Boy, was there competition for these slots.
Feb 27, 2008
I've been tagged (by She) to, aherm, "Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself."
Since my unofficial motto is "All I ask of life is a constant and exaggerated sense of my own importance", I'm dropping the "unimportant" bit of that meme. After all, I don't celebrate my birthday because a) I am too amazing to fit all of the celebrations into a single day; and b) if I were to be celebrated properly, the economies of several countries would be destroyed. I am simply not unimportant.
At any rate, the six things:
- I shelve my books alphabetically by author, grouped by genre. (My CDs? Alpha by artist, then alpha by title. My DVDs? Alpha by title.)
- I cannot stand to be around musical theatre, karaoke, or light opera. I have perfect pitch, so if anyone is just the slightest bit sharp or flat, it's as delightsome as a thousand fingers on a chalkboard. (I can dismiss the traditional birthday singing/torture as "a bunch of people making noise which may or may not be vaguely musical"; but anything that either features fewer than three voices or makes any pretensions toward being a performance needs to be pitch-perfect...or I'll wince.
- I'm one of the few people I know who has a fairly good relationship with their own body. I don't hate my weight. I don't even necessarily dislike it, even though I'm medically overweight. I dislike the tone of a few muscle groups, but that's it.
- I own a pair of bellydance pants, even though I'm not planning on making performance-dancing a big part of my life. They were just way too cool-looking not to buy. (See?)
- I tend to volunteer for most conventions that I attend. They're my way of giving back to the community that's encouraged my behavior all these years.
- I keep all my clothes sorted by type (tops, bottoms, jackets, dresses) and sorted by color and hue within those groups. I've actually maintained this organization system for the past 20 years. (If I ever go so far as to sort by style or sleeve length, though...somebody shoot me.)
I now tag...whomever wants to be tagged.
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Lyrics and playable track (embedded player)
Feb 27, 2008
I've owned this particular CD for several years, but only now have really gotten around to listening to the rest of the music on it. I originally bought it because Lisa Gerrard composed and performed two tracks...which are, in actuality, kind of meh. This one, though, is lovely."Song to the Siren" was originally written by Tim Buckley, and was covered by (among others) the 4AD musicians' compilation This Mortal Coil.
Song for the Siren (words: Tim Buckley)
On the floating, shipless, oceans I did all my best to smile
'Til your singing eyes and fingers ddrew me loving to your isle
And you sang, "Sail to me, sail to me, let me enfold you;
Here I am, here I am...waiting to hold you."
Did I dream you dreamed about me? Were you here when I was full sail?
Now my foolish boat is leaning broken lovelorn on your rocks
For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow.
O my heart, o my heart shies from the sorrow."
I am puzzled as the newborn child. I am troubled at the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers? Or should I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you;
Here I am, here I am...waiting to hold you."
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At least that's what I keep telling myself.
Feb 25, 2008
I’m back in my place, after being chased out so that the kitchen counters and bathtub could be resurfaced. The kitties and I decamped to a local hotel for two nights, and returned yesterday. However, things are not quite done.
The caulking around the bathtub was removed for the resurfacing, and was not reapplied. I can’t use my tub, because any water that gets back there could contribute toward dry rot. (Not that it’s my property or anything...but there’s the general principle of not making a mess when avoidable.) While the bathtub would cure and dry in less than 20 hours, the kitchen counter won’t be usable for at least three days after the resurfacing. Last night I left the oscillating fan in the kitchen, in hopes of speeding things along. This morning, the counter is still ever-so-slightly tacky to the touch.
I wiped down the walls, wiped down all surfaces in the bathroom, mopped the kitchen and bathroom floors, and vacuumed 85% of the apartment with my new vacuum (bought yesterday as part of my Grande Splurge.) I put everything back in the kitchen cupboards and drawers (I can’t use the countertop, but I could put the dishes away.) I called the management office to have them send someone to caulk the tub two and a half hours ago, and no one’s shown up. I can’t shower. I can’t put my coffeemaker back. Things are reaching critical levels here, folks.
More..!
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Don't forget to write the correct year on your checks.
Feb 07, 2008
So I wonder: what would happen if I suddenly started dating my checks according to the Chinese lunar calendar? Would they be kicked back? Or would the receivers of said checks have me declared mentally incompetent?
