Panic and bewilderment were quickly replaced with critical analysis once it hit Quinn that all the Colins were wearing different kinds of clothes. At first he'd assumed Colin had somehow been replicated in the accident, but it was obvious from the clothing this was not so. The Colins were dressed in everything from the latest in Amish fashion to togas, with a wide variety of jams, levis, suits, and tank tops in between. A few even had on what looked like pajamas and swim trunks. The oddest thing was just how many different kinds of hairstyles these Colins sported. There were mohawks, ponytails, crew cuts, waist length with headbands, and several with their heads completely shaved.
"So," Remmy sidled up to Quinn in what he thought was a rather inconspicuous way, "have you figured out what's going on yet?"
"Yeah," Quinn breathed grimly back. "I think that every Colin who happened to be in a wormhole at the precise time we slid were somehow jerked to our vortex and dumped here all in one spot." Quinn looked like his eyes would pop out.
"Never dreamed I'd seen him in a dress," Remmy raised his eyebrows and shook his head, hands on his hips. "Where's our Colin?"
"I don't know, I though he'd come looking for me in all this, but I don't see him anywhere."
"Do you remember what he was wearing?"
Quinn made a 'who knows' face and shrugged. "All I know for sure is he had to have those toe socks..."
"Yeah, he definitely likes to shop," Rem chuckled nervously.
"You know, pants and a jacket."
"Yeah, but what kind?"
"Specifically?"
"Yeah."
Quinn and Remmy gave up and just stared. There had to be at least 50 jackets identical to Colin's milling in that crowd.
And one of them finally broke through the crush of bewildered Colins and came toward them.
"Oh, man, are we glad to see you!" Remmy gushed, grinning from ear to ear. Nonstop tension was a little hard on Rem sometimes, and he countered it with jubilance on shorter notice than anyone else Quinn had ever met. But Quinn didn't smile.
"Toe socks," he demanded, not moving.
"What?" Colin stopped and looked puzzled.
"Take off your shoes."
"What? Wait a minute, you're not my Quinn, are you?" Colin drooped. He'd been swallowing down is own rising panic, but the only Quinn in sight apparently wasn't the brother he'd come to know so well. It was hard not to give in to a sense of overwhelming self pity, but at the same time he was feeling pretty angry about whatever had caused this freak accident. Surely it had to be SOMEbody's fault. He'd gone through nearly 100 slides without any problem whatsoever, so this has to be someone jerking the physics around like a real idiot.
"What happened in there?" At least Rem was keeping a cool head. Quinn was gritting his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth.
"I was in the vortex and felt like something punched me. Next thing I know there's all kinds of mes and we're all tumbling out of the vortex. Some of the guys were talking about it, we all pretty much had the same experience."
"Well, Quinn here thinks you may have all been jerked out of the other wormholes simultaneously."
"What in the world could cause that?"
Quinn shook his head. "That's just it, I'm racking my brain and the answer I'm getting scares me."
"Like somebody finding a way to synchronize the wormholes or something? I was thinking it felt unnatural."
"No," Quinn tried not to sound shaky. "It's more than that. Someone was able to focus on a person in the wormhole."
By now a small throng of Colins had gathered around to listen.
"Like Kromaggs?" one of them ventured.
"That's just what I was thinking," Remmy added. "But how could they do that unless we had," Remmy managed to convey going quite pale, "tracking devices!" he gasped out.
Colin pulled Quinn aside, which was hard to do in the throng abuzz with conjecture. "I don't think that's it," he said.
"Well, maybe it's part of it," Quinn confided, "but whatever happened, my brother disappeared completely. And there's this new guy." He nudged the unconscious stranger gently with his foot. "Whatever the Kromaggs might be up to, I doubt if they know anything about this guy. The way he screamed, it's a pretty good guess he's never been sliding before. When he wakes up, maybe he can clue
And that is where I'm missing a page or possibly even a section. Sorry about that. There is more coming.
Unbeknownst to evil Dr. Geiger, he had an identical double on an identical world who was working on an identical experiment. The only difference was that the other Geiger wasn't worried at all about finding a medical cure...
