "a deathtrap." So then I call my aunt back and say "Uh. Don't even try bringing that bucket of yours over here." Because hell if I'm walking over there in nine degree weather.

So I had a snow day. And it was glorious.

I wrote a little. I took a hot bath. I fucked off and played with a random pup who nonetheless was highly amusing. I chatted. I watched more TV than I have at one go in a very long time, including Evan Almighty, which was funny and contained a bit of wisdom I probably needed to hear. And Morgan Freeman in a conga line. Leading a conga line. I ate Things WHat Are Unhealthy For Me and felt no guilt, because, dammit. Snow day.

And today I got up and for the first time in, literally, years, I went straight back to meal plans and such without a qualm, a pang, or a problem.

Going to work was a bit of a qualm and a pang because it's still frikkin freezing out there, but hey.

So, Universe? Message received, yes ma'am. Taking a breath. Relaxing. It'll be the weekend soon. I have good, good friends who help me when there are problems and pick me up when things knock me down. And sometimes, you do get a break. Life goes on.

And the bit from Evan Almighty that stayed with me, or rather, the bit that didn't involve birds pooing on people and elephants giving not!Weechesters high-fives: "Let me ask you something. If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience? Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient? If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous? If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?"

Morgan Freeman is wise, folks. Listen to Morgan Freeman.
kittydesade: (Default)
So, I guess the good news is that after running about five different antivirus programs my computer may end up being malware-free. This strikes me as something like the equivalent of hitting the offending spider with a can of Raid, your boot, the phone book, the Oxford Shakespeare, and then jumping up and down on it just to make sure, but hey. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? The somewhat better news is that if I can keep it going until my birthday (roughly four more months, which is what I was planning on trying to do anyway) my aunt and the Elf Lord will kick in some. A new laptop is $5-600 bucks. I did my budget and I can certainly save up that much by then, so with family kicking in, I should be able to get somewhat that will last. And hopefully then I'll have a backup compy too.

I also got a whole bunch of boxes yesterday! Thank you, folken! *snuggles* Especially to my darling Bria, whose present was timely enough to remind me that I am, in fact, the goddamn jaguar, and the little things should not get me down.

I also found my other pair of shoes, which are really more like sneaker boots/hiking boots for squishy people, and they are in good condition with only some scuffing at the toes. I can live with this. This also means I don't need to shell out for a new pair of sneakers, which, at this point, all to the good.

Firefox still isn't working on the laptop, but that may be in the line of requiring an uninstall/reinstall, which isn't bad. I can get the install file either at work and pop it into an email to myself or here and pop it onto a flash drive. A few of us did a working last night to try and improve our probabilities, and if nothing else I would hope that we, as the TSO storyteller says, did no harm.

I cut my finger slicing potatoes. I never cut my finger slicing vegetables. What the hell.

But, overall... well. Here's hoping today goes better than yesterday. If it's slow at work I can get started on my homework assignment for the week, too. Or at least get a bit of a walk in; it's slowly, very slowly warming up. And this Thursday will begin the sixth week of Courtesan school. Holy crap, people.
kittydesade: (bale is pleased to meet you)
All right, I suppose some sort of introduction is in order for the new friends I've made through Yuletide, or at least, a last chance to flee before the insanity consumes you.


My name is Jag -- and I actually do go by Jag in real life and have for a good fifteen years or so. Which is a little frightening in and of itself. My username is Kittydesade almost everywhere I've been, including on Deadjournal, Insanejournal, Vox, and Journalfen. Of all of those I think Insanejournal gets updated most. Oh, and Greatestjournal, not that anyone ever goes there anymore.

My userinfo is pretty self-explanatory; I haven't updated my interests lists in a dog's age but it's still fairly accurate. It's also a good place to go for the fandoms I've been interested in over the past many years. More recent fandoms, as in, in the past six months or so, have not been added. My actual interests haven't changed that much since I did last fuss with it. The best way to get to know me as I am at the moment is to go through the last page or so of entries in my journal. Yes, most of it is German, Russian, and Tarot, but interspersed with that are real actual entries about what I've been doing.

