Sia's Journal

On Guild Wars 2.

2012-09-18T22:53:22Z

Where have I been? On Tumblr, a lot, and mostly on THIS game.

* It is not at ALL like Guild Wars 1 in terms of playstyle. For one thing, you can jump! Ahaha ha... ha... Anyway, it plays more like WoW, I guess? Except a lot more active. There will be dodge-rolling, running, et cetera. For each weapon, you have a set of skills, which you can swap between once you get that ability. You also get to choose some more skills from a big list, whichever you want.

* Arena.net wants you to like other players. They've done everything they can to ensure that you can't hurt other people and can help them. You don't even get the names of people on other servers when you're in PVP.
---You literally can't fight over loot. Resource nodes are personal to you, so both you and somebody else can use them. Loot is randomized and there is no mob tagging system. I have gotten loot from a mob I never touched that was right next to the mob I actually killed. It's good to jump in and help somebody with a random mob if you're passing by, because you may just get something for it anyway!
--- Anybody can rez anybody - and they usually will.

* While not perfect, Guild Wars 2 has more female-positive, gay-positive content than most MMOs. Sadly, despite a LOT of people asking them to change it, human/norn/sylvari females do start with mini-skirt cloth armor. Just... brace yourself for that. (I will personally create and send you a better set if you ask for one.) They also failed to bring over a lot of the fantastic multi-ethnic character creation options that GW1 had. However!
--- Sylvari are canon pansexuals, and you do see multiple same-sex pairings. I think there's a drinking game every time someone makes a phobic forum post about it.
--- Charr and asura armor is unisex.
--- Charr females are abso-fucking-lutely incredible, accept no substitutes. They're what got me into the game, honestly. Just look at how goddamn fierce she is.
--- Arena.net will actually respond to complaints about inappropriate chat content, names, et cetera.

* Blayd Gutwrencher is a legitimate name. No really, he's an NPC. I like to think that his warband is the Gut warband. ("We were late to the registry, shut up.")

MoThErFuCkIn MiRacLEs

2011-09-04T16:15:32Z

Some of y'all may know that summer here down South has been especially brutal. We're talking three months STRAIGHT of temperatures around 110F/43C. We can tell by now when it's only 98F/36.6C, and we laugh semi-hysterically about it. It is so hot, and so dry, that even Oklahoma native plants are flat-out dying. (Oklahoma plants don't do that.)

Today, it's 70F/21C, lightly overcast. It happened overnight, surprisingly gently. Usually our cold fronts are somewhat rambunctious, and bring tornadoes and severe thunderstorms.

I am literally fighting back tears, y'all. This weather is supposed to stay around an entire week.

I kind of want to cry, in the best way possible.

2011-06-25T08:43:01Z

So, some of y'all may know that a few months back, I acquired the most expensive cat in the world, priced at four hundred dollars. ...Well, more precisely, I spent four hours picking him up from the side of the road and taking him to the vet to save his little kitty life to the tune of four hundred dollars.

Despite what I had hoped, since he was so calm with people while in astonishing amounts of pain, he was not a stray or otherwise domesticated. No, Macavity is pretty feral. We spent a month or two not actually seeing him. (This was when he acquired his name.)

Well. Through play therapy and some creative waking hours on my part, Macavity has, as of tonight, actually let me pet him. Extensively, might I add. In fact, he asked to be petted. Multiple times. Not only doing Elevator Butt, but that thing where they semi-collapse on top of your hand so that they pin you right where they want you. As if he's been doing it every day of his life since he was a kitten.

I am so freaking happy right now. Long days are still ahead, but I think we're gonna make it. I'm actually tearing up right now, watching him nap a few feet away with his little feather toy safely dead under his paw.

PS: In appearance, he is much like the baa, a mackerel tabby, except with much less white - only a little dab under his chin. He has the most adorable little black paws and little spotted belly!

[caffish] Request for questions: Alien worldbuilding!

2011-03-10T02:45:52Z

I know I have several excellent worldbuilding people on my friendslist, not just the one I've already been consulting, so I thought I might should throw open the gates for questions about a race of aliens I've (slowly!) been constructing.