Our intrepid heroes had doubles who were about to slide, covering each other during a spray of bullets as they escaped. They barely made it into the vortex before energy started crackling all around them, like streaks of lightning crackling around a little globe in a novelty shop. One of the bolts caught Colin right in the stomach and immediately split into a sheath of energy that encase him. Everyhair on his head and arms stood straight out, and suddenly... Another bolt shot crosswise into the sheath and fragmented into a thousand pieces. Colin felt like he was looking into a long line of mirrors, all reflecting Colins back at him with most astonished looks on their faces. But before there was time to even spare a thought on it during the crazy tumbling this vortex was putting him through, he bumped horribly into another body, melted into it, was swallowed up by it, *was* that body. It was almost like the time he nearly drowned in the pond over in Brenton's alfalfa field when he was twelve, almost like falling asleep when the struggling was over. Only it was also horribly like waking up from a nightmare and not being able to recall for a few hair-raising moments what was going on.
"Ooff!" "Sorry." "Ow!" *thud* "Watch it!" "Get off me!" "Sorry about that." *thump*
Remmy watched in stunned silence as Colin after Colin dropped out of the vortex. Somewhere underneath them were Quinn and some other guy Rem had never seen before, but one strange guy turning up didn't hold a candle to the hundreds and hundreds of Colins tumbling out of a hole in the sky like a bunch of lemmings in the pc game he'd discovered 3 slides back. He'd gotten so hooked that he'd had to be dragged away from it for the next slide.
And now there were a thousand Colins rolling off an assembly line, virtually dumped like a herd of little lemming guys.
Maggie popped out last, just as the vortex closed back up. She rolled down the small hill of Colins she had flopped onto, stumbled through the ones picking themselves up around the edge, and clutched her head with both hands, squinting her eyes tightly shut. "I have the WORST migraine! Oh, man," she gasped, "I've never had a headache like this in my life!"
Remmy helped her find a place to sit down and recover while the Colins sorted themselves out and stood up.
Quinn looked around like a wildman once he'd fought his way out from under the first dogpile. What in the world was going on? Why were there suddenly so many Colins? And which one was HIS Colin?
I've mentioned a few places across my blogs that I was a Sliders fan, and back then I was YabloVH on Onelist. I was digging through an old tub of junk and ran right into proof that I ran the Quinn list on Onelist.
I also have proof I shared at least one of my fanfics to the Slidestory Onelist group.
So I'm going to copy my Sliders fanfic series onto pinky blog (next post) and SyfyDesigns.
Nice convo with Slidecage on twitter last night, but if you know anything about the show Sliders, you can spot the curse here.
The Dream Masters was actually a pretty scary episode. This wiki briefly explains why, and this review shows why this ep is actually a thriller classic along the lines of thriller parody for realz hallmark kind of thing, and probably one of the reasons Syfy picked it up the next season when Fox dropped it. Jerry O'Connell had much more to say on that controversy last spring. Jerry O'Connell Reveals the Checkered History of 'Sliders' and a Potential Reboot
There's actually quite a lot written and archived about this old series because it was such a groundbreaker in scifi at the time, so if you want more info, just search it.
Btw, Jerry O'Connell saw the convo and liked one of the tweets. If you loved Sliders and want to see more, that convo starts here.
I've come out as the original YabloVH, which was one of my first aliases in fandoms. Me and Sliders go waaaay back. I would so love to see the original roles reprised in a reboot series.
But what was your nightmare? some of you are asking. Srsly. Long ugmo nightmare short, some idiot woman I can't stand (but can't remember at all now that I'm awake???) tried to have me thrown in jail over something ridiculously stupid (some kind of arson, but actually, I was much guiltier than she imagined, she'd have had a field day), and I only escaped by hiding out with Eugene from Preacher, and we wound up making out in a cattle water tank with me on top wondering if I could get away with drowning him.
Yes, one of those holy cow waking up thingies. I'm all wth and wtf and sipping coffee trying to distract myself with last night's convo and the minecraft post I'm working on for Bluejacky blog.
Wait, hang on. I think I'm awake enough now to handle a Lexx fanfic someone linked me to in the night. THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION TO SEND ME FANFIC. Ok, here you go. It's not too long, just click it. btw, NOT linking any more. And beware- the Amish have cats.
For those who don't know, this is Valdron's disclaimers for use with fanfic. Simply stating "Valdron's disclaimers" without even linking to it isn't a valid disclaimer.
Stanelle was the very first Lexx fan who contacted me with a serious question when I first started fan blogging Lexx.
See what I did there? I distracted ALL of us from my painfully stupid nightmare. I will srsly be facepalming all day over that one.
First 6 straight hours of sleep I've gotten in at least 8 days.
Killed a spider as big as me yesterday. That's right, the first thing I do on Jawn is go all victorious. Ok, it was in creative mode so I had no fear of death, ergo no anxiety spiking me into major freak outs. Sooner or later, though, I'll hafta face the spiders for real. And the zombies.
