hjertet mitt

Not sure where this came from...

Title: Face
Origin: That novel I've been writing for like 17 years now
Genre: Sci-fi/fantasy (or "Demons in spaaaace!")
What/why/how/huh?: A snippet that's been tumbling around in my head since my neck decided it hates me and won't let me write anything. Screw you, neck!

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hjertet mitt

"Wheee!" goes the time

Is it September? Why is it September? I had big plans for, like, May.

I apparently had plans in my last post too. Status so far:

"o Do that "one short story a week" thing I tried to do last year"

Haha. No. I've almost finished *one* short story.

"o Learn Dutch."

Also no, Still can't find the CD, that's my excuse.

"o Visit Kitty."

Nope. Even forgot her birthday. I'm a bad person. :-|

"o Paint my apartment's front door like a Tardis."

I DID THIS! THIS THING! I DID IT! Okay, I'm currently doing it. But the year isn't over yet and it's almost done!

"o WRITE ALL THE STORIES! Especially the demons in space one. And the sci-fi genderfuck one. And the superhero one. In short: ALL THE STORIES."

Also a no, but NaNoWriMo will take care of that, I'm sure. I'll just merge demons in space and genderfuck into one story.

Time is doing some fast flying lately...

I still have this journal, don't I?

Six years is a lot less time than I ever thought. Time enough for me to more or less fall off the Internet, with a brief peek inside again around 2010. Time enough to lose contact with a lot of people and get to know a bunch more.

Things that have happened:

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So it's the eve before the eve before the Eve, and I'm trying to find room for all my things in my new place, and I decided to go tidy up my bookmarks, and the LJ ones yanked me back in time for a bit and I had to post something. That added to the general weirdness of life right now.

2014 is looming ahead. Looming in a friendly sort of way. Like a gentle giant of time.
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hjertet mitt

My! Own! Place!

Okay, my own, rented place. But it's not shared, and that's what counts. :D

It's overpriced, it's a studio (but at least there's a half-wall between the bed(-not-quite-a-)room and the living room) and it's of course smaller than where I live now. But since I spend most of my time in my bedroom, and the living room so far has been my cohabitants' tv-room, office or personal-deep-conversations-and-love-declarations room, and my "hi, just walking through to get to the kitchen, please don't make me have a conversation, I just want a cup of tea" room ... I think I can handle it.

Moving of course coinsides with NaNoWriMo ... sigh. On the plus side, it's just a small detour to stop by my new address on my way to work from the current. Since there's a full month's overlap between the two tenancies, I can get a lot done just by hauling a suitcase full of stuff over every morning. I say, bravely ... It's only when you move that you find out how much stuff you really have, isn't it? Luckily I have a volunteer for van driving. I just need to rent the actual van first. Moving is expensive ...

I get my own kitchen! *dreamy sigh* I can cook dinner every day, even on the days my allergy to smalltalk is at its worst. I've come to loathe the phrase "How are you?". I can handle it in the kitchen at work; I'm in an office with other people, my mind is set to "interaction with other people might occur" mode. But I still feel like a robot. One that scores very low on the Turing test. Hello-how-are-you? I'm-fine-thank-you-and-how-are-you? I'm-fine-thank-you. If I'm lucky, I'll get away with that, otherwise things like are-you-busy-these-days or so-what-are-your-plans-for-the-weekend might crop up, and then my AI implodes and I answer "pomegranade with fish pudding cork screws". :-|

The natives are worse than me, though. They say "I'm good" instead of "I'm fine". They would have been given The Glare by my English teacher. :D

Oh, and a bathroom with a bath tub! We have one here, but a) you can't really hog the bathroom for three hours when you share, and b) due to water damage in the ceiling on the ground floor around the edge of where the bathtub stands above, I'm worried about starting my bath in the bathroom and finishing it one floor down.

It baffles me how common bath tubs are around here. I've heard the argument that families with children want it, it makes child-washing easier, I guess. But in a studio? Not the most family friendly place to begin with. It's OK for a couple, but once a third person is involved, you'll want something bigger before the kid outgrows its basinet, or...? (Of course, I see the difference between "want" and "can afford", but you can actually get a small house for what this studio costs, within Cambridge city limits.) We had a bathtub when I grew up, so I've come to love baths, but they're a lot less common in Norway. And I think there's been an anti-bathtub trend over the last decade, I know several families that threw out theirs when refurbishing.

Count the hyphens! Count them! Or don't. End missive.

