- Как они питаются? Они не едят человеческую еду, но совершают работу. Откуда они берут энергию на эту работу? Солнечная? Энергия ветра? Как?
- Что происходит с органикой, всё-таки попавшей в их пищеварительную систему? В сериале показаны сцены пьянства среди восставших.
- Как вообще возможно голыми руками выбраться из гроба под землёй? Там же доски и земля давит.
- Если раны от которых они скончались не заживают, то что же происходит с таковыми, полученными в состоянии восставшего? Почему они ещё целые?
С другой стороны, мы помним, как Эми в первой же сцене накалывается на палку, и позже ран на спине я у неё не припомню.
- При заболевании проказой, у человека пропадает чувствительность. От этого у больных, в т.ч. разрушаются кости рук, т.к. к ним применяется неадекватная сила. Утверждается, что восставшие ничего не чувствуют. Почему у них-то все кости целы?
- Продолжая о костях, уверен, что многие восставшие, особенно погибшие в автокатастрофах, имели переломы. Однако мы, что-то, калек на экране не видим. Им соединили кости пластинами?
- Зачем восставшим работать в борделе? В смысле, зачем им деньги-то? Есть не надо, холода не чувствуют — жизнь прекрасна, делай что хочешь.
I have had my bathroom taps replaced with ones with levers, not turns. I can't begin to explain how much easier this makes things on days when I am tired and bits do not work. My plumber is a legend.
London tomorrow, dinner out, then a whole day of DOING NOWT followed by a whole day of cinema. Although Nowt probably = study.
Also: go watch Better Call Saul. It's EPIC, man. Come squee with me!!!
Finished the breathe shawl, four shopping bags (pattern: Hulk Goes To Market Bag), four hats for the April market, two pairs of mitts (almost), and most of a triangle shawl in our handspun (pattern:Splendid Triangle Shawl With Crochet Border). Right now, I'm knitting a fifth hat, and I'm planning on trying out Pieces of Eight Mitts with some superwash 4ply I got for two bucks a ball from Spotlight. Emma did some excavating at the foot of the bed and found the bag with my 'knitting for market' yarn in it, so that gives me a wonderful range to choose from to fill out the stock for the table.
I survived my interview with the disability person at Centrelink. We got there in plenty of time, and the lady I saw actually remembered me from last time, which, given it was years ago surprised me. She was really nice, and the only hiccup was a missing report from my psychologist which the person who took it from me apparently scanned to the wrong department, but which we were able to check was actually there and not missing without a trace. I don't know when or if I'll hear the result but the interview side is done.
I have been watching new things. I have watched Agent Carter up to episode five, Agents of SHIELD up to the hiatus, seasons one and two of Once Upon A Time, and I'm right now watching through Castle with the aim of watching the newer stuff I haven't seen yet.
Today, Emma did an amazing amount of work sorting stuff in the bedroom. The end result is that things are going to be a lot easier to find when we go away and when we do the Easter market. Also, we had an armful of clothes to bin and a whole large garbage bagful to donate to charity. This is something we've been trying to get around to doing for years. There is still plenty we need to weed from our collective wardrobe, but we have one fewer sackful cluttering up the place.
Stuff - Lilo and Stitch 2 Disc set, Once Upon A Time S1&2, Castle S5, Citizen Autistic. Also, a teespring hoodie that says 'I turn string into things. What's your superpower?'.
Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz
Foxglove Summer by Ben Aaronovitch
The Long Ride Home by Rupert Isaacson
The Green Mill Murder by Kerry Greenwood
Now, I've recently noticed something odd. I've noticed that every so often, my reaction to caffeine completely changes. It's similar to how other things about me will spontaneously change, such as tastes I couldn't get enough of suddenly tasting weird or horrible to me, habits that were very strong for years suddenly being set aside for no reason I can determine. I used to be incapable of falling asleep without music, but then when I was in my teens, I underwent one of these spontaneous changes, and for months I couldn't get to sleep if there were any noise in the room at all. I still can't fall asleep if there is music playing, but after those few months passed, it changed again and now I need white noise to fall asleep, like the fan going.
