had to happen eventually

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

Of course, one doesn't fall down on what is obviously ice. One falls down on what would appear to be dry ground--but is, in fact, icy ground--because one lets down her guard and takes confident steps where she should've been sliding along as usual.

Oh, well. I still managed it fairly gracefully, since I felt it happening almost immediately. I'm pretty sure I muttered something along the lines of: "Balls..." as I went down. The lady walking half a dozen yards ahead of me turned around to ask if I was all right, and also to share that it had looked like a perfectly dry patch of ground to her as well.

Nothing bruised or broken. Just somewhat annoyed.



It needs to get warm enough and dry enough to get rid of this nonsense soon. I'm sick of taking fifteen minutes to navigate the pitfalls between home and the depot, when it should really only take about seven to make the trip. I'd also like not to fall down again.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

the word is Hyde

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

Whoa. I've been watching the Jekyll series all day on the Netflix Instant Queue, and just finished the sixth (and last) episode now. I'm a fan of the old story, so I was curious about this. ... You can certainly tell Steven Moffat was involved. Some of it distinctly smacks of Doctor Who.

Split personalities, cloning, reincarnation. It's one more head trip after another.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

"A Dream Come True"

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

Been waiting for an update on these since before Christmas. I can't help being absurdly excited about it ...

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

shoulda, woulda, coulda

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

When I got home I was very close to just staying upstairs, eating the pear that I'd forgotten at lunch, and lounging around watching more Politically Incorrect on YouTube while waiting for The Daily Show and The Colbert Report to come on.

But I wanted to do the nutritious thing and make a salad wrap for dinner ...

As I removed the container of spinach from the refrigerator, I heard a strange noise from above--and looked up just in time for the bottle of Frangelico to clock me on the side of the head, bounce off, and shatter on the floor. YAY.

And then the alarm in the blue room went off--signaling the possible presence of explosive gases in the apartment. SWELL. Really. Just AWESOME.

Then my parents were on the phone--me trying to clean up the spill and shards of glass with one hand--and they're nagging me about the roof situation.

Hi. I haven't eaten anything. The "explosive gas" alarm is going off. I have the deck door open to the 10 degree chill beyond in order to get the Frangelico fumes out of my home. I'm trying to clean my kitchen floor before it goes tacky with residue AND not step on broken glass. Nagging me is not a good idea right now.

I was ready to crush my mobile with my grip alone. I might do one day.

THEN when I finally had my food and was sitting in the red room, I managed to tip over my water and spill it on the floor.

I'm doing so well.

Lesson learned. If the first instinct is to stay upstairs, I should just stay the hell upstairs.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

The T literally stinks.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

LOL

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

Shawn Spencer: "Former lovers?! REALLY?!?"

I crowed and clapped.

It might be coincidence, but I do believe the Psych writers have been reading the Shassie (Shawn/Lassiter) fanfiction--or it's come to their attention, anyway--and they don't approve of this pairing either. (C'mon! Slash is great, but ... It's LASSITER! Tim Omundson is very talented, but--NO.) So clearly I don't ship them. I don't have a Psych ship, probably because there are no regular nasties on board.

I'm especially amused by this inclusion since my txt question to the show earlier this week was: "Do you know there is fanfiction about you? Have you read any of it?" Oh, they must know.

That was a relatively serious episode, though, all things considered. I mean Shawn was really slammed around ... And it looks like next week's is similarly danger-filled.

I did not successfully spot the pineapple (there's at least one in every episode). I'm so ashamed. And tired.

Good night.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

"[assuming] for the time whatever opinion amuses me"

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

I shall never be very merry or very sad, for I am more prone to analyse than to feel ... What merriment I have is always derived from the satirical principle, and what sadness I have, is not so much personal, as a vast and terrible melancholy at the pain and futility of all existence in a blind and purposeless cosmos.

Oh, I know I shouldn't read Lovecraft when I'm in a mood; but when I'm in a mood is when I feel most like reading him.

This makes me laugh inappropriately:

If we knew what we are, we should do as Sir Arthur Jermyn did; and Arthur Jermyn soaked himself in oil and set fire to his clothing one night.



I wish I had book of his correspondence, as I really do love the letters I've found.

We love kitties, gawd bless their little whiskers, and we don't give a damn whether they or we are superior or inferior! They're confounded pretty, and that's all we know and all we need to know!