I thought it was very sad that almost all of the aliens I could think of were terrestrial. I also thought, "I love catfish with a deep and possibly unholy love." I combined these two ideas into aquatic spacefaring catfish aliens!

They're a communal species, first off, with collective decision-making in a very literal fashion. They school together, which serves the purpose of discussing issues in an almost instinctive form, and they don't stop until they have a decision. (They do select delegates when necessary, more because of space limitations than anything else. Delegates are often switched out with individuals deemed to have more pertinent information.) Individuals can manage just fine by themselves, but they can't/won't make decisions that affect the shoal without consulting with them. Their spaceships do not have captains, but they do have a Central Shoal containing members of all the other 'departments.'

They don't have what could really be called a 'verbal' language. They communicate in several different ways, primarily touch, gesture, taste/smell, vibration, and electroreception.

Yes, REALLY.

One personal rule I have is that I can't make up words for them. I have to use Real Words, since there IS no way to pronounce their language. Which is why their species doesn't have a name yet! Their own names tend to be adverbs or adjectives relating to the senses, especially touch and scent/taste.

How would they communicate over distances if they can't "talk on the phone"? The answer mildly exploits quantum mechanics: they found/create a sort of a mud mixture of metallic particles, regular dirt, and quantum. The mud instantaneously 'knows' what's happening to parts of it that are separated from the main part. So you immerse yourself in the mud, and can communicate through gesture and electrocommunication. (Somewhere, a physicist is crying.)

Likewise, how about writing? Writing is much easier. It... involves a lump of clay, pretty much. Impressions are made into the clay with the feelers, and then read by tracing over the marks. ...that's the most basic version, anyway. It gets more complicated with stuff like plaster and thicker quantum mud mixtures, but that's the gist.

I spent a LONG TIME trying to figure out how they could achieve spaceflight, since they don't actually, you know, have fire. The answer is geothermal energy and electricity! Their spaceships are generally ugly hollowed-out chunks of rock filled with water, plants, and everything else they need. Kind of like an Ecosphere, except they actually work, unlike Ecospheres. The very first spaceships were powered by electric whales. :D It took trade with Dessicated Things to acquire other sources of power, but the whale-powered ships are still around. The vast majority of each ship is devoted to whale living space. The catfish actually live in the shell of the very thick-walled ship. (They like closed-in, messy spaces.) The ship itself often resembles an asteroid, probably because they are.

I felt like I had to establish all of these 'hard sci-fi' details before I could really get into much culture, which is where I would like to focus next. Unlike humans, they're NOT apex predators - those electric whales are predatory. I know they love detritus and junk, because catfish are scavengers and opportunists; they're also kind of agoraphobic. I'm pretty sure they spawn communally, though I haven't entirely put the thought of brood parasitism from my mind. (I love my cuckoo catfish don't judge meeeee.)

I must reiterate here just how sensitive to environmental conditions and water quality they are. They don't pollute much because they CAN'T; they'll kill themselves. They're also AMAZING terraformers; this is actually their 'profession' in their universe.

I think that they revere plants above just about anything else. I saw a book title once, called "The Sweet Breathing of Plants," and I'm probably going to use it as an expression. They KNOW that plants purify and oxygenate water, after all. I know there must be more to it than that, though, because they're not apex predators, and all of that fear has to go SOMEWHERE.

So there you have it! Suggestions, comments, or questions are all much loved, especially ones that make me think hard about stuff.

Signal Boost: Dear GOP - You are killing people!

2011-02-09T01:37:55Z

Originally posted by acelightning at Signal Boost: Dear GOP - You are killing people!

Passed along from many people - original post by suricattus.
This is not MY personal story... that will come later.

There is a move afoot in the nation -driven by the GOP - to repeal the new health care laws, to protect corporate interests, to defend against fear-mongering (and stupid) cries of "socialism!", and to ensure that people are forced to choose between keeping a roof over their heads or getting necessary health care.

This movement is killing people.

Think I'm overstating the fact?

Ask the friends and family of writer/reviewer Melissa Mia Hall, who died of a heart attack last week because she was so terrified of medical bills, she didn't go see a doctor who could have saved her life.

