Letterblade

...in the sense of communication fail. As in, I completely forgot to announce that I would be inCalifornia for a bit.

I am now in California. Gay Area, specifically. Mostly doing family stuff , but if I can sneak out for a bit...anyone know any good kinky stores, or other fun places to hang?

Posted from iPhone. Sorry for typos.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

I very rarely post at all from work. But, meep, I needed to go somewhere, metaphorically speaking, and quietly FREAK OUT FOR A BIT. What with, y'know, terrorists shooting people to death in churches and museums. I am freaking out a bit.

It's odd, I suppose. The much larger-scale attacks committed by international Muslim-fundamentalist terrorists frightened me less. Maybe it's because they scared so many other people into overreacting, and I deliberately took the calmer attitude. Maybe it's because they were so tremendous, so shocking, that they didn't quite register in the same way. It's much easier to be scared of being shot by a nutjob when you walking down the street than to be scared of having twenty well-organized nutjobs flying planes into you. What's simpler is more plausible, more likely to happen again.

But smaller-scale attacks committed by domestic Christian-fundamentalist terrorists? Yeah, I'm scared. Maybe because of the plausibility. Maybe because Fox News and talk radio are practically cheering these guys on in their efforts to murder and terrorize American citizens. But really--

Al Qaeda targeted Americans. And that's a very, very broad target. I identify only vaguely as American, mostly because I happen to be born and raised here and because I agree with the basic tenants of liberty and equality which the American government and political culture likes to shit upon. And it's a very, very big target. Millions upon millions. When 9/11 happened, I didn't know anybody personally involved. I think I'm as closely connected to the writers of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine as I am to anyone deeply affected by those attacks.

But these guys who have been shooting policemen, doctors and woman's health specialists, Unitarian congregants, security guards whose only crime is standing about in a Holocaust memorial?

I was raised Jewish. I'm a sexually active, pro-choice woman. I'm queer and very out about it. I'm a progressive liberal. And those are all things I do identify with, quite strongly.

Not personally, no, but ideologically? These terrorists are targeting me. They're targeting my friends, my lovers, people whose work I admire. They're targeting my lifestyle, my ideas, my ethics. They've murdered, and will continue to murder, people like me.

So, yeah, I guess it's a monkeysphere thing. Much as I try to have a strong sense of sympathy and personal identification, it's still more likely to extend to Dirty Fucking Hippies like me than to America as a whole. But it's a rather jarring moment when you realize that there are folks out there who want people like you dead.

Meep.

Though I shouldn't complain too much--I've got it easy. I'm white, so I can walk down the street without worrying about getting shot by cops. I'm able-bodied, so I can call the EMTs and have a reasonable expectation that they might actually help me. I'm cisgendered, so I can show somebody my genitals without, again, worrying about getting shot.

Goddamnit.

I mourn for the victims. I pray for the survivors. And I still hope, even if I know it's in vain, that our country might find sanity at some point.

THE ANONYMOUS WRITING FEEDBACK MEME

I can, yesh, precioussss.

Coffee is yummy. Work is eating my soul. I am a mess. Those are the truths of the Tory right now.

I'd meant to post this for several months now. And I heard the last relevant bit of news several days ago, but I'm only just now getting off my ass and posting. Because. Gah.

Italics are excerpts from The Dark Side: The inside story of how the war on terror turned into a war on American ideals by Jane Mayer. Bold italics from A Question of Torture: CIA interrogation, from the Cold War to the War on Terror by Alfred W. McCoy. And most of this post, really, will be excerpts, wholesale; because this thing stuck in my craw ever since I read the book four or five months ago, in a way that makes me want to stick it into everyone else's craw too.

On that day, December 19, 2001, Pakistani security forces, blocking the chaotic escape of those fleeing Afghanistan over what were called "rat trails" through the mountains, captured what was considered the first big prize in the war on terror. He was an alleged Al Qaeda commander by the name of Ali Abdul Aziz al-Fakhiri, better known by his nom de guerre, Ibn al-Shaykh al-Libi. The Pakistanis quickly turned al-Libi over the Americans...

