Warhead On Legs

( にほんご )

So, I just had an extensive Twitter conversation with the linguist who created the languages for Game of Thrones and Defiance. For no readily apparent reason. Because someone tweeted something about Rosetta Stone Dothraki and I sent it to him and, now I'm being urged to learn Georgian? Bastard, it's actually an intriguing language, too. Double bastard. I might pick it up for a weekend I need to do something that isn't any of the things I need to do, what's relaxing, oh, hey, learning Georgian! Type thing. Not aiming for fluency, just getting an idea of the structure. Shouldn't take more than a couple of weeks.

(What? Don't look at me like that.)

(Some of you are looking at me like that because learning languages for fun? Seriously? Some of you are looking at me with the JAG DO YOU NOT HAVE ENOUGH THINGS TO DO.)

In the meantime I have now done Japanese and made a fucking kickass fettucini chicken alfredo. Like you do. And the boy has been a kickass boy and now half of the lawn is mowed! (It started raining halfway through. WHich just goes to show that buying a lawnmower and declaring your intentions to mow the lawn makes it rain.) And now all the writing and some of the publicizing and I actually do feel better than I have in the past few weeks. What is this madness?? This is not Sparta I am lost.

( にほんご )

Routines help. They help me, at least, pretty sure they help other people. So, in the interest of maintaining my routines, here's some Japanese grammar rules.

The American Red Cross says, amazingly, they have enough blood supplies. Still, please donate locally if not in the area, or make an appointment to donate in the future. There's almost always a need.

And please remember and keep faith that there is some good in the world. As Mister Rogers and his mother said, look to the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

( にほんご )

( 日本語 )

Here. Let's try this thing where I type up my lessons and maybe that'll keep me honest!

( 日本語がもとめの練習 )

( Gaeilge )

WEAVING. I DID A WEAVING. Or rather I put the warp mostly on the loom. It was AWESOME. I cannot express in words how awesome it was to have all of this make sense. I am definitely going to need to put more warps on looms, I think I've got the hang of winding a warp and how to figure out how many threads you need and so on, but actually putting the warp on is something I need to repeat. A lot. I also want a Baby Wolf now. Yes, that's actually what the loom is called. Sadly, it costs about as much as a plumber's visit, electrical tidy, and mason's visit combined, so no Baby Wolf for me. Or more than that, actually. Plus, it's not like I can't abscond with a shop loom every now and again if I really want to. I just have to make sure I don't do it during class time when people will actually need the loom.

And then again, I suppose if I really REALLY wanted, too, we could find a way to disassemble the ginormous floor loom of ginormousness and move it into Old Hotness. Or I could just start going out to the farm and using my aunt's loom. I have options. That do not involve dropping $Maine on a new loom.

My aunt told me a story on the way in that I need to write down lest I forget. Apparently when they were living in Portugal for that year, year and a half. In the castle. Periodically a gypsy wagon would come by and they would call out to bring out your knives and scissors to sharpen. Horse-drawn wagon and everything. And my aunt, who was maybe 7 at the time, remembers thinking that if she could just leave my youngest aunt, the second youngest child, on the front step maybe they would take her. Oh my family. These are the kinds of people who raised me, folks.

And, you know, the reason I don't speak Portuguese, for those of you who know how I got started speaking a frillion languages, is because they only spent a year or so there before moving to Spain. So now you know.

Things and stuff. I need to make up a review plan for Japanese and check in, too exhausted to do so the past couple days. Or too busy. I need to print out emails from Paralegal Eagle and see if we have to sign or turn in anything. I need to run to the post office. I need to beat on the Leviathan. I don't think there's much else I need to do. Sley the rest of the colors on the loom, maybe. Pack, as usual. I hope this will be a more relaxing day. I really hope.

Have a Renard icon. Because my god that man is pounceable. ETA: And speaking of Renard, could someone who is not me who is on TV Tropes please please please go change his damn name to the correct one? It's giving me fits. But I don't want to get sucked in.

( 日本語 )


( Gaeilge )

Yep, still on my Sasha Roiz kick. And now I need icons. An icon, at least. In lieu of an appropriate icon I give you a semi other appropriate icon, because I can totally see his character as kind of a more modern day (and mysterious) Al Swearingen. I mean, okay, one's a cop, the other's a criminal, but they both were invested in keeping order, right? Right?

