Bookworm's Musings

http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2008/08/lkh-bit-081808.html

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http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2008/08/sometimes-velveteen-rabbit-is-made-of.html

My very first iPod has died. No saving throw. It’s simply gone. It’s the first piece of technology that I voluntarily purchased. We went to the Apple store and hoped they could save it, but my stalwart companion, who has seen many tours with me, is no more. It’s not alive enough for a burial; not heavy enough for a paper weight; but when it came time to trade it in for 10 % off of a new purchase, I could not do it. I put it in the pocket nearest my heart and brought it back home. Jon and I are half-jokingly talking about putting it in a lucite block. Probably it will go in a drawer somewhere in my office and sit, but this iPod joins a very short list of mechanical things that have transcended their nuts, bolts, and electronic beginnings to take on, in some way, a semblance of more.

My first mechanical affection was the first television set that I remember, well. It was a small black and white on a stand in a wooden case. It was actually carved and a little ornate. When I was still too young for school, I named the television, Charlie. When things were bad, Charlie always had something cheerful, or interesting to show me. There aren’t many friends that are as dependable as that little television was. Charlie got replaced by a newer, color set, but my grandmother put him in the spare bedroom, and used him like a table. I left him when I moved away from home; I don’t remember him being offered to me. I eventually years later bought my grandmother a really nice, large television for the living room, but Charlie was still in the bedroom covered in bric-a-brac, and doilies. He may still be there, though I’m not certain that my aunt has kept him in his place.

My second mechanical fling was my first car. It was an Omega, and it was second hand, but I loved that car. Her name was Meg. I was sixteen, and it meant that now my grandmother and I could drive ourselves places. We were no longer at the mercy of other people’s schedules. No matter how kind the rest of the family was, it was still a lot of waiting, and feeling like the poor relative. Everyone was very nice about it, but I, and Granny, felt the lack. When I turned sixteen and got my license we had freedom. Here in the U. S. you need a car outside of maybe a handful of cities. When I had to trade her in for a new car after I got married, the first time, I laid my face on the hood and actually cried, as I said good-bye.

Third, was my typewriter. It was a hand me down from my Aunt Juanita, now that her girls didn’t need it for school anymore. I wrote my first stories on it. It is in the storage room, of this house, as I type this, even though I know that I will probably never use it again. When the time came to part with the old manual, I couldn’t bear it.

Fourth, my first lap top. Strangely, not my first computer, because I shared that with my first husband, so it wasn’t mine. The lap top was mine. No games were ever played on it. Nothing was ever put on it, but my stuff. It was mine. I kept it for fourteen, or fifteen years before it finally gave up the electronic ghost. (Yes, it was a very long time for a lap top to keep working.) Jon finally talked me out of it, because it was starting to do the things that computers do before that last big crash. I let that one go, and we got a new one. Jon even finally persuaded me to get a desk top, as well, which is what I’m typing on right now. But that first lap top, was mine in a way that the others are not. The lap top was never part of a computer network. It was never linked up to anyone to share files. It was my little isolated world, and I liked it that way back then. Both of the computers I have now are all shared with Darla, and Jon, and even Charles has come and worked on them. The first lap top was shared with no one. Strangely, I never named it.

I would have counted the Foose mustang as fifth, but the iPod is older than the car. I do love the Foose. It is the Baby. I love the roar of the engine, the feel of the road under the wheels, and the reaction you get from people. I love the way the car gleams in the sunlight, and I watch it’s rear end the way I watch my husband’s; that nice proprietary that’s-mine-feeling.

But today is about my fifth gadget crush, not the Baby. I didn’t know I liked my iPod this much until it wouldn’t work. The gray screen of death, and there was no saving it. It’s internal workings have gone off, and so we bought a new one for me. It’s a generation, or two, newer, but it’s not my first love. That slim, black, nano will lie in a drawer at my desk, until I can either bear to part with it, or figure out something to do with it. A lucite block would just be silly; wouldn’t it?

Some bits of tech and mechanics rise above their origins, and like the Velveteen Rabbit, they become alive for us. My iPod was my comfort on many a flight, and my de-stress on many a day. I raise a virtual glass in one last toast to my slim, mechanical, companion; no longer functioning, but not thrown away.