I told you guys I'd be better for you with her. After all my years of real life RPG in oddizm, she was the social plugin that interfaced me, and I'm no longer stuck in the portal between two timezones. I'm plugged back in and my soul sings.
My first intro to being unstuck was Babylon 5 in Babylon Squared (Babylon 5).
These were big deals to me because I'd never told anyone I feel 'unstuck' sometimes, or very very stuck. I finally saw Girl, Interrupted a few years later and realized my jumpy memories had something to do with emotional shutdown. (wikipedia movie info)
Consequences of Emotionally Shutting Down in a Relationship
by Giovanna Capozza "the purpose of a relationship is to grow us up and out of our stuck places, to help us heal the parts of ourselves that get triggered by the other and return to love, always back to a place where each of us is innocent. Places of insecurities, lack of love, trust or feeling respected, loss of control, fears, and of course the parts of our masculine and feminine energy that need healing. When we each take responsibility for our own triggers and “baggage” then we can keep an open dialogue. Then we don’t need to shut down. Sometimes what is required is that you speak openly and give the other person space to heal, but shutting someone you love out is not the answer. What we’re doing here is actually keeping ourselves from experiencing love, the punishment here is directed back to ourselves not the other. If we continually take this direction we risk repeating or attracting the same things over and over again in a partner until we learn what the trigger is showing us about ourselves."
It took me decades to get through, and one person was the key. Because one person was honest with me, patient with me, and dear to me, I am arriving out of a dark place into a wonderful place I dreamed could exist but daren't to ever hope for. I wrote lengthy essays proving happiness wasn't 'real' because it was just a concept that had been adapted to capture mass illusion. I'm thrilled to retract that and say I was so wrong.
I'm in the next part now, learning to pass that along. It's hard. I wasn't born to be a sweet, kind, easy person, but I think I'm starting to get the hang of it. After I stick a claw in an eyeball nowadays, I hand it back instead of eating it. Progress.
Ok, one more.
:edit: 4-22-17 The clue behind this last vid is hidden in this survey.
Last night was pretty exciting. I was having a buncha big thoughts in the shower and wound up thinking about how not even the Doctor could get the Sliders back home, like you do, and emerged to @bonenado feeling upset about not being able to find his giant stomper hunting boots that he'd been rummaging around in the basement for and suddenly switching gears wanting to know if I'd want to watch The Blacklist, and I gave up, all my cool thoughts went down another drain again, held frustration at bay hoping I'd be able to pick them back up later, because I had a neat idea I was going someplace with. And now #IWriteAboutItBecause I'm hoping I can trigger back to where I laid down those thoughts.
First order of business was to squelch the ADHD and redirect, so I led the way back down into the basement and patiently refocused gerbil brain back into more logical questioning over and over, do you remember the last time you actually had the boots, did they disappear before Thanksgiving because remember Twink was moving and there's all this 'new' stuff down here now, the mini trampoline kept coming up so obviously there was a reason the boots had to move off the trampoline (I conceded his logic for them being on it in the first place was actually sound to his way of thinking), and over a little time putting a picture back together from probably about 8 weeks ago, he suddenly went straight to them buried out of sight between and under a bunch of furniture and sacks and boxes covering a kids' plastic picnic table, where they were sitting on the seat off the floor. (He's watched every version of Sherlock ever made, I don't get how this process of rebuilding a crime scene hasn't sunk in yet.) (Maybe that's why I was always bored with all the other Sherlock versions and he's still glued to Elementary.) (I really hate Elementary, I have to leave the room.)
See, you can't get basement floor odor on the soles of hunting boots by setting them on the floor. It's ok if they sit on everything else... We've had lengthy discussions through the years about the mysteries of odors and hunting superstitions, so yay, we found the boots and went back upstairs to watch The Blacklist. I really don't think Elizabeth Keene should have been able to recover that quickly from a nitrogen-heavy suffocation that blacked her out, but I digress and the show must go on.
And then Scott dreamed about drugs and the FBI swarming his work last night while I dreamed about alt worlds where I made other really cool stuff on the webs that felt so real that I had a hard time waking back up to this world and going, 'oh'. Not as cool here as the last me I visited.
So here I am, coffee in the brain, and still trying to remember that really cool thing I was thinking last night in the shower that I couldn't wait to get out and write down before I forgot it and then got brain bombed. The danger of getting back into the shower and trying to recreate the scene is having all new cool thoughts crowding out the old ones that slipped away, so best just stay out of the shower for awhile and see if some utter peace and quiet will bring it back, now that @bonenado has left for work.