One person. Not the only one. That could have been me. Yeah, I have access to insurance -- I live in New York City, which is freelancer-friendly, and have access to freelancer advocacy groups. Through them, I can pay over $400/month ($5,760/year) as a single, healthy woman, so that if I go to the hospital I'm not driven to bankruptcy. But a doctor's appointment - a routine physical - can still cost me several hundred dollars each visit. So unless something's terribly wrong? I won't go.

Someone who lives in a state where there is no Freelancer's Guild or MediaBistro to put together an insurance plan for freelancers? Someone who has been laid off or downsized, and can barely make ends meet? SoL.

That could be you. That could be your best friend. That could be someone you've never met. That could be any of us - because there are people out there who think that taking care their neighbor is someone else's problem.

No. It's our responsibility. All of us, together. As a nation.

EtA: Nobody is trying to put insurance companies out of business. They will always be able to offer a better plan for a premium. We simply want to ensure that every citizen - from infant to senior citizen - doesn't have to choose between medical care, and keeping a roof over their heads, or having enough to eat.

We're trying to get this to go viral. Pass it along:

This entry was originally posted at http://acelightning.dreamwidth.org/136573.html.

JORDAN'S ADDITION:
My mother literally cannot afford to retire, ever, because she can't afford her medical bills. Want to know what her pills cost her WITH insurance? Yeah, that would be around $700 a month. (Cost-of-living note: this is almost twice as much as my rent in a nice two-bedroom apartment.) My brother's were worse, and that doesn't even get into the cost of medical procedures.

Vocal patterns/Regionalisms meme

2011-01-27T01:23:52Z

VOCAL PATTERNS/REGIONALISMS MEME

Your name and/or username
Where you're from
The following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting Image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught, Orange, Coffee, direction, naturally, aluminum and herbs

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

Having forgotten the "now, with more Southern!" version:

Shit, asked Unni to write me a drabble! CHRISTMAS MEME.

2010-12-16T00:33:55Z

Every person who wants to gets to request a drabble (real drabble: 100 words exactly) from you. In return, they have to post this in their journal and write a drabble for you. (Actually, this is not required by yours truly. Request ahead.) Post all fandoms you're willing to write for. Your friends can pick a relationship, a story arc, a missing scene, or pretty much anything they want, unless the author has previously mentioned that they will not write it. They comment with what they want, and with a prompt, and you write drabbles and post it in your LiveJournal.

(Side note: you are free to pick the relationship, but I reserve the right to write my own take on it.)

Note: I have never, can never, and will never write an exact drabble in my life. I do not think I'm gonna start now.

Fandoms:
In Nomine, World of Warcraft, anything y'all know I write though I'm probably rusty as hell...

Book Review: Who Fears Death, by Nnedi Okorafor

2010-12-04T05:19:10Z

I don't think I've ever reviewed books on here, but this one is something special. Here, let me put the name down again.

Who Fears Death, by Nnedi Okorafor.

Stop right now. Don't go reading other reviews before you read mine. You'll think "this cannot be fun to read; I won't enjoy it at all - it's one of those things you're supposed to read Because It Will Be Good For You." That is not the case. I want to tell you first and foremost that this is a very readable book. I couldn't put it down - not because I was horrified, but because I needed to see what happened next. Onyesonwu is an incredible character, and so are her friends and the people she encounters along the way. The worldbuilding is tantalizing, though her young adult books are the ones that really elaborate on it. (I suspect that Who Fears Death is set considerably earlier than her YA books.)

Okorafor deals with subject matter that would be crushing in other hands, and she does it - well, she does it the way that I think people really do deal with such terrible things, namely: they keep going, because they're still alive. The fact that Onyesonwu undergoes female genital mutilation is not the point of the story;* the weaponized rape of Onyesonwu's mother and other Okeke women as part of a genocidal campaign is not the point of the story, though it is vital to it. It is a bildungsroman set in post-apocalyptic Africa. And it's a bildungsroman the likes of which you've never seen.

* Apparently Okorafor has been criticized for presenting FGM too sympathetically, which is ridiculous. Her views on it are perfectly clear; what she does is also show how real people who love their family and love their community could think such a horrible thing was a good idea. And that's important too, because it's important to understand those people in order to change their minds.

HERE are the first two chapters.

