| Well, that was quite a streak... |
[Nov. 3rd, 2009|10:44 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  chipper | ] |
Am not posting today's word count because it's laughable.
It's laughable because a) I didn't even leave work until almost 8:30. and
b) I got home to find that Erika had started a taunting war on Facebook. I can't resist *that*.
What the facebooking-public will never know. . .
For every taunt, there was an accompanying text message with commentary on the status of the war. Yup, that would be me and Lizzie--we simply *fail* at engaging via a singular medium.
*Dorks*
:D |
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| Deep, slow breathing. . . |
[Nov. 2nd, 2009|11:54 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  geeky | ] |
Since everybody's doing it--
1,506.
I'm actually kind of psyched--I couldn't write yesterday, so that number consists of the train ride this morning, the train ride tonight, and about two hours at home. I used to be able to knock out a 3-5 page paper in that time, and those generally ran 2,000 words. Man, am I ever feeling the dropoff from college, though! Still, 1,500 is my personal daily goal--I know that to hit 50k I need to be at 1,666 (and THAT's intimidating enough to make me believe in evil numbers!), but it's better than I thought I'd start with.
The pros: It's strangely liberating to write for word count. I noticed how many times today my instict was to say, "Stop! That's an unflattering way to present that concept! You can't keep that there!" Not that I'm writing useless information; the moment that it struck me most strongly I was debating having a character find something hidden in an "office" drawer, a "sock" drawer, or a "lingerie" drawer. I made myself pick one and move on; I'm aware that it's something to check for nuance later, but for now the concept will hold, and I didn't derail my writing process!! (And I wanted to... I *really* wanted to.)
The cons: I feel like I'm in over my head, and completely inadequate to the task at hand. What am I thinking? These are *real* writers, the kind that can generate high-level output. There's a lot of pressure in thinking about putting up these kinds of numbers every day for the next 28 days.
I'm at my best when I'm up against a dare, though, and this IS kind of fun. |
|
|
| "Whore", From the Germanic "Horaz". . . "One Who Desires"?? |
[Nov. 1st, 2009|10:37 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | mischievous | ] |
Okay, so. . . there are some inherent negatives to living in a place like New York. One of the most complicated to deal with is homelessness. It's a problem I don't have an answer to. . . . and can also inadvertantly become a source of comedy.
When I hang with J in Queens, he generally walks me back to the train. Last night, I tried to tell him that he really didn't need to--I am more than fine negotiating the four well-lit blocks between his door and his station solo. He gestured over to the gentlemen camped under the tracks and explained that they were part of the reason why he did; they'd tried to bother him before. I scoffed a little and smiled and decided that he was just being a gentleman, and besides, I always kind of enjoy walking back to the station with him. In short, I decided, I would indulge this chivalrous quirk.
Folks, this is a little thing I like to call "hubris." Keep it in mind.
Yesterday was Halloween, and I was even less worried about getting back to Brooklyn than usual. I usually switch trains at 34th Street--a station I HATE; the platforms there just have a creepy vibe to them. However, I knew that this time I would have half of Manhattan waiting with me. New York takes any opportunity for dressing outlandishly and drinking heavily seriously, and I knew I'd have plenty of company as I waited for the F train to arrive.
Was I preoccupied in the station? Perhaps; a long delay on the N train had led to a 30 minute conversation with JJ about the total meltdown at the Georgia-Florida game. Little Brother and I broke down the offense, the "defense", the coaching, the recruiting, and sissy uniforms. Distracted after that, I settled into a long session of Bubble Breaker and pondered the future of the Bulldog Nation.
34th Street arrived, I put the phone away, tossed my scarf across my chest (it was chilly, and my blouse had a sheer collar), skirted the beach umbrella that languished forlornly on the stairwell, and hit the platform just in time to see my train pulling away.
Rats.
Oh, well. The night was young, and I had blue glitter in my hair. I couldn't complain.
I began my trek to the other end, weaving around drunken anime chicks in platform heels and drunken "sexy" bumblebees in stilettos, grateful for my jeans and flip-flops--and yes, for the blue glitter. I have my vanity, thank goodness, because smug satisfaction was pretty much all that was keeping me from shoving the idiot people onto the tracks. I hate it when fun is used as an excuse for bad behavior.
There was a homeless guy shambling towards me, muttering, but he was moving like an old-school zombie and I had plenty of room to skirt him. I didn't pay a great deal of attention until he maneuvered himself in front of me and made a general proclamation to the bystanders.
