aruan: (Default)
So, I scored a ticket and am going to the 'Gates convention in Vancouver on March 22. And it would be a lot more fun if you came with me!

No, really, it'll be great. Creation just put up a bunch of Preferred Package tickets here (Hewlett has just been announced as a guest!) I have a room reserved at the host hotel, and freaking out about meeting Michael Shanks is so much more dignified in the company of friends.
aruan: (Default)
After four days of hacking up my lungs, breathing through my mouth, huddling in my Atlantis sweatshirt and moaning pitifully, the death flu has been vanquished. You know, it wouldn't have been nearly as bad, but as our waiter at Smoky Bones and I commiserated, who gets the flu in the middle of JULY? Lame.

No fewer than three people have called/e-mailed to tell me about Lance's big coming out party, which probably was only news to me as fandom is generally at least three days ahead of The Associated Press.

Why yes, that scene in the flashback Gilmore Girls episode with 16-year-old Lorelai sitting alone in the hospital emergency room waiting to be admitted because she was in labor with Rory listening to 99 Luftballons was the saddest thing I've seen in forever.

Booked eight-day vacation to Atlanta. Ostensibly for DragonCon, more importantly for heady amounts of caffeine and sleep deficit in the company of [ profile] walkingshadow and our Haaahvard friend. [GLEE]

My electronic family welcomed a PlayStation 2 with Guitar Hero last night. Mother is doing joyfully, even if her fingers aren't.

I missed Rodney's line about downloading porn in Misbegotten, which would have QUADRPLAGESATED my enjoyment. Though the rest of you are doing a good job of working me over, too.

Brandon is sitting across from me at the dining room table, eating cereal with one hand while reading my British copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in the other. It's like we've skipped past all the stupid stuff that usually trips up relationships and went straight to old married couple.
aruan: (dumbdumbdumb)
HOW IS EVERYONE SO FIRED? How is every single person who had anything to do with any of the last two episodes of SGA so fucking fired? The entire thing was to CRY. It's a very good thing that in one hand I had the remote to fast-forward strategically while Brandon did not attempt to extract his own from the other, no matter how hard I squeezed.

Just. Wow. That was dumb. And badly acted, oh how even SG-1 actors are not immune to the Pegasus Galaxy characterization slaughter. And, just. [WEEP]
aruan: (Default)
Except for a town-wide conspiracy to not feed us, a great time was had in Gainesville yesterday. The crew of Chop Stix turned out to be on vacation for a month, Dragonfly didn’t open until 5 p.m. (and Brandon is friends with the head sushi chef, too! Curses!) and Harry’s is undergoing major renovations, so we settled for On the Border’s spicy salsa and tasty Margaritas. It’s kind of embarrassing how little alcohol it takes to make me grabby and talkative.

But we had fun the whole way. Our musical tastes clash only about a fifth of the time, so the five hours of driving weren’t an issue at all (however, for the record, Central Florida is SO MUCH WEIRDER than you think. We’re making the trip again sometime soon just to take photos to prove it.) Amber had her way with my hair, which looks adorable once more – totally worth the drive. Had coffee with [ profile] krissi518 and her fiancé, plus a couple of Brandon’s friends, at Maude’s, though good god with the mosquitos and a sad lack of ceramic mugs. We were even jumped and foisted gelato upon on the corner of Starbucks by a lovely girl from a new little shop a block away. Mmm, coconut.

As for the evening’s feature presentation, Pirates... )

Brandon also slept over for the first time last night. I’d never slept slept with someone I was also sleeping with (oh, idioms), and can now see both the benefits and pitfalls of such an arrangement. However, waking up this morning was worth it, but I’ve made an executive decision to spare you the particulars of my sex life.
aruan: (because I have eyes you see)
Posting from the Room of Daniel Jackson Lust at [ profile] saturn92103's, where over the course of nine hours, two respective bottles of wine and conceding that we were not in fact smart enough to master the SG-1 board game (recommended playing age 9 and up WHATEVER, we totally kicked at Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit instead, HA!), we've had a wonderful time.