I just realized that as of today it’s been five years since I moved to Chicago. 

I had very high hopes when I came out here.  I really thought I could make something of myself as a writer and an artist and find people I could relate and to punk rock shows, cool restaurants and galleries. 

Five years later I’m barely holding on to a menial job that doesn’t quite cover my living expenses, I’m more or less friendless, and most of the opportunities of the city seem to pass me by.  I try not to surrender to self-pity but I really do feel like a failure.  It really seems like during my time in Chicago has been a slow decline. 

When I arrived here I felt fairly close to both my sister and Biff, who I worked for from my arrival till about two years ago.  I’ve pretty much pushed my sister way with my relentless negativity and constant depression and while Biff did bring over his new baby last month, which was really sweet of him, we’re more or less out of each others lives. 

Maybe I just feel this way about things because I’m really not in the best place right now.  This has been a hard year with bouts of severe depression, disordered eating and now hypoglycemia (or maybe that’s been in the background all along).   Unfortunately I can’t say it’s been limited to the past year.  Since I arrived in Chicago I’ve had on and off periods of depression and eating problems.  Well, not just since I arrived in Chicago.  Since I was about 11 years old if you want to go all the way back. 

During this time I’ve had brief periods where I felt content and comfortable with myself, like I was being the person I was meant to be and but for the most part I feel like I’ve squandered my life.  It’s not that I’ve lacked opportunities; I’ve had tremendous advantages that ought to have outweighed the obstacles I’ve faced.  It just seems like the only possible explanation is that I’ve done something wrong, that I’ve made the wrong choices and not put enough effort into things, that I haven’t been brave enough or strong enough. 

I made it through my blood tests on Wednesday without incident.  In fact the whole procedure only took a few minutes and was fairly simple and painless in proportion to the amount of anxiety, dread and anticipation I invested in it.

My doctor called a few days later with the results.  My sugar is still low but my insulin levels seem to be normal.  Besides referring me to see an endocrinologist she really didn’t say anything about what I should do to deal with the problem even though I specifically asked. 

Dealing with doctors makes me crazy sometimes. 

So I’ve made an appointment to see an endocrinologist on 09/02/08 (provided my insurance will cover it) and until then I’ve been taking steps to hopefully feel better.  Based on information I’ve found on-line and at the library I’m trying to make some adjustments to my diet that will keep my sugar levels more stable.  These include eating more fat and protein, eating more frequently and reducing caffeine (which compounds hypoglycemic symptoms) and artificial sweeteners (which increase cravings for sugars and may or may not cause the body to respond as it does to sugar even though none is actually present).

These are fairly difficult changes as I’m borderline phobic of fat and completely addicted to diet pop.  After completely giving up diet soda for a few months earlier this year I got hooked on it again while I was visiting my parents in New York last month (coincidently around the same time I started feeling wretched) and since then I’ve been drinking between three and five 20 ounce bottles of diet Sunkist and Dr. Pepper everyday.  Definitely not healthy (also fairly expensive).  I’ve completely cut that out, I haven’t had any diet soda in three days and the only caffeine I’m getting is from green tea.

I’ve felt well enough to go to work for the past two days.  I’ve had my moments of dizziness, clamminess, and nausea but I’ve managed.  As much as I complain about my job at the moment I’m fairly glad to be back.  Being sick at home the past few days has been very lonely and depressing for me.  I haven’t been able to really focus on anything—reading, writing, drawing, watching movies or downloaded episodes of BBC science fiction shows—so I’ve been mainly just lying in bed dozing on and off and obsessing over my various problems which I am at this point thoroughly sick of. 

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Title: Cold Night on the Job
Fandom: The Sweeney
Characters: Jack Regan/George Carter
Prompt: 031. Sunrise
Word Count: 882
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Late night nattering. Thank you to QueebBamfie for the beta! All errors are mine. I'd love to know if you enjoyed it. Constructive criticism is welcome. Flames are not.

**Disclaimer**
I don't own George & Jack, I just play with them. Remember People, this is fantasy. You should be over 18 and not offended by two boys in love to read this.

Cold Night on the Job
by Tauna

http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2008/08/celebrating-my-way.html

What to do to celebrate finishing, Swallowing Darkness? (Okay, finished except for the next round of edits and the research that’s still pending, but that can all wait for a few days. No, really it can. My sanity says it can.) So, what to do to celebrate?