Shut up. Not obsessed.

I'm actually getting back to writing stuff! It's amazing! Last night there was some more BBM chunked out, which means I'm almost done with that draft. This weekend there can be packing and editing, and some reworking of my self-publishing schedule. I am leaving my box at home for the first time in weeks. You guys, I cannot even begin to tell you how awesome that feels. I don't have to carry around a box of all my damn paperwork anymore! And I can think! And breathe!

Today, to appease Folk both inside and outside of my brainpan, I will attempt to finish this Loki/Darcy thing I've been working on. Also because they're kind of wacky adorable together. And then I have my self-indulgent Captain Renard fic to work on because apparently good Renard fic that is not Renard/Nick (most definitely not my kink, please and thank you) does not exist. This is a situation that needs to be rectified. And I have a Sucker Punch fic in the works that could probably be finished pretty quickly, so there's that. I have stuff to do! And, my god, tidying my desk area at work that looks like a mini tornado hit it.

And, for that matter, calling the lawyer to see if I need to give my 30 days' notice for the apartment now or if we should stay till the end of May. But that's about all the logistics I need to work for the day I am FREE OF BEING THE LOGISTICS QUEEN. I LOVE IT GOOD. At least until I have to coordinate contractors. Which shouldn't be nearly as hard as the other thing.

And now to water my plants and dick around on Memrise till my ride gets here. Oh it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

( 日本語 )

( Gaeilge )

Okay. So, that was a productive evening! And then a very unproductive morning due to the headache that won't leave. Three aspirin later, it still won't leave. Ugh.

On the hilarious side, I may have gotten a little punchy last night with Anna and recast Lion in Winter entirely with Once Upon A Time characters. We had Gold (since it ended up in Storybrooke, matching better) as Henry, Emma as Alais getting foisted off on Graham as Richard or David as John because nobody likes David, but not Stranger!Bae as Geoffrey. Because Alais never got foisted off on Geoffrey. So, something for almost every ship! And that left Regina as Eleanor, which is kind of eh since Regina is about as flat as paper but the concept works, if not Regina's execution. And then we realized we'd forgotten Philip, so we put in the Mad Hatter/Sebastian Stan as Philip, because he can flame deadly really well. Just look at Prince Jack. >.>

Headache still won't leave. This is getting irksome. On the plus side it looks like there's only one thing coming in and one thing going out, so if today does get hectic we should be able to deal with it? Which it might. The Southern Basketball Conference or whatever it's called is here over the weekend. This has absolutely nothing to do with us except that we are literally right down the street from the goddamn arena where it's all taking place, which means massive amounts of foot traffic right outside our door. Hopefully this does not mean massive numbers of people who don't know what they're doing fucking around with our spinning wheels and our looms. I am not in the mood.

Right. Let's get this one thing in the mail and then sit down and get some writing done in the hopes that today will not be as bad as I think it's going to be.

( 日本語 )

And Arabic accounting here and here. I think it's getting easier, slowly but surely? My handwriting is also getting way smaller. Although I might need to reinstitute the practice of using lines. Which might just involve making a sheet of lines and slipping it under whatever page I'm working on. And I definitely need to figure out how to refill my ink cartridges with a syringe, because they're emptying way too quickly. Problems I hadn't realized I'd have when I started this! In a way, this makes me even more eager to get this house deal done and get the house, because then I can have a real desk at which to do this. I hope.

Well, that was possibly the weirdest collection of dreams I've had in a while. Highlights include going to the women's bathroom of some communal living thing that was laid out a bit like an old dorm or a hotel. Either it was a woman's dorm or it was the women's bathroom, I'm not sure which. I was talking to some friend, and we were getting undressed to bathe. Yes, bath, not shower, as is customary. The bath was pretty nice and deep, though, it would have been a fun soak. People are going up and down the hallway of both sexes, so I'm assuming in was the women's bathroom, or during the day men are allowed? Or something. And there's a knock and I open the door and it's either Rupert Graves or Lestrade. I'm more inclined to believe Lestrade. And he makes some kind of would-be snarky comment except he's too busy trying not to stare. And I'm not helping by basically being aggressive with my very naked body language. Sort of Irene Adler-y, at least Moffat's interpretation of her. And then I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, and ... OH. Oh god, ahaah, now I remember what the conversation was about, somehow this got around to my weight. I think because he threatened to pick me up. And I told him yes, I was 5'1" and about 150, 160. And he started to say 120 and I corrected him and he sort of stammered, and I pointed out that I was very, very solid. And he could find out for himself, and that led to pressing up against him and arms around and kissing and so on. And I'm pretty sure he didn't know where to put his hands.