At the FBI's field office in New York, Jack Cloonan thought they had a possible gold mine.... With the criminal justice model in mind, he advised his FBI colleagues in Afghanistan to question al-Libi respectfully "and handle this like it was being done right here, in my office in New York." He recalled, "I remember talking on a secure line to them. I told them, 'Do yourself a favor, read the guy his rights. It may be old-fashioned, but this will come out if we don't. If may take ten years, but it will hurt you, and the Bureau's reputation, if you don't. Have it stand as a shining example of what we feel is right.'"

Al-Libi was a small man who liked to smile a lot, in a way that seemed genuinely friendly, not malicious.... Once he got started, he just talked and talked. In fact, he talked so much that they had to keep pocketfuls of pens warmed by their body heat, because in the frosty Spartan cell they were using as an office, the ink kept freezing before he was done. They could barely keep up.

"He was expecting us to pull out his fingernails or something," a source familiar with the interrogation, who was not authorized to describe it on the record, recalled. "But when he found out that we were really there to listen, and that he was stuck, with no way out, he just opened up."

Amongst various intelligence al-Libi provided, it emerged that he hadn't actually liked Bin Laden, who had tried to force him to train only Al Qaeda fighters, not all Muslims, which was his preference. Most important, they claimed, al-Libi gave the agents specific, actionable intelligence--information that could save American lives. Defenders of coercion in the Bush Administration would go on to argue that the extreme urgency of getting such operational information justified their approach. But without coercion, al-Libi told the FBI team of an approved plot by Al Qaeda that was in the final stage before execution, to blow up the U.S. embassy in Aden, Yemen. A source close to the interrogation maintained that this was corroborated, averting what would likely have been a deadly attack.

Almost important as what al-Libi said was what he didn't say. Although Fincher reportedly pressed al-Libi hard on any ties between Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein's regime in Iraq, the Al Qaeda commander told the investigators he knew of none.

In exchange for his cooperation, there was something al-Libi wanted.... He had a Syrian wife. He wanted for her, and her family, to be able to come to the United States. He was willing to be prosecuted himself if a deal could be struck.

The FBI wasn't the only agency who wanted to get their hands on al-Libi and the information he had. The CIA station chief in Kabul had problems with the way the FBI team was approaching things. He complained to Cofer Black at Langley, and that got Director Tenet going to the White House. And the FBI lost that fight, and found CIA agents barging into their office in the middle of their discussion.

Back in Kabul, Cloonan recalled, "CIA officers come in, start shackling al-Libi up. Right before they duct tape his mouth, he tells our guys, 'I know this isn't your fault.'"

That was the bit that stuck with me. "I know this isn't your fault."

Al-Libi was sent to Egypt under the extraordinary rendition program.

Cloonan retired from the FBI in disgust, after a twenty-seven year career.

In March of 2003, the U.S.A. invaded Iraq. One of the justifications used by the U.S. government was Saddam Hussein's support of the Al Qaeda terrorists.

In 2004, after al-Libi was returned to the custody of the United States, he told the CIA that Egyptian security officials had threatened him with "a long list of methods that could be used against him which were extreme." He said the Egyptians pressed him in particular to admit to knowing about ties between Al Qaeda and Saddam Hussein in Iraq. This pressure occurred in the crucial months prior to the U.S. invasion of Iraq, when the Bush Administration was trying to substantiate the case for war. Al-Libi told the CIA that he "knew nothing" about the subject so he "had difficulty even coming up with a story." Dissatisfied with his nonresponsiveness, he said, the Egyptians locked him in a tiny cage for more than eighty hours. Al-Libi still didn't know what to say when they let him out. At this point, al-Libi said, the Egyptians knocked him over and punched him for fifteen minutes. Then, when again they asked him about links between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda, according to the report, he admitted to the CIA that he had made a story up. He accused three Al Qaeda figures he knew--using their real names--of going to Iraq to learn about nuclear weapons.