"IT DIDN'T SAY TO DO THAT IN MY RECIPE."

2010-11-26T03:08:17Z

Subtitle: Adventures in Making Pecan Pie from Scratch

COMING SOON TO A THANKSGIVING TABLE NEAR YOU!

You know what's not very much fun?

2010-11-16T04:36:09Z

Kidney stones. Kidney stones aren't very much fun.

I think you all know where this is going.

2010-10-25T10:56:47Z

Her name is Maggie. Mom calls her Mags.

She is adorable. We're pretty sure she's part Lab: happily, this means she drools somewhat less than a full-blooded Newfie. Mom, who adores big fluffy dogs, will be taking care of her until I can have her, and threatens that she may not give her back. I am most pleased, because this means Mom also will have an exercise regimen whether she wants one or not.

Also, she is already the best dog we've ever had. She loves her crate, and likes to go in there just to chill out; it's her own little room. She's perfectly happy to lay down by Mom's feet on her little pillow and just chill for the evening. (Or morning: she's doing it right now.) She doesn't bark much, though the sound of the aforementioned barks are excellent and make me happy. (I've really missed Lily's barks, defending us from coyotes, other dogs, deer, raccoons, mice, air molecules...) She loves to be brushed, and has the softest, fluffiest coat you can imagine. For now, she's sort of melancholy (understandably), but that just makes her 'happy face' that much better when we can bring it out!

Which is not to say she is without her problems, unfortunately. I swear up and down she's got allergies, because she's itchy, but I haven't found any fleas, and her eyes are all red and bloodshot. There's also something wrong with her hips; my money is on hip displaysia or being exercised too hard when she was littler. (That apparently does bad things to Newf bones, because they're growing so fast.) Anyway, we're going to take her to the vet at the earliest opportunity, which unfortunately is likely to be Saturday since Mom can't get her in the car by herself and she might not want to go.

I know, I know, "pics or GTFO!" Pics this weekend; the camera on my computer is being sad, and my phone is dead.

Update: Pictures of cat and dog

2010-10-02T14:31:04Z

So, ABOUT that dog...

So this is Houla! This also counts as the "oh my god a cat is in the room with me and it's moving oh my god" face. At this point I normally say "eyes up here!" and bribe him with a treat to look at me. *lol* Fortunately, pieces of kibble count as treats to him, because I don't actually have anything else.

*

The cat in question, Lovey the Psycho Cat. I only wish I could upload an mp3 for the full Lovey experience, because it really LOSES something when you can't hear his constant talking. Anyway! He has settled in and made this his home very nicely, except he has NOT actually learned that feet and hands are not Real Prey Items (tm) and thus leaves a few scratches and scars from time to time. (And a few high-pitched shrieks when he goes for bare feet.)

Does anybody want a dog? V. cute.

2010-10-02T02:49:37Z

...Well, I picked up a dog by the side of the road today!

He's very cute. Pretty sure he isn't anybody's, because I dragged him to some of the nearby houses and they were all "yeah he's been hanging around a few days," and he's skinny as a rail.

He and Lovey do not really get along, though. Lovey could get used to him, but he focuses in on Lovey like - bam. And growls. And fixates. If he were a greyhound, I would definitely put him in the 'not cat safe' category. *lol* And, since he looks basically like a hound dog / hunting dog, I'm going to bet he's too high energy for me. I think he might need a yard. He is, however, super sweet, very playful, and let me do all sorts of unhappy things to him like pick him up, shove him in a car, peel him off of me when he tried to climb into my lap while getting ready to drive, and even mess with his food, which is seriously a sign of a good dog.

...So we'll see how this goes.

I'm calling him Catahoula or just Houla for now. Don't ask. He doesn't look anything like a Catahoula dog. (But it's such a pretty word!)

Also, did I mention that tomorrow is the conclusion of Festival? Which means I AM working, probably from 11 am to 6-8pm? I hope Michelle is OK with the idea of me running back to the apartment to release a hound for potty every so often...

I think I need pictures of kittens.

2010-08-24T04:58:08Z

It's amazing, the things you don't think you pick up. At the time I didn't think too much about Waco or the OKC bombing. It just wasn't real. It was horrible, but it didn't hit home.