Mondays are like this. Every Monday. Every. Monday. My brain and I getting reacquainted, chatting about this and that over coffee. Starting all over again with making a Plan. Scott is still driving my car, but I hope to be getting my keycodes to the new lappy guy by Wednesday and picking new lappy up by the end of the week. Might be coming out of the depression dip soon, kinda seeing shafts of light getting into the darker corners again. Arms hurt like heck all night because I held my phone watching the live tweet feed while the Vikings teetered on the edge of ridiculous fail, so I've gotta stay away from my phone today and let my arms rest again. My hands finally stopped hurting somewhere in the night. You know, I don't say much (I really don't), but when a person can't even hold a spoon to stir something, yeah. You should see me putting jeans on. Ok, maybe you shouldn't. I have this trick where I hook my thumbs in the belt loops to pull them up. I've already been through a couple of years where I couldn't tie shoes or even put on my own socks, so I've got all these little tricks I'm going back to.
I do know that idea had something to do with 'all of time and space' being just a tiny blip in the reality of our own universe amid a consortium of multiverses (a bunch of a bunch, I just wrote), and how one would go about conveying that idea in a story. So I started crossing Doctor Who and Sliders and had this brilliant epiphany of phraseology (that's a real word, guys), and *boop* it's gone.
Really wish someone would do a fanvid of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to Lady GaGa's Edge of Glory. If I had the time to sit and do stuff like that I'd have whole novels on the market by now. I need staff to do frivolous things for me.
Nope, still haven't recovered that thought. Maybe later today. In the meantime, making my way through another Monday to some kind of breakfast.
Yesterday's ASTYM was the roughest yet. I'm not an easy bruiser, but this time I'm bruised up from neck to mid-back and on both shoulders and neck. It's amazing, though, how gloriously 'free' I feel to move, and the pain level is back down again.
My mind is so blank that I'm going to go backwards and grab stuff from this day through the years. (An hour later- smashing and recoding webkits will always be my go-to during brain glitch/fail. If you ever don't see me for awhile, I'm swimming delightfully through html.)
"I am loathe to enter on loseit.com that I just ate a third of a pound of bacon while I was wrestling all that out on the keyboard."
From 2014 on SyfyDesigns. (Ok, I actually linked the day before because it's way better than a year ago today, but you'll still be able to see today after it.)
From 2013 on SyfyDesigns, again, one day before today, in the middle of a whole page of Tony luv.
From 2012, sorry no link, it's private from here on back, so you get more than one sentence if I deem it worthy.
Wow, is my brain gone. This is later. I tried to count some days, and it took me 5 tries to get past 20 correctly. I'd blame the antibiotic, but this morning I counted even worse. Maybe it's the sinus. Now I'm wondering how in the world I picked up groceries and two prescriptions with $23 today. I think it was $5 each for pills (generic) which is $10, and $13 for milk and a couple other things, and I still brought home change. I just do these things, the numbers float around independently. Not sure why a light bulb came on *now*.
If I don't lay down real soon, I feel like my body will pull a Transformers thing and refold itself into a horizontal position without my consent and I'll be so surprised to find my eyeballs looking up from the middle somewhere. Later.
Oh, gotta share this one. I keep getting footprints on fortuna from someone in --- who thinks they're browsing anonymously, but referral gives me their xanga name embedded in 'private home' xanga address, so I looked it up. He's a 16 year old supergay in love with another boy at school, and they carry on like little girls swooning, and I'm wondering what in the world is Lexx to him, because he comes in on Lexx pages, and has been since I started. For some reason, I just think that's really funny. Maybe because I've been drowning in European middle agers swooning over young Irish actor Colin Morgan in the Merlin fandom. The young Irish supergay wants old Lexx...
Colin can't believe it, either. (For the record, I thought this was pretty awesome. You guys know the little thrills I get from tracker stat puzzles.) (Also for the record, the 'gotta share' was because one person in the entire world could see this private blog.)
From 2011.
Well, dawn has been cracked for 30 minutes and I see no sign of Scott, but neither do I see a single crow hanging around the bird feeder and they're not even flying over cawing, which is very unusual, so I'm betting they are watching Scott somewhere. I've seen deer come into the back yard and nibble groundcover within 15 feet of the crows, and if the crows take off, so do the deer, so I know the deer are watching the crows. The routine is way out of kilter this morning, even though the Boyd boys don't seem to be around now, so who knows how the Mighty Hunter might be triggering events in his environment.