Besides being excellent company, Saturn is at the same point of her SG-1 fannish progression as me, so we're both squealing about Jonas Quinn's exceptional day-saving in Descent and Daniel coming back in Fallen and loving Sam Carter and the summation of Jack and Daniel's relationship as non-sequiturs and unresolved tension (TM Michael Shanks) - everything is cool and new. We watched Abyss, and I cried like ANYONE WITH A HEART through Jack's second conversation with Daniel while he was held prisoner on Ba'al's ship, because he would SO RISK THE WRATH OF ALL ELEVEN DIMENSIONS' WORTH OF ANCIENTS TO STOP DANIEL'S SUFFERING. I've never been disappointed in Daniel but in that moment.

We also had a fascinating chat about conventions and meeting celebrities from Saturn saying she is disinclined to know about Michael Shanks' life and wouldn't particularly have anything more than "Thank you for Daniel Jackson" to say to him. When I went to WizardWorld in Chicago in July 2002, it was for the sole purpose of meeting Michael Rosenbaum. I knew nobody from the fandom, my flight got in that morning and left the same night - all I wanted was a chance to shake his hand and say something memorable to him. Aah, idealism. Anyway, I spent five days agonizing over what to say but couldn't come up with a single thing. When it got to be my turn in the autograph line, I blurted something about Lex's beautiful cars, which one was his favorite and does he get to actually drive them. It was a lovely chat - he does and keeps the insurance and camera people on their toes - but did it mean anything?

It did then because I went to meet Michael Rosenbaum, who is an unequivocally charming boy and nothing like the character he plays on TV. But if I were to go to the same convention tomorrow, I still wouldn't know what to say because my motives for going wouldn't involve him, but rather Lex. I'd like to ask the characters questions - what's been your most exciting discovery personally, Daniel Jackson? Did you think about the fact that signing up for the Atlantis mission likely meant giving up flying, Col. Sheppard? Are you morally bothered by the experiment you've conducted to develop the retrovirus, Dr. Beckett? How would it work to have actors show up to conventions in character? Because they're the reason we watch these shows. Additionally, I don't want to see Sheppard rolling down the corridors of Atlantis on his skateboard because Joe Flanigan's life shouldn't give insight into Sheppard.

Mostly though we talked about Daniel Jackson's lower lip and broad shoulders, with a few minor detours into toasting the launch of space shuttle Discovery, a wager on Harry Potter's life and the proper pronunciation of Goa'uld. There was also lamenting of the very little education in the practical aspects of becoming a functional human being after college, the biggest of which being that it gives you no appreciation of just how much is out there. I think that's the reason why I didn't take a risk after graduation, because the system as it is worked for me - I have a good job in my chosen field. Which doesn't really work when I could very well be happier serving coffee on the Stargate sets, and she reminded me that, hey, if my priority in life right now is something else, either personally or professionally, there will never be a better time to pursue it. But while the secret to living on sci-fi and alcohol alone remains elusive, we certainly made a great day of it at least.
aruan: (did I leave the artifact on?)
We interrupt this extended lull in productivity (because working for The Man so doesn’t count) to bring you the thing that hijacked my feeble little mind for a solid five minutes of drooling this afternoon (originally posted by [ profile] rasmizar here):

good GODS )

Which [ profile] walkingshadow also e-mailed me in short order, and it would be like we share a brain but not really because this one is for anybody with EYES. God, hottest photo of the man since that candid of him setting up a tent by the lakeside, but this is BETTER because he's in costume and the CASUAL way his hand is resting on his SIDEARM, his entire BOYISH posture while his foot plays with the skateboard like he isn't something DANGEROUS and BEAUTIFUL and will smite you RIGHTEOUSLY if you so much as look at his city wrong.

Yeah. Hot like THAT.

Wow, nice to be back, fandom. I have downloaded the "with a little Stargate" promos, but have so far only seen Teal'c's, because Sci-Fi actually aired it during SG-1 the other night. But I hear John instructs us in the not-phallic-at-all art of billiards while Rodney goes down in an elevator. ajklahgl;skfhgalhTHEY MAKE IT SO EASY. AND I HEAR THE LEATHER JACKETS AREN'T JUST FOR PRETTY PROMOTIONAL SHOTS. It's like they polled fandom during the hiatus and LISTENED. RAPTLY.