Al-Libi told the CIA that the Egyptians pressed him about Saddam Hussein supplying Al Qaeda with anthrax and other biological weapons.... Again he was beaten, this time, he said, "in a way that left no marks." He subsequently fabricated additional details, which were piped into the Vice President's office, among other places, and used by the Bush Administration to buttress its allegations that Iraq was on the verge of supplying Al Qaeda with potentially terrifying weapons of mass destruction.

According to two FBI officials, al-Libi later explained his subsequent lies matter-of-factly. "They were killing me," he said. "I had to tell them something."

Ibn al-Shaykh al-Libi died a few days ago in a jail cell in Libya.

It was reported as a suicide.

There are doubts. And not, the cynic in me thinks, merely because suicide is forbidden by Islam.

If this is an old story to you, I apologize for tying up your friends list with it. But if this is the first you've heard of this--please, if you have a moment and a few neurons to spare, think about this. Or go here, or here, and follow some links.

I wanted to post this partially for the political reasons, sure. One of those 'look at how this country has done business for the past eight years, now tell me why were aren't prosecuting these people' posts. Because I'm a dirty fucking hippie like that. But also, partially, for a purely personal, abstract reason--like I said, this stuck in my craw.

"I know this isn't your fault."

So, at the indirect urging of family members, I got myself a present. Look, ma, I even found the self-timer!



It's a Nikon D60, second lowest level of their DSLRs. It is, naturally, named Alastor, which nevacaruso pointed out as the obvious. I bought it (along with a second lens (55-200mm), tripod, assorted accessories, etcetera) for noticeable discount at Microcenter's digital camera sale.

I had long been wanting a digital camera, and had often entertained myself by browsing reviews of compact cameras, not thinking I could afford or figure out how to use an SLR. However, I would usually come out frustrated, as the two things I dislike most about digital cameras--noisy images and slow shutter times--plague many cameras to this day. But then I got a look at the sale prices on the entry level DSLRs, read a few reviews, and got hooked. I was originally looking at the D40, but 4 more megapixels and an autofocusing kit lens for a mere $50 increase yanked me up to the D60.

I've never owned a camera any more elaborate than a point and shoot, and barely had any idea what an f-stop was. But this thing *can* be used as a point and shoot camera, and now that I've started futsing around with some of the manual settings, I'm a little proud of what I can do--only a few days after getting it, with barely any photography experience. Crappy self-timer photos aside, of course.

A few more photos below the cut. Links lead to unedited images--full-size, etcetera.

( Photonification! )

And that is the best for now. *hugs her camera*

It's been almost a year since he dumped me.

*gingerly pokes wounds*

Nope, still fresh. Scabbed a little, maybe. Nowhere near healed. Whatever battle I was supposed to fight, whatever test the universe was giving me, I lost. Too weak to survive one stupid breakup intact.

And I'm a stupid donkey for having my first LJ post in foreverandaday be emo.* It's not like there isn't other stuff I keep meaning to post. Like postmortems on the LARPs I ran, or the tabletop game that's been brewing in my head, or the quiz that told me I was Chip Delaney. But I have a splitting headache, and feel like I'm going to throw up, and have just realized that I've been walking around with a dead spot in place of my heart for a year.

I'm going to take my painkillers and my antidepressant and go the fuck to sleep now. I had better feel better in the morning.


* Something I have realized: I have never been much of a person for "it is forbidden, thus I will do it and enjoy it." (Not that I don't do forbidden things--heck, I have a rack of sex toys on my wall--but I do them in spite of that, not because of that.) But, damn, I've realized that publicly posting about my negative emotions on LJ is a highly subversive thing, given my upbringing (show no negative emotions or you are yelled at) and my social conditioning from my two long-term relationships (showing negative emotions is manipulation, or overreacting, or childish; and Cyn in particular would get very upset with me if I posted to LJ about stuff.) So. Here I am doing the subversive thing and, in part, enjoying it because it is subversive.