Now, years later, someone being an ignorant jackass on the internet about it can bring me almost to a fever-pitch.

Strange.

I have re-joined the ranks of the catted.

2010-08-09T02:54:34Z

This had been building for some time, mind. I kept... collecting odd bits of cat stuff (like litter, a litter box, canned food) for a while, thinking "...I'd really like to take Lovey with me; he's so thin and ragged-looking... but it's against my lease..."

Long story short, I came home, saw the healing ragged patch where somebody tore him up good, and felt his ribs (each one) aaaaaaaaand he came home with me. Despite crying the entire way home, he seems delighted now, purring up a storm, kneading the carpet, and making happy Halloween cat noises at me. (Actually, he came and said hi just now, and told me I was his, and now he's off again.)

I suppose I'll have to get an appointment for him at the vet tomorrow for a checkup! Maybe they can clean his teeth. He has sad teeth. :(

...And now, to see if I can go to sleep with an ecstatic talky cat talking at me all night! Maybe I should buy earplugs -- oh - no, alarm.

ETA, 5:30 AM: I will never need an alarm clock again. "Mwroooooooor? Mwraaaaoooor. Mrrrrow, mrrrrrrrrrow, mrrrw, mrrrow! Mroooowr!"

Greyhounding!

2010-05-17T02:06:53Z

So, this is how I've been spending my Saturdays. I'm the person in the blue shirt. The cutie demonstrating that greyhounds do come in small-fluffy-safe varieties is Raider.

Ooooooookay then.

2010-05-05T12:08:37Z

Yesterday, I went to sleep around three pm, intending to take a nap before doing something useful. (There was a meeting thing, and we got out early, hence early home-ness.)

It's seven am now.

I - I am sorry, anyone I left hanging or worried!

siadea @ 2010-04-27T12:35:00

2010-04-27T17:37:24Z

This and other similar news stories would be why I did not enjoy living in NYC. I know my chosen cultural zone has its own problems - I live with the effects of several of them, so you needn't remind me - but if I believed in God, I'd thank him that this is not one of them. These stories - Kitty Genovese, the Wal-Mart worker that was trampled to death - always come out of New York City or other densely-populated areas. Dehumanization, looking at other people as though they were nothing more than moving meat-sacks, is not only permitted but encouraged. I actually had a counselor there tell me that it was 'necessary' to do at some level. I told her I did not choose to live like that, and she seemed puzzled.

Several things, related.

2010-04-23T15:43:43Z

Well, after a few doctor visits and an ultrasound, I've found out that I have liver disease. Non-alcoholic steatohepatitis, aka fatty liver disease. It's managed through diet, exercise, and sometimes antidiabetic drugs. The goal is to keep it from progressing to cirrhosis. I have an appointment with a GI specialist, who's probably going to order a liver biopsy because that's the only way to figure out how bad it is. I am less than thrilled.

In other news, I should be getting a dog in September or so. (By then ideally my job will be in Sulphur, and not away from home 11 hours at a time.) I had oft wondered how in the world I was going to find an older, calm, sedate, crate-trained dog, because those don't grow on trees, right? Right? ...well, actually, they do, and they're called retired greyhounds. They don't require much exercise, but they are still dogs, and require SOME, and so my hope is that the dog and I can exercise together and gradually work our way up to longer walks etc. So I'm really looking forward to that, because I think I would quite like a dog, and the greyhounds are adorable, and also, thousands of them aren't lucky enough to be adopted and are killed at the end of their careers, so it's a good thing to do in any case.

It's turtle season!

2010-04-15T12:12:46Z

Y'all know what THAT means!

...okay, maybe you don't. In this case, what it means is that yours truly found a turtle on the highway that had been hit by a car.

He's currently in a large plastic bin, covered with antibiotic cream, bandages, paper tape, and a towel. He hates me. I like that; I don't hold with turtles that don't hate me. I think I shall call him Crankypants.

In other news, the veg-ism experiment has gone about as well as expected, but at least now I'm thinking about what I'm eating, and consciously choosing (sometimes) to eat meat, and that is what I expected and wanted out of the whole process.