But now I've noticed the same thing happening with my reactions to caffeine. I never noticed it before, but looking back I notice it, because of the change that appears to have happened. For at least the last few years, caffeine has acted like a depressant for me up to a point, then past that point I would get shaky and weak, the same symptoms as not having eaten for many hours, minus the stomach noises and sensations.
Now, though, my reaction to caffeine has completely changed once more; now I take just a little bit of it, and I feel like a very tight guitar string, with random parts of my body spontaneously jerking, a tense tingling in certain regions of my body I will not discuss here, even my jaw snapping shut without warning and clacking my teeth together or making me bite my tongue. This is highly unusual, I have never felt anything like it before to my recollection. I don't feel weak or shaky, like I would have before. But if I have any more than I've had today, I think I would probably suffer something else before I ever got to that point, so I don't want to try it.
What gets me is that this isn't just a spontaneous change in some mental habit, or a spontaneous personality shift, which is something I've known about for years. Up until now, I had a theory about those sudden shifts, that it's linked to my being a multiple. You see, along with the other fully-formed people living in my head with me, there are also what I call "soul shards" floating around in my mental landscape. These soul shards, whatever their origin, tend to coalesce into things, or spontaneously float into the control mechanism of our collective, attach to one or more of us, and have even coalesced into whole new system mates before; it's these soul shards that, we think, cause those spontaneous personality changes and taste changes. But is it possible that they can also be responsible for these spontaneous changes in physiological responses to things? Can they be responsible for the changing reactions to caffeine? Is that possible?
I think it may well be possible. I have had reason to believe, in the past, that things about my mind can affect the body in profound ways. My girlfriend Lily has said before that I smell different from other adults. She says adults smell musky, and children smell like fresh soil. And she told me that I smell like a mix of the two; not fully adult nor fully child, and from this I came up with the hypothesis of: "What if my childlike qualities - including the two childlike people in our collective, Molly Elizabeth and Ian - are somehow responsible for this mixed scent of mine?" That would be a physiological difference caused by a mental difference.
There's more. Alex, Pi, and Negarahn are physically stronger than any of the rest of us in the collective. They are capable of lifting more than the others. No matter how hard the others try, they can't lift as much as Alex, Pi, and Negarahn can. And even odder, Pi can lift more when zie switches to a feminine mode than when zie is in a masculine or neuter mode.
...this poem? I can only recall small fragments of it - and some of them I might not recall correctly. This isn't the first time I've asked for help locating the full text and/or the author's name and it might not be the last since I will keep littering Google's search index with this nonsense every time it starts to bug me again until someone finally supplies the answer or else I become like the subject of the poem - whichever comes first.
Mrs. Mayer, Mrs. Mayer,
Growing leaner, sadder, grayer,
Her husband dead and children grown
Tends the cleaning store alone.
[A few more stanzas follow in which Mrs. M grows increasingly bitter with everything from the weather to - yeah, she sounds just like me...but still even her facade can crack when...]
Under skies of springtime blue
Mrs. Mayer smiles at you.
It's a really short and simple poem. I might've last read it 20-25 years ago (yes, so I'm getting old, too; what of it). I'm fairly sure the poem was written by a woman. I read it in a book of poems borrowed from either my high school or local library in LI, New York. The poem might've been in an anthology of less famous authors but I highly doubt it as the writing seems pretty precise and well-formed.
Someone. Please. Help. Me. Find. The rest of it?
Also, *ahem* since I'm talking about libraries, anyhow, silveradept - if I were to go to the library to find it, how would I locate it armed with so little information? Is that even possible?
Helldesk is helldesk.
Lunch with Purple was fun; there's a new high-level dev who had joined the table, and was going on at some length about C++. Also his two months in India as a white guy (to a >50% Indian lunch table; Purple and Lennon Glasses Guy and I were the other <50%). It was entertaining as someone who's never been; from the reactions of the rest of the table, it was thigh-slappingly hysterical to a local.
Sat down with Madam Standards and talked about the party.
Sat down with the computer and swore a lot.
Then there was a guest speaker. I walked there with Purple. Mr. Zune joined us. The speaker was hilarious, and I only spilled a little lemonade on Purple & Mr. Zune.