Huh.

Edit: Obviously Treaty of Pallas is finished, since it ran and all. (Or at least a complete playable draft. I want to do a lot more to it, but that shall wait.) So just the Shebop stuff is left. And then I finally get to take this post down!

Edit 2: And now I get to take the post down! Yayz! *collapses with a resounding thud*

Character sheets, bluesheets, and other stuff for players for the two LARPs I'm working on.

This is the list for banging out drafts. If there's a fair chunk of text, even if there's still a few things missing, it'll be marked as done. If it's less than half done, it won't be.

If a sheet's title contains spoilers for the game, it will simply be list as Spoiler.

1-day sheets
Adelphos Gein
Alina Lavariel
The Nation of Asturia
The Gate of Atlantis
Celena Schezar
Celeste Alba
Chid zar Freid
The Eye of the Dragon
Dryden Fassa
The Nation of Fanelia
Foruma Menenti
The Nation of Freid
Jenny DuBois
Kat-Mary Longwood
Mamur
Merle
Michael Alba
Moleman
Nandia Belim
Paul Granch
Player Briefing - The Shebopaleileigh Improv Troope
Rose Carter
Ruhm
Spoiler [L]
Surinen Gaddes
Van Fanel
The Nation of Zaibach

2-day sheets
Allen Schezar
Angela Renard
Barbara Billis-Kissinger
The Nation of Basram
Eries Aston
The World of Gaea
Millerna Aston
Northumber College
Roan Clevendis
Spoiler [A]
Tom Owen
Zakary Belim

This is not counting rules and GM info for both games. So, yeah, this is a fuckton of work.

I'm guessing at the 2-day sheets based on a couple of things: potential length or complexity, necessary worldbuilding (for example, I mostly have to create Basram from scratch, and have it up to snuff with the rich worldbuilding present in the other Gaean countries), or characters who I have difficulty getting into the heads of.

I'd like to write a sheet a day--or two days, if it's one of those. I doubt I'll succeed, since I never do at this sort of thing, but it's worth a try.

Edit: filled. Thank you!

I just had a drop.

Anybody out there want to play a very innocent, very earnest sort of character who's got a couple of major plots to be dumped on his head? Gender not a problem, as I am cross-casting freely. Series knowledge really not a problem; if anything, will probably be more interesting to play this character without. There will be some political involvement, but not a huge amount.

The catch? The reason this character is freakin' impossible to cast? He's seven. An extremely precocious and eloquent seven; hell, you could play him as if he were ten or twelve and come off well. But a kid nonetheless.

Anybody interested? Please let me know as soon as possible!

Treaty is full and cast, and I have a gamemaster minion for it as well, so perhaps the run won't be total chaos!

*does the GM butt-dance*

*writes madly*

FULL! The Treaty of Pallas. Sign up here. If you're one of the people who's interested but hasn't decided yet, I would like to gently (with a STICK) nudge you to decide. ;)

TWO ONE SLOTS LEFT: Lifeline, and signups just opened yesterday. Sign up here.

FOUR THREE SLOTS LEFT: Shebopaleileigh, and signups just opened yesterday. Sign up here.

...someday there will be some content in this journal which does not involve madly advertising LARPs. SOMEDAY. *facepalm*

Also?

THANK YOU AND WELCOME TO ALL MY FUTURE PLAYERS! *GM cackle*

No con report yet. Maybe con report tomorrow?

Paranoid & Crotchety - Updated!

We are probably running our Iron GM game at FestEvil. I have been commanded to do so by a room full of drunk people. And one cannot ignore the demands of a room full of drunk people!

Also,

Yet Another Damn Escaflowne Marathon

I've had requests for another screening pre-game, so I will be hosting one noon-to-midnight-ish this Saturday (only time and date available at this point, sorry), same location as last time, for any who can make it and wish to brush up on their canon (or just see an AWESOME ANIME.)

Also,

I still need at least four more players for Treaty of Pallas!

More info at the above link. In case you haven't heard about this already.

