channonyarrow

New rule to apply to all situations. Every single one that involves another human being.

Divorce-hair is a real thing. Pay attention to it.

That is all. I need to remember that. It makes so many things much, much clearer.

I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, nor why, but it's becoming increasingly clear that I bloody shouldn't be.

I need a virtual quarter that I can flip.

Fuck interns, I need a clone. I have three essays percolating in my head: The nature of the story, how Fight Club is coming true, and my life is so surreal that someone, somewhere is painting power tools. I have little to no time to write them. But I will make a valiant effort to bore everyone silly next week.

All that aside, I'm thinking about giving up sleeping, not because I'm not tired but because I am tired of waking up having had exhaustingly detailed dreams. Last night, I got TWO of those, in fact, not that I remember much about either of them except that the one this morning was easily three hours long - I woke up at about 3:15, looked at the clock, went back to sleep, and started this dream and didn't wake up until 6:30 - and lasted through turning my alarm clock off. Also, it was something about Gerard and Frank, but I have no memory of context other than that I would really like not to have dreams about MCR. That can stop any time. The one last night, from which I was woken by a fucking text (actually, TWO texts) at 12:30 AM, stabbity stabbity fucking stabbity, was about work. And Bob Bryar. Seriously, I don't even know any more. Except that I wake up really tired after these damn dreams and they're totally useless.

Also, there's nothing whatsoever about a cover concept involving a Matrix-style approach that requires me to dream The Matrix, featuring one of my coworkers in the starring role. Seriously.

I must make dresses this weekend. Dresses FOREVER. Argh. Also, I must hope that Fresh Meat calls for a ride to the party so that I can KILL HIM AND HIDE HIS BODY.

Note to self: LEARN. TO. READ.

MORON.

Or, to put it another way, I just spent a whole lot of money buying stuff I only partially wanted because I cannot apparently read and the thing I was reacting to, by now, is SO FREAKIN' OVER that I am not getting it. I am a sad panda indeed, on so many levels of sad.

Unrelatedly, I realise that this emphasises merely the scale of difference, but I just found out that the CA wildfires burned half a million acres (and two thousand structures) and I cannot help but compare that to the Alaska 2004 fire season (I have a poster for this in my kitchen, that's how bad it was) where over six million acres burned. I have no information on how many, if any, structures burned in those fires, but HONESTLY. This is the perspective, people! Is anyone racing around to releaf AK? NO. Why? Because it's "big and empty".

Well, then the solution is obvious. Move the hell out of Southern California. That's not a place I understand wanting to live ANYWAY. But don't go to Alaska unless you like three dollar avocados and buying your winter's worth of food in one go and having Fred Meyers FLY IT IN TO YOUR HOME - because about half the population, last I checked, lives off the road grid.

Go Alaska!

After getting kicked in the metaphorical balls about four times so far today, I get to go home and call the IRS. My life is made of suck.

BWAHAHAHAHA!!

I'm really fucking sick of being part of communities who decide that they are omgsofuckingspeshul, with shiny shit all over the top, that anything related to the topic at hand (ie, in this case, someone asking for help on a sewing project they had not yet started - the horror!) is deemed Off-Topic And Must Be Burninated With Fire.

What.

This is not me saying that you should come to my rp communities and spam with your love of rice vinegar. This is me saying that if you actually wish to involve people in the communities that you maintain, when they are posting something perhaps one degree Off Topic (ie, asking for help on a project they had not yet started, but if they had said "Dude, here's a picture and here's a receipt for some fabric, and now I need to know how the fuck to make this and by the way I'll post every single day for the next two weeks going 'ZOMG FUCKING CRISIS AND THE CAT ATE MY BABIES ANYWAY!'" it would miraculously be on topic)...that is in the category of Things That Make No Sense.

YOU love X. I love X. Someone wants help with X. This community exists to provide HELP with X...but only after you've sacrificed a calf. WHOOPS POST MUST BE DELETED.

And it wasn't even my post.

I think the thing that really makes me laugh is that this is a comm that sees about two or three posts a week - and the last eight have been from the same person. Who is, amazingly enough as these things go, not the mod.

Also, contradictory userinfos crack my shit up. As I told the mod, saying in one breath this is not the place to ask for advice, then in the next this is the place to ask for advice on *sewing* projects is what is known as "a contradiction in terms".

I realise that Bush is president. That does not mean that we can forget everything we ever learned about anything having to do with a) Logic or b) Grammar.

Also, in the categories of things that are also hilarious, this is the mod, if I recall correctly, who will say "You can leave the post up to get a few more answers, but then it must be deleted." Way to enforce topicity!

And it all reminds me of the wank that cropped up when zomgfuckingnoes some of us who belonged to a BDS comm would not put our birthdate in the userinfo. I have been tempted since to reapply (my ass was banned because I would not lie and tell them I was over eighteen! We all know that userinfos are magical invocations of truth and justice and apple pie and mom!) with a birthdate of 1927 and see if they believe that a, um, 80 year old is really reading badly-written MacManuscest. Ironically, I was honest about why I refused to put up my birthdate (I really hate autogenerated birthday reminders from people who have no other contact with me) and stated that my attestation of my legal age was in my userinfo. But no, I had to follow the Dark Powers Of Compulsion, which would not let me enter a false birthdate EVAR, and put in my actual birthdate!

in sum: comms are silly, but asshatted mods are even worse.

I thought about saying what I really thought today, but then I thought that I wouldn't.

For now.

Additionally, I have strange desires at the moment. Very strange. Like, to be drunk with a man with a Scottish accent. I have no explanation for this, as I can go literally years without thinking of men with Scottish accents or being drunk.

Yeah, I'm not really sure what to do about that either.

*****

Today is a two-fer, since yesterday was a no-fer.

Caleb Meyer, your ghost is gonna / wear them rattlin' chains / but when I go to sleep at night / don't you call my name

Look down the barrel of my gun and one by one I'll name you

Oh my god.

I JUST saw the coverage on the Madrid bombings...I have to email Pedro.