I just shake my head at him. He almost got after me for putting so many onions in the meatloaf, and I rolled my eyes, here we go again. The deer will smell your onion breath... He decided that's ok, he could use scope. ~Seriously?~ Yeah, why not? Um. Can we *think* about that one? If deer would actually be spooked by something as natural as onion breath, which I'm sure they themselves must have on the occasion with all the wild stuff we have growing in SW MO, surely *scope* would be worse...? The deer smell minty fresh breath on the wind and call an all clear... He goes to all the trouble to rewash clean clothes in unscented high dollar soap just so it won't smell like laundry, and he rinses with scope. And he thinks I'm a real dingle berry making a big deal about the scope. As you can imagine, we're kinda bickering a bit since deer season started.
There is no way I can write any more without it continually coming back to deer season bugging me, especially after me nearly hurting myself helping Scott get that stupid deer stand up and he's not even using it. I should just walk away.
(This next is usually what happens after Scott comes home without a deer.)
We have lights up on the back deck! I told Scott to stop at that, the cantina lights. Don't want to come out of a 5-6 year slump to regret doing it, right? We also went next door and strung up lights around the roof of gram's house, easy and quick and cheerful.
From 2010, the year I picked up hand-foot-mouth disease from the arm of a waiting room chair because I was so careful not to touch anything else in a room full of old people waiting to be called back for colonoscopies (I was a driver) while they kept racing in and out to a bathroom down the hall. The walk-in clinic doctor I saw a few days later couldn't believe I didn't get it from a child, but I hadn't been around any children at all in months, so all y'alls- WASH YOUR HANDS!!!!>=l That's just disgusting. I'm surrounded by peasants everywhere I go.
Feeling weird and goofy with all these spots in my mouth. New one under my tongue, only bothers me when I eat. Easy to dehydrate with this, don't like anything touching my throat, even cool water. Really tired of numbing, and it tastes gross. Actually, my taste is screwed up anyway with these welts on my tongue. Hot chocolate and eggnog easiest to get down. Still having wobbly spells, musta woke up in another fever last night. Fingertips are getting real sensitive, figure it's the little hand blisters coming on under the skin. Can't see them yet, but feels uncomfortable. Feet feel hot and uncomfortable, not even bothering to look at them. Eyes are really itchy, have what looks like super glue sheeting in the corners, can't get it out for anything. Prolly part of the virus.
From 2009. What can I say. It was a hella rough year and this show got me through it.
I see Mac's mom on Always Sunny in Philadelphia and think, that's probably what I'm going to look like some day, but without the chain smoking. I think she's hilarious.
(This vid is an update smuggled back onto youtube. Love fans.)
I was slightly double blogging that year as I shifted away from this other private blog in an attempt to get a better attitude going, so what's coming next is this baditude. I've credited in a couple of public posts that being pissy and even hateful is what got me through and helped me survive the suckiest parts of my life. I learned all new respect for hateful people that year. Only thing is, I finally couldn't stand myself like that and eventually figured out I need people, and then made a plan to come back out for good this time, and that's what Pinky blog is. Imagine me evolving from this crap to love letter blog.
After a good think for a few days, I told the psychologist today that I've decided I'm not cut out to be a social networking person, and I think the problem I'm having with everyone else on myspace and facebook over the last couple years is me not being able to tolerate the incongruity that lies in whiny one-liners that don't match real life.
~lotta deleted gossip~
It's things like that why I need to just stop logging in to social networks. I love these people in real life. Online I can't stand them...
Anyway, going forward. Huge change in my life, closing down everything I've done since '04 and sealing it off from not only the public, but especially from my own family.
~lots more deleted gossip~
I feel like I'm throwing shackles off, it feels good. No longer tied down to others' needs and messes, free of the silliness. I tried so hard to follow them around on social networking in order to stay in touch when they'd go months between phone calls and even longer never seeing me in person.
I asked -- today if she'd like to go back out to Carthage sometime to the Precious Moments museum, like when we went with Mom. She has no memory of me going with them... She was so surprised that I could recall details, like the stained glass ceiling in the library on the town square, etc. I told her I felt very bad that day and tagged along and didn't talk much, but I didn't say that my feelings felt flung off a hamster wheel that she wouldn't remember hours of me hanging out with them. Even in really bad pain, that trip meant a lot to me, and I still remember tons of details.
I remember my mom started forgetting lots of stuff by the time I was in high school and then raising kids. She didn't remember things from my childhood that even now I still remember clearly. -- is already forgetting big chunks of stuff from just the last ten years, so much so that it's impossible to talk to her about some stuff. And now --...
