completely random

no beta… we die like men

May 30, 2021 :: 9:48 PM

I’ll take “Things Missing from UCMB Road Trips”, Alex…

*snicker*

Somehow, I knew that damn hashtag would come back to haunt me.

After winning NaNoWriMo a few years ago, I decided to try Scrivener. Hey, anything recommended by John Finnemore has to be worth checking out. (Speaking of checking out, “Cabin Pressure” by John Finnemore is a BBC radio programme he wrote that features Babblingbrook Crazyhorse, Roger Allam, and Anthony Head. It is HYSTERICAL. There are 26 episodes but the best one is Qikiqtarjuaq.)

Shit. Sorry. I squirrelled.

But. OMG! I miss Cabin Pressure SO FUCKING MUCH.

Anywhooooo…

I’d been using Storyist and while I liked it, I wasn’t in love with it. I had to use a third party app if I wanted to write on my iPhone. It was a mess. A huge mess.

I tried Scrivener and DAMN!. It was love at first sight.

So. Much. Love.

I use it on my iPhone. I use it on my MacBook. I use(d) it on my iMac.

It was mobile. It was quick. It was perfect.

And then I bought that damn PC laptop for work.

I decided to check out Scriv 3 for Windows. (Rumor had it I might be sent to our Panhandle location from time to time so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.)

And - as I’ve become fond of saying lately - shit went sideways.

I couldn’t back up.

I couldn’t sync.

Fuck. I couldn’t even save.

Uninstall. Reinstall. Slaughter a chicken. Dance in a graveyard. Uninstall. Reinstall.

I could save.

I could backup.

I still couldn’t sync.

Isolate issue to Dropbov.

Uninstall. Reinstall. Insult the computer’s mother. Uninstall. Reinstall.

I could save.

I could back up.

I could sync.

And then…

Then the screen layout opened UPSIDE DOWN.

I swear to fuck, I cannot win.

But! I got it to sync and the Windows Scriv support team now has a new issue that should have popped up in Beta testing.

I’m going to stick to my Apple apps, though.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

About a year ago, I went to the eye doctor and got fitted for bifocals - glasses and contacts.

And so began the worst year of my life. Vision-wise.

I struggled to see far.

I struggled to see near.

I couldn’t cross stitch.

I couldn’t knit.

I couldn’t fucking read.

And so began this weird year of not wearing glasses / contacts or wearing contacts and cheaters or wearing glasses and holding the frames so that the lenses matched up to where my eyes were focused. (Does that make sense? It Englishes, right?)

I finally gave up and saw a different doctor this year.

The test pair of contacts? HOLY FUCK.

I am so excited to be able to see again.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Stupidly enough, I’m so excited that I have to burn a day off to wait for the city permit guy to come to the house.

Oh, Wait… you don’t know the entire saga.

In December, we headed to Lowes to price out a new front door. We had everything we needed and got it to the HOA in time for the December Architectural Committee meeting.

In January, we were at Universal when I got the call that they needed six more pieces of information before they could discuss it in THAT NIGHT’S MEETING.

THEY. HAD. A. FUCKING MONTH.

(And I didn’t even get the door I wanted. I got the same ugly ass door that everyone has, so this shouldn’t have been an issue.)

In February, we finally get clearance from those fuckers that we could install the door.

Well, you can’t order the door without the HOA letter of approval - at least from Lowe’s - so that was a whole new time suck.

In March, we finally ordered the door.

In April, we applied for the permit. Because you can’t even fart in your house without a permit in DFB.

In May, the door was FINALLY installed.

It will be mid-June before we can fix up the paint around the door… because DFB has to come out and inspect it before we can do anything else. (Like we have to keep the stickers on the door! Why?????)

There is absolutely no reason for this to be so fucking hard.

All that to bring up the landfill.

(And if that isn’t a roundabout way to get to a point, then I don’t know what is.)

There is a landfill not too far from here and Waste Management owns it.

WM wants to tear down a building and create a second landfill there.

Which is - essentially - in our backyard.

I don’t know anyone who wants to live downwind of a landfill.

I agree that it will negatively affect the value of my house.

I am a loud and proud NIMBY… in this situation.

Just, Jesus fuck, let a girl put an ugly, community matching, door on her house, yeah?

Because there are way more important battles to fight.

 

Penis!

April 12, 2021 :: 6:21 PM

“E” is most definitely NOT for everyone

I’m pre-empting my own fucking blog entry because, for as much as I love an absolutely terrible horror movie, even I can’t get past a movie who’s first line is - no shit - “There’s no such thing as strip ouija…” Like are you fucking kidding me?!?!