Also in fannish news, Jonas Quinn ingratiated himself completely in the episode when they're all stuck in the mothership after crashing it into the Pacific, and all of my friends suck for not comforting me after I watched Meridian all alone on my sofa at 3 a.m. WITHOUT WARNING and cried like a wee girl. And with Sam running her hands across his journals that are still in his office like he'd be back any minute, Teal'c with such obviously gaping cracks in his usually convincing stoicism, and Jack not dealing AT ALL, the point isn't that he comes back. [sniffle] I'm not militant about labeling, but I didn’t KNOW and the TiVo summary gave no warning. I mean, yeah, OK, lots of radiation, but this is SG-1 - they DON'T die when they should with much higher frequency than when they actually die. I know he's died several times, and even in the episode they mention he's been in and out of a sarcophagus a dozen or so times (ajsdfjhkfhafa WHAT? was he tortured?!) but yeah, aforementioned watching conditions are not when I should see my second-most dearly beloved TV character of the moment die.

And of course, the next episode I watched is the one where they burn Vala alive. You know, I've watched science fiction shows for a decade now and am well aware there's practically a per-season quota for near-death experiences, so I'm all like, "Oh that fire won't get to her, or they'll beam her out in time, or she'll get loose or Daniel will talk them out of it" AND THEN SHE DIES. Of course, the resurrection is a much more timely process than it will be in Daniel's case but jeez. I've become complacent with them pulling it out at the last minute. It's like they're taking their cues from BSG all of a sudden, which is not a show in which you should get attached to ANYONE.

Randomly, as I sift through media, David Hewlett eating that whole lemon in the Season Two profile PWNS, and from the stills alone (more specifically the one of Rodney gesturing with the implement) it is assured that I will love episode two of the new season. Fifteen days, JOY.
aruan: (don't look can't see please just)
So, randomly on the Sci-Fi Channel today, I caught a preview for The Tower, this week's Friday rerun, in which John is called an "intergalactic babe magnet" before the scene where the princess drops her clothes in front of him. Next, of course, is his "I never see this coming" line, which never fails to make me dissolve into giggles because really, John is a smart, observant fella, kind of in the job description of keeping everyone alive. It always makes me think amusing thoughts about whether his blind spot is sex or women. And frankly, with the way he flirts, I'm inclined to say the latter.

But as I told [ profile] saturn92103, frankly, if there's an intergalactic playboy between the shows, I don't know how everyone's nominating John when it is in fact Daniel Jackson who's got a woman in every port. I mean really, if they're not trying to make him their love slave, they're hot for his Earth knowledge and think osmosis works in humans, too, or they just like the view. I blame them for none of the above, especially when he's wearing a black T-shirt, but seriously.

Unrelatedly, SG-1 is only second in meta-liciousness to The X-Files (hi, yes, caught that rerun of Hollywood AD the other night.) But Sam Carter whistling the show's theme song in the elevator? That, I think, rates at least honorable mentions. The revolving character door is always a good time - Halling in the episode that Epiphany ripped off was weird in his suit, Dr. Gaul as the well-meaning archeologist-turned-research assistant. Though they wussed on the Sha're plotline in a big way, and Sam is done no service at all with her long looks at Jack, but yeah, it's all a plenty lot of fun.

In other news, Jesus it's hot. I mean, yeah, Florida, I know, but I wasn't supposed to be treading humidity for at least another month. And of course it's now that my car's impeccable air conditioning since 1997 decides to sputter and die. Bah.
aruan: (the home you've always known)
Like all the rest of SGA fandom, I've read and loved Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose by [ profile] synecdochic. Though, two and a half sessions of BAWLING MY SOUL OUT (especially after writing this just this morning) later, I'll stop lying to myself about being able to handle the DVD commentary tonight.

Good frelling Christ, that hurt. The crying that is, not the story, the story was great, not at all painful and lovely and hopeful like Duran Duran's Ordinary World, (YSI) except in the way that beyond there merely being an ordinary world still turning out there, there are other ways for it to be extraordinary... )
aruan: (no Earth-bound misfit I)
I ran away from home last weekend.

Well, almost, and only sort of. I left my apartment Wednesday afternoon to have dinner at Panera, which involves a route that takes me by the freeway. And sitting at the red light before the overpass, I decided I wanted to drive and eat by the water. So it was onto I-4 and east through the breezy fading day to Orlando.