Purple zipped out of work fast enough to forget to sign out of IM, which was a little surreal.
Helldesk may be granting me helpdesk-type privs, since my duties include keeping an eye on teammates' stuff. If that happens, I shall offer my services to #VirtualH.
I scrammed out early-ish, hit Costco for dinner fixings, then holed up at home. It took much too long to untangle my hair. No washer-fixing yet. I did fix my connection to #adventuresofstnono via the bouncer rather than direct.
Marielon/Renee, fake dating for siegeofangels
Cosette Fauchelevent, Secret Space Princess for muccamukk
Valjean the groundskeeper at Beauxbatons for miss_morland
Holmes/Watson, sex pollen and buttercups in the spring for tazlet
A synopsis and etymological notes on the Old Norse epic poetry version of Pacific Rim for neotoma
Aral meets Mrs. Naismith for stellar_dust
AoA Loki and Sigurd, bodyswap for fay_e
I have three left (one Barrayar, one Les Mis, one Buffyverse) but there is plenty more on my to-do list and I really don't want to work on any wips, so y'all are still welcome to leave pairings and numbers for me.
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Lunch finished up pretty quickly. I drifted by the table of Madam Standards, Non-Boring Manager, and Knives (the sarcastic visual designer). The Non-Boring Manager teased me a bit about whether I recognized him yet. I recognize his hat, but I get confused when I don't see the moustache. I then had to tell the story about that time when I didn't recognize "some woman" on the airplane headed to the family reunion. (My two years younger sister, who I'd last seen two years earlier, in different glasses.) My faceblindness cred is established.
Mr. Zune had a thing to show me. It was a classroom pointer with an orange foam hand with a pointer finger at the end. It is the best new thing in his life. He is pointing at all sorts of things with it. We were giggling helplessly. I told him a true thing to make him giggle harder.
There is a person in my life whose workplace has been having a plague with things like:
Speaker-to-Customers (to customer): Oh yes! Our dev has already implemented the thing!
Speaker-to-Customers (to dev): Sooooo I told the customer you'd already done this. You can get it done, right?
Dev: You owe me.
Speaker-to-Customers (to customer): Yeaaaahhhhh our dev fucked that up.
Speaker-to-Customers (to dev): So I fucked that up and I told the customer you fucked that up.
Dev: You're lucky that defenestration technically counts as murder, which is illegal in this state, because the window is right there.
Fortunately, when a person who appreciates such things gets the opportunity to enjoy a good solid flogging, this puts that person in a generally better frame of mind. And so, with this lead-up, when I whispered "The beatings should continue so morale remains improved," in Mr. Zune's ear, we collectively lost it giggling.
The Stage Manager had told us that he would be out of his office due to a thing involving customers, hosted by some of the same people who used to be in charge of the customer group that came to the erstwhile early Thursday monthly meetings. As he was telling Carmageddon, apparently it was a clusterfuck in terms of internal organization. He went into precise detail, and yeah, that's one of the ways a clusterfuck looks.
As a consolation, I sent him http://www.lauralemay.com/fiction/the-d
I nearly cried on the phone to helpdesk today, as I discovered a new and fascinating way in which a lack of horizontal scroll bar is fucking things up. The ticket is being escalated. I told the helpdesk lady (in deep frustration) that the helpdesk software was garbage, and then clarified that no, the helpdesk people are just fine (I may have been exaggerating) but the software is garbage and should be discarded. They are likewise frustrated. I thanked her for putting up with me.
I stomped off for milkshake. I was then joined (entirely through having seen me in passing) by lb, and (due to lb making faces at him through the window once he walked back in to his office) by Purple, and then (because he was biking in to work very late) by radius. The Angry Tattooed Man walked past also. lb's Overlady has had contact with the new people in charge of the helldesk software, and lb had thoughts and she agreed with them. radius had to be in the office today because tomorrow he's going up into the city to pay a visit to zorkian's office, though it's a large enough office that they may not come within pool-noodle-waving distance of each other. Also, "Neverland Ranch" is an unfortunate theme for a photo booth. One of the chairs was coming loose from its moorings, and was rusty. I filed a ticket. lb was having trouble staying upright while lounging in one of the chairs. I suggested he could superglue sand to his pants, the chair, or both. Then all he'd need would be WD-40. radius has made his mark on campus quite literally, due to the lack of warning signage the last time the lower parking lot was resurfaced. He'd thought something looked different in the gathering dusk, and realized a short ways before the zone: no lines! Fresh tar! So he braked, and only encroached his front wheel a few feet on the zone. It'll be there until the next time they resurface, just a little discontinuity.