If all you have to offer me in the first half hour involves nudity or, well, strip ouija, yeah…. no.

Give me a red ball bouncing or rolling around on its own power or a good “The power of Christ compels you” any day. 

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

All of a sudden, all kinds of fan fic is getting bookmarked. (I might have rediscovered a Drarry fic group. Maybe. In my defence, my fics have been recommended there, so we were bound to cross paths again.)

So… apparently, when a guy gets an inappropriate boner and uses a pillow to hide his obvious interest, he grabs an emotional support boner cushion.

But, wait. It gets better.

“Like if a blueberry muffin was a person. A very intense blueberry muffin.”

OK. I get the cinnamon roll thing, but blueberry muffin? That’s a stretch even for my warped imagination. Doesn’t matter. That fic was such a fun read, I’ll probably read it again.

 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I’m still working a fuck ton. Still pissing my weekends away trying to get caught up.

Except, that wasn’t enough for me, so now I’m taking a CMA study course. (Not just part 1 or part 2, but the combined, so I’m in class Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 8-10:30.)

Yeah.

I’m a fucking idiot.

On the plus side, the new accountant is working out, so maybe I’ll be able to hand some of that off soon.

Also - we have a new Director of Operations. He’s so cute. He started, took a look at the way things are, and decided he had to make a fuck-ton of changes in procedures and staff. He and I are on the same page with a lot of things. Surprisingly, they were all the same things I wanted to change when I started. (And on 4/20, it will be a year.) So, yeah.

Welcome to [the company], dude. Where you come in all excited to make some meaningful changes and realise that you’re never going to get there because YOU’RE STILL CLEANING UP THE FUCKING PAST.

Seriously.

He didn’t understand when I told him why I hadn’t closed 2020 or any of 2021 yet.

He does now.

Link to this post   •   completely random   •    •   so many fandoms  

File Under Grain

March 05, 2021 :: 7:57 PM

Dylan O’Brien is totally on my list. You know, THE LIST.

On Monday, I stumbled across some very good fan fic.

You know: Poetry. Angels sing. God is in the heavens and all is right in the world.

When I find something that makes me want to NEVER! WRITE! AGAIN! I treasure that bitch.

And then, when I finish it, I obsess over whatever my current WIP is.

I’m on draft 4 of my shitty Teen Wolf fic, draft 3 of my Yuri!!! On Ice fic, draft 6 of my Harry Potter Eighth Year fic (now with multiple POVs! WOOO!),  and I’m stuck on the 2nd 3rd 4th fuck it, I lost count draft of my Harry Potter soulmates fic.

It’s probably an understatement that I’m obsessing over what fic to obsess over…

But. FUCK.

For as smart as I am, for as many words as I’ve written over my lifetime, for the voices I’ve cultivated both for ‘serious’ writing and ‘internet’ writing, I still suffer from Imposter Syndrome.

My writing has won fucking awards. It’s popular on AO3. It’s made grown men cry. It answered that age old question, How Do You Tell Someone You Don’t Love Them Any More? It’s opened wounds. It’s healed them.

It’s alive and amazing and wonderful and it’s something I created. By myself. For myself.

But. FUCK.

That little lemony piece of goodness I finished snacking on - why was it so fucking short - was just an amazing piece.

One day, I’ll be able to write mindblowing tales of tentacle porn between ghosts, blow up T-Rexes, and walruses who are calculating the square root of cheese while doing lines of coke and having sex with chickens…

No.

Wait.

That wasn’t the story I just read.

That was the fucked up dream I had when I added a doxy to my nighttime ‘fuck insomnia’ cocktail.

Kinda made me never want to sleep again.

Seriously.

*sigh*

 

- - - - - - - - - -

One of my fanfic groups asked if you were any AO3 tag which one(s) would you be?

I chewed on that question for days but the winner is:  DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Honorable mention went to no beta we die like men, but I’m totally a dead dove.

The deadest of doves.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

Day whatever of Quarantine is under my belt (we both tested fucking positive!) and I am miserable.

Thankfully, that little habit I developed of working over the weekend has served me well. My home office is set up and (mostly) organized and I’ve been working without missing a beat.

In other news, we’re not firing my staff accountant… she quit.

Small little issue with her replacement, but I’m hoping it won’t blow up into something larger. I’m all for second chances and this seems like it might be worth the risk.

 

Link to this post   •   #threewords   •    •   completely random   •    •   so many fandoms  

життя починаеться знов

February 27, 2021 :: 3:10 PM

I may write multiple shitty drafts, but I’ve never written anything this bad.

