Startled awake on the couch from a trans-universal migration (third awesome dream of the night) and realized when I saw a still unturned on coffee pot after 5 a.m. that Scott must've forgotten to set his alarm, so I was all oh-no hustling around because he has to be to work by 6, he stumbled out and let me know it's Sunday, and after the coffee was done I dumped the sugar bowl out (ironically use only a quarter teaspoon in my coffee), and THEN I discovered that a couple of my facebook social plugins aren't working on my Lexxperience blog, and it's not even 6 a.m. yet. This morning has been entirely too exciting.
Seriously, a trans-universal migration. Something about people mysteriously dying on my homeworld and scientists coming together from several fields were figuring out the root cause had something to do with dark matter corrupting the integrity of electron shells (I wasn't on earth, I don't apologize for that). Since this was affecting everything in the universe, they had to find a way to migrate into another universe, and invented this awesome don't know if you'd call it a viewer or scope or what, but it allowed the scientists to see across the branes and narrow down several other universes to migrate to. They divided up and educated the people, each group according to where they were going, and for some reason I got bumped out of one group into another (I blame my kindergarten and first grade teachers for entrenching that anxiety deeply into my soul) and wound up being the only successful migrant into a particular universe right into the middle of several fleets of beings who'd integrated and were themselves in a migration to a different part of a galaxy. No wonder I woke up so disoriented, right?
You can see why I'm so frustrated with scifi on television and rarely read books any more. My dreams are like being there.
And writing it down helps my brain settle back into the mundane, and it won't be long until my tummy reminds me I had plans to make ham and cheese omelettes this morning.
I never told you guys the dream where physicists had figured out we actually can create more universes from inside this one because all we had to do was figure out the universal code and rewrite it, then do a weird copy/paste maneuver with this gigantic super equipment, and voila, like Sims creating new game plugins for themselves or something.
I'm still not here and now yet. I may hafta go back to bed or something and start over. My head is still stuck on last night's numb-out song, so here you go, have a rerun. Can you imagine an awesome future-Sherlock who's like a Vulcan or something? Can you imagine if I'd never come back out public and started sharing the cool stuff in my head? No one can write fast enough to keep up with all the stuff that keeps slamming through my head night after night. I still feel like this being awake part is the in-between stuff, like a commercial break between shows.
The makeup effects in Surrogates was awesome. If we really had 'surs', I wouldn't get one for the simple fact that I can't lay anywhere that long being plugged in. They were originally made for the homebound and disabled, but even then, I can't even imagine plugging in to a doll unit, no matter how well I could experience by proxy, just to walk around town or sit in a car or whatever. A job, yeah, I can see that, working from home and still being mobile, but honestly? With *my* nerve endings? I'd be the one to get weird itches and my doll would be out there constantly scratching or tweaking or doing weird things while I wiggle around in the chair and get two different sets of brain waves tangled up. I'd constantly be turning my doll off in public to get up.
Avatar. Totally jealous that we don't have a glow in the dark forest. ~But~. Ok, floating mountain. Whatever mechanism you wanna use to create this wonderful effect, shouldn't you apply the same physics to everything around it? I mean, if gravity is in any way changed enough to affect an entire mountain, how did the People run around like gravity was just fine? Sorry, James Cameron, it was really pretty, but shortcuts like that bother me. Normal flying would have been impossible in that area, as well. I won't go into the rest, like nothing having fur (too much trouble?) and the really super bad light the whole movie put on the military in joint operations with super corporations, broadly hinting at the fact that everything on Earth itself is completely and utterly evil, which in turn, I'm sure, points to our world govt badly needing an overhaul. Personally, I think the whole movie was political agenda wrapped around pretty graphics. I'm all for saving the World Tree and all, but can we please not vilify the entire human race in one fell swoop? I've seen a lot of scifi, that was possibly the crudest story line I've ever seen making future tech the Bad Guy. And the really sick irony is that James Cameron is very wealthy, living off the masses... I'm not against wealth. I'm against wealthy people who twist reality to get wealthy, while the people below them spend money they really don't have on merchandise and 'green' initiatives. How many urbanites really believed the phrase in the movie "We killed our mother! The green is gone!" (paraphrased, perhaps), while I sit here surrounded by lush forest and fields so overwhelming with pollen and vermin and critters that I don't even go outside? How many people aren't aware that our govt is currently seizing hundreds of thousands of pristine acreages as we speak? Excusez moi, but the whole movie was propaganda. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of that.
