Hold on to your secrets tonight

Not a Moral Failing [LJ Idol, 3 Strikes, Week 3]

joyfulfeather — Sun, 06 Mar 2022 22:52:30 GMT

"Does the new medication make you sleepy?" Dr. A asked me, her pen poised to write my answer in her records.

I laughed. "I don't think I'd notice the difference. I'm always sleepy. I can't stay awake in meetings. Heck, I have trouble staying awake driving to work in the mornings." I shook my head ruefully. "I need to get more sleep."

Dr. A looked up from her notebook, brow furrowed. "Just how much sleep do you get?"

"Only 5-6 hours," I admitted. "I know, I know…"

Her frown deepened. "No. If you were getting 3 hours on a regular basis, that kind of sleepiness would make sense. Not 5-6. That's not normal."

I just stared at her for a minute. "I… what?"

Her pen scratched quickly across her notebook. "I'm going to put in for you to get some bloodwork done. You should also do a sleep study."

"I… okay…" I couldn't quite process what she'd said. I ventured, "So… you mean it's not my fault?"

"I don't see how it could be."

It's been a couple of years since that conversation, and it still boggles my mind. I spent years thinking that my sleepiness was a moral failing. I was too undisciplined to go to bed early and too lazy to focus at work. Falling asleep at my desk and in meetings meant I was a terrible employee. All of it meant I was a failure as a human being.

I've learned over the years that a lot of the things that make me feel like a failure as a human being are actually signs of my body and brain failing me. Faulty brain chemistry, neurodivergence, and now it turned out that there was some kind of physical reason for my sleepiness. It's easy to say, "oh, those are just excuses". And yeah, it's possible to use them as such. But for me, it's a relief to know that there are reasons for these things. It makes them so much easier to handle. You can use logic and science against tangible problems. Something vague like "I suck as a human being" is a little harder to tackle.

We're still working on figuring out the cause of my sleepiness. Sleep apnea is most likely, despite the fact that I don't fit any of the usual demographics for it (youngish, female, not overweight). The pandemic got in the way of investigating that. For now, I'm on a stimulant (that also addresses my previously-undiagnosed ADHD, which is a whole other story). Hopefully we can get the root cause identified and addressed soon, though. Maybe I'd enjoy being awake a little more then!

Finding My Colors [LJ Idol, 3 Strikes, week 1]

joyfulfeather — Tue, 08 Feb 2022 14:55:37 GMT

My identity as a queer person has turned out to be a lot more fluid than I expected. I used to think, you are what you are; you figure it out at some point, and that's that. You pick up your flag -- rainbow, pale pink/white/blue, bright pink/purple/blue, various combinations of green/black/white/grey, etc. -- and march merrily on. It does seem to be that way for a lot of people. Maybe most? But not for all of us. Not for me.

Back in high school, I was straight. I don't mean I thought I was straight; I was. I asked myself the question back then and came to that conclusion with a bit of a shrug. No flags needed, no colors that I wanted to claim.

In college, that changed. Maybe it was the new environment, the additional freedom, or maybe I just was growing in a direction I hadn't expected. After a few years of confusion and internal debate, I picked up a flag: the pink/purple/blue of bisexuality. It was a relief. This is me. These are my colors.

And they were. They are. But recently, I'm finding that they're not the only colors in my personal rainbow.

When I started treating my anxiety and depression, my interest in dating went away. Turns out the hole in my life was chemical, not romantic. Maybe I was ace? The purple/white/grey/black is certainly appealing. But it doesn't feel right. I do experience some attraction. Grey-ace, then? I went with that for a while: bi-grey-aroace. I'd left the easy "pick a flag and go with it" territory.

It still didn't feel quite right, though. Here's where people will probably say I'm overthinking it all; that labels are unnecessary and I should just be who I am. I like putting words to things, though. It helps me understand myself. It quiets the confusing spiral of thoughts and feelings. I need that quiet.

So I've been reading about different types of attraction, and really digging into what I feel, and how, and when and why. Recently I've picked up, not purple/white/grey/black, but green/white/black: aromanticism. The relief that came with picking up that flag was almost overwhelming. That's how I know it's right.

So that's where I stand. Pink/purple/blue and green/white/black don't make the prettiest of rainbows, but it's mine.

For now, at least.

To buy more userpics or not...

joyfulfeather — Tue, 01 Feb 2022 15:13:06 GMT

Back when I used LJ all the time, I had purchased add-on userpic space. That expired eons ago. Now there are a bunch that are "inactive" but still uploaded, so they're still on old posts. It doesn't look like I can choose which ones are "active", though, and some of the ones that are, I won't want to use. I could delete a bunch, but that would take them off the old posts. So now I'm considering paying $5 to get more userpic space again. But LJ is kinda sketchy as a company, last I heard, so do I want to pay them even that much?

Sure, why not?

joyfulfeather — Thu, 06 Jan 2022 15:48:41 GMT

I haven't been on LJ in ages. I'm out of practice writing in general, but especially nonfiction. Life is stressful. But hey, maybe something new/old is what I need right now.

So yeah, this is me signing up for LJ Idol: 3 Strikes!

I probably won't last long, given the aforementioned rustiness. But it'll be fun.

Dear Yuletide Santa!

joyfulfeather — Sat, 13 Oct 2018 05:09:27 GMT

Dear Yuletide Santa,

Hi! I’m so excited to see what you come up with for me this year. I hope you have fun writing it!

If you want to know more about me, livejournal unfortunately isn't the place to do it anymore. I'm on tumblr, though! http://canaryfeather.tumblr.com

As for fic, since that's why you're here: I love all kinds of POVs and formats. Gen and ship are both great -- I love characters and their relationships, whatever form that takes. Ships can be any combination of genders in any numbers, too. Tone-wise, I lean more towards lighter, more positive things. Angst has its place, but there needs to at least be hope in there, too.

If you want, you can’t go wrong with a story set during the holidays. Family and friends, presents, good food… Christmas episodes of TV shows are some of my favorites, and that feeling extends to fic, too.

Do Not Wants:
- Kink (I honestly am not looking for smut at all for these.)
- Archive warnings
- Harm to children or animals
- Body horror

Callisto 6 - any
This show is SO GOOD and honestly, right now, I want pretty much anything. If you’ve got a ship that you’re already digging, write it for me! Cass is my favorite (Amy Freaking Dallen as a badass punk rebel, how can anyone not love that), so I would adore something about her, but if someone else is your favorite, you can write me something about them! I’d rather it not be dark, and I’m not into smut for this show yet. Mostly I want fun stuff! Especially if it’s them having fun with their powers.

Sagas of Sundry: Madness - Emmett, Selina
I ship Emmett/Selina so much and would love to see stuff with them in a relationship. It’s ok if that’s not your cup of tea, though! Just character stuff would be great, especially for Selina. Her fight with mental illness is intense and just so well done. (Erika Ishii is amazing, isn’t she?) I’m honestly not much into horror -- it made for a phenomenal story, of course, but the characters are what I always focus on. I like all of them, too! I’m most interested in Selina and Emmett, but the others can be in there as well. I’d rather not have something super dark; even if it’s angsty, I prefer there to be some amount of hope. It would be fun to see the characters in a bit happier times, whether as an AU or a happily-ever-after, or post-return readjustment to the real world.

Shield of Tomorrow - Throlo
I love and miss this show. Throlo is my absolute fav, because Amy Dallen and because she’s a doctor and a healer who cares *so much* about all of her people. I’d love a story that’s a day in the life of the Sally Ride sickbay, or an away mission where someone gets hurt, or really pretty much anything that involves her taking care of people or just caring for them in general. Nothing terribly dark, please. Injury-wise, no body horror (especially dismemberment). Also, I’m not much of a Throlo/Rue shipper, so I’d rather that not be the focus. Friendships with Rue or anyone else are great, though!

(Also, hello to my LJ friends who are still around! I miss you!)

Betrayal [LJ Idol, week 13]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 30 Jun 2014 02:50:46 GMT

Her name was Marie. We met the first day of sixth grade and almost instantly became best friends. We did all the things preteen best friends do – passing notes in class, sleeping over at each others' houses on the weekends, giggling and laughing and carrying on whenever we were together. I was always a shy kid, never good at making friends. I'd never had a friendship so close. It was glorious, this wonderful, shining thing in my life.

One day, it vanished. There was no warning. Marie walked past me in the hallway without so much as acknowledging my presence. Startled, I called her name. She paused and finally looked at me. “Don't talk to me.”

My jaw dropped. “What? Marie --” But she was already walking away. Stunned, I didn't move to follow her.

Instead, I did what we always did: I wrote her a note. I asked what was wrong. Was she mad at me? I apologized for anything I might have done. I asked her to tell me what was going on. I signed the note, folded it up, and tucked it into her desk.

When I came back to my desk later, I found that note inside my own desk. It must have fallen on the floor, I reasoned. Someone put it in my desk by mistake. I held the note out to Marie directly. “Here, this was for you.”

She looked at the note and then at me. “I don't want it,” she said, her voice shockingly hard. “Don't write me any notes. Don't talk to me. I don't want to be your friend anymore.”

Everything inside of me turned to ice. My heart stopped beating. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could barely even process the words. She didn't want to be my friend.

I'd experienced rejection before, but never like that. Never like that. Death might have been kinder, a sword through the gut less painful. In the face of that pain, I did the only thing I could do: I fled. The girls' bathroom was my refuge, a safe, quiet place with no people. No one to see me sob until I choked. No one to see me curl up on the floor. No one to hear me begging the universe to tell me why, why why why why

Even when the sobs passed, I stayed there, shaking and exhausted. Eventually the door opened and a classmate came in. Danielle was an acquaintance, a friendly person I'd chatted with throughout the year. She sat down on the floor beside me. “You okay?” I shook my head. “What happened?” she asked.