I'm attempting a little exercise in self-improvement called Courtesan School, and you will find the phrases 'baby courtesans don't do that' or 'baby courtesans do do that' popping up a fair bit these days. Mostly what it involves is energetic, positive thinking, exercise of mind and body, self-discipline, and doing the little self-care things consciously every day to make myself feel good about myself and in general. A few of my friends are doing it with me.

In general, I don't feel a need to be private about a lot of things, so feel free to ask.

Enjoy the ride.
kittydesade: (et voila)
More bullet points, because I have to go back to work in 10.

* I feel so, so good right now. Just generally, not omg perky happy, but just generally much better than I have in at least a few weeks.

* I'm a little startled by the trend we've set. On the other hand, as far as trendsetting goes, wellness is a good one to do! Go wellness!

* On the bad side, some customers really are that stupid, and I should remember this.

* I saw the most hilarious commercial for a Spanish language movie the other night at the beginning of the 3:10 to Yuma DVD (BALE! WAH!). The title was something about Ladron something something a Ladron, and I need to go back and dig it up. And then buy it somewhere. I wonder if the SPanish language bin at the Wal-Mart has it. I want it. It looks hilarious. And it would help me maintain my Spanish.

* It is still in the 50s out or so. WTF NATURE. THIS IS DECEMBER.

* Lor! My copies of Faust and Breakfast shipped today! If you haven't bought copies for yourself, let me get them for you. Christmas present. :)

... I should get back to work. But this post definitely gets the booyah tag.

ETA: This was too good not to share.

Me: ... goddammit, I want a tootsie roll.
Sam (Still Also Me): No.
Me: But WHY? I was good! I can have dessert!
Sam: Yes, but, remember, you're a baby courtesan now. Baby Courtesans Don't Do That.
Me: Oh, shut up. *has G&B's*
kittydesade: (this time i believe)
And now that I've been all cryptic at people... have some more cryptic. Now with added cryptic context!

Lyrics: Promises to Keep )

I cry like a baby every time I see that show. I really do.

It's definitely winter. It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey outside. In fact, if anyone has a brass monkey? Bring it on down and we'll see if the balls freeze off. And I'm walking over to my aunt's every morning in this weather. BRRR. My fingers have turned to phlangesicles. I get up every morning two hours before I have to leave and shower just so I'm not going out with a wet head.

On the plus side? I really am remembering to do my dance exercises in the morning. Maybe not all of them, or all that I should be doing, but I'm slowly adding them on. So, yeah. That's something I haven't been able to do in at least a couple years. It's coming up on three weeks now waking up (or rather, being woken up by the damn cat), showering, doing my dance exercises. Now if I could just kick this candy habit...

At some point I need to make a list of people I need to get/make presents for and actually assemble the boxes and do it. I work in shipping, goddammit. I should be able to assemble packages and ship them out. This weekend, though? Christmas card time. And icon time. And mailing off that damn card to my cousin. What's it called when your cousin has a kid? DOes that make you an aunt or a cousin once removed? All I know is that it's mother's sister's son's child. Because I'm a geek.

Really, there's not much else of substance. Go ye and leave your address for a holiday card of some kind. Last call. And if you're sending anything big as a breadbox or bigger, leave me a note so I can tell you where to send it, because our mailbox only accomodates letters and even that's a bit slapdash.

Someone remind me that I need to actually, you know, put Sam's TRs up and all that other crap I've written for Sam, if I want to have a link to him on my website. That hasn't been updated in ... um. Yeah. Oops. Bad Jag.

ANYway. Okay, this entry was going to be longer, but it's actually quitting time, which means Miller Smirnoff time, and kitty time, and putting my cold hands on the boy's neck time, and going home and being warm and happy and content. This week hasn't been particularly good, but happy Jag is happy, and good things have been achieved. This makes a happy Jag.

Peace out, y'all.


kittydesade: (Default)

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