Fisherman Bob: What are you doing here? Dr. Ivan Hood: We're looking for the president. Fisherman Bob: The president huh? The president's dead. Dr. Ivan Hood: Are you sure? Fisherman Bob: No. Are you sure he's alive? Dr. Ivan Hood: No, but we're gonna find out. Alex, Bizzi & Tyler: [fists in air, chanting in unison] THE PRESIDENT LIVES! Dr. Ivan Hood: Hey hey hey! Can we stop with that 'President Lives' crap, okay? You're not slogan repeating slaves anymore, you're free people! Start acting like it.
Ok, tell me how, in any kind of theory, this movie is any different in plot than Avatar, just the roles are reversed, but they make the same point. And I find the super crappy one more entertaining. At least you can blame whatever poor editing on a really low budget. James Cameron had no excuse. Just once I'd like to see a wealthy Hollywood director actually do something without begging the question around every corner. If you're gonna make a point about greedy alien hostile takeover, just make it and don't drag in all the current political baggage with a line about how humans destroyed their mother and the green is gone. I like this quote fromGeek Entertainment News and Commentary - Angry Zen MasterGuess I wasn't the only one who came away disgusted.
"Science fiction can serve to give us hope for the future. Star Trek is all about unity and the indomitable will of humanity. Avatar is about us being total dicks to ten-foot tall blue cat people. I find that far more sinister than the noble savage aspect. Sky People suck so bad that even Jake can’t stand to be one. He spends most of the film in his Avatar. Why should we give a toss what happens to humanity when our hero doesn’t."
Back to 2015. I have a lot more distraction now chasing a tiny Sky Person around.
This is the @bonenado shelf at Hobby Lobby. No, we didn't get anything. We're as frugal as Vulcans.
Got a cute little Toshiba message letting me know my battery will be expiring one of these days and something about my SSD can be written over only so many times before it gets worn out. Basically, lappy might only have a few weeks or months left before I've gotta spend at least $100 on a battery or just flat retire it and get a new laptop. I'll be hoarding away money and being a bit selfish this year, might be a slim Christmas. Just a heads up. Since I can still see pretty good, I guess this means another year in my old glasses. I'm not too worried, the health report looks good, but as hard as I work this thing, maybe I need to stop downloading vids and toggling so many screens, give this poor thing a break.
That's it, I'm bushwhacked. Going down early again tonight.
Last night's dream was stupid, awful, ridiculous, and unbelievably disgusting, and yet I wake up in this fantastic mood.
Ok, that was interesting. OUT magazine just popped open a full page and said hello, like we're pals or something. I think bots are watching me type out my blog. I'm not surprised, but maybe I should be more specific so a bot will jump into my screen with something a little more awesome. Speaking of awesome, THIS happened yesterday. It's 30 minutes long but safe for work, happy Friday.
Ok, where was I? I've been meaning to mention the 50+ cave crickets @bonenado has trapped on tape in the basement just in the last month. Just about the time I nearly recanted the giant-spider-lurking-in-the-basement ban, I ran face to face (seriously, eye level) into the granpappy of all brown recluses sitting on the washcloth pile in the linen closet like he was set up for a meeting and I was late. Of course, Scott sprang into action racing up the stairs to get the vacuum hose leaving me to hold a silver dollar sized highly poisonous spider locked in place with a stare down. Anyhoo, I have a very conditional recant now- one giant wolf spider is allowed to lurk in the basement IF we never see it and IF it never comes upstairs and ONLY IF it keeps the rest of the bug and spider population near to zero. Wouldn't it be cool if we could domestically train a giant house spider like that instead of using pesticides? I'm feeling a bit light headed just typing out the words 'giant spider' over and over, so quick, let us change the subject.
~~~searching internet~~~
Apparently no one has ever put Benedict into a glitter graphic. You guys are letting me down in the need-distraction-NOW department. Wo, hold. the. phone. I have found Ben blingee swag. Get a little trash glam going here, if this eye splat won't take my mind off a spider, nothing will.