I thought I'd cried myself out, but the tears came back as I told her. When I was done, she hugged me, murmuring that she was sorry, that it was terrible, that I'd be okay. I leaned into her, my breathing calming and tears slowly drying.

When Danielle pulled away, she asked, “Think you're ready to go back in there?”

I scrubbed my face with both hands. “I... guess.”

She stood and gave me a hand up. “Let's go talk to Mrs. G.”

With Danielle's moral support, I told Mrs. G what had happened. The teacher nodded in sympathy and understanding. When I asked if I could sit somewhere else at lunch from then on, she agreed. I could stay as far from Marie as I needed.

Two months passed. I ate lunch in the center of the lunchroom with my friend Faith, rather than at one of the class tables along the wall. I didn't speak to Marie, and she didn't speak to me. It sucked – a lot – but I got used to it. I had Faith, and I'd made friends with another girl, Nicole, so I wasn't alone. The wound started to heal.

One day after school, completely out of the blue, Marie walked up to me. “Can we talk?” she asked timidly.

I eyed her, surprised and wary. “Okay.”

She explained that her aunt and uncle had split up, and it was horrible on her – she was super close to that aunt, but they were only related through marriage, not blood. It was so painful for Marie that she had to do something to reduce the stress in her life. She did that by cutting me out.

It didn't make any sense to me. In times of pain, you're supposed to lean on your friends, not ditch them entirely! And why had it been me that she cut out? Was I really that much of a burden?

She seemed to honestly regret it, though. She wanted forgiveness and to try being friends again. I couldn't say no. I didn't have many friends, and if she was sincere, it was worth giving her another shot. I cautiously agreed, even though I knew it would never be the same.

We did get relatively close again for the rest of that year and summer, but we drifted apart in seventh grade. After that, we went to different schools, so we barely saw each other. Eventually, “barely” became “not at all.” I didn't really mourn the loss. Her betrayal had revealed a cruel side to her that I could never forget.

Nearly 20 years later, I still think about her sometimes. I still wonder the real story behind her actions. I've thought about looking her up on Facebook, but what would be the point? The wound might ache occasionally, but it's long since closed. The past is probably best left in the past.

Something Funny [Raven; LJ Idol season 9, week 12]

joyfulfeather — Thu, 19 Jun 2014 23:45:08 GMT

Flying monkeys. Freaking flying monkeys.

When I'd heard about monkeys on the loose in the city, I didn't exactly jump into action. I fight bad guys. Criminals. Supervillains. That kind of thing. Not animals. That was for Animal Control and other local authorities, not a superhero. But Dani gave me that look of hers, the one that tends to trump any excuse I ever come up with, so I suited up and went in search of rampaging monkeys.

With the help of a police scanner and social media, which Dani scoured for info and relayed to me via my cellphone and earwig, I was able to track the pests. I found them attacking a group of people that evidently hadn't gotten the "shelter in place" emergency alert that had gone out an hour earlier. Now they were under attack by monkeys. And not your run of the mill kind, oh no. Flying monkeys. What the hell.

I swore and told Dani what I was seeing. I couldn't tell if her silence was surprise or her patented way of saying "I told you so." It didn't matter. I threw myself into the fray. I bodychecked a monkey, knocking it away from the woman it had its claws (fingers?) dug into. "Run!" I shouted at her. She ran, cowering close to the ground, arms over her head. The monkeys didn't follow. I didn't really give them a chance.

There were three of them. They were generally monkey-shaped, with the wonderful additions of evil red eyes, clawed hands, and bat-like wings. I hadn't been traumatized by the ones in the Wizard of Oz, but these guys were definite nightmare material. Their screams were even worse than their looks. The screams of their victims mingled with theirs to make a horrible cacophony that made me want to slap my hands over my ears. And maybe run away.

Sadly, I didn't have that option. The one I'd slammed recovered fast. It screamed and launched itself at me. I got my knife up just in time to slash at it even as it slashed at me with its claws. We both scored hits, neither of them deep. I whirled and leaped at it before it could gain altitude. My knife bit into its left wing. It screamed again and tried to turn, but the injured wing didn't respond right. Its tail lashed, but I avoided it and struck again, burying my knife into its belly. It fell from the air and hit the ground with a thud. One down.

I spun, knife up. The other two had pulled back a little, circling higher and eyeing me warily. It gave me a second to pull the pistol-like tranq gun I'd brought. It was convenient, but it didn't have a great range. I flexed my hand, grimacing up at the creatures. I needed the closer.

I looked at the people still cowering on the ground, all of them bleeding. "Run!" I shouted at them. "Get inside!"

When the people scrambled to their feet and started running, the monkeys dove. I'd kinda known they would. I sighted and fired, hitting the first monkey easily. It hit the ground within two beats of its wings. The other one screamed and pulled up before I could prep and fire the gun again. I swore, watching it fly higher and away.

"Raven?" Dani's voice asked in my ear.

"I'm fine. One of the things got away. Can you get EMTs here? I don't think anyone's badly hurt, but they're wounded."

"Already on the way. Animal Control, too. They can take care of the bodies."

"Good. Let me know if you hear anything about more attacks, or where the other one heads."

"Will do."

I looked at the monkey I'd tranqed. I didn't know how long it would be out, and I couldn't risk it waking up among civilians who weren't prepared for it. I set my jaw and knelt beside it. With one quick stroke, I opened its neck.

A quick glance around showed faces staring from the window of a store nearby. Satisfied that the monkey attack victims were safe, I split.

I hit up one of my supply caches to patch up the scratches in my arm. While there, I traded out the tranq gun for a pistol crossbow. It had better range and, even better, could use the pointy kind of ammo as well as the tranq darts.

I was just heading back out onto the street when Dani checked back in. "I've got a lead for you. People are saying there are more of these things in the southeastern part of the city, around Edgebrook. A few people claim they've seen strange things going on in a library, and that the monkeys have been flying around there."

"Worth a look," I said. "What's my fastest way there?"

A twenty-minute motorcycle ride later, I got to the street the library was on. I parked the bike a couple blocks away and headed up on foot. Dani's sources (it was easier to think of them like that than as "people on the internet") hadn't failed me: there was something weird going on here. For starters, there were two monkeys flying around overhead. Guard dogs, I figured. I readied my crossbow with the pointy kind of bolts.

When the creatures dove for me, I was ready for them. Of course, I missed my first shot and had to roll out of the way of one of the creatures, but I came up and fired on the other one, hitting it in the wing. It fell. When the first monkey came back around, I got it in the belly, downing it, too.

A shriek came from the library, teeth-rattlingly shrill. It wasn't one of the monkey's screams; it sounded like a woman. Maybe like a witch.

I eyed the monkeys on the ground. "Right..."

I crossed the lawn of the library. Before I could get to the front doors, they slammed open and another monkey hurtled towards me. I fired the crossbow in sheer instinct and panic. The first two bolts missed, but the third and fourth hit square on in the belly and throat. The thing's momentum sent it sailing past me to thud on the ground behind me.

That shriek sounded again. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT, DEARIE!"

I grit my teeth and yanked the library doors open. I entered into a wide, circular area with reception off to the right and the library proper stretching out on the left. All the lights were off, but it was lit by lots of candles and eerie, sourceless green lights. In the center was a witch, stirring a cauldron. She wasn't just any witch, of course, but the Wicked Witch. Or at least, she wanted to be. She really wasn't all that imposing. Honestly, it kind of looked like she was wearing a halloween costume she'd gotten at Party City or something.

She wasn't even stirring a cauldron. Of all things, it was a barrel.

A barrel? I stared at it, then at her. "You know, you're kind of mixing references here," I told her.

"Shut up!" she snapped at me. "You will die for your insolence!"

"Yeah, I don't think so."

She snarled. "You doubt my power?" She raised her hands and a mist-covered something rose from the barrel with them.

The mist cleared, revealing yet another flying monkey.

I pointed the crossbow and fired twice before it could even move. It fell back into the barrel with a splash.

I put two and two together. "So that's how you're doing it, huh?" I reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a small device. "You might want to move back," I warned the witch and then pitched the device into the barrel. Then I backed up.

The barrel went boom. It was a small boom, but the witch hadn't moved away, so she was knocked backwards. I'd crouched down, but bits of debris hit me. When my head stopped ringing, I went to check on her. She was alive, but blackened and bleeding. I used one of the tranq darts to make sure she'd stay down until the authorities arrived to arrest her. I had no doubt she'd be put away. Witchcraft wielded as a weapon could get you lots of years in prison around here.

"Raven?" Dani's voice was a little beyond concerned. "You there?"

"Yeah, sorry." I shook my head, trying to clear the residual ringing. "I'm fine. The Wicked Witch is -- not dead, but down."

"So are the monkeys, apparently. They all just stopped moving a few minutes ago."

I let out a breath. "Good. I thought they would." I rolled my shoulders, wincing. "That means I can go home, right?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. Come home. I'll help wash the monkey stink off of you."

I grinned and headed for the exit. "See you soon."

[While I am writing a number Raven stories for Idol this season, they're all intended to stand alone! They're snapshots of Raven and company's lives, rather than pieces of a specific story.]

Worse [Raven; LJ Idol season 9, week 11]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 09 Jun 2014 23:55:32 GMT

Four new cuts, none of them deep enough to need stitches. Bruised ribs. Sprained wrist. Dani treated all of Allison's new wounds with care, then checked the older ones. The deep slice on her back, with stitches which Allison had somehow managed not to tear this time. The bullet graze on her left forearm. The rope burns on her throat and hand. Dani tended all of them without comment, and without meeting Allison's eyes.

Allison was uncharacteristically silent through the process. Only when Dani was done did Allison speak. “Dani?”

