Holiday spirit and all that jazz…

•December 28, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Never did quite get into it this year. Usually there’s a moment, somewhere along the way, where it all comes together, and there’s a mellow sense of being. A different sort of joy. I’m not sure if it was the addiction to running, or the fact that Learan worked it through, or a deficiency somewhere else. Made a thematic mix CD, did a metric butt-tonne of baking, saw the Clan… Didn’t even stop on the solstice — just moved right through. I hadn’t realized we’d neglected to put up lights until the Eve in question.

I suppose there’ve been things weighing, so there’s that.

What stands out is watching Scrooged with Learan, just snuggled up on the couch. Connection. Those are the moments.

The week in-between is traditionally a time for reflections, but I’m having difficulty committing myself to that. As though maybe there are some things I don’t really want to look at. Or simply too many things altogether. All right, granted. But go with it.

It’s been a year where the only thing constant is change. The uphill push, gaining ground. This time last year: fighting the do-not-destory tide of paperwork at Globex, sharing the day with other people’s ankle-biters, still waiting on Learan’s legitimacy, all around dissatisfaction. Sometimes it’s about finding satisfaction in where you are, what you’re doing. And sometimes it’s about the soul-deep understanding that motion is necessary: choose a direction and, when the gun sounds, run. Terrifying. But also gratifying.

Things learned:

  • Write always. Damming the flow creates stagnancy. Poetry is constantly growing up through the cracks, and it expresses things that cannot be expressed by any other means. Imposition of form on things that might otherwise become overwhelming.
  • Descent is not necessarily a balancing force. The shadow is only as useful as it is allowed to be.
  • Inability to maintain impossible standards is a self-fulfilling promise of failure. The failsafe mechanism needs to be placed in the setting of the standards; locating it in the aftermath is inefficient.
  • The safe havens are and always were internally constructed. Building them one way means they can be built again, in other forms. A million different shapes and colours. Why not?
  • There are a thousand thousand things more important than expectations. Burn your reliance on them to the ground and see what grows up in its place. Remember what a forest fire also means.
  • Finding what you’re meant to do is no insignificant matter. Along with deciding what you’re meant to be, it is the only thing that matters. And for these, there is no such thing as too late.

The resolution, if it can be said to be that, is to remember to commit these tangents to words. Reading them back reinforces something. Rewire to bypass the resistance — all it takes is precise knowledge of the ohms.

And also go clean the bathroom. Right.


Pic-spam 2: The Revisioning (or “Meet the Feline Overlords”)

•December 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Time for cat pictures! Everyone loves cat pictures.

This is Oliver. Oliver does not like his harness. He has a harness because he cannot be trusted not to spook and run off. He’s afraid of the wind. THE WIND.

Duke Humbert Muffinbottham

"Harnesses are for suckahs."

Oliver has extremely fuzzy feet.

Olleh's feetz

"Stop takin' pikchurs of Olleh's feetz!"

This is Inara. She looks like a good-luck cat. Unfortunately, she’s about as smart as a sack of hair and her attention-span is approximately 13 seconds long. Which is wonderful when it’s 3 in the morning and she REALLY WANTS YOU TO WAKE UP NAO.


"Whoa! What was that?!"

Her favourite food is cardboard.


"'Sup, losers."

This is Boo. If Boo was any animal other than a cat, she’d be a red panda, because she’s just that freakin’ cute.


"I'm very sad that you're all so lame."

If she’s awake, she’s attention-whoring. Constantly.


"Someday I will get you, laser-bug."

Last, but not least — Coleco! She came with the roomie, .Doc, in October and has settled in fairly well. She and Inara bonded over a mutual fear of stupid things. (Why are all the cats in this house afraid of stupid things?)


"Srsly, stop flashing that light in my face."

This is about as close as she wants to get to Ollie, though. She’s reasonably sure that he’s a dog. Or possibly a woolly rhinoceros.


"Just back off, buddy!"

Oh cats.


•December 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Have finally made the cookies! Now to pretend that I am a real food blogger and post pictures of cookies-in-progress. I made the dough yesterday evening and somehow managed to resist the urge to eat it all.

Inna bowl!

Here is the dough after having spent the night in the fridge.

Mmmm… cold cookie dough…


Extreme close-up!


Why do I have to bake them again?

Cookie in ball form.