I thought about getting a tatoo. Does that let you guys know how really drained I am. I’ve never even pierced my ears, and I’m thinking of getting a tattoo this weekend. No, Laurell, don’t do it. Actually, a good friend of ours, Pili, who was once a tattoo artist, drew on us with markers and pens some designs. Her rule is that you have someone draw it on you, so you can wear it for awhile. Then if you don’t like it, no harm, no foul, but if you do like . . . You get it drawn on one more time. Then if you still like it. You wait for a few weeks. Then, if you STILL like the design, you can find a really good tattoo artist (we’re going to take Pili’s recommendation on that), then you get your tatoo. Jon and I’ve found an image we like, but we need one more drawing and to think it over. I was all set to do it this weekend. Jon said, no. Cooler heads have prevailed, and we’ll wait. I’ll see if Pili can draw it again this weekend, then we’ll wait until after DragonCon, I think. It’s only two weeks, or so. If we don’t change our minds sometime in September we’ll decorate ourselves permenantly. Said, that way, it makes me wonder, but . . . We’ll see.

So, if we can’t tattoo ourselves to celebrate, what can we do? Well, what we did do, was go gun shopping. I haven’t been happy with the Kahr since I bought it. The size is right, and feels okay in my hand, and it’s okay to shoot, but it’s not fun to shoot, and it’s damn stiff. Also, it just doesn’t fill me with the same emotion that the Browning BDM does. I bought the guns at the same time and I’m happy with the BDM, but still unhappy with the Kahr, so we went shopping for it’s replacement. Something small, concealable, but not with so much kick I’m going to be fighting the gun while fighting bad guys.

Charles and Shawn all gave us the same list of guns. When two ex-military, one ex-cop, and one current policeman; give you the same list, then you pay attention. We ended up with the Smith and Wesson M&P 9c. It’s sitting beside me on the desk, as I type this. I find that when I buy a new gun, I like to keep it close by for a few days. It’s unloaded, and even though Jon brought it to me from the gun safe and I trust him implicitly, I still popped the magazine, put the slide back, and rechecked. Safety, safety, safety; if you can’t be safe then you should not own a gun. It’s not a toy, no matter how fun I think they are; it’s a tool.

I look at the compact, black shape between my arms, with it’s barrel pointed at my keyboard, and find it . . . elegant. Elegant in the way of a good tool. Others might find the S&W a little blocky, but not me. I like it. Though, let me just say that low rise pants with an inner pants holster are not a good idea. Hard to draw the gun, and I suspect, if you wore the holster long enough you’d chaff. Unless you’re willing to have your underwear show above the pant’s line, which I hate. So, what to do? Get different pants, or a different holster. I always learn something new when I try some of the equipment that Anita will be using. It’s one of the reasons I try to do my research, because it adds. If I can hold it in my hand, try to wear it on my body, then when I next sit down to write, that bit of knowledge will be on paper, and you guys will get a more realistic world to play in.

If everyone knew 1984 was when everything was going to happen, why was no one prepared?
Hexennacht is an alternate universe MWPP game set in 1985; a world where Gellert Grindelwald is now the Minister of Magic for all of Europe, and Muggleborn wizards live in fear of the Black Caps, Grindelwald's personal army, charged with keeping the Muggles and wizards alike in line. Hexennacht begins with the latest decree restricting magic allowed by Muggleborn wizards to the simplest forms of magic, while the purebloods are allowed to get away with murder. With the Death Eaters on the run, Voldemort in Azkaban with no hope of getting out, and the Order in hiding, along with the remains of their single ally, a former terrorist organization, is there any hope of restoring Europe to a land of tolerance?

Full information can be found in the moderator's info.

Game can be found here.

Wanted Characters: Death Eaters (Rosier, Karkaroff, Crabbe, Nott, Selwyn, Travers, et al.) Narcissa Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Peter Pettigrew, Weasleys, Prewetts, Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Malfalda Hopkirk, Sturgis Podmore, Severus Snape, Heathcote Barbary, Merton Graves, Orsino Thruston, Donaghan Tremlett, Gideon Crumb, and others.