Dani dropped her hands to her sides and finally looked up. In the bathroom mirror, she could see the tension in her own face, her expression drawn and worried.

Allison shook her head a little. “Dani, I'm fine.” At Dani's arched eyebrow, she amended, “Okay, I'm... not completely fine. But I'm here. I'm whole. Nothing's broken. So what's with the look?”

Dani moved to the counter and began to pack up the first aid kit. When she closed the lid, she laid one hand on it like a touchstone. “It's getting worse out there, isn't it?” she asked quietly.

Allison paused, then shrugged. “It's no worse than it's been before.”

“You've been hurt more in the last three weeks than in the previous three months. That hasn't happened before. So unless there's something wrong that you're not telling me --” Dani stopped and narrowed her eyes. If Allison was sick or hurt somehow that she didn't want Dani to know about...

Allison raised her hands in surrender. “No. Dani.” She sighed. “Okay. Yes, it's worse than usual. More street crime, a couple of gangs are at each other's throats, and there's some new player in town looking to make a name for herself. It's nothing that hasn't happened before,” she added quickly. “It just... usually isn't all at once. I don't know, maybe Mercury's in retrograde or something. It'll quiet down soon.” She sounded so confident.

“What if it doesn't?” Dani asked.

“It always does. These things always come in waves.”

“A tsunami is a wave.”

“Dani --”

“This gang thing could turn into an all out war,” Dani pressed. “Or this new villain could turn out to be worse than you seem to expect. Or something else could come up.”

Allison's brow furrowed. She searched Dani's face. “It's not like you to be so defeatist,” she said. “What's going on?”

Dani looked away. Looked at her reflection again, studying it like it might have answers. “I don't know,” she said finally. “I have a bad feeling. Like whatever's going on now is just the beginning.” Her gaze slid back over to Allison. “You don't feel it?”

Allison shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. “I'm more action-girl,” she said. “That kind of thing is what I've got you for.” She nudged Dani, grinning. “That and some other stuff.”

Dani didn't smile. She put a hand on Allison's arm, squeezing a little. “Then listen to me. Be careful. I know you can get reckless out there, but – don't. Not now.”

Allison sat up straighter. Dani's words seemed to finally sink in. After a moment, Allison nodded slowly. “Okay. I'll be careful.” She hesitated. “As careful as I can be. I love you, Dani, and I sure as hell don't want to killed out there, but... If things do get worse, the city has to come above my own safety.”

Dani closed her eyes and nodded reluctantly. “I know.” It was the price of being with a superhero. You never knew when the job would take them – and you knew they would always, always go no matter what the danger was to themselves. That was what made them special.

“But hey.” Allison slid off the counter. “I'm here now, and safe, and happy.” She looped her arms around Dani's neck. “And if the world is going to end tomorrow, I'd say we should enjoy every moment we've got left.”

Dani could only grin back. “That sounds like a marvelous plan.”

[While I am writing a number Raven stories for Idol this season, they're all intended to stand alone! They're snapshots of Raven and company's lives, rather than pieces of a specific story.]

The Friday Five for 30 May 2014...

joyfulfeather — Sat, 31 May 2014 15:32:38 GMT

Originally posted by ariestess at The Friday Five for 30 May 2014...

Cars

When you were a kid, what car(s) did your parents have?
When you were old enough to drive, did you inherit any of your parents' old cars, share your parents' car(s), get a secondhand one by yourself, other?
Have you ever been in an accident in a private vehicle when driving? When a passenger?
What's your least-favourite driving manouvre? (eg reverse-parking)
If you could change or make one road rule, what would it be? What penalty would you impose for non-compliance?
(sic)

1) My mom had a talking car! It was a Chrysler LeBaron, and it had the Chrysler Electronic Voice Alert system. It said things like "a door is ajar" and "please fasten your safety belts." It even thanked us for buckling up! Sometimes it would freak us out by saying something unexpected, but for the most part it was just entertaining/helpful. Later, Mom got a Ford Taurus, which eventually became my sister's, followed by a '91 Mustang. Great car. Dad mostly stuck with Toyotas, and Michael had SUVs.

2) I never inherited a car, though like I said, my sister got the Taurus. I learned to drive on the Mustang. My parents got me a 1987 Nissan 200sx, like this, for $500 plus a couple hundred in repairs. It had some quirks -- nothing on the right side of the car worked very well, poor thing -- but it served me very well.

3) The one accident I've been in as a driver was at 3 AM, in Slidell, LA, in my stepfather's new truck. Noooot good. We were on our way from Tampa to Austin for Christmas. I'd been driving in the rain for 3 hours, really actually enjoying myself. But when we got off the interstate to change drivers, I started to make a left into a gas station, and suddenly there was a car between me and where I wanted to go. I didn't see her. I think I'd made the assumption that because I hadn't seen any cars, no one was around. I've never been sure if she had her headlights on or not. The accident was definitely my fault, though -- I'm pretty sure I never looked to see if someone was there, and clearly I wasn't in the correct lane to turn left.

I have also been in an accident as a passenger. I was super young, not even in kindergarden yet, I think. We had a car full of kids -- can't remember if we'd picked up the high schoolers yet or not. I was in the backseat. Don't remember the accident itself, but I have a couple of mental snapshots: seeing glass in the backseat when I was taken out of the car, being taken to the ambulance (I wasn't badly hurt or anything), being in the hospital (I assume the ER) with Mom there and her friend Carla -- who was a nurse -- coming to my bed. I think I had a goose-egg on my head, but nothing else major.

4) I don't like merging onto a busy interstate -- too nerve-wracking. Not a huge fan of backing up, either, because I can never keep a straight line.

5) I'd make it mandatory in every state to have your headlights on when it's raining. It's a law in some states, including Florida where I learned to drive, and I hate it when I'm somewhere else and people drive around in the rain without their lights on. Don't they realize that other drivers need to be able to see them? Argh!

I'm not your fixer-upper [LJ Idol season 9, week 10]

joyfulfeather — Thu, 29 May 2014 03:08:03 GMT

I had this boyfriend back in college. Let's call him David. David was a genuinely nice guy: he was friendly, wasn't mean or cruel to anyone, and he was generally positive about life. He had a lot of good qualities. Obviously he had some bad ones, too, but everyone does. I did my best to accept him for who he was, taking the bad with the good.

Too bad he wasn't willing to do the same for me.

It started pretty much as soon as we officially started dating. He kept pushing me to be more social and to try new foods, both of which give me lots of anxiety and a world of do not want. There was no way I was going to start doing those things just because he said so. Less than a month into our relationship, I told him flat out that things were not going to work out between us if he was going to try to change me. His response was, “People change in relationships.” I told him, “Not because one partner decides they're going to change the other!” He assured me that he'd back off. I took him at his word, but I had my doubts.

Two weeks later, it was Valentine's Day, and we were making dinner. I happened to watch him make our salads. He laid a slice of tomato on the bottom of my bowl before adding the lettuce. I don't eat tomatoes. He knew that I don't eat tomatoes. And yet. I kept my anger silent, staying outwardly calm, until it was time to eat. The moment I sat down with my salad, I pulled out the tomato slice and dumped it onto his bowl. “Don't. Do. That.” He claimed it was a joke. It wasn't.

Another day, he suggested we eat lunch together at a place on campus. When I got there, I discovered he meant us and fifteen other people from band. People he was friends or acquaintances with and who I only knew by face and name, if that. “You need to be more social!” he said to me once again. I made it clear that I didn't appreciate the ambush; he made it clear that he didn't care. After all, he was doing it for my own good.

Another dinner, this time with friends. We talked about finances and credit cards. I mentioned that I had a balance on my credit card, much to the shock and horror of everyone at the table. I shrugged and pointed out that making payments on something is actually not bad for your credit. Two weeks later, David asked me out of the blue, all concerned, “Did you get that credit card taken care of?” Shocked, I told him, “That's none of your business!” We'd been dating maybe three months; my financial decisions were absolutely not something he got a say in, no matter what he thought.

It wasn't just the big things he tried to “fix,” either. Smaller things started getting commentary, too.

He watched me brush my teeth. “You should brush in circles.”

Driving. “You shouldn't stay in the left lane.”

And then the more personal stuff.

“You need to work on your body issues.”

“You're too independent.”

And so on, and so on.

“You should --”

“You shouldn't --”

ENOUGH.

I don't like bullies. I have a history of not giving in to bullies. I don't care if I'm dating you or not: you don't get to push me around. Not even if you think you're doing it for my own good.

Look, I am who I am. I am not perfect. I have flaws. I have issues. I am weird and goofy and introverted. I battle depression and anxiety of multiple flavors. I refuse to try new foods and I hide from new people. Yes, I'm trying to change some of these things, but I'm doing it on my terms, no one else's. In the meantime, this is just who I am. If you're going to love me, love me for who I am, not for who you want me to be.

And for the love of God, don't treat me like a child. I know how to freaking brush my teeth.

Innocent [Raven; LJ Idol season nine, week 9]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 19 May 2014 23:37:07 GMT

“You've seen it?”

For once, the sudden voice behind Marie, in Marie's supposedly empty apartment, didn't surprise her. She'd been expecting this visit. “Oh, yeah.” She swung her desk chair around to face the superhero who'd just come in through her balcony door.

Raven looked like hell. What little Marie could see of her face under the mask was ghost-white. Her entire body was drawn in on itself, like she was expecting a beating – or maybe like she'd already gotten one. There was nothing in her eyes or posture that resembled the strong, confident woman Marie had come to know.

In that moment, for the first time since she'd clicked “play” on the video, Marie felt a flicker of doubt.

Raven saw it in her eyes. She shook her head sharply. “I didn't do it,” she said, her voice raw. “I swear to God, Marie, I didn't do it.”