He informed them, folks, in a word, that I am not at all selective in my choice of sexual partners, and am also generally paid for my services.
I stopped, surprised, because given the people surrounding us, I would not have identified *myself* as the whore in the crowd, and looked more closely at the elderly gentleman in his dirty grey sweat suit. I wondered what his critera for licentiousness was, and then I wondered WTF he was doing.
What he was doing was raising his arm to take a swipe at me.
I mean, seriously? SERIOUSLY?
The only person who has EVER raised a hand to me *in* *my* *life* is JJ; and I think I was nine years old, making him five, and I'm pretty sure I had instigated that fight by demanding Gummi Bears over Care Bears on a Saturday morning. That would have driven anyone to violence.
I wasn't in any actual danger; there was no way he could have moved fast enough to get to me, so I dodged, gave him an incredulous look, and continued on my way.
For the record, I *hate* it when J's right. |
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| Such a silly, simple thing. . . |
[Oct. 30th, 2009|10:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | hopeful | ] |
Ya'll, it was a-maz-ing.
Absolutely, breathtakingly wonderful.
Something that still has me smiling, and holding the sensation close inside, a giddy, bubbly feeling that makes me feel good all over.
--------
I walked to the store to grab toilet paper and paper towels.
Yeah, that's it.
But you see, for the first time in a month I walked at MY pace, speeding up and slowing down at whim. Once, I even broke into a brief jog to beat the light.
No wincing. No limping. No counting steps to distract myself from how much farther I had to go.
No practical math at all.
Just me, in jeans and tennis shoes and a hoodie, my hands stuffed in my pockets, moving fast enough to feel wind in my face. That's about as close to 100% Ali as I get.
**contentment**
Tomorrow, I think we'll try the heeled half boots. And I have a week and a half 'til I'm cleared for cardio.
It feels so good to be back. . . so very, very good. |
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|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 28th, 2009|02:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  infuriated | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Asinine Inane Publicity Chatter | ] |
*slow*
*deep*
*breathing*
I canNOT be held responsible for things that HARVEY'S FREAKIN' OFFICE doesn't do.
canNOT, sadly, does not equal willNOT in my world.
It's okay. . . I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay. . . only 20 hours left in the week.
Thanks for listening, Interwebz!
~Ali |
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| Vhat zee patient ees tryink to say ees. . . |
[Oct. 18th, 2009|08:37 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | pensive | ] |
An informal (meh, make it formal, go ahead) poll of people who know me well would tell you that one of my greatest faults is that I am, by default and until last extremity, a chicken.
BOK!
(Ahem. Sorry, I'll try to keep that under control.)
When presented with an Opportunity For Feats Of Derring-Do (bad and good luck tales, oo-ooh--er, sorry, again. . .)I will wriggle and distract and delay and, in short, hide until that hornswoggling monster has passed on to greater imaginations and more reckless souls than mine.
It's true. Want to see a display of verbal chicanery that would strike double-talking fear into the to the double-hearts of your double double chex chex? Try to engage me in a conversation that I don't want to have, *particularly* if I think I won't be able to handle it well. Multi-syllabic punditry will fly fast and furious, as cliches so long forgotten they're practically new again are urged forward in a defensive line of dazzling asides and pithy strikes of inane metaphorical absurdities.
Do you remember the story of Proteus from Edith Hamilton's Mythology? (I assume that Bullfinch told it also, but to be honest I never read Bullfinch. I'd already nestled happily in to Edith's wry evaluations of Ovid and his ilk, and had trouble taking anyone named after an overimportant sparrow seriously. So Hamilton it was, and Hamilton it has remained, and I am, regretably, the worse as a scholar for it.)
I will confess that I don't remember which hero Proteus had to face (presumably that was covered more extensively in the Bullfinch), but I felt a curious kinship with the mercurial sea god who would deliver an answer only after an exhausting series of desperate mutations were rendered futile.
This wouldn't be much more than an exasperating quirk, or an opportunity for moral growth, or cause for muttering and threats from friends... except that my brain will do it to itself when under duress.
( Have you ever tried to figure out if you are, to put it bluntly, b.s.-ing yourself? ) |
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| This is more a Facebook status update, but hey. . . |
[Oct. 16th, 2009|10:58 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | geeky | ] |
Ali: is worried that the relationship between the two main characters on XKCD may be headed for trouble.
There have been moments lately that indicate a growing distance between the two nameless, faceless stick figures.