Oh, well. Like I said, moving forward now.
From 2008. This time of year is like a rerun. Every year we go through this same convo, same actions, same everything.
Scott's busy little brain is working out a schedule this weekend. He wants to go out hunting early Saturday morning, and I guess he's so excited or something that he can't sleep. I got up around 4 and he was already gone to work. He usually doesn't leave until 5. Then we yakked on the phone because he was the only one at work, and he's busy planning and over planning how and when and where he's going to get new long underwear (I told him I saw some in a Target sale ad) and all the high energy drinks and water and snacks and food he's going to need to take, and the times he'll send text messages so I'll know he's ok, etc. And he's wanting to do a last yard mowing, but he can't because he'll go out into the woods sneezing (mowing has him sneezing for 24 hours), so he'll have to mow Sunday, yada yada yada.
The fabulous flu shot rush is over. Back to same ol' same ol'. Man, that was awesome.
Up against Scott's manager at work this week in fantasy football. Picked up a different tight end, otherwise not sure if I should change anything. I was ~so close~ to beating Scott, and the Rocketdogs (the manager's team) didn't do that great last week, even though the fantasy site carries on like all his guys are so great. The deeper we go into this, the more I feel I'm throwing dice in a Parcheesi game. There goes my fatalistic attitude, eh? Scott says he's going to take over and play for me if I don't get on it.
Scott caved and ordered a smoked turkey from a coworker's kid from some kind of school fundraiser, and it arrived, there's no room in the freezer, so it's thawing in the fridge. Now I am challenged to hack a 12 pound turkey down to manageable portions and design meals around them. And we decided last year we don't even really like turkey.
Deer are all over the place. Scott saw one in our front yard eating persimmons right by the road when he went out to start his truck at 5 a.m. Now it's about 7, dawn is cracking, I'm hearing gun shots galore. FromMissouri Whitetail Deer Hunting Trips- "The 1st Gun Season in 2008 is November 15th through November 18th. The 2nd Gun Season is November 22nd through November 25th."These are gunshots within a quarter mile of my house. This is nearly as irritating as dealing with loose dogs. I remember one year the girls and I were walking out to the car so I could drive them to school, and a shot ricocheted right through the yard, we could hear it whistle by. I texted Scott about this morning's shots, he called in and reported it.
From 2007. I'm a super cynical minimalist. You guys don't see these kinds of long, ranty thinking. I do have a better car now, though. And my couch and TV have since been upgraded. Looking back on this is funny, because I live in a house on a 4ish acre lot that could go for $1M in California.
Twinkles wants an ipod touch for Christmas, so Scott and I talked to a Best Buy guy over the weekend about it. He said so many people bring those back, disappointed that it's not the same thing as an iphone. And he showed us an ipod for only $50 more that can hold 160GB, the equivalent of 40,000 songs. We said no thanks.
While we were walking around the store on our own, dreaming of tvs (we're still using a 19" from the stone age), I told Scott if Twinkles got an iphone and either lost it or damaged it, she'd be freaking out over losing so much technology that was in one place, so I think it would be better to spread that stuff out into several gadgets.
Lo and behold, on Chuck last night, a customer comes into the store totally freaking out that her iphone has died, her whole life is on it, she can't live without it, etc.
My own life is very simple. I don't own an ipod. I still own vinyl albums and a turn table, plus cassettes and cds. My old cd player is over 8 years old and still works fine. I wouldn't mind having a stereo that converts vinyl to digital, but I'm not dying over not having it. My car is a '99 Lumina with the paint starting to peel. People scrape it a little all the time and I don't care because it's old. In my mind, it's my baby Lamborghini, even though the cd player stopped working years ago and the seats are so worn down we can feel the metal bars. I don't own a dishwasher. I don't have a lot of fancy electronic gadgets in my kitchen. I mostly eat off plastic plates and have only one stainless steel pan. My couch is 17 years old. I don't own any special kind of bed. Most of my clothes are over 5 years old, some way more than that. Our microwave is ancient.
I walk around big stores and think-- clutter. Having to clean something. Granted, I'd like a new couch and tv, but I can hardly complain while Scott is paying cash for so much of my medical, right?
I get on my computer and I'm so bored with it I mostly just blog and leave. I feel like I've seen it all, done it all on the computer. I could honestly live without one if I had to, although I do like it for keeping in touch with humanity because I'm such a hermit.