Marie regarded her steadily for a second, then nodded. “I believe you,” she said, meaning it. “But the video is good. A lot of people are going to be convinced you threw David Rosa off that roof.”

“I didn't. When I left that roof, he was alive!”

Ah, shit. Marie ran a hand over her face. “I was really hoping you'd say you were never there.” Someone else could have gone up there dressed as her. That, at least, would have been easy to handle. Raven didn't leave much for recognition software to key in on, but at least they'd have been able to compare height, build, maybe the shape of her jaw. It probably would have been enough to prove it wasn't her. “So what did happen?”

Raven shrugged tightly. “Most of the video is real,” she said. “I met him up there. Told him to clean up his act. I threatened him, but not like that. Not – I told him he'd be arrested. He'd lose everything. And yeah, maybe I made it clear I'd rough him up, but not – not –” She waved a hand at the computer screen, which still had the video pulled up. “Fuck.” She sat down hard on the couch.

Marie chewed on her lip. “When did you meet with him?”

“A little after 11:00 PM.”

“Last night? They moved fast, then. The video was posted around 7:00 AM this morning. That's only eight hours for them to get the surveillance video and edit it. This was definitely preplanned.” She studied Raven, who was staring at the floor. “Know anyone who'd want to frame you for murder?”

Raven let out a low, humorless laugh. “Plenty. There's a lot of people who don't like having a 'hero' running around the city.”

Marie heard the quotation marks around “hero.” Ah, hell. “You are a hero,” Marie said firmly. “This video isn't you. You're not a killer.”

Raven flinched.

It took everything Marie had not to react. She took the next minute to run through a mental litany of swear words. Not directed at Raven; directed at the universe and God who would put her through something like this. Raven was young. Marie didn't know her age, but she guessed mid-to-late twenties. Not a kid, but young enough. And experience-wise? She'd gone through a lot in the time since she started doing the vigilante thing, but... she wasn't a soldier, or even a hero in a big city, where deadly violence was more common. Death wasn't something she had to face very often. Not like this.

Marie chose her next words carefully. “I've known you for more than five years now,” she said, keeping her voice quiet and gentle. “I think that qualifies me to say I know you. You've made mistakes – some of which I know about, some I don't. Whatever they are, it doesn't matter. I know you. You're a good person. You're a hero. And you're not a killer. If you were, this wouldn't hurt so much.”

Raven looked up, protest dying on her lips when she met Marie's eyes. After a long moment, she let out a breath. “What do we do?” Her voice was still quiet and helpless, but a little of the tension in her shoulders had eased.

Marie leaned back in her chair. “We can't stop the video,” she said. “The cops will get it taken down, but it's already gone viral. You don't want to know how many hits it has. So we get out in front of it. I can do some damage control – my readers know you and I are friends, or whatever,” she added with a wave of her hand, because there really was no good word to describe the relationship between a journalist and a hero whose face she'd never seen and whose name she didn't know. “So my word will carry some weight. Meanwhile, we investigate. I already have a friend looking at the video – I'll pass on what you told me. You stay on your contacts at the crime lab. We need to know what they find out, when they find it out. Other than that...” Marie gestured at Raven. “Do what you do. Investigate it like you would if someone else got framed for murder.”

“Right.” Raven rubbed her face, grimacing at the silken mask that got in her way. “If I get moving, I might stop thinking about it, right?” She pushed herself off the couch and headed for the balcony door.

“Rave,” Marie said quietly. Raven stopped and looked at her. “You'll get through this,” Marie told her. “Keep your chin up. And remember to breathe, okay?”

Raven took a deep breath, giving her a half-smile that seemed genuine, if tired. “Thanks. For everything,” she added. She met Marie's eyes and the smile grew a little. “It's good to have a friend like you.” She slipped out the door before Marie could say anything.

Marie bowed her head, a smile touching her lips for just a moment. Eyes closed, she said a prayer for her friend. Then she sat up, took a deep breath, and got to work.

[While I am writing a number Raven stories for Idol this season, they're all intended to stand alone! They're snapshots of Raven and company's lives, rather than pieces of a specific story.]

No True Hero [Raven; LJ Idol season 9, week 7]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 28 Apr 2014 01:29:09 GMT

I killed a man tonight.

I sit in the basement, unmoving, the words the only thought in my head. I killed a man.

Eventually I force myself to move. The armor, the costume, the vigilante's mask come off and get put away entirely by rote. The clothing is littered with cuts and burns. I know my body has marks to match, but I barely feel them. My ears still ring from the explosion, adding to the static that dominates my mind. I killed a man.

I can't bring myself to climb the stairs up to the house. I lay down on the cot instead, curled up on my side, staring unseeing out into the room.

I killed a man. There are no excuses. No rationalizations of it was an accident or I had no choice. Maybe he deserved it or the world is better off, but those words are hollow, so hollow. I am not judge or jury. I am not an executioner, I think, and those words cut like a knife.

The door opens. The stairs creak. I close my eyes and roll over, facing the wall. There's no feigning sleep, but maybe Dani will take the hint and leave me be. She shouldn't see me like this. Maybe she should never see me.

She's Dani; she doesn't leave. I hear her kneel beside me. The touch of her hand is warm against my back, and I realize I hadn't bothered to get dressed. She sets to work cleaning my wounds with gentle hands. I say nothing, do nothing except turn onto my stomach at her wordless request, and then again onto my back. I never look at her.

She's Dani; she doesn't speak. Doesn't ask me what happened. Only when she's finished does she slip her hand into mine and softly ask, “Bed?”

I pull my hand away and turn over to face the wall. She doesn't argue. Silently, she spreads a soft blanket over me. Smooths a hand down my hair. Kisses my temple.

She treats me like the hero I no longer am.

When her footsteps have receded up the stairs, when the door has closed, the tears finally come.

I killed a man tonight.

Care [Raven; LJ Idol season 9, week 6]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 21 Apr 2014 21:47:18 GMT

I held the front door open for Dani, watching her nervously. She came inside slowly, tottering a little on the crutches. Little frown lines etched her forehead as she concentrated on swinging herself forward one small step at a time. It wasn't quick, but she crossed the threshold without tripping or falling over. I let out a breath when she was past and closed the door behind us.

I followed closely behind her. When we got to the living room, I said, “Here, wait, let me --” I slipped around her. “I'll move this.” I shoved the coffee table towards the wall. “Should I move the rug? I'll move the rug.”

“Leave it.” God, she sounded tired. Looked it, too. The usual sparkle in her eyes was dull and her face dragged with weariness. I held out a hand and helped her down onto the couch. A sigh escaped her as she settled into the cushions. Her eyes closed. It was the closest to relaxed that she'd looked in hours.

I set her crutches aside but within her reach. “The doctor said to elevate your foot. I'll grab some pillows.” I dashed up the stairs. There were two spares in the linen closet. I snagged those and another two from the guest room. Back in the living room, I lifted my armload triumphantly. “Pillows.”

Dani cracked her eyes open and chuckled. “Yes, pillows. I don't think I need that many, though.”

“You need to elevate your foot,” I repeated firmly. I stacked three pillows at the end of the couch, plumping up each one. “Try this.”

She turned and pulled her legs up onto the couch. Gingerly, she set her wrapped ankle on the stack of pillows. “Good.”

“You're sure you don't want another one?”

“This is more than enough,” she said. Before I could argue, she added, “I'd like that last one for behind my back, though.”

“Oh, right, of course.” I tucked it behind her, cushioning the arm of the couch. “Better?” She nodded. “What else can I get you? Glass of water? I'll go --”

Dani caught my hand before I could run off. “Allison. Sit.”

I responded like I do to all of her gentle commands: I complied.

When I was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, Dani smiled at me. “I'm fine.”

“You broke your ankle!” I protested.

“It'll heal.”

“You're in pain.” I looked at her unhappily. “I don't like it when you're in pain.”

“I know.” Her rich voice was warm. She reached out and smoothed hair away from my face, her fingers lingering on my skin. “I think it bothers you more than it does me.”

“Of course it does,” I agreed. I tipped my head into her hand, closing my eyes. “Babe, I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I should have had someone come fix the front walk ages ago. It was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. And it had to be you --”

Dani slid her fingers down my jawline and tapped the underside of my chin. I opened my eyes. She met them seriously. “This is not your fault.”

“It's my house --”

“Our house,” she corrected me mildly. “And I knew very well the walk was cracked. I should have been paying attention.” She lifted a shoulder in a little shrug. “I was careless.”

“You're never careless.”

She tweaked my chin. “Newsflash, love: I'm not perfect.”

“Yes, you are,” I said stubbornly. “You're perfect and I'm a mess, and how am I going to take care of you? You're the one who takes care of me.” The words were plaintive.

“You'll manage,” she said. “Just...” She hesitated. “Promise me something?”

Taking her hand, I pressed my lips to the backs of her fingers. “Anything.”

“Don't try to cook.” Her serious expression gave way to amusement, her eyes dancing. “I'd rather not be poisoned in addition to having a broken ankle.”

I tried to give her a wounded look but spoiled it by laughing. “Okay, deal. I just hope you're okay with lots of takeout.”

“Takeout, soup, sandwiches...” Dani shrugged a little. “We'll manage,” she said, lightly emphasizing the word we. “You know how I know?”

“Because you're a hopeless optimist?” I grinned.

“Because it's us,” she said softly. “We can handle anything.”

My grin melted into a smile. “You're also a hopeless romantic.”

“Yes, I am.” She squeezed my fingers. “And you love it.”

I squeezed back. “I really do.”

If you want to read more of Allison and Dani, check out my Raven and Ravenverse tags. Many thanks to katscanx and spacefiend for their suggestions this week!

Zombie baby [LJ Idol season 9, week 5]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 14 Apr 2014 23:51:23 GMT

I sat at the conference table, a smile fixed on my face while the man across from me enthusiastically talked about how he'd gutted my baby.