So, that happened in my dream. And then later I'm wandering the halls in my bathrobe and somehow I end up knocking on Misha Collins' unit door, because he's in the dorm hall? Or his wife is and he's just bunking with her, as you do when you're in college. In your late thirties. I don't judge. And I'm in my bathrobe or lounge clothes, or anyway not real grown up clothes but not naked anymore. And I come in and for some reason there's been a last minute cancellation and I need him or his wife for something. I ask... first I ask him about calculating something. Then he shrugs and says ask her, she's on the computer. So I ask her to calculate something, allowing for inflation in the last 5 years and the increase in value in something-to-do-with-Misha. I don't know what. I mean, the increase in value I get given that he's now all over the internet, but I don't remember what I was asking originally. She calculates in, we talk, we bond apparently over my economical savvy? Of all things. And their taste in comics, since they have most to all of the Akira manga on their bookshelf.

Anyway, so we end up running off with Misha Collins' wife as some last minute addition to some kind of team doing something? And we all have to prepare for this mission, which might have been what I was doing in the bathing sequence. And apparently for Misha's wife this involves drinking some foul tasting concoction of milk and some kind of powder that looks like blue flecks. And she drank half a small pitcher in one swallow and made terrible grimaces while I stretched out on the floor, using some guy as a spotter. And all of us were discussing our assignment. And then I woke up.

So, really, what the hell, brain. Although now I have this urge to write shameless Lestrade-oriented self-insert steamy fiction. Not even necessarily NC17 rated, just steamy. Or maybe kinky porn. I don't know. It's a weird urge. And I need to finish that All You Can Kink Kink Bingo before February ends. Too distracted with house stuff. God, there's a whole list of things I want to write today. This weekend. Plus pack, plus make beans. All right, let's ennumerate them.

1. Lestrade fic-kle.
2. Loki/Darcy
3. J3

4. Long Road
5. Subversive Mummies
6. BigBang Mixups
7. Organize Triumvirate world-building
8. Organize mecha for BBM story.

And that's not as big a list as I thought, but it's sizable. Okay, and now for the latest in house news: WE ARE UNDER CONTRACT. Which means finally, fucking finally we might be able to get the inspector in. Appointment's scheduled for Thursday. And right now it's just the inspector and getting the funding, which we have to do quicklyish, but which should be very do-able. I'm not sure how close to home we are, I'd say, pretty close? But at least we're a step further than we were, which, considering this all feels like slogging through sulphur-reeking mud, is all good by me. (And then again at the same time we started just casually looking in January. So it's probably moving much faster than I think it is.) We're under contract. That means, I hope, that no one can snipe the house out from under me. That's all I want for right now. Now I can collect data and chew on it till it becomes clay.

( 日本語 )

I need a nap. Or something. I need more hours in the day. But tomorrow will be at least a little easier, I think. Much less outgoing, I need to finish fiber kits but I might even get writing done in the middle of the day that doesn't involve silly tumblr fics.

I feel... a little more confident about my ability to handle all my writing tasks. Less so after having do to some dishes in addition to making dinner and the ten other domestic chores I had tonight, but hopefully that'll change tomorrow. I hope. Or I might end up using the down payment for bail money.

(I kid but, seriously, if I'm going to do all the cooking around here because apparently the boy has forgotten how to make rice, he can fucking well do the dishes. I will be so glad when we move into a place with a goddamn dishwasher.)

Anyway, so, yeah. But I did get some outlining and some writing done, and I feel at least more capable of handling everything that comes my way as far as writing goes. The rest of it, heh. We'll see. I do need to get a little better organized though, so, more writing meditations today, and tomorrow:

1. Snakes That Rattle edits in the morning
2. Black Ice supplementary documents, Triumvirate outline at work. Other BBM scenes as they apply.
3. Long Road and Black Ice: Subversive Mummies in the evening.

And that ought to cover everything.