Which led to realizing the inherent futility of trying to derive enjoyment from a theme park by myself, of thinking that seeing SeaWorld's new baby killer whale could be something I'd be content to appreciate quietly or that eating really good German food at EPCOT would somehow make up for having to raise my beer with a tableful of strangers, and by the time I was done crossing off every prospect that had thrilled me so on the drive, it was all I could do not to feel sick to my stomach until I was well out of the city limits again.

At least half of my problem with adjusting to this new life in Lakeland is not adjusting to it. I haven't made a single attempt at meeting anyone outside of my work, and most of them have spouses and kids and do things so far outside my repertoire that we don't even bother with things beyond the usual platitudes. I harbor no particular interest in Copy Editor Brandon, the only other person even remotely my age there, I don't attend church, I don't go to school, and going to clubs was never really my thing even when I had people to go with. I live more than a little bit for Former Editor Mike's visits so my questions stop being de facto rhetorical and I don't have to eat alone.

None of which is fair to the new people I do have in my life, like Designer John, who makes for a limited but otherwise enthusiastic squee partner about all things sci-fi and leaves newspaper clippings about Dr. Who on my chair for me, Metro Editor Billy, who makes it a pleasure to come to work all night long and inspires me to try harder, and Desk Chief Andy, who tells me about air shows and strawberry festivals as suggestions to have family and friends visit and always asks after me in small ways. And I do still own a telephone and computer.

But it was all I could do not to lock myself in a bathroom stall and have a quiet little breakdown Sunday night. Andy talks about "next year this" and Brandon says things like "looking to buy a house here" and Copy Editor Ben visits his dad who lives in the house he was raised in about 20 miles away, and I look at them with horror in my gut, fending off increasingly beckoning memories of Paris and running away there with [ profile] walkingshadow to give guided tours of the Louvre, learning to love the smell of carpeted public transit and slumming it in a ratty flat on the seventh floor in a building without elevators. We'd eat 2 Euro cheese-and-tomato baguettes from street vendors and walk the Seine at night and pop into London to see a play over the weekend and visit every museum in the city on their free nights, living poor and peerlessly happy.

Yet some of my co-workers have lived in Lakeland all their lives and want nothing more than to keep doing just as they are. When it comes to jobs, people have all kinds of motives - money, employee discounts, love of the game, something to do. I should've remembered before taking this gig that I would've waited tables in the dangerous parts of New York City for the chance to live there. But even if not an ocean away, I need out of this town by the time my lease is up at the end of the year.

SIDEBAR: Which means remembering that this is not a drill. )

The thinking that went into my taking the job as Metro Editor at the Alligator in December 2004 was how badly I wanted to contribute more to the paper, remembering how bitter I'd been about a very sub-par co-worker being made Freelance Editor the semester before and proving it should've been me, that I would be working most closely and directly with Justin, whom I'd admired since the first night I started working there. I knew this would be work that gave my university career meaning, that the doing of it would make me happy for the first time since writing papers for Ms. Igualada in high school.

I need that kamikaze commitment, and there is exactly nothing here that inspires that in me, hence the increasingly uncontrollable wanderlust for what else is out there. I realize that this is a necessarily cushioned, relatively safe and smart first step into the real world of journalism. But that doesn't make it feel any less pointless than going to class did while I was learning three times as much at the office every night. While hostel-hopping in Europe, I met several girls my age who came to a city, found a job of some ilk and made just enough to eat and sleep somewhere, then went someplace new when they got bored. What an extraordinary way to live. Not that there aren't admitted advantages to my non-minimum wage salary or the fantastic New York Times health coverage or you know, not waiting tables, but right now all I want again is for the world to stretch boundless with possibility before me again like it did when I walked on UF's campus and sat endlessly chainsmoking in the sidewalk cafe at Boulevard Arago.

And then I remember that I, too, want to do just one near-perfect thing, and I think working for the actual New York Times could be it, and that's maybe worth having less caffeine and French food and lazy afternoons until then. But maybe one of you should come down for a weekend so we can go to Disney and eat chocolate croissants in the shadow of EPCOT's faux Tour Eiffel nonetheless.