*FLAILS and goes back to writing games*

GAME 1:

The Treaty of Pallas: Friday, March 20th, 7 pm, Brandeis.

...yes, I finally have a date, and I am finally bothering to post the date here. *headdesk*

It is the Year of the Sun Northwest in the world of Gaea, a land of beasts and dragons, cradled by the heavens and loved by the earth. Tonight, on the eve of the orange month of summer, kings and princes, ambassadors and warriors, have come from many countries to meet in the splendid city of Pallas and negotiate the final settlements of grief, loss, bloodshed, and revenge. For, less than a year ago, the Fate War ravaged the continent. The northern country of Zaibach, under the leadership of her mysterious emperor, began a ruthless campaign of expansion, powered by military technology of a destructiveness Gaea had never known. Zaibach was finally defeated by an unsteady alliance of neighboring countries, but not before catastrophic loss and atrocities on both sides.

Tonight, on the eve of the negotiations, old grievances and blood will be aired, new alliances forged, and unexpected friendships made. Perhaps war will loom yet again; perhaps new enemies are yet to be discovered; but perhaps Gaea will finally find peace.

Casting Questionnaire!

Please go fill out the questionnaire if you are sure you can make it? I am still some players short.

And I am still writing the game. *headdesk x2* As soon as I fill the run and cast, I shall send out character names and costume hints. As soon as possible after that (especially for the OCs or the obscure charactrs) I will send out bluesheets and partial character sheets. I will admit, though, that full character sheets may not be done until a few days before game. *flails*

GAME 2:

Yes, we finished the Iron GM game!

Lifeline, written by Tory and Lily in under 24 hours (we conked for three) for the Iron GM contest, is a game of black comedy, interstellar horror, fractured identity, and religious extremism, played out by twelve escaped, half-amnesiac, max-sec prisoners dangling helplessly in empty space. With geese.

Y'know, the sort of thing you could only come up with during this sort of contest. >.<;;;;

(I feel a deep and burning urge to share the character names--in all cases, prison nicknames--as they are certainly not spoilers, and as they amuse me immensely. Babyface, Blondie, Catcher, Cranky, Farthead, Flower, Geek (that being in the carnival sense), Hitter, Mickey, Sluggy, Walleye, and Zonk. ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK.)

I just hope the run goes vaguely well. Need to get to a dollar store to buy props tomorrow.

Icankillyouwithmybrain I just got to type the sentence:

"You hope Zonk speaks truth."

Complete character sheets: 6/12
Half-written: 4/12
Nuthin' yet: 2/12

So mllelaurel and I are doing the madness that is the Iron GM contest. And, of course, cracky discussion has ensued.

Quote of the moment:

Just because we have a character named Farthead doesn't mean we're twelve!

There may be more. Because this may take all night. But that's kind of the idea.

COMMENCE EPIC FLAIL.

I'm sorry for the complete and total lack of posts. And for the fact that I haven't so much as read my friendslist in a month or two. Pretty much all my time and energy is going into the following things:

- Work, which has been extremely hectic and stressful as of late.
- Writing The Treaty of Pallas and Shebopaleileigh, both of which run in less than six weeks.
- Plotting and playing in a private LJ/LARP game which my local family has been doing. (The chosen kind, not the blood kind, of course.) Someday perhaps I will post more about this.
- Battling endless soul-sucking sick. I've had various colds for two months solid.
- Unit origami.

Obviously some of those are more relaxation things. But I sleep in because I'm exhausted, run to work and stress all day, come home wiped and try to drag more of my LARPs out of my brain, or try to relax with the private-LARP adventures or crazy origami projects.

Two small accomplishments:

I've been politically minded as of late. (Since I started following the election. It's carried over into the private-LARP.) It occurred to me, contemplating the hate-cult train wreck that is the Westboro Baptist Church (which I feel ashamed to have the name of my hometown associate with), that the following might make an excellent political slogan or bumper sticker, if it does not yet exist: "Freedom of speech does not mean freedom from conscience."