Soooooooo. A lot has happened in two months.

The one I find most amusing is that I posted my 10 favourite R.E.M. songs on Facebook and somebody caught the fact that both Good Advices and Wendell Gee were on the list.

Somebody’s been paying attention. If you don’t know what the significance is… well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. (Says “Wendell” who blogs at “goodadvices”.com and has an email address of “wendellgee1985”.)

The second one is that we fired and hired a CPA firm on Friday and then hired a new AR person this morning.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I know I’m an asshole, but I am so glad to be letting go of my AR person. I’ve have a problem with her since I started there. Her emails are typically written in redneck and are terribly embarrassing to read. As her boss, it’s HORRIFYING to come across these in my inbox. She’s such a bad reflection on me and my department… and I’ve let my feelings known. She’s also incapable of following instructions and refuses to take responsibility for anything. My number one rule is Own. Your. Shit. and she refuses. So… we’re bringing someone on board who will.

 

- - - - - - - - - - -

There’s so much I do - and don’t - want to talk about that I can’t even find a place to begin or a way to separate the two.

The major thing is: Mitch McConnell is a fucking asshole. But that’s really neither here nor there… it’s not like we didn’t know it.

I don’t know. I’m alive. I’m still working weekends. I’ve gotten better at running more frequently. I’m studying for two major exams. I’m focusing on Ukrainian.

I’m surviving.

I can’t ask for much more than that.

 

 

Link to this post   •   completely random   •    •   music is life  

I need some music, I need some sleep

December 26, 2020 :: 11:38 PM

Spending Christmas with Matt

I’ve taken over the HR duties at work, and there was a conversation I can’t let go of:

We had a client sleep with several of our subcontractors. Apparently, there was a move on our Project Manager.

Question: if he had slept with her and something had happened, would he be eligible for workers comp?

Heart attack, sprained muscle, STD… anything is fair game.

If they were at her house (“job site”), would it count as being on the job? Even if it was after hours?

Sometimes, I think we should adjust my meds. My head is going to the weirdest places lately.

-  -  -  -  -

We decided to paint my office this month and the husband went after it with a vengeance.

I ended up going with a soft grey - the same grey from the reading nook - with the same roman blinds, but no curtains.

That room used to be so dark that I used fairy lights and desk lamps(s) to try and brighten it up. I replaced the ugly sconces. The gold nipple lamp in the entry got replaced with a flush mount LED that’s brighter than the fucking sun. I also added a new ceiling fan with a light. Also LED. Also bright as fuck.

On one of the walls, there was a floor to ceiling mirror. One of the very first things we did when we moved in was had it removed. I left up the frame and we painted the inside of it with a bright white. (If removing the frame wasn’t going to necessitate replacing all the drywall, I’d have taken it down. That adhesive is nasty.)

The reading nook and the office are one big room, half assed divided by an arch and I think they will compliment each other beautifully. The reading nook is dark and cosy, with a bright red wall dominating. The office is bright and airy, with a large white area. They’re divided by a white and red IKEA shelving unit and I’m SO HAPPY with the way it all came together.

-  -  -  -  -

After quitting running (temporarily) due to depression, I signed up for Fandom Running Club’s year long event.

I think I have ONE real live race in 2021 so far… and I’m not sure I’ll be signing up for others.

Disney went virtual for Marathon Weekend and Rival Run and I’m not paying Disney dollars for a medal. That completely broke me. SHATTERED me.

So I’ve been licking my wounds and using a ridiculous backlog of work from the day job to distract myself.

But.

I miss running. Even if I only run on a treadmill and get bored after the first five minutes, I miss it.

I never finished my 2020 medal rerun, so I’m scrapping it. It doesn’t make sense to beat myself up for two shitty Racery events and not finishing all my medals. Let’s be honest, I’ve been in such a shit place that it takes EFFORT to get out of bed every morning, so… if that’s all I have spoons for, that’s all I have spoons for. I’m not going to sweat it.

I’ll be rerunning them all this year. Same rules apply: have to run entire medal distance in one go, intentional miles only, and the challenge medals are the same distance as all the year’s races. (The 2018 PHRC Phoenix Challenge only required that you ran all the races.)

-  -  -  -  -

I am not doing well.

That’s not a cry for attention. It’s a fact.

I’m exhausted.

I’m homesick.

I’m lonely.

It’s that last one that kills me… I’m not a people person by any means, but I miss being able to go out.

Link to this post   •   #threewords   •    •   bipolar   •    •   completely random   •    •   running