This being day one of the Year of the Rat, I might just have a fairly positive year:
What happens on the first day of the new year reflects the rest of the year to come I sent in some more final paperwork for a Very Important Client: another big name on the resume; a good chunk of change; a chance to keep up a valuable skillset; and a chance to work with someone who has, thus far, been a pretty cool person. We seem to have a good rapport. (It doesn’t hurt that I know how deliberately corporations move - so the fact that I’ve been in talks with this person since shortly before Christmas and we’re only now getting the final steps done, doesn’t faze me.) I’m happy, they’re happy, everybody’s happy.
Opening windows and/or doors brings in the good luck of the new year. Even before I realized what day it was, I noticed that the weather was fairly sunny. Accordingly, I opened the drapes on the big windows at the front of the apartment and left them that way most of the day.
Sweets are eaten to ensure the consumer a “sweet” year. I had about 1/3 of a one-layer chocolate cake, over the course of the day. Not as sweet as something from a top-of-the-line bakery, but definitely sweet.
Bathe yourself in pomelo leaves and some say that you will be healthy for the rest of the new year. Um. Well, I used juniper-scented shower gel and body lotion; and I drank several glasses of Fresca (essentially, carbonated weak grapefruit juice). Does that count for anything? [And yes, I actually enjoy Fresca.]
[Dear ghods. I just realized that today I had chocolate cake and grapefruit juice. Though not for breakfast.]
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...or maybe from behind this giant pile of dishes.
Jan 23, 2008
I’ve been doing a fairly good imitation of headless poultry these last three months. Packing...moving...unpacking...getting business licenses...finding new doctor...oh, yes. And reorganizing the business. And getting new clients. And generally going nutso. I haven’t had time to update here, I haven’t had time to email anybody, I haven’t had time to chat on the phone with friends.
I had a dream about washing dishes. The pile of dishes to be washed never diminished. At one point, I just started smashing things...and still the pile didn’t get any smaller. H’m, yes, I think this might be stress-related, doctor. Now give me my prescription.
On the plus side of the ledger, I just sent off the paperwork to finish a new client’s vendor-approval dance; and hopefully should be getting freelance work from them (in addition to my other two ongoing gigs) within the next month. I’ve also managed to do a fairly good job evaluating the new billing system.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I’m trying to think of something suitably decadent. Possibly buying myself a chocolate cake...and spending the day in my jammies and socks, drinking fresh-ground Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, talking on the phone with Apryl, eating chocolate cake (it’s good for you! It has milk, and eggs, and wheat! That’s nutrition!!!1). Yes. This sounds plan-like.
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It's just A Morning. That is all...
Dec 21, 2007
The crack in the top of my TV stand continues to grow. The whole top is now split — it’s a hairline crack, but it’s still cracked. I have to find some way to shore that up that won’t just make things worse. (I’m now wondering if the people who got rid of this TV in the first place...did so because the freaking thing was so heavy?!??)
I opened my email today and found a note from a former boss. A chatty, hi-how-are-you-keep-in-touch note. From That Boss. (I call my current boss the Anti-That Boss, to give you an idea of a) how good my current boss is; and also b) how bad That Boss [all the managers there, really] was.) So damn, now what? I never did master the art of being diplomatic, even though several people claim that I’m very good at evenhandedness and at being diplomatic. Trouble is, this one strains even my limits. I had to fight against sending an “OMGWTFBBQ!!!” email to my former fellow inmates.
I got the business license for the state, but now need to get one for the city. I think I can do most of this online (yay), but I anticipate another several hours of digging about, waiting on ignorehold, and diving down rabbit holes in pursuit of a city business license. (Though I did find out that my state business taxes will be easier to file than I thought; and since I do such a small volume of business most years I will essentially not have to pay anything. I have to file, of course; but won’t have to pay anything.)
I got a good head start on the test-suite for the billing software, and have even answered some of the questions by searching through the software support forums. I still have to install the ioncube loaders, and then get the trial version and actually test it out. And then of course there’s planning and building the main business site. I have some ideas, but I want to plan this out so that I only have to do this once. Problem is, one idea spawns several more. It’s like crossbreeding a hydra with a pair of rabbits.
On top of it all, I have a wicked caffeine headache. My first cup eased it somewhat, in that the tiny invisible dwarves are now wearing plastic cleats and doing a modified soft-shoe number, rather than moshing in metal-soled golf shoes...but they’re still up there, and they’re still dancing.
Dammit!
Keywords: | work | other people | Holidailies |
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