Though it also occurs to me that there really cannot be a law in this country to prevent one from being a jackass; that's kind of the point. I just wish it was a less hateful culture, I suppose. Still proud of the phrase.

Accomplishment the other:

If one is coloring the edges of a regular dodecahedron with five colors, it is possible to arrange the colors so that no color is repeated around the edge of the same face. (The same pattern of colors cannot repeat on all faces, however.) I do not have the technical proof of this, as I am not that sort of person, but I fiddled with pens, made a hypothesis, and then tested it both on paper and with paper.

Any pentagonal face in a dodecahedron is going to have a third edge extending from each corner. Like, if one isolated one face and one edge, and pardoned the fact that ascii does not do small scale pentagons well:

 |
/ \
\_/

so.

The extending edge is the same color as the opposite edge of the original face. Like:

 |
/ \
\_/

so.

Following this rule throughout the construction will produce the afformentioned result. I have a rather large open-frame dodecahedron (the "little turtle" unit from Tomoko Fuse's Unit Origami) sitting on my dining room table in proof. (It also had to be held together with tape on the inside, as the unit gets floppy in large open constructions. But still.)

Now to make a seven-side box, purely for the Box of Babalon lolz.

Have just been informed by a mutual friend that Ex-Boy and his New Girl have returned from Germany--though I didn't think to ask whether this was permanent or temporary. (I thought she'd had a job there for a year, and it's been far less than that.) At the time, it simply seemed odd that I'd been talking with the Lily (mllelaurel) and the Pooka (pookit) about whether Ex-Boy and I would wind up heading in the friend direction at some point, and I was saying that his being in Germany was, uh, prohibitive. Cause, y'know, Germany.

(With the exception of often fleeting netfriends, I don't do long-distance well, even with friends or family, never mind Relationships.)

At the time I heard the news, I honestly didn't give it much thought, but then as I was driving home and getting stuck behind 29382479837 idiots and/or buses, it occurred to me--dear lord, if he's local, we might run into each other or something. The thought of contacting him suddenly becomes more relevant. And WTF do I do?

Clearly I can't win. If he moves to Germany, I get pathetic about the fact that he disappeared off to live with New Girl without even telling me. If he comes back, I get pathetic about the fact that we have a slim chance of briefly existing at the same coordinates.

At least I'm not alone anymore, thank god.

Yesterday, as a result of more conversation, I was thinking about magic and other Related Things. Y'know, the things which have been pretty much dead to me since Boy became Ex-Boy. And...I don't even know. No conclusions, except realizing again that the concept of doing anything magical by myself holds no joy or appeal.

I'm going to go off and be a good girl and do my laundry and clean my room and eat my dinner and schedule my LARP now. -.-

My recent life pattern: weeks are ass, weekends are ABSOLUTELY HEAVENLY. Hrm. If only I could spread it out a little. Want...to...start...nerd...commune...*twitch*

Also? Barbarella. Just. Barbarella.

Just in case I want to do some Shameless Self-Promotion at Arisia.

The webpage exists, too, as of last night. Possibly still a few typos that I haven't caught. But. Cards designed and printed, page written and formatted, in one night. And it's the most CSS-driven page I've yet done, down to using spans and classes for the in-line emphases (for easy design change.) I feel proud of myself.

And now I need to finish coffee and get the hell to work.

Arisia attendance: I have no schedule, I'm just going to swing by Saturday, maybe tonight, maybe part of Sunday, and hang out. And buy stuff. Must...obtain...corset...

Belated happy new year! I hope this one's easier on me than the last. Resolution-wise, well, I've failed every one I've kept in the past. Argh. Why can I never see anything through?

Radio silence due, to a large part, to a character and universe eating my brain which are only shared amongst a small crowd (me, mllelaurel, and nevacaruso, so far, with pookit just getting introduced.) May attempt to post character profile etcetera later.