Sadly, ball form did not work quite as well as I had hoped it would…

Hmm, not quite right yet

Looks like a cookie, but the chewy factor remains to be proven. I have my doubts.

Upon further consideration, I have decided to attempt the Pillsbury method: Step One — roll dough into log, then cut into cookie-sized morsels; Step Three — profit.

Ah, that's better

Huzzah! The Pillsbury method appears to have succeeded.

OM NOM COOKIES. Sadly, the Tupperware I have chosen for this endeavour appears to be too small — I still have another plate-load of cookies to fit in there…


Ha! Success!

In closing, cookies = WIN.

C! Is! For!

•December 9, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I have yet to make those cookies that I was talking about earlier. Therefore I’ll watch this video twelve times and see if that consoles me.

… Nope. Still want cookies. :(

blue masquerade, strangers look on…

•December 9, 2010 • Leave a Comment

We all have our Messerschmidt moments — drop-down, strafing the ground with machine-gun fire — where we flirt with annihilism. Nothing much new there. But it’s difficult to put yourself in that mind-space when you’re confronted with all the majesty of an apocalypse dawn — you know the grey day that follows one of those will always be something of a disappointment.

It’s nothing personal — just the remnants of uncomfortable dreams. But on the plus side, only one more exam to go! :D

[Character post: Gretchen/Donovan] Unburden

•December 9, 2010 • Leave a Comment

There’s a certain kind of comfort to it, knowing that you’re not alone. Not in the same sense that no one really is — it isn’t like that when the voices in your head really did belong to someone else, once upon a time. I wonder about the neuroscience of it… Has having him here re-shaped who I might have been? Did it predetermine certain paths that might have formed differently, otherwise?

There’s a definite disconcertion to it, knowing that you’re borrowing neurons. Knowing that the only way you can connect with your own memories is to share them with the person whose mind you haunt. I’m more self-aware here, now, with her, than I have been in who knows how long… But what good is it doing either of us?

I don’t remember what it was like to be only Gretchen. Not to have the reassurance of another person inside my head. Perhaps that means I’ve failed at individuality. At being a single person. But the thought of that sort of isolation gives me chills.

Other hosts have come and gone. I have difficulty remembering them clearly: they passed like the weather, not significant enough to leave an imprint. Or perhaps it was that I was not significant enough. Attempting to manifest through an already-formed personality — possession — is more difficult than you might guess. But I’ve been here long enough that we’ve grown comfortable together.

Just a girl and her demon. What does that say about me? What does that say about him? But we’ve things to do…

…a needle in a haystack to find…

…and this meandering avails us nothing.

[Fiction: Crowe] The Detail of the Pattern

•December 8, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I can’t recall when I wrote these… During the summer, possibly? I like the triptych they make. I need to start writing with Crowe in a non-NaNo way again — not having the time to write him properly makes me crazy. :P

“The Detail of the Pattern”


A dream.

He is standing back-to-back with someone, the sound of gunfire echoing in his ears like fatal fireworks. It would require a division of focus that he cannot afford to turn and steal a glance at this partner-in-crime, but there is a familiar feeling to the moment…

The echo of visions.

Crowe sits up in bed, waking on the exhale. The ghost of vicious laughter rings through his thoughts to dissipate against imperturbable moonlight. There’s nothing like remembering things that haven’t happened yet to set his blood burning with impatience. Eyes closed, he grimaces. So much for sleeping tonight…


Several years later, he has found cause for cynicism in the machinations of the Universe.

That the fox-haired teenager slumped in a chair across the room from Crowe could be the start of what will become Asit is barely conceivable. And yet. How many times has he Seen that very face, contorted in a myriad of expressions? Some more inexplicable than others…

Sensing Crowe’s weighted gaze, the telepath known as Zero glances up with a knife-edged smile. “Like what you see, boss?” The laughter which follows the question is more snide than vicious. Not yet, Crowe thinks. Not quite yet.


“Tch. They think they’ve got us surrounded.” Annoyance laces Roth’s voice. His back is to Crowe’s as they fight their way through a mob of doomed shock-troops. “Fuck, why does the Old Man keep sending them?”

Crowe shakes his head, letting the visions rush through him like flood-waters. “Locked door. To your right. Now.”

Spinning, Roth fires perfectly and the door swings open, no longer locked. Crowe enters and Roth follows, no question of them being able to escape. They make a frighteningly effective team, as he had Seen, but Crowe had to live it to understand why.

Partners. Yes.