This distresses me--not only because they *are* nameless, faceless stick figures, but they're also my second-favorite couple (The Hat Guy and The Girl Who Stole His Hat top that list by several orders of magnitude).
The girl does have a point, though--if I was chillaxing with my Person Of The Moment, and some guy burst in with a "Ali! Come quick! There's a Plebiosaurus and no line to ride! OH--BUT DUDE CAN'T COME!" I would totally be all like, "Love Of My Life, I'll take pictures. Why didn't you put yourself on the dinosaur-riding list when I did?"
To the Peanut Gallery: There. It's not about shoes. |
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| Cha-cha cha-cha cha-SQUISH! |
[Oct. 15th, 2009|10:44 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | geeky | ] |
Yeah. . . .
So, um, turns out the bottom of those shoes (well, the important one, at least), is no longer waterproof.
Discovered that this morning, I did. |
|
|
| Cha-cha cha-cha cha-CHA! |
[Oct. 11th, 2009|08:15 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | ecstatic | ] |
Okay, so we're calling last night a *slight* setback (it involved being lost and in pain in Harlem). . .
BUT
I'M BACK IN SHOES!
BOO-YA!
Granted, I was limping hard in my flip-flops on the way home yesterday, but apparently all was forgiven as of this morning,'cause I was able to wear my Cons to church tonight.
My blown-out, dilapitaded (dilapidated? actually, I like my J's word better--decrapitated), ought to have been trashed last year Cons, yes, those ones, are the superhero-like shoes that managed to lace up without causing agony, and let me walk, more or less, normally.
Let's have a barefoot dance in celebration!
CHA-CHA CHA-CHA CHA-CHA! |
|
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| C-H-I-P-M-U-N-K |
[Oct. 8th, 2009|10:36 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  devious | ] |
I picked up my body wash instead of my shampoo bottle today. If there's any truth in advertising, my hair will soon be glowing and fully moisturized.
That'd kind of rock, wouldn't it? Never fear--should it happen, you shall most assuredly see pictures.
To the Lady Who Stood Shrieking Her Business Under My Window All Bloody Morning:
Dear Madam,
In light of our recent time spent together, please be advised that I have downloaded the entirety of the 80's Alvin and the Chipmunks Theme Song. I have a continuous loop function and speakers that will fit in my window, and I will deliver catchy jingles unto you with a force of falsetto power that would make Manuel Noriega *crawl* *begging* to the U.S. military for a return to decent harmonics. Do not think that The Weather will keep me from moving forward with this course of action--I will gladly freeze if it will ensure that you suffer.
Love and kisses,
Ali
Watch. Out. 'Cause here we come. It's been a while, BUT. . . we're back in style. |
|
|
| Chekov's Gun. . . |
[Oct. 1st, 2009|10:29 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | contemplative | ] |
Anton Chekhov famously instructed writers, "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.""
( Yes, that sounds familiar ) |
|
|
| Oh, Ali. . . . |
[Oct. 1st, 2009|10:48 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | ditzy | ] |
This morning I was so impressed with my abililty to put the filter in the basket that I went ahead and turned the coffee maker on.
Ali, it only *makes* *coffee* when there's coffee IN it.
Does anyone else consider it cruelly ironic that we humans are forced to get up and make coffee sans caffeine? |
|
|
| Fashion WIN! |
[Sep. 23rd, 2009|11:39 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | chipper | ] |
I am wearing a delicious embroidered (yet non-itchy) print kurti that an amazing friend gave to me, and if you will indulge me in a moment of total shallowness. . . I'm having so much fun rocking it!
(Misht, you would be particularly amused by the double-takes I'm getting from Indians on the train. Well, *I* am being particularly amused, anyway.)
Lovin' it, and love you for giving it to me. You, amie, are the absolute best. |
|
|
| Stolen from a Facebook Friend. . . . |
[Sep. 21st, 2009|02:24 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | dorky | ] |
Don't settle for being blessed--be a blessing to others.
(Exactly--and being a blessing to others is more fun, anyway. . . how could you resist being a superhero when someone needs it?)
Love you guys! |
|
|
| Quick, J. . . Hide your eyes! |
[Sep. 17th, 2009|11:13 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | contemplative | ] |
While I have no intentions of becoming a political blogger, this bit on GAWKER disturbed me on several levels, in good and bad ways. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure *how* I feel about it, but it's making me think enough to share.
