Aide de blogoir

I've never done a post of this kind before, so I hope it goes reasonably. Here's the deal: I may use lj as an anti-sleep-aid tomorrow night when I'm staying up all night for my EEG. (If you haven't been following along, here are the basics: I have to stay up all night in order to make my brain go batshit when they test it at 10:00 the next morning. Why are they testing it? I've had a weird collection of symptoms, including but not limited to fatigue. So I have to stay up all night to figure out what it is. You might as well laugh; heaven knows I have. But wearily.)

I have set this (I hope) so that I and only I can view the answers. Is there anything you'd particularly like to hear about that might be rattling around my brain? Is there a random topic you aren't particularly keen on that you think might take time and keep me awake reasonably? Let me know. I may filter the answer, or I may say that it's none of your business, but then again I may not.

[Poll #644238]

I have also set comments to "screen" if you have something you want to put here that won't fit in the window provided.

Psychotic scavenger hunt

I came home today with tacos for timprov, a hole-punch, a plate for the light switch in the music room, a 60# bag of sand, two 40# bags of water softener salt, a new lever-arm for one of the toilets, and some flour tortillas. I feel like I was sent on the most boring scavenger hunt on the planet. If you give me a minute, I'm pretty sure I can get some dryer lint to add to the collection.

The happy thing about this is that most of these things have straightforward purposes. I took the hole-punch out of its packaging, punched a hole in my calendar, and hung the calendar on last year's calendar's nail. Calendar on the wall, hole-punch in the desk drawer, problem solved. How...straightforward. How unlike anything even remotely related to fiction.

Well, if it was straightforward, it probably wouldn't be as satisfying when things work out all right. At least that's what I tell myself.

My current advice to you is not to go to a Home Despot on a day lots of people have off, especially if it's not a holiday in itself. If you must, my advice to you is not to be young and female. I feel sure that many of those men had seen an unaccompanied woman before, but you wouldn't know it from the staring. I kept wanting to check to make sure I hadn't had some critical garment failure or fountain pen incident or something else stare-worthy. Nope. And I haven't even dressed for dinner yet. Because, really, people ought to look at my boots. Because they are The Boots.

I am five years old again with these boots. I forgot to ask anybody to take my picture in them so far. I will try to remember soon. Boooooots.

My very own Dischism

Dischism: The unwitting intrusion of the author's physical surroundings, or the author's own mental state, into the text of the story. Authors who smoke or drink while writing often drown or choke their characters with an endless supply of booze and cigs. In subtler forms of the Dischism, the characters complain of their confusion and indecision -- when this is actually the author's condition at the moment of writing, not theirs within the story. "Dischism" is named after the critic who diagnosed this syndrome. (Attr. Thomas M. Disch) -- Turkey City Lexicon

"Eetu, just put it down for a minute and go get something to eat," said Orvokki.

"And will someone make sure Eetu stops working for five whole seconds?" [Sohvi]

"Let me do it, Eetu; you get some rest." [Jatta]

"Back away from the circuit, Eetu, and no one gets hurt." [Sohvi again]

Umm. It is Edward's condition within the story. Still.