Anyone else notice my depression plunge was timed with the Houston flooding? We've all touched base now, my people are good, I'm bouncing around the house again. Makes you wonder how families handled getting once a year letters from pioneers. Of course, they didn't have a weather channel hammering them with helicopter views of everything inside a beltway under water. This isn't my first long distance holding-my-breath experience watching my baby live through top 5 disasters. Her wedding on the beach was literally destroyed by one of the biggest hurricanes ever to hit land there. Then the first text after 2 days of silence is always about a wasp or something, so imagine me insanely giggling like a left behind mama finally getting a letter from a pioneer kid after rumors of apocalyptic death and disaster. My dark urges to kill and maim have melted away and the world looks sweet again.
p.s. The mistake was PINK in case you haven't seen the show
No, I'm not telling you last night's dream. But it was very weird. It was like the world was becoming synchronized and everyone was being channeled into their favorite drugs and religions and then grouped up for strange mental exercises that broke down their safety barriers (killed the red flags and warning whistles going off in their heads) until everyone was happily wasted and cooperating like drones doing things they'd have resisted doing otherwise. In my dream I had figured it out and managed to evade most of the mind numbing by weaving my way through the groups, but eventually it all caught up with me, someone managed to get me drugged, and I eventually caved to being initiated into a group. I wasn't at all pleased, but what could I do? The only way out was rebelling and being relocated by the overseers, which I already knew meant disappearing and being killed. The groups weren't told that, they thought the people who left just went to other groups. But once initiated, I discovered I could come and go more freely in different ways without suspicion, so I played along and kept weaving in and out of the other groups watching what was really going on.
I talked to my dad the other day. It's all real. Kinda making me wonder if the genetic aspie thing on my dad's side was part of an engineering tool, because some really brilliant people come out of Amish & Mennonite communities. Funny that a little boy growing up in the middle of a wheat field could know so much about all the stuff that's coming out 70 years later all over the internet.
While I'm in my grim little mood, I feel like tackling an idea that's come up a few times on blogging hashtag days on twitter (good lord, nearly every day of the week has a special hashtag for bloggers now).
Quick reminder that I've been blogging since 2004 and have been in and out of fandoms as both lurker and moderator since 1994. I've seen it all. All the blow ups, all the hurt, all the stats. I'm obsessed with search engines, distraction, and headphones. I have special lurkers that go way way back and we play little games like 'find me now', but since I won't risk my lappy's crippled life in the dark underground, I have to be satisfied with knowing only that one of my very favorites is a gamer overlord living in a posh neighborhood.
There's this thing going around social media articles now questioning 'over-sharing'.
Urban dictionary- oversharing I have seen a LOT of that. I've been privately contacted so many times by people genuinely worried about their sex lives and mental illnesses that I finally just turned comments off, stopped checking my email for a week or more at a time, stopped hanging out in forums. Everyone wants to spill. It's NORMAL. Sadly, I'm aspie with a strict time limit on social sharing tolerance, and I should be making at the very minimum $80 a pop just talking to you guys. Ok, I'm not certified, but I've been trained to professionally assess. My professional assessment to the world is I love you and we're all going to be ok, just keep finding people to talk to. Sooner or later we click somewhere, so keep trying.
Wiktionary- overshare I guess we're supposed to click on deeper discussions of 'inappropriate' and 'disclosure' there, kind of a cop out, but you get the picture. This goes beyond describing one's sexual fantasies into places like 'I really like knives, is something wrong with me?'. I've had some very interesting discussions with people who may or may not have done harm to or terminated other people, told a couple of them that they'd probably make excellent forensic scientists. It really is ok to be weird. You guys need to figure that out. (I'm not saying it's ok to harm or terminate other people.)
wiseGEEK- What Is Oversharing? I don't necessarily agree with this. The whole social filter thing is a new concept and until we learn to deal with a spectrum of people with a variety of brain types, you can't just bind everyone down to 'stop talking now'. It's vital that some keep talking, and I'll get into that in a minute.
Social filtering- this is actually a computer term that has to do with user stats being gleaned during search engine analytics and cookies and all that whatnot and is now being used as psychological and educational slang. If you really want to get into this with me, we need to jump to social cognition and discuss this like grown ups, which means I'll expect you to have done your research before you start flapping your lips. This is a ridiculous summary that means very little- Why Some People Have No Boundaries Online
To wit, I just overshared a bunch of junk that probably wasn't necessary. Let's point this specifically to bloggers discussing oversharing as a social media faux pas, because people have been oversharing since time out of mind and it's ridiculous to go there.
My blog is my blog is my blog. I can say anything I want on my blog. If someone doesn't like it they can stop reading my blog.
Bloggers who are using blogging to make money or push sales or create a launch platform for future goals are very different from bloggers who are using blogs as a daily journal or a writing exercise. Professional bloggers are becoming typecast as savvy technoweenies who know how to monetize, and they are mixing freely on twitter with amateur bloggers who just want to wrangle some thoughts out. Both are equally welcome to link their posts on twitter using special hashtags designed to increase exposure and reach more readers.