That's just unexpectedly adorable.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

re: spoiling the illusion

(Comments from LiveJournal)

Ian: While there is much to be said for the "just add water" nature of the religious social experience, you are almost certainly right that it wouldn't be worth it to pretend. Maybe next time you get invited you should go and not pretend? Though I'd suggest sticking this in your bag, just in case.

Nicole: There are plenty of people I know who are religious without being RELIGIOUS, but (perhaps I am waaay overgeneralizing) it seems to me that the people who socialize based around a religion are... kind of cuckoo. They just (mostly) seem to be more extremist than the non-social folks.

Michelle: Like you, I occasionally toy with going to services once in a while, especially Mass, but for slightly different reasons. For me it's less about the social outlet and more about feeling the sense of drama and ritual that a good religious service can evoke. Also like you, I don't believe any of it, and the truth would come out sooner or later, and probably somewhat destructively.

As far as socially acceptable goes, I think that the Northeast is probably one of the best places to live if you aren't "conventionally religious". It doesn't seem nearly as central to everything as it does in say, the South or the Midwest. So far as I can tell, being a member of a mainline church isn't mandatory for, say, public office, and it's unlikely you would see coworkers and socialize at church on the weekends, and no one really bats an eye at a courthouse/city hall wedding. It doesn't seem to be a mandatory piece of being a part of society up here. Sure, it can help with some connections, but I've found that even conventionally religious up here get a lot less bothered if you aren't drinking the same kool-aid as them.

Also, infiltrating an uber-religious organization quite possibly would be fun in an evil sort of way, but it's not really going to teach anyone anything.

In terms of social output, again, being in the Boston area, there's a lot of that that isn't dependent on religion either. Boston Ski & Sports Club, dances or dance lessons, stitch'n'bitches (Boston has a mailing list), Drinking Liberally... etc. and so on.

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...

spoiling the illusion

(Cross-posted to LiveJournal)

I've more than once contemplated rejoining a religious group, if only for the social outlet.

It is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day...

Even now, there's an odd look one receives ... I get it at work sometimes, not from everyone, but from a handful of people. Disbelief? Concern? I'm not sure how to describe it properly. It's the look I get when I decline an invitation to a church gathering, and then let them know why I declined when they ask.

Ambivalence ... nonchalance?

It does seem to be a reaction divided by race. None of my Asian colleagues think it strange (or if they do, they have the good taste not to react); most of my Caucasian colleagues are equally disinterested; it's primarily my Black colleagues that are most visibly taken aback.

So I wonder, as I read the common zealot rant on a message board, as I cross paths with colleagues and the occasional LDS pavement-pounder, Would I be more socially acceptable if I were part of a religious group?

But then I reconsider, knowing exactly how much I'd hate myself--how much I would come to loath the pretense, how much I would resent the people around me (whether they actually believed or were just similarly pretending for the sake of human company). Could I pretend? Oh, I'm certain I could--and quite convincingly, at that. Things move me for many reasons.

The right (or wrong) combination of musical chords can send a shiver down my spine, fictions make me cry or shudder every other day. To achieve the same reaction in any so-called holy place to so-called holy music or so-called holy words would hardly be proof of anything.

Reactions to stimuli.

[Sanity], [sanity], all is [sanity].

It's not to say that I don't think I can believe in things; but many things that were once categorised as beliefs have been moved to fantasy and fiction and intellectual interest. Fairly weighed, nothing "supernatural" makes any more sense than anything else. I guess that's where my mind stops.

It's not to say that I don't think others should believe in things. More [of something--though I'm not sure what, but "power" seems incorrect--] to them, if they can.

But I resent them and I pity them, and I can't make myself feel guilty about those feelings, because I'm almost certain that they feel the same way about me.



Back to the question: Could I fake it? Yes, for a while, but I'd probably self-destruct eventually; and, as is my habit, I'd most likely take a few people with me. People who, in their turn, would resent me for spoiling their illusion.

A more wicked side of me thinks, It could make life interesting for a little while ... Allow the most outlandish thing possible to recruit oneself (something like Opus Dei or equally miserable). Bewilder both friends and family for a good six months. Convince the believers of conversion. And then--leave, to the confusion and disappointment of all.

It's more for self-indulgent fantasy than reality, isn't it?

I'm lonely and bored of being lonely, but I'm also proud--too proud to whore myself to something I don't believe, too proud to keep my opinions to myself.


Maybe tomorrow I'll write out a few of my thoughts on the dichotomy of good and evil in Western literature.

Maybe I'll go see The Unborn instead.

Who knows?

Turn the page ...

Close the book ...