[P.S. I keyworded this icon a dream in my hands, because the idea that Rodney went all the way to the Pegasus Galaxy in a (small, subconscious) attempt to work his way back to Sam is an impossibly romantic one. And one that I can appreciate at this juncture.]
aruan: (Default)
After a delightful and ludicrously productive (I refuse to blame the lack of Internets, because that way lies madness) train trip through Central Florida, I made [ profile] walkingshadow drive me around to places she had to decide on, all in the name of celebrating her birthday. Man, don't you all want me as your friend? I did bring the first season of Battlestar Galactica along, which went just as I suspected. And it's not like either one of us is ever terribly put out by Thai food and gelato and singing Starship in the car.

"Hi, I read gay fiction about television characters, how's your latte?" )

I can't believe no one's ever done (link in comments) before. I mean I do, whatwith you know, slash and the safety of a show that is neither on network TV nor going for any sort of heteronormativity, but this is just cool. Relatedly, even Sci-Fi's ads for The Long Goodbye read as a big gay John/Rodney lovefest, and so long as we have such obligingly cheeky creators (who already obliquely borrow from the fans' stuff anyway, case in point,) it's all good.

In other successful pimping news, spent a very enjoyable night e-mailing back and forth with Former Editor Mike, who's so wound on Battlestar Galactica he's not only writing fic but contemplating SONGFIC. The glee I have defies measure.

Realized this afternoon that working six days last week means working only four this week! Which means this weekend, I will do something better than spend more than $300 on things I need. It's all one can do to escape the abyss of Target and Publix. Conversely, I now have pretty placemats and you know, food.

Lots and lots of Gilmore Girls later, I've been successfully made nostalgic for move-in day and tailgate parties. Somebody remind me of cleaning mold off the walls and the danger of any outdoors activity in rain-prone Florida.

Lt. Gaeta's first name is FELIX?!

"I think THINGS can SOLVE my PROBLEMS. Please don't let me know if they can't."
-[ profile] helenish
aruan: (saving the universe in style since 1967)
Oscars are on the
newsroom TVs but on mute
woe is not enough

two crocodiles were
found assassinated in
the Keys - people suck

watched SG-1 this
afternoon - it's like I've seen
all this before, then

I remember that
Atlantis is in fact the
culprit, yet can't fault

those kids at all. they
kind of own my heart and soul
that way. [dreamy sigh]

Keanu Reeves took
Sandra Bullock to the Os-
cars - I think that's cute

with photo! )

saw Speed a few days
ago, tried imagining
Joe as the lead - it

was largely unsuc-
cessful, plus they would have made
him cut his hair, which

is stupid. therefore,
people suck, Joe's hair does not
are today's deep thoughts.
aruan: (saving the universe in style since 1967)
Journal redesign strife. )

So, hey, I graduated college! Not that the whole renting a cap and gown, sitting through a long, boring ceremony, walking across a stage, shaking hands with the two people I would've been content to never meet, then bounce between two sets of relatives thing didn't feel real enough. But my diploma arrived in Saturday's mail. Really, by itself it was a fairly forlorn and unimpressive piece of parchment paper. But then I put it in the frame my mom got, and all of a sudden it's this official, regal document wrapped in mahogany that says thing like The University of Florida has conferred on and bachelor of science and all the rights and privileges thereunto appertaining, two of which I didn't even know were actual words, and upon recommendation of the faculty of the College of Journalism and Communications. I'm a journalist, y'all, a whole college's worth of faculty say so! It was neat, I had to swipe at my cheek a little while holding up the final result. It's such a satisfying thing, to be that much closer to the person I've always wanted to be.

Sports Editor Ted is likely a lost cause, Copy Editor Brandon and I have started to bond over questionable foods, and why I love working for Metro Editor Billy. )

Hitting up MegaCon in Orlando on Sunday was a neat little time warp exercise in remembering middle school, but otherwise largely unproductive. What's with the dearth of Stargate swag in the world? However, there was soft-serve ice cream and John Schneider (Bo Kent, as we call him down on the farm) juggling. He looked really ridiculously good, tan, longer hair with blondish highlights, fantastically fitting shirt, laughing and jumping around with fans. There was also driving with the top down in gorgeous, breezy weather, which meant not even getting a half hour's worth of lost dampened my spirits. And at the end of the day, I do have an Atlantis mission patch to sew on the ass of my favorite jeans.