I can tell that bloggers who are blogging real stuff (by that I mean regular people who post pix of kids and pets and talk about their own families and neighborhoods) are feeling intimidated by bloggers who use and create hashtag feeds to hustle. It's bad enough feeling lost in a crowd, it's even worse realizing that one's content can be turned into a feed generator for someone else. The feeling of competition is getting wildly out of hand. It's not a competition. There are no winners and losers in blogging, I don't care how Forbes ranks mommy bloggers. It's not real.
Blogging is a huge thing right now. When I started, it was to keep in touch with my kid in college. Blogging was a fun way to say This is my day, and then pop over and comment on someone else's day. It's more fun than emailing, takes the pressure off timing phone calls, and has an added bonus of being there for any and all friends and loved ones who have the time to flip through and see how it's been going for someone in particular. Ten years later, blogging has morphed into this huge spectacle, and even professional journalists are jumping over to blogging vs writing articles. Everywhere we turn, there is a sea of blogging.
One of my more popular posts is called Blogging Saves Lives. It was kind of a tongue in cheek joke about using blogging to pull myself away from dumping my reactions all over innocents sharing elsewhere, but it's a real thing, guys. Put "blogging saved my life" into a search engine bar. There are people out there who credit having a way to share being what they hung onto during the hardest stuff they ever had to go through. It's human nature to need to feel connected, all through human history. Very few people enjoy feeling isolated. We live in an age where the most isolated people can now join the gangs online and feel like they're part of the human race.
I've mildly argued with my psychologist about suicide being a social disease, based on Erik Erikson's idea of how our self identity fits into one or more groups we are part of. He died before social media blew up into this huge thing. I'm one of those 'Freud is dead' people. Yes, we all have our anomalies and quirks, but I believe whether we feel rejected by groups is what tips the scales for some of the more drastic actions we take. We can drag Stan Lee into this for another professional opinion. Has there ever been an evil villain that didn't have an outside motive for becoming a dominating force? We can talk psychopaths all day long, but all it takes is one scoffed human determined to show someone they can not only do something, but do it awesomely, and bing, the world changes. How many of the success stories we hear about come from people who overcame odds? What if they had shut up when social media told them to shut up?
There's no such thing as oversharing on one's own personal blog. It's your blog. One of my faves from several years back was a delightful romp through cool and beautiful graphics, like flipping through someone's scrapbook, while the general content was a continual woe is me for this or that, and then politely asking for donations to a paypal account, and even direct links to retail gift lists. While I agree some people need help and this is a cute way to solicit funds, I felt the woe is me part could have been a little brushed up with not confessing how so much limited money is wasted in the first place on pets, clothes, recreational substances and whatnot while electric bills missed getting paid among claims of starvation, but is this any different from vague anonymous contributions to food bins and various big charities that must use part of your money to keep office management going? Not at all. So why judge?
Social media is HERE. It's not going away. We are all being watched, and criminals are actually being caught because they share real stuff on real blogs. Then there's the other side of the coin- that kid (pick one) who blew away part of a school and no one had any idea that was even possible. Wouldn't you rather that kid had overshared on a blog?
Do. Not. Tell. People. To. Shut. Up.
NEVER tell someone in comments that what they write on their own blog is a waste of time, or that they are a waste of space. I believe that the words spoken to someone before a suicide are just as heavy a weapon as a gun. If you're the sort who believes in accountability or karma, you stain your own soul with words.
I believe in freedom of speech. I don't believe in strangling those who don't agree with a reader's viewpoint or belief system.
I'm speaking from experience. Because I've been on the internet so long, and because I've used so many different names, you guys do not know how many threats I've received, how many times I've been attacked, and how afraid I used to be. I know people who are still afraid to be themselves on social media because of the past or the way they've behaved to others.
We live in an age where it's becoming increasingly cool to stand up and be OURSELVES.
One more thing. There is no such thing as confidence. I've never been confident. I'm not blogging because I feel confident. I hit that publish button and cringe every. single. time. I have learned that it doesn't kill me. Yeah, I still have a few panic attacks, once in awhile one will last a couple of hours and you don't see me being cartoony around my house, but I believe this is important. We are all important. I believe that feeling confident is a lack of feeling something else, just like my lack of stage fright due to an extreme lack of self awareness because I'm a little deeper on the Asperger's spectrum cannot be called confidence.
I think oversharing is a cool thing. It's about time we told each other what's really in our heads. If people want to read it, fine. If they don't, they can click to something else. It's your blog. Do what you want on your own blog within reasonable legal limits.