My “baby” was a piece of software I'd worked on for four years. I'd written it completely from scratch. I knew it inside and out, backwards and forwards. I knew how to make it work, how to cajole the right answers out of it when its internal math came up short. It wasn't perfect. There were kludges and “fudge factors” and oversimplifications. But it worked. It had served us just fine for years.

Now there was this guy. They'd brought him in specifically to upgrade the code. “You've been too busy,” they told me. “You have other priorities. He'll be able to focus on this.”

I didn't like it, but I didn't get a say in the matter. I handed over my code and walked the guy through it. “This is really great!” he said afterwards. “I'm super impressed. I look forward to working with you to make these upgrades.”

Two months later, we sat down and he told me all about the upgrades he'd made. (So much for working together on it.) A lot of the upgrades were things specifically requested by the customer – things that I'd always said I'd get to “when I could.” Now they were done, and of course they were way better than anything I could have done. Worse, though, were the upgrades that hadn't been requested. “Your math was pretty simple,” he told me. “It worked, obviously! But I figured while I was in there, I'd improve it. We want things as high-fidelity as possible, after all.”

The math he was referring to was the driving piece of code. It was the entire point of the software. Everything else was built around it. And he'd replaced it. Fixed it. Upgraded it. “That's great!” I said enthusiastically. I'm good at faking enthusiasm.

I only let my real feelings surface that night when I talked to a friend. “He gutted it,” I seethed. “He ripped out its brain and replaced it with a new one. He took apart its insides. He changed everything except the name. And he still says it's mine! Like taking away your baby and changing its brain doesn't matter. Now it's a freaking zombie baby!”

My friend laughed, presumably at the image and not at my anger. She seemed sympathetic, at least. “I'm sorry. That sucks.”

“It really does.” I sort of deflated. “And of course, I can't do anything about it. The guy just did his job, you know? And he did it right. The code is better.” I sighed. “I shouldn't be upset. This is stupid.”

My friend considered that for a second. “I don't know,” she said. “I think it's normal to be upset. Like you said, he stole your baby. I'd be mad, too.”

That made me feel better. At least someone understood.

Other than venting and griping, there really was nothing I could do. Nothing I even should do. So I gritted my teeth through the meetings where he talked about his improvements and how great everything was now, and I smiled and laughed through conversations with him on the subject. And if I spent some of those conversations imagining what it would be like to set his hair on fire, well, there didn't seem to be any harm in that.

Your home is your castle [LJ Idol season 9, week 3]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 31 Mar 2014 23:32:30 GMT

#1 - Water view

I stood on the apartment balcony, taking in the view. The water of the cove sparkled in the sunlight. Birds flew lazily overhead. A walking path curved below me, with large swaths of grass separating it from the water on one side and the apartment buildings on the other. I tipped my face into the sun, closing my eyes. The breeze was cool but not cold, despite the fact that Christmas had just passed. You had to love winter in Houston.

The apartment behind me was perfect for someone like me. I'd just graduated college a few weeks before, and I'd always lived either with my parents or in a dorm. This was going to be my first place totally on my own. It was a great size for me, with just the one bedroom and bathroom. There was plenty of kitchen, and the living room was a good size. And then there was that view... The whole place just felt right.

I took another deep breath of fresh air before reluctantly going back inside. There was paperwork to sign. I would have plenty of time to enjoy the view once I moved in.

#2 - Craft room

I turned in a slow circle in the middle of the room, trying to picture my furniture in it. "The bookcases can go on that wall," I announced aloud, albeit to myself. "The desk should fit over there. The cable outlet is here, so I guess that's where the TV is going. And the sewing table can go on the wall across from it. That should work." I didn't have a sewing table yet, but it helped to plan ahead, especially when it came to organizing furniture. I didn't want to have to try moving those bookcases on my own later.

I left the future sewing room, flipping off the light as I went. The apartment was empty for the moment, but the movers would be there in the morning to haul things from my old building to the new one. I felt a brief pang at the thought of my old apartment. It had been good to me for the last three years. It was time to move up, though. This place had an additional bedroom and bathroom, and the kitchen was nice and big. The old one had been great, but this felt good, too. I knew it would feel like home in no time.

#3 - Townhouse

I turned the key with a hand that was surprisingly steady and pushed open the front door. I'd been to the townhouse a few times before, of course, but this time when I stepped across the threshold, I was stepping into my first house. I'd signed my name a thousand times that morning and handed over a check, and now... now the place was entirely mine.

It felt... odd. I loved the place and had since I'd laid eyes on it back in November. I knew, both logically and emotionally, that it was the right place for me. I definitely didn't want to stay in the apartment anymore! It was just such a big change that I was having trouble processing it. I really wasn't sure what I felt.

I wandered around the entire house, through all three bedrooms, the big master bathroom, the living room, the kitchen. I went out to the backyard. I marveled that I had a backyard, with a big oak tree providing shade (and a lot of fallen leaves). I went into the garage and marveled at having that, too.

Back in the kitchen, I stood and tried to sort out what to do next. The place was mine, but it didn't quite feel like it yet. It didn't help that the previous owner had left some things, like curtains hanging in the living room. Those needed to go, I decided. So did the dirt on top of the refrigerator where he'd clearly tipped over a potted plant. And wow, those cabinet doors are dusty and gross, let me just get that bottle of 409...

Mom called. "So are you dancing around the house in joy?"

I hesitated. I should have been dancing, shouldn't I? I admitted, "Actually, I'm cleaning."

Mom started laughing. "Oh, that's perfect! You're nesting!"

"Oh!" I laughed too, relieved. "I guess I am."

"That's a good thing," she told me firmly. "You have to make it yours."

I leaned against the counter and surveyed the living room, the kitchen, the entryway. It was all empty right now, but soon enough I'd be moving my things in, packing it full of furniture and boxes and a pair of cats that seemed to fill up more space than their small bodies could account for. I let out a breath and smiled. "Mine," I said, to myself as much as to Mom. "I like the sound of that."

Navigating the New House [LJ Idol Season 9, week 2]

joyfulfeather — Mon, 24 Mar 2014 23:45:11 GMT

Last weekend, I moved into my new townhouse. I adore it. It's two stories with three bedrooms, two and a half baths, an attached two-car garage, and a fenced backyard. Quite a step up from my two bed / two bath apartment! I'm thrilled to have made the move, both because I love the place and because being a first-time homeowner at the age of 30 is something I'm really proud of. It's a big change in my life, though, and to be honest, I'm pretty overwhelmed. There's just so much to take care of. Signing and keeping track of all the mortgage paperwork, canceling and transferring services between the apartment and the townhouse, packing and moving and unpacking and cleaning... and all of that is just startup. Now that I own a house, I'm going to have to handle things like yardwork and maintenance, home insurance and HOA fees, neighbors and hurricanes. Until now, I've only ever lived in my parents' house, dorms, and apartments. There has always been someone else responsible for the big things. Now it's all on me. I must be crazy to have thought I could handle this...

My two cats are about as overwhelmed as I am. Change is not something that happens often in their lives. They're pretty okay with that fact, because as far as they're concerned, change is bad. Change comes with car rides and loud strangers and new places that don't smell right. Change means their lives are being turned upsidedown and there's nothing they can do about it. At least I knew the move was coming. Their only clue was me putting stuff into boxes and generally panicking. They knew something was up, but they couldn't exactly have guessed what was about to happen.

Both of them have spent a lot of time hiding since the move. When they are out and about in the house, they're often either a) running around like fiends, or b) getting into trouble. Which isn't entirely new for them, but there's a bit of a frantic air to it right now.

Abby's thing is the stairs. The only way she seems to be able to go up them is at a sprint. She gathers herself at the bottom and then launches herself upwards, hitting only every other stair or so. For the most part this seems to be working for her. Sometimes, though, something goes wrong. Instead of bounding off of a stair, she'll somehow ram head-first into it. Her front end stops cold. Her back end keeps going, the momentum twisting her body and slamming it into the next step. It's hilarious to see, but it looks painful! It doesn't faze her, though; she shakes it off and tries again.

For Morgan's part, he discovered that he could get to the top of the kitchen cabinets. This was not a happy discovery for him. As soon as he got up there, he panicked. I'm pretty sure his yowls could be translated as, “I HAVE MADE A TERRIBLE DECISION OH GOD SOMEONE HELP HOW DO I GET DOWN??” I had to coax him back down the way he went up, or else he might have tried to leap straight down. Naturally, he went back up again a couple more times that night. He's adorable but not all that bright.

Despite those mishaps, both cats are adjusting. I know they'll be alright. That's reassuring to me, because if they can handle such a big upheaval, then I can, too. I may stumble, missing a bill or letting the lawn get out of control, but I'll shake it off and keep going. I may feel like I've taken on too much, but there are people who can help talk me down from my panic. I can do this. My cats and I will be just fine.

[LJ Idol] A bit about myself

joyfulfeather — Mon, 10 Mar 2014 03:58:25 GMT

The new season of LJ Idol is upon us, so how about an “about me” post to ring it in?

Me

Kristin, 30 years old. I have a Bachelor's degree in Aerospace Engineering from Georgia Tech and a great job as a contractor at NASA's Johnson Space Center. I just finished a Master's degree in Technology Project Management from the University of Houston. On Saturday, I'm going to be moving into the townhouse I just bought. Life is going pretty fabulously for me right now.

I'm the kind of person who likes to look on the bright side of things. I try to assume the best of people, and I look for the positives in situations. I don't always manage to stay optimistic and positive, because there really is a lot of suck in life and the world, but I'm a lot happier (and saner) when I don't dwell in cynicism and negativity.