Tiny Plaid Dude, who shares a first name with Haystack and has, like, size eleven enthusiasm in size five shoes, has proposed that there be a poster session during the conference during Madam Standards' party. I have expressed the following opinions:
To Tiny Plaid Dude, the suggestion that he discuss this with the party committee.
To Madam Standards, a heads-up that this proposition has been made, and a counter-suggestion that it would go super-much better during happy hour the following evening. Madam Standards is on board with that.
I tactfully asked Madam Standards whether there was any particular reason she had picked the Neverland photo booth out of the available photo booth options. It had been pretty much an ass-pull, so I have some counter-proposals. I am preparing a spreadsheet.
Things I am also preparing: site maps with dimensions, outlet locations, and other salient points so Madam Standards and the party committee can plot to their hearts' content. Later, we may have some tiny paper pieces to shove around to lay out furniture and stuff.
Purple called time before I did, this time, and we strolled out. We chatted about the general concept of comedians having to blunt their acts for a corporate audience, and how that might work in a specific case. Among, I'm sure, other things, but we were both ready to head home after not that much time.
I realized that I'd left my headset on my desk, but I do have a spare at home. I plugged the iPod into the tape deck adapter, after the headset in the car was flaky. I was early enough (just barely, and by taking 280 all the way rather than 35 along the ridge) to refuel. It's always easier at night, so I am planning to do that when possible. Saves time. Saves stress on me.
The washer now has zero things on top of it, so when the guy(s) come to check it out, it should be no problem for them. Also I laid out tomorrow's outfit and got laundry sorted and hung up. And made my step count via bouncy-ball. And am getting significant inroads on tomorrow's (I just hit 1/4). Last night I did quite a few dishes and trimmed my bangs. I'm not sure where the sudden burst of productivity is coming from, but I shan't argue with it.
While Purple and I were hanging out in the parking lot the other night, we mentioned that we hadn't heard owls in a while. Immediately thereafter, there was a screech. Owls.
00:10 Tuesday, 24 February, 2015
Heard back from the place where I applied. I don't know if there are any other blockers, but I would need the raise before they could accept me. Agh. (My 1:1 for tomorrow is canceled on account of the flu, on the part of my manager.)
This morning was canceled for me, on account of allergies. I woke up before my alarm in an amazing state of allergy snot. I took a claritin and washed out my nose, but it took a while to actually be able to sleep. When I did wake up, it was afternoon.
I grabbed some lunch and came in, and headed up for milkshake at the appointed time (as soon as I looked at Purple's IM status to ask him if he was heading soon, and saw that he'd been idle for five) and it was good. I wound up walking up with my administrative friend, There was shirt color silliness, as everyone when I arrived was not matching. Purple was maroon, lb was purple, I was (per usual) black. When Mr. Zune arrived, he was green. "So what color shirt is radius wearing today?" we greeted him.
This was an unusual enough greeting to make him threaten to leave us, but after we "explained" (that we were being nonsensical), he guessed black. lb guessed orange (as he is vaguely aware that radius owns an orange shirt). When radius arrived, I said, "You're right!" to Mr. Zune. The shirt was in fact darkish grey. "Light black?" someone said. It was a bit of a running joke that afternoon.
Australia is, in fact, trying to kill everyone. phone's train was canceled on account of it was hit by lightning. We made radius attempt to explain these things to us.
Later, there was a different, and sadder, kind of train problem closer to home. When Caltrain meets a vehicle on the tracks, nobody wins, but physics favors Caltrain. Twitter tells me that two people died, one in the first collision and another in a subsequent one.
Conference planning continues.
Research planning continues.