The pertinent parts of the main article, which I found interestingly stated, although perhaps too flippant:
The New York Daily News says the FBI fears a "Madrid-style" subway bombing in New York, and the man reported to be the mastermind will hold a press conference today. For better or worse, this is what we voted for.
It's truly a new world. Remember that weird anti-terrorism raid in Queens on Monday that no one was talking about? Well, the Daily News says it was an attempt to break up an Al Qaeda cell that might be planning an attack on New York City's subways, and that the FBI has dispatched it's "elite hostage rescue squad" here to stage more raids. And the Colorado man whose visit to Queens sparked the whole thing is now back at home near Denver, chatting with reporters in his apartment and talking with his lawyer about holding a press conference to declare his innocence. . .
We don't know what to make of it. It's just so damn strange when our law enforcement institutions act deliberately, lawfully, and without sowing panic as a political strategy. It's so gratifying to know that the man at the center of a terrorism investigation wasn't immediately hooded, drugged via suppository, and strapped to the floor of a C-130 for a flight to Romania.
And then, this comment was posted. The first line is a reference to another poster, not the main article. Emphasis is mine--
"You DO know what you were talking about. The trouble with ideals like due process and freedom of speech, though, is that sometimes innocent people die for them. You could be next!"
My instict is to say, "shouldn't ideals be the things that we're willing to risk death for? If not for ephemeral concepts, then what? |
|
|
| Questions of a Deep and Philosophical Nature |
[Sep. 11th, 2009|04:57 pm] |
Does it make sense to do an hour-long train ride for 45 minutes of retail therapy? There are days when a girl just really needs a mall.
Queens isn't *that* far away. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 7th, 2009|10:59 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | devious | ] |
Greetings from the Atlanta airport!
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) ostarella, I monitored the train carefully for any illicit Face behavior (DB WAS in town for con, after all), but as yet have observed nothing untoward. If the team is around, they are clearly focused on the job.
Speaking of con-I've discovered a new trick!
You see, over time I've acquired several friends that I know from fandoms-my lj peeps being a prime example. I know that they'll be at con every year, and yet every year i run out of time to coord meeting up with them. Complicating matters is that i only know them from their writing-tears_of_nienna's clever crossovers, for example, or djcati's slyly ironic way of lampooning overinflated universes, but i've only seen most of them once, three or four years ago, and TBH, i sometimes struggle to recognize my j's-and i see them almost daily!
My clever con scheme, then, consists of peering at other attendees and weighing them against the following criteria:
1. do they look like an ohioan?
2. a scot?
3. a michigander?
4. a texan?
5. a librarian?
6. a shiny orange cape?
7. a mad scientist?
If yes to any of the above, glare at them suspiciously until they notice. Hope that they know to say "ALI!" at suspiciously glaring people.
Oooh, here comes one of the J's. . . gotta run! More updates as I get bored! |
|
|
| Counting Down to Kickoff '09 |
[Sep. 3rd, 2009|12:29 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  predatory | ] |
One of the things I'm thankful for. . . that I am able to be a passionate, committed, slightly intense sports fan. It gives life joy, even if it also occasionally gives the people around me puzzled expressions.
GO DAWGS!
PLAYING FOR THE HONOR OF THE SEC--
(video doesn't want to start until :40 seconds)
AND FOR THE GLORY OF OLE GEORGIA!
SIC 'EM IN '09, BOYS!
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|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 1st, 2009|06:10 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | geeky | ] |
I've fallen victim to the Ancestry.com flu that J and edallia caught, and have discovered previously unknown English relatives.
Cool, right? I thought that particular branch of the family was all German.
So, I'm making my notes of the English ancestors, and googling these place names, then wiki-ing *that*. . .
My English friends, HOW DO YOU KEEP IT ALL STRAIGHT?
Good grief!
Anyway, my newly-discovered cousins, apparently I am descended from these locales:
-Watford, Hertfordshire
-St. Albans, Hertfordshire
-Berkeswelle, Warwickshire
-Bristol, Gloucestershire
Anything I should know about them that Google won't tell me?
In typical American fashion, I am devastated that I did not have the following show up
(which also gives you a rough idea of my working knowledge of English geography):
-Nottinghamshire ('cause I could totally be Robin Hood)
-Lincolnshire (see above, only with green)
-Yorkshire (because my understanding is that there are Secret Gardens scattered liberally throughout, and also an interesting accent)
-Cornwall ('cause, dude--every magical thing *ever*?)
-Wales (see above, but add Ll, Ff, etc.) |
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