sienamystic: (flowermachine)
I keep a dream journal, just jotting down basic notes on some of them. The first one, a comically tiny notebook a friend brought me from Mexico (complete with luchador on the cover) is now full, thanks to the two dreams I jotted down this morning. The second one involved sitting around a crowded conference table, wearing big headphones, at some sort of meeting. The nice part about this is that I was sitting next to Nathan Fillion, and sort of leaning against him in a friendly fashion. He was warm and solid and it was very nice. I had some sort of conversation with him, but it didn't survive the waking-up process.

Much nicer than the previous dream, which involved microwaving whole frozen fish for a falcon I was caring for at some sort of crazy pet store.
sienamystic: (tempt me)
I have signed up for Weight Watchers. It was not entirely like this:




...but it was a little bit like that. Still, I need some structure and support, so we'll see.
sienamystic: (Joan)
Went to the 4 hour driver's ed class (after getting a ticket for rolling through a stop sign) and honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as I had expected. The instructor was engaging, and people participated enough so that things didn't stagnate. The class was about evenly split between older ladies and younger kids (I was one of only a couple who could be described as middle-aged). Towards the end, the group of older ladies got a little chatty and clueless, and the young dude behind me was getting increasingly more irritated with them, but thankfully the class ended soon thereafter and I didn't have to turn around and try to set him on fire with the power of my mind.

We also saw several long PSAs that were all dealing with texting and cell phone usage while driving. They were pretty effective. I can only imagine how horrible it would be to know, as in the case of one of the stories, that your sister lost control of her car and hit a bridge while trying to read your text that said, simply, "Yeah." I don't text or use my cell phone while I'm driving, but I do fuss with my ipod sometimes, and I think that's a habit I need to break.

There was also a young woman in class who valiantly tried to argue that the cop giving her a speeding ticket meant that child abusers and murderers were running free, but that got pretty briskly dealt with.

I've been helping with the kids classes at the dojo on Saturday morning. It's amazing how flexible and energetic the little boogers are. And how differently they learn. There's a redheaded little boy who doesn't have a lot of body coordination yet, but he's really intense about getting things right, and he screws up his face and silently watches everything like a hawk.

Have been rereading Heyers. Need to reread my Yuletide source material. Am a little intimidated because my assignment seems to want, essentially, original fiction, and I don't quite know in which direction to go.
sienamystic: (iron man)
So, my comic book dorkiness never actually encompassed the majority of the Avengers in their solo works, let alone their group books. As a little kid, I read Batman, Superman, and Spiderman almost exclusively (with a smattering of Scrooge McDuck and other Disney comics), and mostly those were comics picked up on my family's many cross-country drives. And then, in the late eighties, I went through a big X-Men thing where I read a ton of stuff and bought a bunch of back issues (and holographic trading cards, god help me), with just a tiny sprinkling of Sandman in after a friend recommended them. (This era is why I have an unabashed love for Gambit/Rogue, Pryde/Wisdom, Polaris/Havoc, and Banshee/White Queen, by the way.)

My love for the Avengers, separately and together, has all come from the movies. Since I'm on Tumblr and following a bunch of more dedicated comic folk, I've gotten to see some backstory in panels people put up and comment on, but I'm ok with just knowing rough outlines. So really, how did I end up so excited about all these characters? Without that knowledge of the comics, was I coming into the story without the spearpoints that Jo Walton described, which can be so important to emotional impact in storytelling. I might not have enough forward momentum to bring me into the story on a level deeper than "ooh, 'splosions and funny!" But the movies (barring the various Hulks, which I didn't watch) have been so excellent in their own individual ways, and interconnected just carefully enough, that I fell in love with them in this particular medium, and came to this movie with as much excitement as if these had been my nine-year-old self's favorite comic book purchase at the Stucky's somewhere off a highway.

So, the movie )

The thing is, if you build up this kind of connective tissue, it makes all the big action setpieces resonate. It makes them live, it gets us invested. Otherwise they just turn into emptiness. There's probably nothing I like better than a really smart genre film, and this is a pretty good example of that. I ranted earlier in someone else's LJ about a condescending-as-fuck Slate reviewer talking about how clearly Joss Whedon's brand of humor had been brought to bear on this movie because it's the only way adults will excuse themselves for watching this sort of silly tripe meant for kiddies - if we couldn't say to ourselves, "But it's ironic!" than of course we'd stay away from the big pretty popcorn movie only meant for kids. Screw that. I've never been particularly attached to a nerd identity, but there's no better way to get me to fly into a pure, unholy nerd rage than people who think that if a story fits a "lesser" genre, the story automatically has no value.
sienamystic: (DADA)
Asleep in front of the keyboard
We begin with the placement of the Orange Cat in front of the keyboard. This is obnoxious, as he will stretch and push the keyboard in various directions to suit his comfort, but he is still mostly out of the way.

The Progression Continues )

Excited

Dec. 10th, 2011 05:27 pm
sienamystic: (Catherine heart)
New Tim Powers book due out in March of 2012 - and it looks like it's a not-quite-sequel-but-linked story to The Stress of Her Regard. It's called Hide Me Among The Graves and I am massively psyched for it. I haven't been a big fan of his more recent books - the Einstein one didn't hook me, and the two books following Last Call were potent, but didn't work for me tone-wise, but this one looks like something I will be Very Interested in.

I am trying to apply OPI's Rainbow Connection nail polish and am covered in glitter like a kindergartener. Fail, but sparkly fail.
sienamystic: (jello horror)
Gourmet Magazine seemed to thrive on ads for booze, boy howdy. So of course, you have to learn how to use all that good stuff...here are some drink recipes from a 1959 issue. Trader Vic's, ahoy!

Flour Rum Song 1 1959

Flour Rum Song 2 1959
sienamystic: (Let them eat cake)
Actually, here's something more cheerful. A co-worker (and friend - she's the driving force behind the playreading group) snuck off and got married last week. Once we discovered this, we had this little tableau waiting for her in her office when she got back.

post-elopement celebrations

detail, post-elopement celebrations

Museum people know how to make their own fun.
sienamystic: (etc etc etc)
Except it can't be fandom, because I'm only on the outskirts of it, so it is...the internet keeps you young? Or being immature and not having kids? Too much Tosh.2.0 and The Soup? Or something?

One of my cousins posted a list of slang terms on her FB that her two kids (both under ten) use, and a lot of her friends answered with other slang terms they hear their kids using that they didn't understand...and not only did I know most of them, but I use some, and could have told her what they all mean and where they came from. The one that killed me was, "They also say "ponage" but I don't know what that means."

ETA: In a miracle of timing, XKCD has put up a chart designed to kill my good mood.
sienamystic: (commedia)
From a radio magazine called Radio Guide, from some time in the the 1920s, in the "Voice of the Listener" section:

Dear VOL - The few good programs we listen to can in no way compensate for the incessant blah blah of the everlasting advertisers. I am giving away our radio as I can stand it no longer. Beatrice Blage, St Louis, MO

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