I neglected to log onto a few of my fansite myspaces for about a week while I was having those super bad headaches, so when I finally did, this chick (the one who says I'm a wizard) is flagellating herself for possibly saying something wrong-- why am I ignoring her? So she starts talking about my top friends on those sites, I guess she's buddying up to my friends, and I'm going great, another ~stalker~... Thank goodness this one is overseas, or at least I *hope* so. I get this lengthy note about how friends depend on one another, etc., I have to realize this even if I need my space, etc, and I'm shaking my head going dang, she's been friended with me, what, two or three months? And she's already giving me lectures and telling me all this stuff about how her Johnny Depp painting (she's NOT good...) and therefore Johnny Depp's own spirit 'saved' her life from electrocution because it looked at her when she started to pound a nail into a wall, and she found out she might have gone right through an electrical wire... I know building codes, electrical wires are usually bundled along studs and not lying right next to sheet rock, but what do you say? Um, yeah, indigenous peoples believed that we put bits of our energy into our artwork, so maybe that was really yourself saving your life... Needless to even mention, she has no clue that I have other myspaces, particularly not the vanyablo. Geez. But if a couple of you here just HAPPEN to get friend requests from a chick called "---", deny deny deny. Save yourself some trouble. She's just another 'looter' out to dig up anything she can to find out who and where I really am. People like that attach themselves to me all the time. I just ignore it.
~deleting gossip~
THIS is why I hang onto a private xanga blog. I don't have a myspace out there I can say stuff like this on without either inciting a riot or committing a federal crime. I can't talk about Twinkles because so many people in her OWN FAMILY and ---'s family stalk her every move and everyone on her friend list. I can't even post public pictures of her, even though she has given me permission, because --- has conniptions if I do. I'm sure if Twinkles can find my vanyablo through the maze of friend lists on several sites, so can "---". She will scour all my 500 different friends and notice that several of them have Yablo in their top 8 and figure out we're all family, and she'll eventually discover I've been holding out on her. Then she'll go through an angry pout thing, even though she's in the UK and is NOT my family, and I have no idea why in the world people get so weird. But I certainly seem to attract them.
I have nothing saved from further back from 2007. The rest of my life on the webs from 1994-2006 is truly gone, unless you are fixated on me enough to go haunt old forums, most of which are also gone now. A couple of fansites around the world saved some old stuff, the most famous is this one. The group my name links to was a group I created and ran. The pic clicks back and the quote below it is from that site.
I linked this text snip to the original group address, but it's no longer there, of course. Just an empty spot from back in the day, before Lexx took over my life.
Ok, back to 2015. My brain is a little more on, but now I've got nerve/muscle twitching all over my face, kinda maddening. The guy who did my ASTYM yesterday is a neck expert (neckspert) and could feel a catch midway down between a couple of processes looking left. That area is supposed to be able to allow a nerve glide and may be part of this whole problem down my arms, and it's the spot I tore getting flung out of a flipping car. I've got definite scar tissue in there that everyone can feel. Anyway, as we continue shredding down the thick scar tissue, nerves keep getting liberated from entrapment in hardened soft tissues, and then I get this reverb for a few days as the nerve pathways run diagnostics (he thought it was funny that I put it like that), and apparently this one set off the trigeminal and 7th cranial, so now my face feels really busy, although I doubt I'd be able to see it in a mirror. I've lived with nerve healing all over my body, takes years, and I think a lot of people mistake nerve healing 'pain' for something being wrong when it's actually nerves coming back on. They tend to quit physical therapy before the people helping them can really get in there. I'm one of those miracle people, but only because I have stuck out the therapy for several years now. People who never knew me before don't believe I was crippled to a standstill and homebound for awhile.
Ok, enough of that. FOCUS!
The internet isn't helping. I clicked on this
and wound up with this.
This is lappy's wallpaper today, lol. It clicks to the Morgan character wiki. You're welcome.
Sorta getting a plan going. Supper stuff out thawing, new pine scented candle lit so I'll feel holiday-y, basically just clearing speed zones through the house because once Scott gets home from work, deer season is ON and he'll be in and out fussing over a deer stand and getting stuff lined up and spread out, no onions or other odorous yum allowed tonight so keeping it simple and bland (*never* feed your man beans before a hunt- just- *don't*, you'll hear for days how it was all your fault the deer never showed up), continue the hydration-protein-workout-REST regime, and if you don't see me much this weekend, things will be pretty crazy over here.
I need some kind of breakfast. Not sure what sort of motivational jam I can get into yet. Still kinda in shock, nothing too bouncy. How about this. I like it. Yes, of course it's subtext.