The real reason for my lack of updates is that I've been reading SGA fic like a fiend. Came across something incredibly depressing the other day involving John and Rodney living to be old enough to retire from the Atlanis mission. They had bought a house by the ocean and Rodney swung a puddlejumper for the garage, and it was so hard to read. I don't even mean the fact that the likelihood of them living that long is infinitesimal, but the idea of wanting to preserve some pale shadow of the lives they'd led. Anyone who's ever lived knows the impossibility of recreating anything, a moment, a place, a memory. None of it will be perfect, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

As I fall deeper into the television abyss thanks to the DVR... )

And it's officially at the point where I'm making a list of things I have in my refrigerator as opposed to things I need. To Publix it is.

Quotes )
aruan: (McKay - Inside)
After not seeing where I live for 12 years, you'd think my father would've had more questions or observations about my apartment. )

He did look over the paperwork from the newspaper on my dining room table and asked for copies of the New York Times code of ethics. And he bought me only the second gift of his I've ever liked - a Murano vase. They'd spent their day at EPCOT, and my share of that pull was a lot of baklava and this gorgeous little orange/yellow/blue unfurling bloom of Italian art deco:

And! In lieu of a bouquet, as I told him a long time ago that cut flowers are strictly wasted on me, my father gave me a darling moon cactus for Valentine's Day. He's a prickly, somewhat stocky little thing, with a bright orange bulb shaped like a fractal for a head. Besides squealing inside and all but hugging him to my bosom, guess what I named him? ;)

He's now in my kitchen window getting a few hours a day's exposure to indirect sunlight. If I could buy him clothes, I would. I blame the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, which, not the thing to be watching when I'm so on the brink of getting one. Apartment living is not for dogs! I'm not home during their peak hours!

I'd be enjoying the pretty mountains of Torino (high definition is dreamy) a lot more if it didn't mean I don't get Conan. He's in Finland! Meeting his political female doppelganger! Benevolent rulers of the world, please let there be at least a few good sketches, if not all-out on-location broadcasting, from across the pond next week.

Also, this past couple of days have been insane with ideas I'll never write. John and Rondey having to solve a mystery alone together (too much X-Files, and good god but Small Potatoes was a fantastic hour of television), death situations in which John says things to Rodney he never would but now does without reserve, kind of selfishly so as he's watching rodney bleed quite too badly to believe he'd make it, post-Allies fic, etc. I read something the other day in which Rodney was forced to have to integrate the Wraith technology with the Lantean schematics for the hyperdrive, and it involved feeding on him, then Ronon, etc. God, Allies really is a black hole, isn't it? Not the way most of you have said, but more on that later.
aruan: (Default)
Working is interesting. I keep having these little moments, walking down a tiled hallway with my heels clicking, and I look down and I'm wearing grey slacks and a black suit jacket and have a keycard dangling from my pocket and calling the New York Times Company Employee Services Center to set up my payroll account and will imminently be in a roomful of grown-ups treating me like I was one of them. Granted, I'm far from working the conventional nine-to-five or wanting to take my anger out on office technology, but I'm a little less mystified by something I've wondered about since being very young: How does the world work?

No, really, how do I have running water to shower with and food to buy and all the other invisible processes that make life possible? Well, now I know how that newspaper got on my doorstep every morning (though that one I learned from the bottom-up, helping my mom deliver them when my parents had to do that sort of thing to make ends meet). I know why people get certain jobs and locked out of others. I get why they go to work, but I also get just wanting to get back to what you were doing before you had to leave it mid-sentence to jump in the shower and leave to get there.

I also think about the fact that I'm not the youngest person I know in fandom anymore. I remember being on the XFR mailing list (when those were still en vogue) and hating being 13 because I wanted to go to Boston and Texas and meet all these fabulously funny and smart women and drink and talk about the show until all hours of the morning. I think now about what kind of role I can reasonably allot that once-essential part of my life.

After coming across oogobs of brochures from my senior year of high school in some box the other day, I'm thinking about not being in college anymore, about how maybe I wasted my potential by not applying to some small snooty school at the foot of some far-off mountain and dedicated four years of my life to walking barefoot no matter what the weather and reading books that don't exist outside of their libraries. That maybe I would've learned something completely different and ended up worlds away from here.

I wonder what I would've become and what's next at age 23. [shakes head]

Mostly, I wonder about the fact that everything I knew how to do - go to class, take tests, fulfill marginal else in the way of responsibility and fuck off anytime I wanted at only my own expense - is over. And what is next? Is work all there is from here on in? What is this "life" you speak of, and how does one get it, exactly?

