You had plenty money 1922

so...um.... pubmeet, there was. which was quiet and fudge was gleefully eaten.

I have my mitts on Pete's Stargate SG-1 tie-in book, in which I am a Goa'uld. MWHAHAHAHA. Mostly and really obviously inspired by a pic of me in the 300 dress glaring at the camera. (though the Goa'uld's chiton is a bit more modest than mine). I'm still going to get him for the host's name, mind you. And Jack made a short joke, so he totally deserves what Hera did to him.

I... think I've figured out what I want to do for nano. which means working out what research materials I need, never mind actually starting to research. It's a continuation of the 'Pevensies lived, fuck you, Aslan' 'verse and will mostly concentrate on Susan and Edmund. Because they've got the most story potential at the mo in my head. Um. Does anyone know where I'd start to look at what the general secret service community squabbles were in the 50s in Europe, particularly Greece? The Greek bit might not even be necessary in the end, but you know me. backstory helps.

otherwise, prepping for Discworld con, *still* need to write up the review for Play without Words, and going 'argh' regularly as I flail about in my state of newbieness at the new job.

Pondering a couple of bits. Identity, a few other things. Mostly transience.

Random snippet of conversation from yesterday, where the others were talking about the strangeness of things changing, and why things were different in other places while I eyerolled and went '...because it is?' (and got accused of harshing the joy with my putdowns and unwillingness to join in debate after the cocktail steak pasty). I finally boiled it down to the fact that I simply don't expect things to be the same from one place to another, and I don't expect anything to be the same when I come back to it after a time away. Change, even when it's infinitesimal, is what i view as normal. I may be a homebody in many ways, but change is the constant. Things shift, it's what I expect from the universe and accept as the norm. it's just different because it is.

Another bit was shifting identity - not being the centre of the universe. Always expecting to be the bit player or sidekick in any story, never the utter standout or leader, and the fact that I can be replaced. I expect to be replaced, because I'm not important enough that I can't be. World moves on without me quite easily, thankyou.

Seriously. I'm well known for being extremely self-absorbed. And for being arrogant and an attention hog (often being accused of seeking it when I'm not). Not to mention several other traits like bitchiness, volume, being very opinionated and blunt, etc etc. Take all that, then take the fact that I've never, ever deluded myself into thinking that I'm the main character in the story - I identify with the sidekick or the friends most of the time. Helping tell it, maybe being a decent part, but not the focus. I may be envious of the lead but I know i'm never going to be it. The only time I ever lead is convention dances, and even then I'm part of a clan of several. Show people how to do things by example, but that's it.

Still replaceable, always destined to fade away. Even looking at baby's first tattoo, which translates as Ghost/Foreigner/Not Us, got in the single week of my teens that I was feeling emo, tells you a bit. My twitter bio is a quote from Sandman, the last line of this (someday getting either the whole or just the last line on me somewhere):

All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters,
You can be me when I'm gone.

I told someone that I find the fact that as part of my belief system as an atheist the fact that there is no afterlife, that this is what you get and all you leave behind is your body to rot down to feed other things is comforting. I'm very happy with that.

:pokes body: Seriously, WTF?

You have verged between 10 to 10 and a half stone (140-147lb to benighted colonials, 63.5-66.6kg to those weirdos over the channel) since puberty. This has never changed, no matter what size or level of fitness you are. And in the last week you dropped 2lb to below 10 stone. Then over the last couple of days of period, you drop another three. I can explain the period thing, I cannot explain the previous week. Unless body is pre-emptively muttering about losing exercise time.

Re: the exercise time - I had been doing 3 times a week after work (pretty much every other day). The problem being now that darkness is closing in something chronic and it was *dark* on the last leg of my run home last week, which means it's almost certainly going to be dark during the main leg of my run in a few days. Which involves farmland, the river, the lock and cattle grids. Also cows and swans. No bugger would be stupid enough to run that route in the dark. Shite. What'm I going to do? At this rate I'm only going to be able to jog at weekends - I'm not changing my route to include more pavement, since that defeats the purpose of having the majority of my route on non-tarmac. Can't switch it to early morning, as it's now got to the time of year where it's murky as hell and foggy at 6:30am (I'd have to leave at 6am to get back in time for shower and brekkies) and only going to get darker. And I have enough problems dragging arse out of bed at weekends as it is. One of the blokes at work asked why not Regents' Park, since the Hub has showers (work has none)... except they charge. And the Hub is a good 25 mins walk away which would eliminate the entirety of my sodding lunch hour with bugger all time for *actual* running.

I. HATE. GYMS.

Huh. I think I've become immune to nettle stings.

I knew I'd become immune to mosquito bites sometime in the past few years, because there's no way I haven't been bitten, I've heard the damn things in my room and slapped ones that had definitely just fed on *someone* nearby. But no itchy bite marks whatsoever, when I used to get covered in the things.

But anyway : the nettle stings.