People

Family: I've got Mom and Michael (my stepdad), Dad, and my older sister Kat (aka katscanx). M&M live a few hours down the road, while Dad and Kat live in Ohio. I love them all a ton – they're an amazing support system for me.

Friends: My BFF are spacefiend (M) and astrum_presul (Q). M and I have known each other for a full decade now. We were roommates for our last few years in college; then I moved to Houston and six months later, so did she. We've lived in the same apartment complex since. Oh, and we work together, too. It's possible we're a little co-dependent. Q came to Tech a few years after M and I did, but she quickly became the third leg of our triangle of dorkdom. She's still in Atlanta, but I haven't quite given up hope that she'll end up in Houston at some point!

I don't have a ton of other friends, but I may occasionally mention L, a coworker, and N, my childhood best friend. Otherwise, well... I'm not that good at being social or meeting people.

Cats: (Okay, cats aren't people, but let's just go with it.) I have two cats: Abby, a six-year-old tortoiseshell, and Morgan, a big (not fat) five-year-old black cat. Abby is smart and prickly, while Morgan is adorable, incredibly loving, and not very bright. I love them both to pieces.

Things you might see here during Idol

I stick with prose, either fiction or nonfiction. I'm more comfortable with fiction, but I've been trying to improve my nonfiction writing, so I'm sure I'll be posting a mix of the two. My nonfic tends to be introspective or focused on big things in my life. My fiction often falls somewhere into the fantasy genre. I may write fanfic, which I'll note as such.

The two characters that will almost certainly pop up in an Idol entry or two are Allison and Dani. Allison is a superhero who goes by the name Raven. Dani is her roommate/housekeeper/lover. These two sprang up for an Idol entry a couple of years ago, for the prompt “No man is a hero to his valet.” I immediately fell in love with them, and they haven't left me alone since.

Beyond that, I can hardly predict what might come out in my entries this season. That's part of the fun of Idol – the prompts can make you turn your brain upsidedown and sideways trying to figure out what to write, and the end result is often surprising. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always worth the effort. I can't wait to get started!

LJ Idol season 9: I'm in

joyfulfeather — Mon, 03 Mar 2014 15:38:19 GMT

It's the final season of therealljidol! Sign-ups have gone live. If you've ever wanted to play, now is your last chance!

I'm in. I know I'll never beat my finishing place of my first season - top 25, I think? I only got that by virtue of the way the polls were set up. We were organized into groups by # of votes, and I was always good enough not to get voted out but not good enough to move up to a more challenging group. Things are different every season, so I know I won't luck out like that again! My second season, I dropped out rather than being voted out, so I don't know how I'd have done in the end. I guess we'll see how I do this year!

Good luck to all my fellow Idolers!

See a parachute drop test!

joyfulfeather — Wed, 24 Jul 2013 12:34:06 GMT

I'd meant to post this yesterday! My project has a drop test this morning, and for the first time you can see it live! Coverage starts at 9:30 AM CST on NASA TV (most cable/dish providers have it, at least in the US). If you want to watch online, there are a couple options:

Google+ Hangout

NASA TV streaming

Don't try this at home (LJ Idol Exhibit B, week 9)

joyfulfeather — Mon, 22 Jul 2013 04:10:49 GMT

I swear, I found the dorkiest way possible to bust my knee. Most people do it playing sports, or by doing some kind of hilariously embarrassing thing, or else it happens when they’re older and their cartilage has worn down. Me? I did it while dancing. Not even dancing for people (like ballet) or with people (in a club or whatever). No, I did it while dancing like a fool around my apartment.

See, I’d heard that anything you did to get your heartrate up for a while was cardio exercise and therefore good for you. Awesome, I thought. I don’t have to go to the gym or do exercise DVDs. I can just act totally crazy in my apartment for half an hour and I’m good!

I decided to give it a try. I turned on some upbeat music and started “dancing” around my apartment. I don't actually know how to dance, so it was just me enthusiastically bouncing and flailing and kind of twirling around. It was fun! Maybe not as effective as going to the gym – okay, definitely not – but at least I was doing something, right?

There was an unexpected flaw in my brilliant new cardio plan. See, actual exercises generally have been designed by professionals to work you out without damaging your body. They keep you safe, even if they do make you feel like you're dying. My random flailing? Not safe. On one of my random kicks, my knee suddenly felt like it had been stabbed. Needless to say, that brought my “dancing” to an abrupt halt, but the damage was already done.

I didn't know what had happened yet, though. The pain really wasn't that bad – I sort of hobbled around for a couple days, but I didn’t notice any swelling and the pain receded. I basically put it out of my head, figuring it was no big deal. I'd just twisted it or something. It happens.

Eventually, though – I'm talking weeks, at least – I noticed that something wasn’t right. That knee hurt if I sat on the ground too long. It hurt when I turned corners. Actually, after a while, it kind of hurt most of the time. People said I should get it looked at, but I waved them off. The pain was annoying but not that bad. I got used to it. Yeah, it gave me trouble, but I’d always just grimace and say, “It’s just my darn knee.” As though that’s totally a normal problem for a 25-year-old who’s never played sports.

It took a while, but finally I was cajoled into having a doctor take a look at it. I felt ridiculous going into the office where they had pictures of all kinds of athletes thanking the doc for getting them back on their feet. Who was I to be in there at all? All I had was a knee that had been sore for a year. That was nothing.

The doctor disagreed. Apparently you're not supposed to hurt that long. Who knew? He moved my knee around and poked at it, making it hurt way more than it usually did. “Probably a torn meniscus,” he pronounced. “You’ll need an MRI to be sure.”

An MRI. He couldn't be serious. Me? For this?

Confusion aside, I got the MRI – which was weird – and went back to the doctor a week later. His first words to me were, “This is an interesting case!” Those are not words I wanted to hear from a doctor. I’d rather hear “This is totally routine,” or even better, “You’re fine!” But no, that was not to be. My knee was, in fact, interesting.

Anatomy time! The menisci in the knee are cartilages sandwiched between the femur and tibia, dissipating some of the forces on the bones. They're what people are talking about when they say “torn cartilage in the knee.” A meniscus is supposed to be crescent-shaped. Mine was round! It’s called a discoid meniscus, and it only happens in ~3% of the population. Yay me?

It made a lot of sense, the doctor said. A normal meniscus usually wouldn’t break without some severe, repeated strain on it. My silly flailing shouldn’t have been enough to do anything. A discoid meniscus, though, is like a trampoline. It’s weak in the middle. It was only a matter of time before mine broke, no matter what I did. Hearing that was kind of a relief. It meant that while I was still an idiot, that wasn't the only reason I'd gotten hurt. I'll take what I can get.

Ultimately, I had surgery and they fixed up my knee. Three years later, I still sometimes have problems with it – they cut out the excess cartilage, so there’s a lot less than the joint was used to! And of course I have scars, because that’s what my skin does. But it’s better.

Just in case, though, I stick with getting my cardio exercise at the gym now. It’s safer that way.

The Merits of Testing (LJ Idol Exhibit B, week 8, non-fiction)

joyfulfeather — Mon, 15 Jul 2013 05:19:11 GMT

I'm an engineer on a project that is designing and testing parachutes for NASA's next generation human spacecraft, called Orion. The short explanation, since so few people know about Orion that I want to weep, is that Orion is a bigger version of the Apollo capsules, which means it doesn't have wings like the shuttle did. Thus, instead of landing like an airplane, Orion will deploy parachutes and splash down into the ocean. Those parachutes are what I'm working on.

Our test program started in January 2007. We've done some tests on the ground, but most of what we do are drop tests. That's when we push heavy things out of airplanes at altitudes of up to 35,000 feet and see how our parachutes perform. We use videos and all kinds of sensors to look at what happened – did they open correctly, was there any damage, how much did they slow down the descent, etc. Each drop test we do gives us a wealth of information, information we couldn't get any other way.

In the last six years, we've learned things from our tests that have made us change the parachute designs. We made them stronger. We cut holes in the fabric to improve their behavior. We changed how they attach to the vehicle. We've also tested various failure modes, things the system is required to be able to handle. Things like what happens when one parachute doesn't deploy at all, or if it deploys and tears away. We've tested scenarios of parachutes opening too quickly, generating more force that could damage or destroy the chute. Every test teaches us something. And there's still so much more to learn.

To date, we've done 32 drop tests. We've wanted more. Planned for more. But the money isn't there. We plan for six in a year, they offer us money for two, and we wind up getting enough for four. That's not stinginess on the part of the program giving us the money; there simply isn't enough to go around. We're lucky to be a big enough project that we can push back like that. Even so, we take a hit. A reduction in how many tests we do each year means one of two things: either our test program takes longer to complete (generally not an option, since it's not just our own schedule we have to meet), or there are things we don't get to test, or else we test them only once.

That loss of tests hurts. You can't determine much from a single data point – what happens once isn't necessarily what will happen every time. We do what we can to figure it out. Data from each test we do feeds into our simulations. We can use a simulation to run thousands of scenarios thousands of times, with as many permutations as possible. It makes up for not being able to do thousands of actual drop tests. It's not perfect – we still need as much drop test data as we can get to base those simulations on. We do pretty well with the data from the drops that are performed, but we always want more.

I worry, sometimes, but I know that in the end, everything will be alright. We've got some of the most respected people in the parachute industry on our team. Our system is well-designed – probably even over-designed, since NASA likes to be incredibly cautious about such things. That's reassuring. I know I'll sweat bullets every time Orion reenters Earth's atmosphere, but I truly do believe the chutes will open and our astronauts will get home safely. We've done good work. We know how our system will perform. And that's thanks entirely to the testing we've done.