So tonight, I snuck off after the last page was done with my iPod Shuffle and danced like a loon in a deserted hallway just outside the newsroom to Come Out and Play. Ben walked by and almost caught me, at which I froze and flushed crimson, thank god for the relatively low evening lighting, but it felt so good. So... normal.

News that goes sparkle and pop. )

In The Hive news, what she said here. I've been wondering this very thing, about the WINDFALL of drug addict!fic that should've spilled forth from it, but have found nothing. Nothing! Fandom, you work in mysterious ways.

The men of my week are Conan and the Max Weinberg Seven - the former for taking his desk out tonight (I LIVE for cheap blue-screen comedy with shotgun straightmen) and the latter for playing Kelly Clarkson's Since You Been Gone during the "walkover" so Conan could razz them about it extensively. Also the fact that they're taking the show to Finland because they allegedly worship him like a golden god for looking like their prime minister. And he's going to be this massive dork about it, though they'll want to wrap him in furs and knight him. [heart]

And since it seems like the time of year for unpopular opinions... )

I really should've gone to bed four hours ago, but being caught up on the friendslist, especially after all of Anthony's talk about claiming something for myself separate from the office, seemed more necessary.
aruan: (McKay - curiouser)
My new weekend, Tuesday and Wednesday, are winding down, and I am all of one more episode out from rewatching Season One. Before I Sleep really is a fantastic episode. Elizabeth would so do that, and if one is willing to grant her no other virtue than this episode, she does not fail at life as the leader of Atlantis.

Aurora, yay! )

Here lies vidding madness. )

Relatedly, Ron and Hermione can't die in Book Seven. I totally get Harry dying, but not those two. Not that I believe they will, but JKR should consider this a pre-emptive strike against any plans she may have to the contrary.

On why I like Rodney when all logic would point to John, even if we didn't accomplish any conclusions. )

Huh. Unpacking is complete, and I am somehow out my coffee pot (but not maker), a toaster, and some DVD boxes. Weird. Also, SAD, because coffee! [whimper]

P.S. Dear Florida, It is the MIDDLE OF JANUARY, why can't I open the patio door to cool my apartment instead of turning on the A/C? No love and sweating, -Jules
aruan: (Remus - Hero)
So, New Year's, huh? Time to reminisce. )

While we're on the topic, my fic writing block regarding SGA? I don't feel smart enough to write an even more fictional version of an already fictional character. I feel like Rodney would sneer at me if I tried to put words in his mouth without a PhD in quantum theory. I get that Wikipedia is my friend, but man, it hasn't helped that in going through my notes from middle and high school, I came to the depressing conclusion that I was much smarter once upon a time.

Life. )

I've also been spending a good four hours a night on LJ. And aah, fandom. With your meta kerfuffles (yes, I do hate style=mine as well - the first time someone linked something like that, I got there and FREAKED THE FUCK OUT because omg, you stole my layout DIE) and your schizophrenic approaches (people are scared of Sheppard, whaaat?) and your general idiosyncrasy. I've basically written off most of the past year as a loss, except for a certain few journals and yet another "lot" of SGA discussion and fic, because man, it's tough being the new kid, especially after a year and a half. Even though it's largely lopsided, as I love Rodney all the time and Sheppard kind of hovers at the periphery until he's in the room/on the radio/negotiating mortal situations with him. It's interesting that people in this fandom are largely so skewed in either direction. It makes me want to do a poll.

Also, David Hewlett is utterly incapable of starting or finishing a sentence. And he says things like "mercifully unerotic"! His knowing chuckle at the allusion to the "dynamics" of McKay and Sheppard! Add the constant interjections, and he's an impossible interview, yet he's irresistable adorable. Along with Joe Flanigan, who seems to know everything about everything and skateboards and asks the cameraman not to tell his wife he's not single. You wouldn't believe how I laughed and laughed. The man is fantastic, he truly is.