Yesterday sucked. Nothing terrible, no injured (or dead) neighbors (that was a joke, corpse was discovered in a house up the road couple weeks ago), or emotional calls or texts about job loss or flooding (always on the verge of catastrophe somewhere), not even a bird hitting a window (we are the house of death). Made a beautiful roast in the crock pot, chewy oatmeal cookies for Scott to take to work this week. All the rest was me sitting on my hands and falling into the abyss where the old stabby furniture lurks in the corners waiting for me to stumble.
I expected it. The pressure dropping on the first day after a week of high energy performance/alert levels is always a head grinder for me. I'm not on head meds, so the shifting brain chemicals dripping acid through the ol' coils is familiar. Still, the snap back into place got pretty rough.
Those of you living with OCD and severe depression can imagine the plunge. It starts out with the typical background chatter that makes no sense- I'm ugly, my hair is stupid, I'm never going to get this effin book finished and without warning crashes a person into I may as well be dead because I'm a waste of space and then the panic attack starts because the OCD/bipolar combo (especially if one has ever had previous dissociations during medical or med crises, both of which I'm familiar with) becomes so overwhelming that you fear for your own safety. My coping strategy yesterday was stop trying to do anything (and feeling like I was failing), ENJOY going back to bed, ENJOY finding silly stuff on youtube, ENJOY some good food. I could feel when the chemical crisis started ebbing away and I was able to start functioning again, took about six hours. But it was definitely a crisis. I'm really good at managing depression, but when I'm in the dark and bump into the furniture that starts mocking my existence, I take it seriously just in case a euphoric compulsion popping through my head becomes a live action scene that I stand back and witness like a doll.
One year I kept the patio door locked for a week while Scott was away so I wouldn't go outside in case I flipped off the upper deck onto the jagged river rocks below (I have no desire to die or feel pain, but that doesn't mean those things couldn't happen), and kept the shade drawn so I wouldn't look outside. That year 3 doctors and a psychologist supervised me through a double hormone crash that took a couple of months before my body reset to a new default, and I split apart into several bubble worlds for about a week where I talked to someone that wasn't there, and couldn't tell which bubble was the 'real' one. I got through it without head meds, but only under the strictest supervision. That was the most intense episode I've experienced.
My brain chemical problems are very genetic. I won't go into details, but some of the things my people have dealt with, besides general chronic depression, include OCD, severe post partum, manic/bipolar, personality disorder, schizophrenia, and Alzheimer's. And I make no secret of my Asperger's now, which isn't a mental illness, but you can imagine stirring that pot with brain chemical imbalances. So far my daily stuff is mostly just medically-related depression with some mild PTSD (anxiety is noted in big letters throughout my medical history) and for the most part I'm able to live pretty normally without head meds, but I do have to be vigilant. My psychologist thinks I'm mentally and emotionally pretty healthy and has 'turned me loose', since I've learned how to self monitor and make and follow self care plans.
I got this from the bravest person I ever met.
Part of mental health is being honest. It's very hard to touch base with others for help when we might need it the most. For me, simply telling Scott I'm having one of my bad days is enough, he knows what those are and switches gears with me. When he walked in the door after work last night he asked how my day was, since I'd very much been looking forward to a quiet day after a week of ruckus, and was surprised when I said terrible because readjusting crashed me into the depression real hard, but then I laughed and said "You were stuck at work jealous of me having a day to myself, and it was awful, so thank goodness you were at work." I always feel better when Scott comes home. He's not a mean person, plus I had awesome food waiting for him (a very good priority to keep in mind is rewarding one's personal caretaker), and the crisis was abating by then, so I didn't have to say much.
Today is much better. I don't feel so scattered, I'm not being hammered with inner negative chaos, the quiet feels wonderful now, and I slept good. Doesn't mean it couldn't blow apart again, but it's a good start.
This is my first ever full on admission of all the stuff I'm dealing with in my head on a daily basis. I've been mocked in the past, plus I know real people who trigger easily, so I tend not to bring this stuff up very much. I really don't care what other people think of me (thank you, Asperger's), but sometimes it's important to share. I have a tiny little flashlight in a big, dark world, and I'm moving forward every chance I get. I refuse to stay stuck in a rut. Yesterday's post was me dealing with my head. When I posted and walked away, I had every intention of never coming back to this blog. Yeah, right, it's called "blog addiction". It's the healthiest addiction I've ever had (I've been through numerous very real addictions), and the important thing is I'm still here.