Evaluation of the potential new tool continues.
The people responsible for the helldesk tool will get back to me about two questions I have had.
Closing a window did not fix the weird howling fan problem audible from radius's office.
The mood lighting in radius and Purple's building's bathroom has been fixed.
Five years -- nearly six, now -- is a long time. Fishie doesn't fully remember those early days anymore, so it's part of my duty as a fishmum to point out some of the changes I've noticed between then and now, and what I think of them. I am so, so proud of her.
Purple had some last-minute stuff for an internal papers thing, and I was on the point of grabbing one of his favorite candies and heading over to his building to say goodnight and I was going the hell home, when he finished up, and we wound up in the chilly parking lot.
I saw a meteor, but by the time he turned around, it had gone from a green-white streak into a collection of orange sparks and vanished.
We laughed about cats and hens and dogs and terrible/hilarious tv shows, then headed off for dinner and home.
I spent a good portion of this weekend knitting and crocheting. I've made good progress on the BAMCAL afghan and should finish it this month. I also knitted a hat and finished a scarf I've been working on. While doing so, I listened to the soundtrack of FFXIII-2, which I think is better than XIII's soundtrack. XIII-2 has three composers, one of which is Naoshi Mizuta who composed XI, which music I love. There's a lot of vocals in XIII-2's soundtrack which I think works very well.
The rest of the weekend was spent playing FFXIII-2. I spent time building the perfect Ravager. To do this, I needed to recruit Tonberry and Don Tonberry, which are rare monsters, so I needed the Battlemania fragment skill to up the chances of meeting them. To get this skill you need to get 100% exploration of all the maps in game. That took some time, especially the final dungeon. Once I recruited all my monsters I had to level them up, which required farming materials. Honestly, this all feels a lot like XI to me -- not that the gameplay is similar, but there's a similar progression of your character. It was hitting the same pleasure spots of my brain that XI hits.
So my perfect Ravager is built, and I beat some of the optional bosses in game. I also saw one of the paradox endings. THAT fight took forever - a whole 54 minutes! I'm not sure I could have done it any faster. It wasn't a real difficult fight, just looooooooooong.
Tomorrow I have to pick up some medication. I'm hoping to have time to go to Michaels and get more yarn for my afghan, and some new needles for another ministry shawl. It all depends on if my mom has to drive the kids to soccer practice again. If she does I likely won't have time.
So some student-led class at one of my charming local universities has decided to teach fanfiction. This has come to the attention of my circles courtesy of a torrent of really obnoxiously critical comments left on a few select fics.
As an author, one does take on certain risks when posting anything in public online. However, solicitation of people to go and post shitty things in someone else's space is a dick move. I also think that we can agree that college students who have not mastered constructive criticism are highly likely to say shitty things in the attempt to engage critically. Furthermore, some (not all, but quite a few) fannish spaces have a convention of saying the nice things in the author's space in public, and either sending critical things in private, putting them in your own space, or just not saying them at all (at least in connection to the author) unless the author has asked for it.
If you're trying to interact helpfully with fandom and you send a torrent of kids who have been instructed to be "critical" and are likely to poke their thumb in someone's eye by accident while doing so into a fannish space, you, honorable sentient, are being a dick.
1) Don't require your students to leave a comment. If you need to prove they've interacted with the fic, require them to leave kudos.
2) Instruct them to be good citizens when leaving comments, if they leave comments at all. As academics, you are guests in fandom. As the fandom guide of people who have not internalized fandom mores, you have the responsibility to tell the students about things like this, and what sorts of things are unacceptable in this culture. Don't be a shitbrick.
3) By all means, have them interact critically with the text. Require them to either make their own space -- livejournal, dreamwidth, tumblr, blogspot, facebook -- and post the criticism there, post it to an online space reserved for the class, or send it directly to the instructor. Having your students leave it as a comment is like taking all the critical freshman essays on Moby-Dick/Finnegans Wake/The Fountainhead and packing them up into a tidy bundle and sending them to Herman Melville/James Joyce/Ayn Rand, marked "IMPORTANT FEEDBACK - PLEASE READ". Except those authors are actually dead.