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Just checking in
Aug. 11th, 2009 09:59 amSo.
I haven't tried plugging the computer into different outlets yet, because I'm kind of afraid of what might happen, and yes, this makes me sound like a total weaksauce loser... until you recall that I live in the House of the Damned and that I could probably blow something up, including but not limited to myself. So I'm steeling myself to get experimental with an extension cord, so at least I'm not toting Camille and the monitor to and fro.
Been writing a lot in my diary--my actual bound blank-book diary, for lack of anywhere else to diarize. (I'd say "to journal," but I think of that as something I do here, with the arbitrary distinction of a "diary" being more private.) I diaried for a while in Word documents (this is another reason I was loath to turn Betsy over to strangers for data recovery). I feel like typing, by virtue of engaging both hands, engages both sides of your brain more distinctly, and I type so much now--don't we all?--that writing by hand feels like I've got one hand tied behind my back. But what am I going to do, keep a diary on the family computer? Keep it somewhere online? That's just never, ever going to end well. If not now, then later. So I finished up the last few pages of my Jane Eyre diary (second one down) and moved on to the Tiffany lily journal (the blue one), filling two or three pages each day.
(You know, sometimes I think that ridiculous things happen to me because I write them down. Like, somewhere, a mischievous God is like, "Oh, I thought you liked writing about your tribulations. Job kept a whole Book, you know. This is also why I have interesting things happen to the people around you. Like your mother, Me bless her." "Well, yes, that's nice and all, I suppose I appreciate the sentiment, but... could You have some of the interesting, non-frustrating things happen to me? I can talk about those as well." "I'll take it under consideration. Maybe. Is that a new diary...?")
Also, my nose is about to itch off my face, which bodes well for future sinus problems.
Because there is always Twifuckery going on, without fail: MTV has 14 seconds of the new New Moon trailer that is running in front of some godforsaken teen movie this weekend, I don't even know. I feel fairly certain that they will ask the readership to record their trailer-viewing histrionics again, which makes me feel tired just thinking about it. Also, here's Barbie and the Sparkenpire frolicking in a sunlit forest. I really want Barbie to come with a talk button. "Math is hard! Vampires are hot! Eighteen is OLD!"
This is the kind of randomness that cracks you up when you've been without a computer of your own for more than a week.
(Oh, and word on the street is that BBC approval is what's currently holding up the Tonner Doctor Who/Torchwood dolls, although supposedly John Barrowman loves their Jack Harkness sculpt, so I don't know.)
Man, I hate coding HTML by hand.
I haven't tried plugging the computer into different outlets yet, because I'm kind of afraid of what might happen, and yes, this makes me sound like a total weaksauce loser... until you recall that I live in the House of the Damned and that I could probably blow something up, including but not limited to myself. So I'm steeling myself to get experimental with an extension cord, so at least I'm not toting Camille and the monitor to and fro.
Been writing a lot in my diary--my actual bound blank-book diary, for lack of anywhere else to diarize. (I'd say "to journal," but I think of that as something I do here, with the arbitrary distinction of a "diary" being more private.) I diaried for a while in Word documents (this is another reason I was loath to turn Betsy over to strangers for data recovery). I feel like typing, by virtue of engaging both hands, engages both sides of your brain more distinctly, and I type so much now--don't we all?--that writing by hand feels like I've got one hand tied behind my back. But what am I going to do, keep a diary on the family computer? Keep it somewhere online? That's just never, ever going to end well. If not now, then later. So I finished up the last few pages of my Jane Eyre diary (second one down) and moved on to the Tiffany lily journal (the blue one), filling two or three pages each day.
(You know, sometimes I think that ridiculous things happen to me because I write them down. Like, somewhere, a mischievous God is like, "Oh, I thought you liked writing about your tribulations. Job kept a whole Book, you know. This is also why I have interesting things happen to the people around you. Like your mother, Me bless her." "Well, yes, that's nice and all, I suppose I appreciate the sentiment, but... could You have some of the interesting, non-frustrating things happen to me? I can talk about those as well." "I'll take it under consideration. Maybe. Is that a new diary...?")
Also, my nose is about to itch off my face, which bodes well for future sinus problems.
Because there is always Twifuckery going on, without fail: MTV has 14 seconds of the new New Moon trailer that is running in front of some godforsaken teen movie this weekend, I don't even know. I feel fairly certain that they will ask the readership to record their trailer-viewing histrionics again, which makes me feel tired just thinking about it. Also, here's Barbie and the Sparkenpire frolicking in a sunlit forest. I really want Barbie to come with a talk button. "Math is hard! Vampires are hot! Eighteen is OLD!"
This is the kind of randomness that cracks you up when you've been without a computer of your own for more than a week.
(Oh, and word on the street is that BBC approval is what's currently holding up the Tonner Doctor Who/Torchwood dolls, although supposedly John Barrowman loves their Jack Harkness sculpt, so I don't know.)
Man, I hate coding HTML by hand.
