November 1st, 2002

Nescafe rabbit

Just fucking wonderful.

Was about to hit the Hibernate key combo on the laptop when the screen goes black and it powers down.
Turns out the fucking power brick was unplugged, and none of my alarms - not the 85%, not the 10%, not the 3%, none of them.
Best guess: it's a conflict between the two battery monitors.
So I power it back up after plugging it in...and it's then that I realise that even though the last-saved time on my file is 12:09 AM, the data in the file is from 7:00 PM, when I started working on my notes.
It takes an hour to retype one page of notes. I had done pages 12-17 and was done with pediatric pathology.
Now I've got to start over from Cystic Fibrosis.
  • Current Music
    Fast and the Furious in the background
Nescafe rabbit

Open season on interpretations, take 1: "teddy bear"

The person for whom this is intended should have less trouble than the rest of you
Phoenix child,
      with wings of pain,
   rise soaring above the clouds.
                      Your eyes are ashen,
your eyes are grey,
             your heart is afire and O
      the light of stars 
                    is calling you now.

           Mermaid child,
                            with eyes of night,
the oceans flow into the sea.
                                Your hands are trembling,
       your hands are free,
                 your dreams unfold and O
the eyes of stars
                     are watching you now.

Icicle child,
      with hands of frost,
                defy the winter's cold.
Your heart is frozen,
                        your heart is lost,
         your soul is untethered and O
                  the summer stars
  will warm you now.

Unwoven child
           with a heart of flame,
                   come back, come close, don't stray.
Your wings are battered,
              your wings are frail
        Your eyes are ashen but O
the light of stars
                 is in them now.
  • Current Music
    backgrounding soap operas
Nescafe rabbit

Open season on interpretations, take two: "Metea"

Images garnered from previous poetry, for the most part.
In dreams of never linger stars
      with the pull of invisible eyes.
   There are mermaids in the sky
                 with forever on their lips;
          their whispered words call soft and sweet to me.

In waking dawn I whisper why
       to the ears of impenitent I.
    There are dragons in the sea
                     with remembrance in their eyes;
their silent song draws stillness within me.

               In sunlight bold sings a faerie child
and asks whether dreams can lie.
                     There are angels in the earth
     with forgiveness on their wings;
their sacred breath brings wonder to me.

In evening's shadows whispers night
              and begs me to waken wild.
       There are devils in the clouds
                          with vengeance in their swords;
  their murmurs rise up murder within me.

In midnight's hour I linger long
      and watch with invisible eyes.
           There is a maiden in the night
with oblivion in her kiss
        her whispered words of love ensorcel me.
Nescafe rabbit

'nuff said....

And when the day is through
Each night I hurry to
A home where love waits, I know...

Come right down to it,
I guess I'm just a lucky
So and so.
  • Current Music
    Duke Ellington - I'm Just A Lucky So And So
Nescafe rabbit

Death and rebirth

South Harrison, at the Creighton stoplight, is wide enough for a northbound lane, a southbound lane, and a parked-car lane. Assuming, that is, that
  1. everyone is in their lanes like proper motorists

  2. one doesn't mind about 6 inches of spare space on either side of one's car.

I happen to mind the spare space, which is why when I come down Harrison at 30 miles an hour, I pray that the light is green and nobody's there OR that the light is red, so everyone's going all slow-like.
Today: The light was green. There were cars in all three lanes - mine, the northbound, and the parked lane. So I slowed down a little and put both hands in paranoid-position on the wheel. And that was when I noticed that the parked car was
A full two frelling FEET out from the curb.

Remember those 6 inches? The darling going north scraped the curb with his wheels and I did that particular parked-car slalom at like 3 miles an hour. And as I'm accelerating back to travelling speed, glad that Harrison widens to almost four cars' width by the time it jogs at Rudisill, I see that the front end of this parked obstruction is all banged up and bashed to hell.
This is a prime example of the "learn to park, asshole," syndrome.

At the risk of hearing my lovely Clarabear tell me she never wants me to drive again, here's another "Someone wants to kill me" car story.

There's a curve in town. At the Columbia Street bridge, for those of you who know Fort Wayne. Where it goes under the tracks and turns into Clay and Main. Two lanes of traffic - narrow lanes, but fully wide enough for me to drive my dad's full-sized Chevy conversion van through without endangering life or limb, even as a reckless 16-year-old. Now I'm driving Michel-Ange, who is my wonderful 1987 Honda Accord with 229,000 miles and a stick shift on it. He's a good car, even if I think he might be gay. It's the purple-tinted windows and the pink "Protected by faeries" sticker that does it to me.
Anyway. The curve, as mentioned, goes over the bridge and then curves left into a fairly smooth 60-degreee turn as it passes under the tracks. No trouble at all at 30 miles an hour. Whoosh. You can add in the fact that on the left side of this left curve (the inside of the curve) there's a concrete divider that's pretty darn solid-looking, and on the right - the right lane is slightly wider - the lane curves right through a green arrow stoplight and onto Main. Sort of a very casual S-shape for geriatric slalom artists. It is easily navigable in an 88 Civic at 60 miles an hour, although I'll never do that again.
I'm in the left lane. To my right is a large white van with no windows in the back - the kind they abduct children in. And maybe, maybe there was a kid in the back or something and that excuses this asshole. Or not. As we come around the LEFT turn, he drifts LEFT. That's correct - takes the turn even tighter than he needs to, apparently because he's afraid of the 3-inch curb on his right, or the bridge post that's six feet from the road makes him nervous. This puts him a good six inches to a foot into my (already narrow) lane. I didn't honk my horn. Instead, I hit the brakes, grabbed the wheel to hold the car on the straight and narrow between child-abducting van and extremely-tough-looking concrete, and let him have the road. He's like five times the size of poor Michel-Ange. And as I then hit the gas, speed back up to a whopping twenty-five miles an hour, and glance over at him in the last moments before he turns right and I go straight, trying to decide if I should flip him off or not, I see him giving me the Glare of Death (tm) that motorists reserve for reckless teen-age drivers over his shoulder.
Whoever you are, wherever you are, I just want to know one thing.
You could have turned my car into some sort of mutant car-pedo shape. The hell do you get off on looking at me like that, when you're the one who can't colour in the fucking lines?