It took several years for me to embrace the somewhat daily discipline of touching base with myself on blogs. Once I got into the habit, it took another couple of years to embrace the interruptions that keep me from focusing on enjoying the brain workout of daily blogging. That's really what it is, isn't it? Writing something down every day is an exercise, and sometimes it's hard and sucks the same way that committing to a 30 minute workout every day does. So when alone time with one's brain creeping out into the soft static of the world Borg mind becomes enjoyable, something getting in the way of that can make a person feel kinda pissy. And then learning to let it go can turn it into work all over again when it's time to get back into routine. Routine iz hard, yo.
That's why I blog the way I do. I make it really enjoyable to come back because I would otherwise be so bored and frustrated with the written word that I'd maliciously envision visiting horrible consequences all over my laptop, either in forums or actually on my laptop. ZZztTTT There, you stupid keyboard, want some COFFEE? Can you keep up NOW??? See, if I had minions, they'd look more like spiders because I'm evil and would go on gleeful stomping frenzies.
I'd rather be cool, you know? Not just someone losing it and throwing things.
A wise man once said, "Don't dream it. Be it." I heard the playwright actually got that off a cigarette ad, but who cares.
You thought I was done, didn't you? I'm not done. I actually did do some writing over the holiday weekend. I've been noticing over the last 8 weeks that writing seems to suddenly have become remarkably easy. I'm no longer struggling when I sit down and continue painting my canvas. I was kind of joking about the whole thing through April, but I guess it was real.
I couldn't read until I got into the second grade. Thankfully I got a teacher who was all into phonetics. Suddenly words became a game.
My third grade teacher made sentence structuring a game. I began to write.
My fifth grade teacher made reading a game. I had the second longest bookworm in the class.
My sixth grade teacher showed me with a special projector that I'm actually a speed reader.
I figured out by high school that I can glance through books and accurately summarize them without being conscious of what I've read.
College was like a circus smorgasbord at which I excelled without understanding, and learned that my communication skills were dismal. I discovered a secret key and unlocked a door to a gigantic maze.
The internet was a joyous brawl without direction until I learned I can make and lose friends.
Blogs helped me practice in the long, dark nights after my world shattered and all hope was gone.
A psychologist helped me understand that my problem really is me. I saw myself for the first time.
I am Aspienado. I've worked long and hard to reach this place. There is no magic involved. I'm not that savant. (I believe we are all beautiful and magical.) Because I kept pushing myself into a routine, I am writing.
I'm writing pain.
And I'm writing joy.
And one day, Lord willing, you will see it. Time to GET BACK TO WORK! >=l
I'll be excruciatingly honest. I'mnotmadeforthiseverydayinteractionstuff. I NEED deep-in-my-head time like normals just don't get. I don't crave companionship. I don't feel fuzzies when I see people I love. I am obnoxiously lacking the 'happy to see you' gene. Don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean at all that I don't love my kiddos. Just saying if you don't see me on social media this next week, I will be so deep in my cave that even the spiders will fear me.
Some stuff from this week. First of all, the sox Holly sent me keeping me sane.
And that was important because
I finally just gave up in disgust and haven't turned my laptop on much since, until this evening. Got about 1000 words written and my gurlz showed up again *boom* right in the driveway. And we've got one more day to go before this holiday weekend is officially over, which will make it 8 days in a row tomorrow. It's all good as long as no one talks to me the rest of the week.
Now the cute stuff, because even *I* am a sucker for cute nowadays.
You just can't go wrong with a squirt gun, a flash light, and those awesome boots.
You guys can't tell we're on coffee break. We were both working on our computers and she needed a coffee break, too.
30 minute drive, spitting as hard as she could the entire way, you know how that makes your nose go tickly-numb right up to your eyeballs when you do it long enough... We could tell she was experimenting. No telling what this bodes for the future, but I've got first dibs on calling high school drama club queen. If she doesn't go the theater route she'll be even meaner during volleyball regionals than her mama was, eating floor and slamming ball.
And no one will be able to stop her because they'll be destroyed by her cuteness.
I couldn't resist getting a shot of the winning hipster in town, how can you go wrong with a name like that and a chicken on your sign? Pic clicks to website.
Other me has once again made a mistake and direct links her fans to ME instead of her own instagram. I bet she absolutely hates me for getting the name first on twitter. Someone else in England got it first on facebook but she got it first on pinterest. There seem to be a bunch of Pinky Guerreros in this world.