Poetry meme

2010-03-30T00:53:36Z

So, as part of my work - yes, legitimately! - I read this article. I realized a few things about myself, and after I stopped crying, I wrote a poem in the same theme. I thought it would be a neat meme; sort of a list-poem thing.

Thus, if you want, read the article and write your own poem about who or what raised you.

*

I was raised
not to talk about how I was raised.

Nobody laid any of
these rules
down for me;
nobody said
"You don't talk about this."
There's no secret
history of abuse
lurking.

I figured them all out
by myself.

*

My grandfather died when I was young, but
I remember a vegetable garden in the backyard, a rock garden he built for
his daughter, my mother
planted with daylilies and a single red tulip for fun (she hates tulips)
a mechanic, a barn full of sawdust and rust,
thick bent wire toys welded together and made for me and my brother.

I learned, much later, that he had been convinced he had colon cancer;
had once showed the intent to kill himself
(they say, my mother says, an attempt like that was a cry for help)
and been institutionalized for it. Even as he was dying of heart disease;
to the end he said it was his colon.
I took one of those metal toys (a coiled snake, a cobra, flattened wire for a hood)
to his funeral.

My grandmother
died of colon cancer.
(I wish I'd known how funny that was when she was alive.)
loved her daughter and grandchildren ruthlessly, fiercely
as strong a fundamentalist as ever the Bible Belt did see
took care of me through almost all the fifth grade
knew homosexuals were going to Hell
made her daughter go to college a year early
(just ahead of the race riots in Florida high schools)
would have (did) go to the school and force them to let me be absent
every Friday for an entire year, no penalties and no make-up time.

I lost my faith in junior high
and was terrified for weeks every night that
I would go to hell for it.
I never told anyone about that fear for years and years.

My Aunt Stella and Uncle Leo
everyone lies to;
that quiet Southern lie of
'silence means assent.'
It's just easier that way.

*

My mother
where to start?
If I was raised by anyone it was by her.
Whimsical, fluttery, passionate, a writer
a nurturer, a peacemaker,
a dishrag,
let my father run right over her finances, her time
until he ran into the brick wall of us, her children,
and some few basic things held to be self-evident

("when your father banned you from reading for a week, I was so mad," she told me once. "I told him that books were like air, and water, and food, and you can't take them away from someone. It was a little overwrought, but I meant it.")

Put everyone ahead of herself, always
I'm more like her than I ever knew.

I told her everything for years,
except for night terrors.

My father
wordless, unreadable
an inarticulate man who could never say how he felt;
(still can't)
Put our needs above his wants
but never our wants above his.
didn't really raise us; he was running
"the Store" that ate two million dollars we didn't have
roughshod over the world through sheer force of personality
blunt, callused, dirty, cracked and bleeding hands

realized his own mortality and tried to inject
passion into his life (Asian women, no one in particular)
but liked my mom just fine, and
"didn't know what he wanted."
My mother knew (certain things held to be self-evident).
He lives in the city now, with a women I won't call his wife,
bamboozled and puzzled and
not quite sure how all this happened to him.

That's not all fair:
it's easy to focus on
a thing you'll never forgive.
(I don't do forgiveness and
I don't do forgetting either.)

We had just started to
forge an understanding,
he and I,
love through steak and sweet potatoes
(when everything ended)

The smell of new carpet will always smell like home to me.

*

my brother, my brother
Joshua Thomas
Josh
doofus
monkey
Sunshine ("you are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine")
the focus I've been talking around for this whole poem.

Four years older than me
played basketball in high school
Named our ugliest cat "Boofers" and
had an infinite compassion for animals;
I think he almost cried once when he hit a raccoon in the dark, driving me to town
(I'll never forget the way he said "but I like raccoons")
was the one that always fed and checked on my betta for me
kind and generous and uncomplaining, as strong a person as I've ever known
bossy and could always push anyone's buttons;
once put his fist through a wall when he was arguing with dad
met his wife in World of Warcraft
ate square slices of cheddar cheese as if they were chips
(we found plastic wrappers for years afterward)
had a home so messy it might have gone on a TV show

The night before he died, he was teasing me on AIM about how he was going to drink all my mango juice before I got home.