There's a Sprite can in our driveway. Left side, where if I tried, I could run over it. It's been there for three days of so. I keep thinking I should run over it, but I'm afraid (1) it'll be full, and somehow make my tire blow up (2) It's full of something noxious which (a) will melt my car or (b) render Michel-Ange into a Towering Inferno of Automotive Doom (tm), from which I will have to escape, napalm-style, and roll in the lawn.
And then I'll smell like burned hair for decades.

One more.
As I come up Crescent (for those of you who know the area), just before you get to Coliseum, there's a divider between the northish (north-easterly?) and southish (south-westerly? I get all confused when Crescent starts crescenting, can't figure out which way's north any more.) A divider. A big one - the kind that means "Don't turn left here."
The motorist in question (I'd post his license plate on the Internet, but I'm too busy driving to stop and write it down), rather than going up to the light, doing a perfectly legal U-turn, and heading the half-block back down to the ITT-Tech (am I right? Or is it another Tech there?) campus, where he could then make a perfectly legal right turn into the campus drive, will stop right where the divider begins. In the middle of the left lane of Crescent, when people are driving, forcing everyone to change lanes to get around this asshole with the left blinker on in the middle of the fucking road. And he will sit there. And sit there. And sit there. Until the light at Coliseum turns red, stopping the influx of south-westerly-bound traffic. Assuming, of course, nobody wants to make a perfectly legal right turn onto Crescent. Because as soon as all lanes are clear, he crosses the median and goes a good half-block north in the southwest lane, crossing the three (counting the special right-turn lane to get into the campus drive) lanes of traffic at a leisurely 10 miles an hour. And turns into the drive as if that were legal, safe, and perfectly reasonable.
Totally ignoring the fact that maybe, just maybe that divider is there so that assholes like him don't clot up all of Crescent Avenue with their desire to make a left turn across three lanes of traffic, ONE BLOCK from a light (with a green arrow left and everything) where they could U-turn and then make a perfectly safe and reasonable right into the campus.

Clarabear, sometimes I wonder if you're right not to want to drive.
  • Current Music
    Kirk Whalum - For All We Know
Nescafe rabbit

About being a Wiz...

A preface to the following conversation:
I am a Wizard on GargoyleMOO, which is where the following conversation took place. It's modelled after the Gargoyles TV show from Toon Disney - loads of fun - and our policy, as I explain several times in the following conversation, is that we build landmarks in NYC by request - if people think that a particular landmark would be fun to have for RP purposes, we check the maps and fit it in wherever it ought to go. This sacrifices a bit of realism for the larger fun of not having to wander all over a maze of a map to find where anyone is.
At the risk of sounding self-centred, I am the Wizard that the others go to for diplomatic solutions to problem players. I have a reputation for patience, self-control, and a deft touch. I pride myself on trying to be fair and patient, in listening to requests and considering them seriously - too seriously, in the minds of some people who also Wizard.
Bear this in mind.

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A few facts about the player in question:
The list produced by @rules specifically states that public communication should be kept to a PG-13 level - with a note that sexual references should be kept to a minimum.
This particular player, when he first came onto the MOO, had a description that raised even my jaded eyebrows. Keep in mind that I play a character elseMOO who is a 13-year-old whore with a penchant for stabbing any man she can't seduce. I've created characters with backgrounds and personalities so twisted that my GM demanded I tone them down before he could stomach the history ("I will not countenance, even in fiction, the gang-rape of a two-year-old girl.") But I try to stay within the bounds of the rules of the MOO. On a PG-13 MOO I describe and RP in a PG-13 manner.
Being the diplomatic one, I raised the question of his description...and requested specifically that he remove the paragraph that described his "maleness" specifically. Following is the description that replaced it. The one that he insisted was entirely appropriate.

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I don't know, y'all. That just really isn't a PG-13 description. I mean - scanty clothing, suggestive outfits, sure. I can see that. But the phrase larger-than-human maleness, the codpiece on the string bikini, and the general S&M demeanour of the beast....if this is "keeping sexual references to a minimum," I'm frightened.
Not to mention that I've seen him RP a mere once or twice in the five months he's been a player. Most of the time he spends online is spellchecking, critiquing, and causing me headaches.

I am a reasonable woman. At least...I strive to be. This, however, is just too much.
  • Current Music
    Tabletop Vampire game