That notwithstanding doesn't explain the explosion of hits I woke up to this morning on this blog. I took a look at referral links on my statcounter, and I'm seeing y'all coming in from bookmarks, direct twitter and facebook links, and keyword search referrals don't seem to have anything in particular to do with her. Plus she just doesn't have the oomph to push traffic my way, despite all the little pots and pans she seems to have going on her stove. I'm not finding an IMDB page on her, and whoever has the linkedin can't be her because she's not in the Philippines. There are at least 14 of us on facebook, 12 on twitter. At any rate, I keep my eye on other me because she's actually kind of savvy. She's got a fairly decent mommy blog going, and her aboutme looks like she's out there conquering the world, so I say go her!
But I'm keeping my twitter name. I created it for a reason before I learned about all the other Pinkys. I hadn't yet decided to go back to being public and I wanted to watch fans live tweeting the Merlin live filming going on in France, so my jumping on as Pinky on twitter was more about still harboring ill willed evil villain revenge feels than anything. I'm not over it, and evil schemes continue to move forward, despite rescheduling around continual interruptions.
Scott and I take turns so we can recover from the intense brain drain that watching a nonstop Bunny causes. I spend my time chasing down distractions on the laptop in between doing dishes and folding laundry, and then he spends his time freaking out about his fantasy teams in between running outside for dumb little reasons like chasing a stray cat off or getting the mail.
Tuesday was awesome, warm and sunny and Bunny got to go outside, Wednesday was dismal, cold and rainy, but Bunny was awesome playing indoors. Today we're all getting a little worn down and she wants to go outside and it looks sunny but it's still too cold, so maybe I need to cut back on the coffee and plug in another Star Trek movie and just lay on the floor letting her destroy me dropping stuff on my face and using me as a footstool or a bridge.
After she goes home I usually morph into a brainless blob, but yesterday Scott went out for some high speed weedeating before the sun went down. It's been interesting noticing the ways our different genetic makeups handle a long day. His people never die, my people grind to a halt and nuke whoever ripples the pond. I need serious down time to recover, Scott needs serious buzz time. Speaking of buzz, this is a cool thing I saw today, clicks to source.
Click next pic for more buzztrooper goodness.
Star Trek Into Darkness was a surprisingly soothing background yesterday, and I took the opportunity during parts of it to brainwash Bunny some more. Like, at one point I let her dig into a single serve bag of potato chips with me and every time she stuck a chip in her mouth I said "Spock is good". She heard the words "Spock", "Star Trek", "Enterprise", and "spaceship" a lot. Hey, if VBS can do their brainwashing with cookies and koolaid, I can use potato chips for Star Trek. She ate yogurt, fruit, eggs, cheese, and ravioli, so she earned the chips.
You didn't see us jump up and get coats on in the middle of that last paragraph and play with a bubble gun out on the wet 47 degree deck and then come back in for a cookie and a cheese stick. Grampa was reticent, I think he's burning out already. You guys ever notice how grampas don't run daycares? That's no accident. (time passing) And now you didn't see us fold all the towels and washcloths in the dryer. I told Bunny don't go in too far or she'd wind up going back in time like Cole. I folded as fast as I could but she was still faster than me and kept reloading the dryer. We got a LOT of work done today. I wouldn't be surprised if we got tomorrow's laundry done already, it was crazy.
By the way, we caught up on The Flash last night, and I never saw the live tweet, but did anybody else have to stop the show and rant about Caitlin asking what a singularity was? She works at Star Labs and doesn't know what a singularity is. That question would have come off way better out of Eddie's mouth, but nooooo, it had to be Caitlin, a genetics specialist that works side by side with Cisco, only the most brilliant scifi lovin' brainiac on the planet. Let me be clear about my feelings- the word "singularity" has been around since the 80s and has inundated nearly every scifi show on the planet ever since, plus it's a biggie in several very real science discussions, so for Caitlin to act like she'd never heard the word singularity before in a lab sitting over a particle accelerator exploded my brain. To me this was like a baseball player asking what a tip off is, or like an executive chef asking what a convection oven is, or a mathematician asking what a sine curve is. They trust Caitlin for knowledge in tight situations, and she doesn't know the crap what a singularity is. If we feel the need to explain it to the audience, at least use a more appropriate way to spell out how dumb we're not supposed to be at Star Labs, ok?
Scott gets a little tense going to movies with me. My 2009 Trek rant is legendary in this house. And that's just a small portion of the 3-month rant I went on. You guys, I'm not even a Flash fan, I'm #TeamWells, and I rant about Wells getting sloppy all. the. time. For a genius he's just pretty stupid. I want five minutes in lockup with evil Wells/Thawne, I will fix so much stuff for him. Fortunately, Scott has never lost it over me hitting the pause button every 30 seconds when I go insane over writing problems. This next pic clicks to a very moving and deeply personal blog post written by a science fiction psychologist, I love it.