To mark the occasion of the calendar year's turning, had an interesting article about a celebration called the Festival of Drunkenness. Headline? Ancients Ran In New Year With Dance, Beer. Link? Heh. Have a good (and safe) one, kids. I went to City Place with my mom in downtown West Palm Beach, and it's just as well-liquored and boring as you'd think. But there was nobody I would've rather spent New Year's with, as we both are about to depart from everything we've known for the last 16 years. But really, so long as she, my brother and I are solid, that's all we need in this world.
aruan: (Kirk & Spock - Cool)
Trudged along to midnight mass with mum and relatives, as I do most Christmases, though if anyone knew I spend most of the experience envisioning fic scenarios, they'd never ask again. However, tonight was a treat, as the pastor at our Catholic church du jour looked more than a bit like Carson Beckett and wore flowy white robes embellished with golden watery designs (and a thumb ring). Had a fantastic view, too, as the good ushers had shepherded us to the front pew (the sum total of Jules' Catholic knowledge: the Lord's Prayer, and only mostly. I was baptized yet know more Jewish blessings than Bible verses!)

After the twins with two dads did a little introductory skit, the sermon involved the "romanticized Bethlehem" being the epitome of what's wrong with Catholicism, which has inner demons to fear more than anything else. "Let us gather to remember that love is born in our midst" he said, urging us to disregard the serene smiles of Joseph and Mary and the fake fluffy sweetness of the dirty animals also in that manger as depicted on holiday cards and know that God comes into reality and imperfection as "Christmas is about being weak." I found it eminently relatable and smart. Didn't walk out anything I didn't walk in as (because really, anyone not leading you into temptation is not a good friend - everything I need to know about life, I learned from fandom, y'see), but I enjoyed it much more than expected and almost had Father Carson bless my head in lieu of taking the eucharist.

Otherwise, dinner at my soon-to-be-ex-step-relatives' was surprisingly lovely. Very light on the number of them I really can't tolerate, plenty of white wine (as the haplessly drunk-dialed [ profile] walkingshadow will attest) and fantastic seafood. Mmm. Also, forgave someone for something that happened a very long time ago. Not out loud, but I officially had the leverage and maturity to realize I'm the better person in a thousand ways, and just breathed out and it was gone.

Additionally, many thanks to [ profile] coolwhipdiva for the holiday card, [ profile] saturn92103 for the Brokeback Mountain pictures (though I probably agree with whoever said that star-crossed gay cowboy love is so 1979), and [ profile] embitca for Captain and Tennile's Love Will Keep Us Together, which I've for no reason good or otherwise had in my head for the past five days. She's a special girl, they say.

And not that it's relevant as the holiday will be officially behind us soon, but if I hear I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus one bloody more time, I will maim the nearest replica, no matter how many children are watching. Just that one song! EVERYWHERE!

(Setup: My mom is about to divorce for the second time, wearing a blazer cut to the top of her bustline, and sans a single religious artifact or decoration in the house.)

Great Aunt: Are you Catholic?
Mom: Doesn't it show?
aruan: (Default)
So, staying up until 6 a.m. watching SGA and writing endless snippets of fic ideas, while a lovely way to spend an early morning do not make for a particularly smart move, given my imminent need to be in full control of my faculties (Friday: 8:30 a.m. - three-hour Reporting lab; 1 p.m. - interviews for new Alligator executive staff; 3 p.m. - French composition; 8:20 p.m. - Economics test, before which I need to study material an inch thick and make a notecard). Hand me that noose over there, wouldya please?

But seriously, this show is eating my brain a piece at a time. Currently, it's Beckett and his being the most out of his element on Atlantis. The laws of physics remain fairly immutable, people have the same mental problems anywhere, and the military brings its own order, but his patients are having their brains chewed on by nanoviruses, being exposed to a thousand bacteria that humans may never document, breathing air with chemicals that the Periodic Table is decades away from including, and coming back to him with all manner of exotic diseases and bites and god knows what else. And he's left to make it up as he goes along with yeah, the thorough knowledge of Earth medicine and whatever he's been able to piece together of Ancient, but mostly he just wraps people in bandages and keeps them for observation, then tells them to drink fluids and check in because what else can he do? It's got to be an immensely frustrating thing, to have been good at what he does and all of a sudden finding himself back in freshman med school class during practical finals without having gone to the lectures.

Also, Rodney knows an awful lot about chemistry and viruses for an astrophysicist. Is it just the science of treating people that he frowns on?

Mike's version of criticism. )


aruan: (Default)

May 2014



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