It being blackberry season, and brambles grow along the route I go jogging, I've been stopping occasionally and getting a handful. And as any bugger knows, there is no way to reach for the good ones and not get scratched. (for some reason I like them slightly tart/not quite perfect ripe, when you have to give a slight tug to get them off rather than coming away easily) And of course there's plenty of nettles growing in and out of the brambles. I've been getting it all up my legs and arms and hands. And you can damn well tell when you get stung by nettles, because it hurts and stings for a bit afterwards. Except. It being jogging, you forget any hurt within about thirty seconds if it doesn't involve muscle ache or cramp. It'll start stinging again when you stop, though. And I've got scratches all up my arms and hands, I've had to pick tiny thorns out of my hands... but no nettle rash whatsoever, and no itching either. And the route I take, there's no way not to stop every five/ten minutes, because of gates and cattle grids.

The first time I got stung a couple of weeks ago, I remember going 'dammit, oh well, I know there's dock leaves growing by the next cattle grid and on the riverbank' and then being a bit puzzled when there wasn't anything to rub.

I didn't even know it was *possible* to not have any reaction to nettle stings.

Bacchus fic : stalled slightly after the first time he seduced Edmund (second wine harvest). Edmund's just been stating precisely why he's standing on his principles about Bacchus coming to find him in the middle of work rather than going to the revels like everyone else. peter is just terribly amused, because Bacchus has developed a bit of a fetish for disrupting Edmund's study and making his desk grow twigs and leaves. Now in snippet-ville, the Telmarines are busy being scandalised by Bacchus' revels and Lucy is calmly telling them to sit down, shut the fuck up and go to a few next time. Plus the Narnians are going 'No-one told us it was like this!' because Bacchus hasn't been in several centuries, and all they've got is legends. mwhahahaha. The Telmarine bit is so going in the nano. Not sure if I'm going to keep the Bacchus pov as a fic on its own with the Peter and Edmund convo, or have it as flashbacks in the nano. Which is getting *complex*. :stares hard at it: Some coherent story would be nice, please.

Narnia : taking over my braaaaiiiiiin for fic purposes. Somewhere in the background my torchwood WIPs are muttering about seceding due to not even getting the guilt thoughts or bad original fic crossovers. Mostly short scenes from the 'what if the Pevensies stayed at the end of Prince Caspian' AU - Calormenes' reaction to the news, couple of politics discussions so far. I need to hunt for a beta who knows and is willing to touch Narnia stuff...

:sigh: my personal canon really needs sorting out from other people's since I get persuaded by their ideas. bedlambard being a prime contender. I have a pretty much finished ficlet which was Peter post-war as a young officer in the army - and then she says something about it still being mid-war when movie-verse has them attending school in Prince Caspian. (still a fuck-up on behalf of CS Lewis since you normally spent more than a year out of London as an evacuee, but he bloody forgot) And of course movie-verse Peter is 17 or so in PC. (I can't quite take him as 18 because he'd be that close to leaving school) Which would shift him in which war he'd be fighting *in*. And then the fact that he'd be better in the RAF since he'd be more autonomous and is obviously having real problems adjusting to taking orders from *anyone* post-High King. ARRRRRGH. ...Fuck it. Finish this one as a capsule and then think about it.

Well, looks like Jessie from IDA is in limbo - Bill Kenwright had been rumoured as wanting her for the touring version of Cabaret, but Cameron Mackintosh was making pouty noises and throwing hissy fits. Bill's gone with Samantha instead, she's just been announced for it. (much less hassle, much more consistent, and can actually dance and has stage presence. Not quite sure I can see her as Sally Bowles since we didn't get to see her doing 'damaged', but what the hell. And it's a pity Rachel got picked up for We Will Rock You, since on the strength of her performance of Cabaret, I'd really like to see what she'd do with it.)

Need also to set up an electric fence around me when on lunch. Checking mail and journal before going out. Very obviously doing so. and that's when my boss comes up and decides to talk to me about work stuff I emailed him about earlier. Finally get rid of him. Pack to go out. Make sandwich. Stuff sandwich in mouth, about to walk out door... and he does it again. I spend most of this conversation with the sandwich still in my mouth and communicate by noises and eyebrows. No, really. this is my fucking lunch hour. On coming back, conferring agrees that we really do need an electric fence for such occasions. Finally get out of there. Pass by cheapo hairdressers (I only get a trim on long one-length hair, there is no point in getting layers or shaping with the way my hair grows) and think 'fuck it' since they look empty, so at least that's something achieved for today.... :pokes: it's now relatively shiny and sleek. I'm not sure I can cope with serum'd hair....

spent weekend sunning self. and then found out the only thing in the house with aloe vera in it was my moisturiser. So a-Boots we did go this lunchtime, where fortunately the hideously over-priced sun lotion was 2 for 1. And intro'd Lissy to Eat. Where she made squeebles of joy since they had coronation chicken salads.

Applied for a job at the Royal Opera House that I waaaaant. Assistant organiser of the costume and wigs dept. (standard admin job for 20.5k, but in a shiny setting) Fingers crossed that my experience levels trump everyone else.