Anyway, so you can bet Bunny will be getting a full education on Vulcan physiology, Goa'uld defense strategies, Scarran weak spots, and sing the Brunnen-G battle song on the way to school. Singularity. I need to go breathe into a bag.
Ok, here we go, this is me destressing while grampa and Bunny are out on a walk. I finally just bundled her up, tossed her onto the front deck (it's fenced and gated) and told grampa to get his shoes on.
My fave BC pic bcuz eyes. I have mentioned having a facial recognition problem, and that tweet links to a post I wrote on what it's like living with prosopagnosia (facial recognition deficit), so when I do happen to notice features, which isn't often because aspienado's so aspie, they really stick with me. I've also mentioned being a Sherlock fan and not a Benedict fan, so it took awhile for me to even notice, but he's got spectacularly beautiful eyes. I'm actually being annoying putting this giphy here, lol. I know it's hard to read when stuff moves on the page, which was one of my biggest problems with myspace when it first launched.
I need to be off here before they come back so we can trade off again, so lemme find a quick brain juicer and post this thang. Too late, here they are. See ya.
Nice people believe that if we shut our eyes tight enough, bad things don't really happen all around us. As long as we keep smiles on our faces and follow the rules, bad things stay on television screens and most of it is just overrated hype or entertainment. I'm not a nice person. If I were, I wouldn't be doing my own writing.
I was so cynical in college that my paper on Plato was about people voluntarily choosing to stay in the cave looking at the shadows on the wall so they wouldn't have to see reality. We choose to remain blind, and we put our restraints back on our brains whenever anyone tries to take them off. Enlightenment is just a shadow we talk about- we can't even fathom what the true form of that concept must be like.
This news story today is deeply meaningful to me because I've known people who died before they could even have a chance to tell their stories, and I'm writing what my part was. Some of the monsters under our beds are the nice people who tell us to shut up and go back to sleep, or don't say that out loud, or don't write it for the whole world to read. Nice people don't like the truth being real. It's easier to just keep watching television and tweeting our opinions than it is to stand up to someone we know personally who is ruining other people in secret, and we especially daren't embarrass anyone we know who didn't save someone they could have from the spiritual, emotional, and physical carnage.
Allegory of the Cave- "When the prisoners are released, they can turn their heads and see the real objects."
I guess I'll be spending the rest of my week in shock. Aspienado + EnergizerBunny = brain freeze.
My coffee-chocolate-xanax-youtube-giphy cocktail isn't working. I need multiple brain chips sending soothing brain wave algorithms, stat.
I can't get this stupid song out of my head. Heeellllpppp mmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Oh, thank goodness, someone else had it stuck in their head, too.
GOD BLESS FANS.
Stumbling into the darker side of fandom distraction. Poking eyes out. Linking for others out there who are more desperate than me. Just click the pic.
I have completely abandoned @bonenado. I'm debating whether to feel guilty. Or go eat another gluten free chocolate cookie in front of him with my headphones on. I reflect on how funny I find Bunny being his biological descendant and technically not mine. I feel smug. I actually think Bwhahahaha. The cosmos retaliates immediately with super glitchy internet during a downpour. I am duly rebuked. Must find another crack vid. ~or something~I think we found something we can dance to.
I so love finding little gems in the dark that crack me up. The incongruity in this one is priceless.
This is my head most of the time.
MY PEOPLE.
I'm psyching up, can you tell? @bonenado and Bunny will be underfoot the rest of the week, and I'll be in aspienado super-focusing-on-a-code-smash-fix survival mode (rescuing another old survey for Surveypalooza). Thank goodness I found giphy.com.
Gregory won't stop calling. Evidently he doesn't read my blog.
This whole week is flipping upside down, more in slow motion but kind of like the way one of Loki's leviathans does after Hulk smashes into it.
We might be seeing a lot of Bunny this week. You can tell she's the boss.
Batman is taking over at his house, too.
At any rate, this seems like an excellent time to switch gears and tackle one of the toughest code smashes I've ever had to rewrite, and it's taking for~ev~er. I am literally pasting line by line it's so bad. I'll hafta wait to get back to world domination till after Memorial Day weekend, I guess. It's all good, I've got stuff out to make nachos later.
Yeah, right, it's called "blog addiction". It's the healthiest addiction I've ever had (I've been through numerous very real addictions), and the important thing is I'm still here.