Long ago in a galaxy far, far away, I was contacted in a forum by a nurse in another state seeking a fellow writer to have a little fun smashing Star Wars and Star Trek together. Since this was back in the Dark Ages when smashing fandoms was still considered heresy, I shouted Hooray! and gleefully jumped into emailing back and forth.
It. Was. Awesome. I love writing words. I love Star Trek and Star Wars. I had often imagined what could happen if the streams were crossed. I floated happily along through initial construction, setting up several plot lines and testing out character interactions, like Q bugging the Emperor, when I realized I was playing ball kind of alone on one side of the court while Riker was making out with Leia on the other side. It was dramatic and romantic and completely left out plot devices of any kind, even bad ones.
That was my first experience meeting Mary Sue. I had no idea what to make of it. I thought we were writing a cool story, but turns out I was a tool for someone else's fantasy role play. It felt weird, like asking a stranger to watch and maybe even join in. I was at a loss.
Nowadays, fans skip the whole writing thing and do this cool stuff.
Next up was Sliders. I had a really good time with that one. I discovered I could write quick comedies in very few pages, and I had a ball cracking myself up over the time all the parallel Sliders wound up randomly sliding onto the same Earth in someone's shower at the same time and stepping out sopping wet having to figure out whose people were whose, and the Colins were a riot. You'd have to be there. Sadly, no one else in the fandom was interested because none of them were having sex with each other. Still, it's awesome running into Sliders fans here and there nowadays. Click pic for awesome.
A year or so went by, I was rockin out in the Xena fandom and had figured out that's basically how fandoms party, so I became a ringleader and took a rowdy Joxer bunch with me over to a crazy list feed before we all got thrown out of an actual fan club. It was a lot of work, but I loved it, and pretty much played it like a Vulcan surfing a wave in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Yeah, I invented party Spock and didn't even know it, way back in the 90s. That is who Yablo was.
Yablo was trubba, but my gang was even more awesome trubba, and I didn't care. Until I was asked to read and comment on some fanfic. I'd already written a couple of 3-page comedies to be included in a fan book to Ted Raimi (never found out if they made it), one in particular that I thought was a genius mashup on Joxer accidentally becoming a Darkwing Duck figure, so I thought Ok, sure, let's see what other people have got.
I didn't expect a submission in a big yellow envelope in my mailbox, and I didn't expect it to be on par with erotica. I'm sure there was love in there somewhere, but since I was unfamiliar with the lingo, I simply fell over cracking up, and from there it became a comedy to me. So when I reviewed it, I had no idea that I hurt feelings quite badly.
Can you imagine if we'd had youtube back then? I'd have been in heaven.
From the frying pan into the fire, they say. My fourth experience with Mary Sue was an entire world fandom eating itself over a dead guy and a love slave, with the show itself instigating the never ending frivolities, and suddenly it all clicked. Marketing.Iunderstand.
No I don't understand, apparently. Stepping back from Mary Sues means we can't be friends, whaaaaa. I have my own tastes and agendas, but being swamped on all sides with singular focus on internet orgies of every conceivable kind had me finally standing up brushing it off in private to a few people. Aaaaand, that didn't go down very well because that was back in the days before I knew I was an asexual person with Aspergers and before you know it, I became a worthless trading card left in the bottom of a drawer. Well, that's a quickie rendition of months of oncoming sadness, but you get the point.
I. Write. Stuff. I can take any writing prompt and turn it into several thousand words of honest to goodness story in minutes. I don't need sex to sell it, I don't need to be a character to feel it, and I certainly don't need validation to keep writing.
I see the fights going on through the years over someone stole my idea thing, and the copyright wars over stuff that's barely even legal to begin with, and I just stopped sharing what's in my head. Until Pinky started publicly blurbing at syfydesigns, which has over 26,700 views now, thank you very much. And then Pinky started publicly blogging on a real blog. And I'm sitting here looking at the view count wondering how in the world that happened.
I love fans. I've always said that. Fans are my coffee in the morning. Fans are my catharsis through rough days. Fans are there in the horrible dark nights when I'm scared and alone. The internet is full to bursting with fans being awesome.
But I'm sorry, I just can't have sex with you guys. I know, I'm weird...
But mostly, I'm busy. It's called a contract. And this blogging stuff is called warm up, you know, like athletes do before big games.
As I write, I am realizing my real life trumps all the fanfic I could have ever written. Maybe one of the reasons I don't Mary Sue fanfic is because I don't have to imagine it. One of the reasons I don't read it is because I've seen it all around me. The vamps. The violence. The slaves. The dead.
I have kept so many secrets. I have been so many scary places.