A Light Touch (LJ Idol Exhibit B, week 7; original fiction [Raven])

joyfulfeather — Fri, 05 Jul 2013 21:28:57 GMT

The wound in Allison’s side wasn’t much compared to some of what she’d had in the past, but it still hurt like a bitch. She watched Dani cut the fabric of her uniform shirt away from the wound, watched her clean it – that wasn’t pleasant, but watching was better than just feeling it. Really, she told herself, it wasn’t much. Just a scratch. It didn’t hurt that badly...

Yeah, she didn’t believe it any more than Dani had when Allison had tried that on her.

Dani set aside the dampened cloths, now pink with blood. “It needs stitches,” she said, her voice calm and melodious.

“It’s not that bad,” Allison tried again.

All she got was a mild reproving look in return. “Let’s take off the shirt.” Dani’s hands were already at the hem, sliding upwards.

Allison obligingly sat up straighter, gritting her teeth at the movement. “I get it,” she said. “You just want to get me naked.” She ducked her head to let Dani pull the shirt up, over, and off.

“It’s a perk,” Dani agreed with her small, sly smile. “But you can leave the bra on.” She hooked a finger briefly under the black sports bra Allison wore beneath her uniform.

“Maybe later, then.” Allison grinned at her.

Dani arched an eyebrow. “I don’t much care for being bled on in bed.” Her hands left Allison’s body and moved to the tray where she’d set her medical kit. Allison watched while she prepared the already-sterilized needle and surgical thread. There was no hesitation in her movements, no shaking fingers. She’d been taking care of Allison for months now; she knew what she was doing.

Except... Allison frowned. It had been months, sure, but it wasn’t like Allison had to get stitched up all the time. Being a hero (or vigilante, depending who you asked) came with its share of injuries – bruises, shallow cuts, dislocated shoulders, various other wounds that needed bandaging and care – but stitches weren’t all that common. She could only think of one other time Dani had stitched her up, and she’d been kind of delirious at the time. She hadn’t thought about it then. Now, though...

The thought was broken by Dani’s calm voice. “This will hurt.” The needle moved to the wound and slid into Allison’s flesh.

Allison clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe. She’d had worse, she reminded herself. Far worse. To distract herself, she asked, “How did you learn how to do this?”

Dani didn’t glance up. “It’s not much different from sewing.” There was a slight hesitation in the words. Allison waited. A moment later, Dani sighed. “I’ve been taking classes.”

“Oh.” Allison kept her gaze fixed on Dani’s face, rather than the slow, sure movements of her hands. Dani’s expression was serene, which could have hid any sort of emotion; Dani was like that. “When? In the evenings?” Allison tried to think of when Dani had been out of the house longer than usual, beyond the normal classes at Cedarview Community College and assorted errands, and came up blank. Not that she necessarily kept tabs on her roommate, but even so...

Dani hesitated again. “Summer semester. I switched out some of my design courses.” Her fingers rested briefly on Allison’s stomach. “I’m thinking of changing my major.”

Oh. Allison’s breath caught behind her teeth, and not because of her wound. “Why?” she asked, already knowing the reason.

Dani finally glanced up. Her expression had softened into something warmer, more intimate. Her gaze touched Allison’s face like a caress.

Allison closed her eyes.

Dani resumed stitching. Neither of them spoke.

Dani cut the thread and set the needle aside. She bandaged the closed wound without a word. “We’ll have to keep it clean,” she said when she was done. There was more, but the rest of her instructions didn’t register with Allison. She knew that Dani would make sure it was taken care of, anyway. That was what she did.

She took care of everything.

Allison caught Dani’s hands before she could move away. Dani finally raised her chin and met Allison’s eyes. Quietly, Allison said, “I’m sorry.”

“Allison –”

“This isn’t what you wanted. I – I have no right to turn you into my personal nurse. You should do what you want to do.”

Dani’s fingers tightened. “I am doing what I want.” The firm tone took Allison by surprise. “I like taking care of you,” Dani said more softly. “I like doing this.” She lightly touched the bandage on Allison’s side. “I’m good at it, too. You haven’t made me do anything, Allison. I’m here of my own free will, and I help you of my own free will. And I plan to keep doing so for a very long time.”

...oh. Allison couldn’t find the words to reply. She raised a hand that trembled slightly and cupped Dani’s face. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Her voice was rough. There was so much more to say, but the words still eluded her. It didn’t matter. Dani raised her hand to cover Allison’s, pressing her cheek into Allison’s palm.

“Yes, I am,” Dani said, that sly smile curving her lips. She stood up, fingers lingering on Allison’s. “I’ll go make you some soup. Get changed – no uniform or weapons at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Allison grinned and leaned back into the pillows of the cot, feeling warm and knowing how lucky she was. “I’ll be up soon.”

Playing Games with Grandma (LJ Idol Exhibit B, week 6, non-fiction)

joyfulfeather — Mon, 24 Jun 2013 03:06:07 GMT

“Split the deck,” Grandma instructed me, “and hold half in each hand.”

The cards were a little big for my six-year-old hands, but I managed.

“Now, bring the ends together, bending the cards a little. Then slowly let the cards out from under your thumbs, so they fall into each other.” I watched closely as she made the cards fall, making a quick thwip-thwip-thwip-thwip sound as they overlapped. She pushed the two halves together, and suddenly there was a nice, neat, shuffled deck in her hands. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

I nodded eagerly and turned my attention to my own deck. I bent both halves, which was harder than it looked. I brought the ends together and let go –

And cards went everywhere.

Grandma chuckled. “Oh dear. Well, don't worry. It gets easier with practice. Come on, gather them up and try again.”

By the time we left the table that afternoon, I'd managed to shuffle the cards in a “bridge” twice.

She taught me Gin Rummy maybe a couple years later. She always beat me, of course, but I didn't mind. It was just fun to play with her. Besides, I was used to her winning. She trounced everyone in all kinds of games. Every day at lunch, she and Granddad would play Upwords, and I'm pretty sure she won two games out of three. When a group of us gathered around the table to play Rummikub, she'd win at least half the time. “She's a shark,” Granddad would growl, a gleam in his eye and a fond smile on his lips.

For 20-odd years, that's how it went. We all played and she regularly beat us all quite handily. She's slowed down in the last five or ten years, age finally taking its toll. She's 93 now, and I haven't seen her play cards in a while. Her hands are twisted with arthritis and her eyesight is mostly gone, so it's hard for her. She still has her other games, though. Granddad is gone, but every day at lunch, Mom or Aunt Rhonda plays Upwords with her. She's not as sharp as she used to be, but she still wins plenty.

Sometimes when I visit, especially at Christmas when my sister and cousins are in town, we'll break out the Rummikub set. I got her a large-print version a few years ago, which thrilled her to no end. The colors are hard for her to tell apart, but we help her out, and she still has a ball with it. We all do.

We played the last time I visited. “Are those 9s?” Grandma asked, peering at the table. At Mom's affirmative, Grandma smiled. “Oh, good. I can put my red 9 there, and my black 10 goes on that run. I'm out!”

The rest of us groaned good-naturedly. I still had two tiles left, a blue 12 and a yellow 13. “Twenty-five,” I announced. Mom had 5 and Aunt Rhonda had 10, giving Grandma a total of 40 points.

“Oh, goodie! It's so rare for me to win a hand anymore,” she laughed.

“Mom, that's the second time you've gone out in this game,” my mother pointed out. She checked the score sheet, which held scores from a couple dozen past games. “And you've gone out... five times in the last three games we played.”

“Oh, well, I suppose.” Grandma shrugged, the smile still lurking in her face.

Maybe she's not as much of a shark as she used to be, but she's still sharp enough to keep us on our toes. Never underestimate a 93-year-old who's kept her mind active all these years. Even half-blind, she can spot patterns, and her vocabulary is still bigger than yours.

I won't say that playing games like these are the key to living a long, happy life – but from what I've seen, I have no doubt that it helps.

My weird relationship with food (LJ Idol: Exhibit B, week 5, non-fiction)

joyfulfeather — Sun, 16 Jun 2013 22:29:18 GMT

Food neophobia: the fear of trying new foods.

When I was five, I was given a simple task: eat the three green beans that were on my plate. Just three. I even had a crescent roll to use as a kind of barrier between my mouth and the green beans. To my credit, I did try. Stomach churning and heart pounding, I shoved a green bean into the roll and took a bite. Oh God, it was horrible. The taste and the smell and the mere thought of it inside me – I swear I could feel it making its way to my stomach. I gagged. I wanted to throw up. And there were still two green beans left.

I didn't eat them. I couldn't. I took my eventual spanking with relief, because it meant I didn't have to face those beans anymore.

I wish I could say it was only the green beans, or even only vegetables, that prompted that kind of response from me. Nope. I was the kid who wouldn't eat pizza or hamburgers. The only beef hotdogs I'd eat were the ones from 7-Eleven. Otherwise, no meat passed my lips that wasn't chicken or bacon.(Bacon, mind you, not ham or pork.) No potatoes for me that weren't french fries or potato chips. The list goes on and on.

I know what you're thinking: a lot of kids are picky eaters. Most of them grow out of it. Unfortunately, some of us don't. I'm 29 years old, and I react as strongly to most new foods as I did when I was five. The only difference is that now I can say no and walk away without being spanked. There are perks to being an adult.

It's hard to describe how I feel when faced with a new food. Fear. Strong anxiety. Nausea. An intense urge to flee from the table. It's like someone put a bowl of live insects in front of me and said, “Dig in,” except instead of something you'd find on Fear Factor, it's a mushroom. Beans. Unidentified meat. Potatoes. I look at it and it's like my brain doesn't register that it's food. Consciously, I know it is. People eat this stuff everyday. They love it. But my brain doesn't get it. It goes on red alert. DANGER DANGER WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THAT'S NOT FOOD DON'T YOU DARE EAT THAT IT WILL MAKE YOU SICK AND THAT WILL SUCK DON'T DO IT.