P.S. Scrapping demon plans for NaNoWrimo. Will write about princes instead. Am giving them whores. They're unimpressed.
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hjertet mitt


In the mind's theatre that is the off-screen life of my fictional characters, some need more attention than others. One character seems to have been sitting around at the back of the stage for ten years or so, watching me try to revive her two-dimensional starting point with flawed clones.

Now she has quietly sauntered to the front of the stage, cleared her throat delicately, and wiped out the entire main cast with her brain.

I think she wants attention. She's not one to demand it constantly (unlike one of the recently brain-nuked main stage actors), but when she's ready, she won't take no for an answer.

In other words, I think I have a NaNoWriMo project on my hands. :D

... yes, sweetie, that's two months from now. Don't look at me like that. We'll need to warm up. And no, you can't kill your own creator. You tried once already. It didn't work, and he was fictional.

No, you can't take credit for Nietzsche. Demons and Nietzsche is a bit like vampires and the crucifixion: you can't all have been there.
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postulate 42

Stand back! I'm going to try SCIENCE!

I saw a flash ad for a series named "How the Universe Works on Mondays", and I though, "I *knew* there had to be an explanation for Mondays!"

Turns out the series is named "How the Universe Works". And it runs on Mondays.

The quest for an explanation continues.
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mmm beer

Conversation over cookies

"You put M&Ms in them!"

"Actually, they're chocolate covered espresso beans."

"Oh. That explains why the M&Ms taste like coffee."

Beer festival conversations are ... well, a lot like pub conversations, except you have to walk longer for refills, and you have to clean your own glass. :P
writing pr0n

I popped my Rocky Horror cherry. :D

That's right. As of Thursday last week, I have one less virginity to brag about. Cambridge Corn Exchange was filled with boys and girls wearing corsets and their own weight in eye lashes. There were some on-stage too.

I had expected it to be awesome. It blew the awesome scale. The only reaction anyone could get out of me for about 15 minutes after the curtains fell, was "EEEEEEEEeeeeEEEeeEEeEEEEE!!!!" I don't think I've ever spent a whole evening at the theatre with a permanent grin fixed on my face before.

And yes, I did do the time warp. I came prepared. So maybe it was a slightly youtube-tainted virginity, but it stil counts.

We were lucky weather-wise. The Local Secrets newsletter this week reported a disappointing lack of corsets and fishnets for the Saturday show, when temperatures had dropped. We saw plenty. And some threesome foreplay in the lobby.

Went to a nearby pub afterwards, where a lot of the audience had ended up. A group of short-haired, hoodie-wearing college boys came in a bit later. Paused at the door. Then inched very nervously towards the bar, avoiding eye contact. XD

I want a corset and fishnets now. Not so sure about the eye lashes. Tried that once, nearly glued my eyes shut.

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Bookmark Nostalgia

Last time I uploaded my bookmarks to Foxmarks, I had 2.222 bookmarks. I thought "hah, that's kind of cool". Then I thought "what the heck is all this crap?" So I decided to go through them, clean up a bit, and throw out all the now-defunct Geocities sites in there.

That was the weirdest trip down memory lane I have ever had.

Mostly because it wasn't a trip as much as it was "stuck on a motorized pogo stick with unlimited leap length and no direction control". Links from - how many years? no idea - way back, less way back and waaaay back assaulted me with memories and strangeness. And this was just the "Fandom" folder.

I have at least 150 livejournal entries from various people bookmarked. Funny, sad, entertaining, hot and odd things.

I find issues I used to care about, sites that used to inspire me, projects I used to work on. And another livejournal that I used to post in with someone else. And reading that now is strange and surreal and kind of neat - because I know that a large part of me is still the person I read about there, even if I'm different too. I guess most Memory Lane trips (or crazy pogo stick rides) are like that: "I've changed, and I haven't."

Most sites that are now dead, I hardly remember, except "Baby's First Mythos" (you don't easily forget Cthulhu, after all), which just took some googling to dig up again. Bugs me a bit that WIN is down, it had some pick-me-up-fics that I'd like to re-read. Oh well.

What am I left with after this deeply world-shattering experience? Well, I miss Livejournal. Yeah, that's pretty much it. Not very philosophical, but I'm getting back on the LJ bandwagon properly again, because I miss all you awesome people, and I want to read about what you had for breakfast, whether you're stuck in an ash cloud somewhere, the last fan-sighting of Spike and what he was wearing, how awesome/awful work is and why the duckbilled platypus.

Be gentle with me. I might have been on this bike before, but it needs an oil change and new tyres, and I was never very good at things with wheels to begin with.

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