It's 2009. This is bewildering. I've been feeling very meandery and out of touch with pretty much everything recently. Sheer amount of brainspace given to fictional people and stories is partial cause, hence copious daydreaming; as for the rest, not sure. Not dealing with responsibility well, continually reverting to the horrific flakiness I've had at earlier points in my life, which worries me.

A good friend and I wound up having sex for the first time and going out to dinner afterward. She borrowed my clothing due to her own being over-worn and smelly, so classic walk of shame, and we ordered almost exactly the same thing for dinner, which I've never done before. Embarrassing amounts of coupliness.

I now have a penis. It is shiny and white and lives in my closet.

Car unable to make it out of the driveway in this weather. As a result, it took me an hour and a half to get to work, and two hours to get home. Most of that time with numb feet and mind-hazing sense of commute panic.

I know I haven't posted here in an age and a half, and this is a hell of a way to start up again, but I had to relate my EPIC MEH.

Death Note, and bizarre relations to it, are eating my brain.

That is all. I've got nothing in me. 3.5 hours on the road for 6 hours on the clock, and that's not counting the extensive man-hours spent attempting to get the car out of the driveway. MOTHERFUCKER. Do not want to do this again tomorrow. DO NOT WANT.

January: And the wenches of this age, the courtesans who seem beloved by these folk, why they are thinner than beggars, all of them!

A pseudo-Elizabethan fat rant. I don't know why.

February: (brief due to RSI flareup)

But I was a psychotic Scottish man!

March: For those who might have heard me bitching about my financial situation, that is all set.

Ah, homelessness.

April: First day of work: went excellently.

Ah, job.

May: Every time so far that I've dated somebody who didn't have a strong, functional primary relationship at the time, they wound up, in whatever way, leaving me for somebody else they were also dating.

Ah, dumpage.

June: Hope do have it done today. May, um, not.

That would be me working on my website.

July: The livelongnmarry auction?

...which I kinda fail at now.

August: WHAT: BATMAN!!

During my phase of spontaneous superhero movie outings.

September: Where a) IT is the move, which was, IMHO, a grand success, and resulted in everything except the big furniture being moved, most up three flights of stairs, in under four hours. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I MEAN IT, THANK YOU.

October: Normally I have a strict no-LJ-from-work rule, but I need to FREAK THE FUCK OUT in some reasonably contained way RIGHT NOW.

During my phase (hopefully ending kthanx?) of agonizingly stressful major schedule conflicts.

November: If I had a million dollars which doesn't get you very far these days.

Idle fantasies of nerd commune and endless creativity and self-improvement.

December: Dream took place at Arisia, only they'd expanded with little notice to this HUUUUGE suburban hotel.

Nightmare about not having a presentation ready on time.

Dream took place at Arisia, only they'd expanded with little notice to this HUUUUGE suburban hotel. Big enough to hold Arisia, for once, and with this second building even more like a huge ziggurat than the actual Cambridge Hyatt.

There was some fairly unrelated stuff with having to stay and hang out with a batch of younger bouncier girls who I didn't know, and feeling alienated and exhausted.

For some reason, I'd volunteered to do two presentations on Sunday--y'know, small side-track programming, and I think I'd been assigned the topics. One was on the mythology of the Hulk, which I was semi-prepared for, despite not actually knowing that much about the Hulk. I had notes, but I was planning to ditch them and just do poetic descriptions of archetypes, doodles on the blackboard, start some discussion. I think it would have gone vaguely okay.

I'd also gotten some confusion and started writing a presentation on the protagonist of my novel, which was most of my prep work (this was a very last minute thing, like during the con), and which I couldn't use.

But the other thing I was doing--it was short, part of a three or four person thing, only like fifteen minutes, on Abraham Lincoln. I'd done a smidge of work, dug up some stuff on his early political career which I found interesting. (Parallels to a game I'd played in at some point, though I'm not saying which one due to spoilers.) And I was kinda ready to present on that.

But. Sunday morning. I go to the ziggurat-building where the presentations are, and there's this big train-station board which has all the schedule on it. And I'm late. It's like halfway through the morning slot. And I see the description on the board--and it specifically says, that as part of a panel on conversative politics or something, I'm supposed to be presenting on Lincoln's assassination. In like five minutes.