Once again, the bunnies hit while I'm trying to finish the WIPs and present me with a short fic written in one rush that now just needs beta-ing.

Gah. nothing like having an original phobia (original as in you could count on the fingers of one hand the people in the British Isles who have this and have a substantiated reason). Went Wagamamas after work with parentals, for the first time ever post-dinner, manage to catch the bus rather than having to get a taxi. Downstairs is all one-person spaces, so parents go upstairs and I follow. Sit, bus pulls out into main streets, immediately gulp slightly and shift over to the other side. I think I'm okay, then we get to suburbia and the trees start banging the windows. See me bolt. parents asking if I'm okay as I run down the stairs. Sit down at the back, shaking slightly, scrolling through mp3 player to find the most wordy and fast-paced stuff I could find (turned out to be The Fix) and thanked fuck that the engine at the back downstairs is loud. Get to our stop, parents and me get off bus, parents immediately asked if I was okay. (had mostly calmed down by this point) They'd apparently been rather confused for about a minute until it clicked - I'd looked like I was going to throw up. Fortunately, not a usual reaction. Dad said I shouldn't have gone up (they also started apologising and said they just hadn't thought) though I pointed out that I never get the bus here as have train pass, and when I do it's the single-deckers on a different route. London, I didn't think too much about it as none of the routes I took had trees on.

But yeah. god I love having a really, really specific substantiated phobia. megolas is probably the only person I still see who's witnessed me with it.

:sigh: could someone with a USA isp do me a favour? I need a gmail addy - leave a comment below if you can help. UK isp only gets you a googlemail one.

ETA : basically I need someone in the US to register it for me due to redirection.

ah, the rules of 'guest right' that get drummed into you at an early age... New temp. See me be absolutely scandalised that Lissy hadn't got him a drink yet. Does anyone know why the first question you ask if it's clear they're staying for more than a few minutes being the drink question is still hanging around of all the old guest right rules? It's not like you automatically open your home anymore. The 3 day factor is only applicable in very specific circumstances.

Need to book appt at Bravissimo. Bollocks. Why didn't I go into the one in Cardiff when I was there and it was a quiet tuesday morning? I'm going to have to book at the one on Oxford Street. Oh, yeah, it was because I didn't think I was over a C cup. Interim bra (that at least is more comfy, the cups aren't gaping and the wires aren't digging in in weird places due to being too loose) is a 32c and I have a slight case of double boob.

I has an mp3 player. (graham at work chucked his at me because he hadn't used it in several months) I'd completely given up on ever listening to music on the go since I got so frustrated with my CD walkman a good few years back. This could get a wee bit addictive.

IDA - ( Read more... )

Dr Who : WE LOVE DONNA. That is all.

uploaded a bunch of new icons, deleted some including my old userpic of TARDIS Goddess!Rose, and then realised... I have no Jenny Sparks icons. none whatsoever. Which is probably a crime against... I dunno, that whole thing that says you must have many many pics and icons of the person you feel (and half of your friends seem to - at least the comics reading end) is *you*.

Plenty of Starbuck. Plenty of Six. Plenty of Saffron. Plenty of Jack. A good few Guinevere (who I went with for new default). Several Chaucer/Bettany. But no Jenny. (I utterly deny all accusations of ...similar characteristics in the people I have the most icons of. Blonde? English? Snark as default? Somewhat manipulative? Shush.) THIS IS WRONG.

:muses: maybe I should beg the flist, considering I'm somewhat crap with graphics.

In other news, clearly a weekend away decreases my tolerance for office heat + air conditioning + fans - had to go outside for fifteen minutes before my eyeballs stopped feeling hot and gritty today.

in light of so many people on my flist recently having their bosoms re-measured...

Have known for a good months or so that I've changed, or at least gone down a cup size. So in light of this, finally grabbed a tape measure and measured ribcage. Which has gone down to 31 and 1/2 inches. (previously was a 34C) So, I'm a 32 there... er. can anyone remember the cup calculation thingy?

derryderrydown is suffering from rampant plotbunnies. Go and encourage her, for she has Jack Harkness as one of Tommy's officers in WW1. Feed the angst! The stuff Jack was specifically trying not to let on! It is your duty! (she's also trying to resist Billy Prior/Blackadder crossovers, too, but feels there would either be no sex or 'oh, this is just like what we did to the fags* at Eton' from George and therefore frustrate Billy something chronic.)

*fags in context of public school = younger boys who got assigned to prefects and sixth form as personal servants. Buggery is sadly entirely optional in this case... :tilts head: huh. Tim from Dr Who - was he at fagging age or was he too old? I wasn't sure what form he was meant to be in, because my brain will still not process that Thomas Sangster is now 17. not 12. The baby face does not help.

oooo, and how perfect would a Torchwood/Hamish Macbeth crossover be? We *deserve* pipe-smoking doctors and dope-smoking coppers and mad, mad locals (historical recreations with added bouncy castles optional) in Torchwood stories. hmm. Perhaps we could do a plotbunny drop on tw_history since it would take place pre-Canary Wharf...