That's most of what my fear is: that eating the thing, whatever it is, will make me sick. If I don't like it, I will gag and barely be able to swallow. My stomach will get upset. For all I know, I'll have a bad reaction and throw up or break into hives or something. As far as I'm concerned, none of that is worth it! The risk far outweighs the reward. Especially if I'm around other people. Even leaving out the physical discomfort, gagging on a pea or bite of egg is really embarrassing. No way am I letting that happen in public.

My solution is to just avoid things I won't eat. I check restaurant menus online to make sure there's something I can order. I stick with dishes I can readily identify at parties and potlucks – which sometimes means munching on chips and having dinner when I get home, but I'm used to that by now. Family is nice; they grill chicken in addition to the hamburgers everyone else is eating, and make rice for the turkey dinners when most people will have mashed potatoes. The imposition sucks, but they assure me that everyone's fine with it. It doesn't matter; it's still embarrassing and I still feel like a freak – but I'd rather that than deal with something I've never eaten.

I do eat a wider range now than I did as a child, at least. I even get a little adventurous sometimes. I tried Ethiopian food once (it was bland and mushy, but I did try it). I've tried Indian food, on the theory that chicken, rice, and sauce were pretty safe (I didn't care for the spices, but otherwise I was fine). I eat Thai and Vietnamese, largely because they use rice noodles and that makes me happy. I love calamari, which baffles everyone. And recently, I've had moments of wanting and being able to try things. In the last couple of years, I've learned the wonders of bell peppers and that I don't like scrambled eggs or shrimp. That's something, right? Progress. Baby steps.

I frequently get told, “You don't know what you're missing.” Yeah, I do. I know there's a lot I'd probably enjoy if I gave it a shot. I just... can't. And that sucks.

Give 'em Hell, Tech! (LJ Idol week 4)

joyfulfeather — Mon, 10 Jun 2013 21:18:25 GMT

August 16, 2001

Well, I'm in Atlanta. Band camp started on Monday, at least for us freshman – or RATs, as we're called in the band. It stands for “Recruit At Tech,” a holdover from when Georgia Tech was a military school or something. The vets (anyone who isn't a RAT) came in on Tuesday. All of the RATs are supposed to “adopt” a vet so you have someone to help you learn the ropes and drive you places. I finally adopted someone today: Colleen, a flute player a couple years ahead of me. We hadn't talked much before I adopted her, but I kinda had to have a vet by tonight. Nice to have adopted another flute player, at least.

Tonight... tonight was an experience. They'd told us all week that we'd be doing something called “dwarfing.” No one would tell us (meaning us RATs) what it was, just that “it's delicious and different; wear comfortable shoes.” Now that it's over, I get it, but I can't explain it here. You know, secret tradition thing. Pretty sure what happened before dwarfing is fair game, though. The festivities started at 11:30 PM, when the majority of the band gathered outside the Couch building. And they sang. They sang the absolute bawdiest songs I have ever heard. I swear, I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my life. If this is what this band is really like... I am never going to fit in.

August 26, 2001

I'm in New York City! We're up here for the Kickoff Classic – my first game with the GT Band! It was completely awesome. Two reasons: 1) We won, and 2) Dad showed up to the game, totally unexpectedly. He drove from Ohio to see me march! That was really cool. I don't think he'd ever seen me march before, come to think of it. It really meant a lot to me to see him there.

Yesterday, Colleen and I went exploring a bit. I'm not really a fan of cities, but New York... wow. We started off by taking the subway to the World Trade Center station. Apparently you can go up to the top of the building, or at least to some observation level, but the line was pretty long and it cost $20 or something ridiculous. Given that I didn't really have any money (I lost my debit card a few days ago, ugh), Colleen and I decided to pass. We did go shopping, though, and then had dinner in China Town. It was really great all over. No idea if I'll ever have this kind of opportunity again!

September 6, 2003

Holy. Crap.

Tonight was my first game back since the end of my RAT year. I almost didn't join the band at all this semester. I never really felt comfortable last time, even though I did make some good friends. Plus, I hadn't touched my flute since the 2001 season ended, since I was cooping down in Houston last year and I have no interest in basketball band. But holy crap, I am so glad I decided to join up again after all.

Today we played Auburn. They came into the season ranked #3, and they were predicted to be National Championship contenders. Everyone thought it would be a slaughter. I mean, we haven't been ranked since 2001. We didn't stand a chance, right?

Yeah, right. WE WON! 17-3! Holy crap, it was so awesome. There were chants of OVERRATED and lots of screaming and cheering. After the game, the crowd swarmed the field and brought down the goal posts! People actually climbed them to get them to come down. I’m in awe. That's a sight I'm never going to forget. SO AWESOME.

We didn't get to join the mob, of course. Nope. Through it all, the band played on.

GO JACKETS!!

November 17, 2003

I have a roommate for spring! Megan came to band today and told me she'd gotten a job offer from the same company I coop with. My old roommate bailed on me after this summer, so I basically pounced on Megan. We're friends – not close, but she's stood next to me in attendance block all semester, so we've chatted and hung out during practices. Next semester should be fun. I wasn't looking forward to the idea of having a random roommate!

That's just one more reason to look forward to next year. This year has sucked. Band has been really good, but other than that? I'm really glad it’s almost over. I'm not sure I could survive much more. Literally.

January 23, 2005

Men's basketball games: SO MUCH FUN. Megan got me into watching last year – GT got all the way to the NCAA championship game, so it was easy to get hooked! This spring I'm at school, so we're doing pep band. It's a blast! The atmosphere is amazing. Screaming and clapping and playing fast, loud songs... good times. I had no idea how much fun it would be!

In other news, have I mentioned that I have a boyfriend now? We'll call him D. He's in band, of course, and a friend of Megan's. So far it seems to be working out! He’s a good guy, if a little pushy about some things. I can live with that. It's just nice to finally be dating someone!

August 21, 2005

I’m back at Tech for another Fall semester. Yay football season! Basketball band was fun and all, but I've missed marching band. Band camp just ended, so I’m kind of exhausted – we marched a lot this week. Today we didn't have rehearsal, thankfully, but we played at Freshman Convocation. It's hilarious how many traditions they got wrong! The band booed when they called RATs “Recently Acquired Tech Students.” I mean, really. If you're going to teach traditions, teach them right!

All in all, this has been a fantastic week – the best band camp I've had here. It's amazing what a lower stress level and some awesome friends can do! Plus, I'm just a lot more comfortable here than I used to be. I'm pushing “old” status now, since I'm in my fourth year. Technically a senior, but I've still got a long way to go.

September 3, 2005

Today: GT's second game against Auburn this century, the second time they were highly ranked going into the game, and the second time we beat them! This time on their own turf! What a great way to start the season. We got into defensive formation when we left the stadium, just in case there were Auburn fans waiting for us (it happens). Turned out there were fans out there – Tech fans! I'm sure they were waiting for the football team, but they cheered a lot for us, too.

The drive to and from Auburn was long, but it was so worth it. Now I'm going to go pass out for a few hours. We're going to Dragon*Con tomorrow! It's the first time I've been, and I'm super excited. Maybe we'll see astrum_presul while we're there!

January 25, 2006

Doing basketball pep band without Megan here kinda sucks. astrum_presul comes to some of the games, but she's not in the band, so it's harder to chat with her during the game. Oh well. I'm still being social, and it's still fun – we play some great stuff that we never play during football! That part I do love. It's just kind of a chore sometimes.

There's some additional awkwardness, too. D's in pep band. It's been most of a year since I broke up with him, and from that distance, I have the clarity to see how bad parts of our relationship were. Not that he's a bad guy, it's just... he was pushy and didn't really respect my boundaries. At least I don't have to deal with him much in band. It’ll be fine, it’s just weird.

August 17, 2006

This is my last week of band camp ever. There are a lot of “lasts” this year, since I'm finally graduating in December. Five and a half years isn't terrible here, especially since I did five coop terms. I'm starting my fourth consecutive school semester, though, and that's kind of rough. I love Tech, but I'm ready to get out!

Being a sixth year, I'm officially considered old in band terms. What a difference those years make! I'm way better off, emotionally, than any other time I've done this. And... I got adopted! My RAT is a tuba player, an Aerospace major who wanted an Aerospace vet. He asked and I happily said yes. I even did the obligatory “HEY BAND” call and did my happy dance. I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've called “hey band” in all my semesters here. I'm a quiet person, okay? I have to say, though, it felt pretty good.

Tomorrow I get to take my RAT dwarfing. Mwahahaha.

November 18, 2006

This afternoon was my last home football game. I really wish I'd gotten Mom and Michael to come up for it. They're going to go to the ACC Championship game, instead, which is great. But today we had senior introductions during pregame – all of the graduating seniors from the band lined up and waved as our names were called. It sucked not having my family in the stands for that. And then, of course, the video they played celebrating the seniors of the football team used “Move Along” by The All-American Rejects. I nearly lost it right there on the field. That song hits me hard anyway, much less at a time like this.

Anyway. Next week is the Georgia game. In a year of lasts, this'll be a first: I've never been to uga before. Can't say I'm looking forward to it, either. They call the rivalry “clean, old-fashioned hate” for a reason. I guess it's something I have to experience once before I leave.

January 1, 2007

Well, that's it. My last football game as a member of the Georgia Tech Marching Band. I'm not even a student anymore, having graduated two weeks ago. It's... weird. It's been a hell of a ride, that’s for sure. I'm glad Megan was here today, and that astrum_presul came down for the game. That makes it easier to take! Of course, this is the last time I'm going to see them for ages, too. I'll be lucky if I get through the day without crying a bucket of tears.

In two weeks, the next chapter of my life begins. Maybe I'll see if there's a community band near me in Houston...