How many years were we all united as a family, devoted to taking care of him?
I don't know.
He had an enlarged heart - twice as big as it should have been, and didn't so much beat as
twitch. There are still books and books of cardiology and drugs in our house;
I grew up in hospital waiting rooms.

He's the hole in the poem.

My grandmother took care of me an entire year when Josh had to go to Missouri to wait for his transplant.
My mother went with him; Grammy and I, sometimes Dad, flew to Missouri every Friday to see them.
(It's only years later I think about how I didn't stay with my father instead.
But he came home every night at seven pm or later, and he'd never been home long enough to know how to take care of a fifth-grader.)

I grew up in hospital waiting rooms:
books, embroidery, cross-stitch, drawing, homework all sorted into colorful plastic boxes, ready to go
I practiced trombone in the parking lot of the hotel we stayed in
Once, I took a whole Lego castle I made up to the City in the back of the van
double-checked all the pieces to make sure none had fallen off
Because I wanted to show Josh.

I broke my arm, once, and didn't even cry out because I didn't want to worry Grammy.
It was a month before I admitted to anyone that it had been aching for a long time.

This isn't much of a poem anymore.
See how I still haven't talked about myself at all?

We'll see how long THIS lasts.

2010-03-02T01:43:20Z

I seem to be inclining myself towards veganism for the moment.

I note that this is not because I think eating animals/eggs/dairy is wrong. To exist is to consume other living things, period.* Also, I love meat. I will miss steak like you don't even know. I'm probably going to fail pretty hard at this, even though I'm not going cold tofurkey. (Yes, I said that.)

But still, too much time at the PETA website is too much time at the PETA website, and I prefer my animal products humanely treated and my slaughterhouse workers not in an actively hazardous environment.** I don't agree with the radical aspects of PETA, and I imagine that a good measure of their abuse claims are exaggerated. Nonetheless, there's enough truth there that I'm stuck. One moral tenet I try to live by is "look, if you know it's the right thing to do, just suck it up and do it, you'll feel better afterward."

If nothing else, what I'm going to take away from this is the realization that you cannot get away from meat and dairy. No, really, you can't, not with any amount of ease. Also, the Burger King veggie burgers are foul.

* For example, I will be buying frozen mice and frozen mosquito larvae for Precious and my fish, respectively, for some years to come. ...My freezer is not a place for the faint of heart, no.

** If someone was able to tell me that a steak was actually made from one of the cattle I see roaming around in the fields all the time, I would be ecstatic and have no qualms about eating it, provided the slaughterhouse was as humane to both workers and animals as possible. Cows wander around with their calves in ginormous fields by the side of the road, with ready access to water and shade. It's like the California Happy Cows commercials, except the grass is all brown and the cattle are Angus or longhorn or both. However, I am given to understand that this is not the case for most beef cattle, and definitely not the case for milch cows.

siadea @ 2010-02-17T18:51:00

2010-02-18T00:51:44Z

One of my bettas and my golden nugget pleco are dead. Something happened to the tank, and the temperature in it is over a hundred degrees.

I've told them I'm sorry.

A new arrival into the non-mammalian part of my family!

2010-01-06T00:10:48Z

I now have a Western hognose snake.

Her - or his, I don't know yet - name is Precious.

Fuck yeah.

Christmas '09

2009-12-25T22:40:52Z

Awesome.

Not necessarily because of the things I got - though one of them WAS the Klimt Fish original (holy shit) which is even more spectacular in person what she says about the gold leaf is exactly right but mostly because of things that were done.

One of these was ride around in a deflated inner tube with a piece of carpet in the middle, pulled by a four-wheeler. The supersonic screams I emitted are now caught on video forevermore. (Yes, I am far more comfortable being skidded around on the snow pulled by four-wheeler than I am on a rollercoaster. YOUR POINT? *lol*)

The second is Mom and I getting EPICALLY stuck. Like, for a couple of hours stuck. In snow. On the road. James C____ and Frank and a couple other guys came and helped us. They had great fun. It's a guy thing. Mom almost got stuck again on the way home! (We decided not to go to town, even though we were assured that the rest of the roads were fine. Amazing, that.) I laughed myself sick.

It was awesome.

I have yet to call Dad. I might, I might not.