And that's when I just crack from the stress and nerves. Just screaming sobbing nervous fit in a corner, and nobody notices. And I'm hyperventilating and I can't do it. I just can't. I'm supposed to make this presentation and I can't, and all the other stress and insecurity in my life is boiling through the crack that made, and I'm just breaking down.

Then it's three o'clock, and I'm supposed to be presenting on the Hulk, and I'm riding the long diagonal elevator down the side of the ziggurat, the glass elevator where you can see the tracks all the way down the building, and crumpled on the floor clinging to the knees of some guy in a suit who ignores me and wailing, softly, because I have no voice. (This is kind of a recurring thing in dreams or nightmares--I try to scream or somesuch, and nothing comes out, or it's just not loud enough. Which is kind of odd, because I'm loud in real life, and I think if I had to I could scream like hell. But.)

And then I wake up and my alarm hasn't gone off, and I was supposed to be at work an hour ago.

If I get there and find I'm supposed to present on something...aiii.

It's funny, though. If I ever do have a freaking nervous breakdown, it probably will be because of something stupid like that.

[This replaces my earlier date grab post, as that otherwise perfect weekend was invalidated. So: please ignore that one, and answer this one!]

It is the Year of the Sun Northwest in the world of Gaea, a land of beasts and dragons, cradled by the heavens and loved by the earth. Tonight, on the eve of the orange month of summer, kings and princes, ambassadors and warriors, have come from many countries to meet in the splendid city of Pallas and negotiate the final settlements of grief, loss, bloodshed, and revenge. For, less than a year ago, the Fate War ravaged the continent. The northern country of Zaibach, under the leadership of her mysterious emperor, began a ruthless campaign of expansion, powered by military technology of a destructiveness Gaea had never known. Zaibach was finally defeated by an unsteady alliance of neighboring countries, but not before catastrophic loss and atrocities on both sides.

Tonight, on the eve of the negotiations, old grievances and blood will be aired, new alliances forged, and unexpected friendships made. Perhaps war will loom yet again; perhaps new enemies are yet to be discovered; but perhaps Gaea will finally find peace.

The Treaty of Pallas, a night of passion and politics for 15 to 18 players, is a fan-LARP based on The Vision of Escaflowne. Knowledge of the series is not required for most players, so anybody interested in a character-driven, low-magic, fantasy political LARP is encouraged to join.

I currently need 9-12 more players, perhaps three or for of whom might need to know the series. I am not particularly concerned with gender balance, as I can cross-cast with this game. I'm also achingly in need of GMs, as this game should run with at least three, so if you're willing to assist with that (primarily player observation and basic rules adjudication), please let me know.

Poll #1306848 The Treaty of Pallas
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: None

Again, are you interested?

If you are interested, have some more dates/times to choose from?

(Why those three weekends? Those are the two weekends in January which are 1) after the start of Brandeis classes, and 2) not overlapping with Arisia. And the one weekend in March is equidistant between Intercon and FestEvil, since I think going either closer to those hits sheer LARP overload. And I hope like hell that one of these dates works. o.@)

Conversation of the day, taken from me hanging out with mllelaurel, when a spider appeared in our vicinity.

Me: *hunting it with a cup* No, I think it's gone under the radiator. Maybe it's roasted.
Her: Awww. I mean, I'm afraid of spiders, but at least you would have treated it in a humane fashion when taking it out of my side.
Me: Yes, I would've taken it outside to freeze.
Her: ...That's it. You've officially been writing Seishirou too long. I'm going to have to start wearing gloves.
Me: *innocently returning to seat and snuggling under blanket* But I haven't marked you yet.
Her: *falls back facepalming in a reverse headdesk, thwacks head on a stack of boxes on the back of the couch* OW!
Me: But apparently my puzzle boxes have...

X fangirls on crack, ladies and gentlemen.