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May. 31st, 2007 02:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
goldenmeanOh inertia, you are a harsh mistress. Not much updating this month, mainly because this month has been very confusing, and I'm constantly thinking things will resolve one way or the other and then I can update on it from solid ground, but that doesn't really seem to be in the cards. For somebody so fond of subatomic physics, I'm really not nearly as appreciative of uncertainty as I ought to be. Really though, I'm generally of the opinion that one's personal life should stay Newtonian as much as possible. Imagine the hassle if you constantly had to observe your friends to see if they liked you or not and then as soon as you left the room they went back to both enjoying your company and not, at the same time! Fickle bastards, the lot of you.
Anyway, it was becoming easier and easier to not update, and I've been down that road before, so here I am. Besides, Diana was guilt tripping me about it. Meanie.
The problem with these updates after long gaps is that they're either a millionty pages long (or, considering how verbose even my small entries are, more like a trillionty), or else you need to be very surface about everything. I'm going to try for the second one and probably end up with a happy medium somewhere around the size of your average doctoral paper.
So, random things that have not sucked:
The See Colin Slash/Gothsicles/Caustic show was easily the best show ever that has included the Konami code, a Frontline Assembly cover, ridiculously oversized cowboy hats, incredibly well deserved jabs at Combichrist songs, and Under The Harvest Moon (actually not entirely sure if that's the name of the song. I tried to google the lyrics I could remember when I got home, but didn't get anywhere. Apparently there are almost as many songs about harvest moons as about more mundane things like, you know, battlefields, and swords, and robots, and headhunters, and duck hunting in marshes, and things like that). Regardless, funniest show ever. If the universe were perfect the deluxo edition of the CD would include all of the show patter, but somehow I doubt that's going to be happening. Added bonus, so many old fogies showed up that I actually knew more than half of the concert audience.
Tom Parker, campmate of the year (That's as short as I'm able to make his name/title. Generally my intrinsic laziness causes me to start chopping off parts of people's names when I refer to them, until everybody is just a pleasant monosyllabic blur to me, but I am incapable of even thinking Tom... without then continuing with Parker, campmate of the year. As an aside, ever since I first began listening to the Violent Femmes, every time anyone ever says Chicago, my mind immediately follows it up with "That bitch took my money and she went to Chicago", which was problematic when I had a college roommate who was actually from Chicago (TBTMMASWTC)). Wow, that was parenthetical of me. I'm rocking the old terseness about as well as expected it seems. ANYWAY, Tom Parker, campmate of the year had a barbecue (other people were involved as well, but I don't have their LJ usernames, and hence, they go creditless), wherein there were kittens. I'm told that there were people there as well, but mainly just kittens. Oh my god. Kittens. Saw lots of people I like and don't see much due to their unfortunate taste in places to live. Seriously, nothing good can ever come of anywhere south of San Jose, and I'm still on the fence about them. Saw lots of people I see a fair amount, but somehow still manage to like anyway as well. Also, kittens.
I actually enjoyed the Thunderdome fundraiser. I guess this isn't really surprising, considering I've enjoyed all of the ones I've been to, but after last years Burning Man o' misery, I've been of pretty mixed opinions at best about the whole affair. When I saw the row of portapotties and started getting all misty eyed and thinking "Awwww, it's *just* like the playa", I knew I was probably going to end up going again this year. We'll see how my mood swing roller coaster is looking in a couple of months to be sure though. Also, going there with some Burning Man/Thunderdome virgins threw just how jaded I am into sharp relief. As we were walking up, it actually took me some noticeable lag to realize that their expressions of shock and amazement were because they were not accustomed to warehouses suddenly spewing gigantic gouts of flame into the air. I wonder just how much Burning Man has dulled my fundamental survival instincts. "Several million volts of electricity? *yawn* I saw this 7 years ago". Also, my new band name courtesy of this event, Do-Si-Do Forklift (thank you Jen for writing it down so I actually remembered it). I see us as Einsturzende Neubauten meets square dance. Now swing your partners into the circular saw *SKREEEEEEEE* *GRIND* *THUD THUD THUD*
I went to go see Miranda July (You might know her as "Oh, that You And Me And Everyone We Know person" (and if that's the case, I both applaud and am revulsed by your ability to think in HTML). I think of her as that person we used to listen to on the way to Shrine, and why my sister sometimes calls me Sasquatch, because I'm all old-school like that. Ok, ok, my sister's all old school like that, I just happen to have the good sense to realize when she's onto a good thing) read from her new book, which is wonderful, and I think less of all of you for not having already read it because I'm a judgmental ass. I'm not a hypocrite though, as I think less of myself for not having finished it yet also, but the bookclub book this month is actually a little hefty and something I haven't already read (Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children FWIW), so I needed to stop reading Miranda July so I could finish rereading the 1100 page fantasy epic I was in the middle of, so I could safely start on Rushdie. Books are hard.
Speaking of that certain ginormous fantasy series, I assume all of you good Malazan reading people (all, you know, three or four of you on my friends list) are aware that the 7th book is out, yes? For some "In England" versions of out that is. Borderlands didn't have their copies last time I checked, though that might have been rectified at this point. Again I state that if you like fantasy and are not reading this series, you're doing yourself a grave disservice.
Hrm. I feel like I'm missing an event or two. Such are the perils of updating a month at a time. Anyway, I think that's enough random event talk anyway. And now for something of import. To me at least. And considering you had the poor taste to occasionally allow me to waste 2345 normal sized livejournal entries worth of your friends page, you get to come along for the ride.
Dating is hard, and I'm not at all sure I'm wired properly for it. I've always suspected that this was the case, but have never really had to do it before, so didn't know for certain. As a case study in the relationship stylings of the elusive Joshie, then called just plain old Josh, or sometimes "Oh, you're that math kid", I give you me at 17. I am sitting on the couch, quite possibly wearing what I consider the height of fashion, a hypercolor t-shirt, but probably not as in retrospect, I think that was more of an early high school thing, and I was already onto Bad Religion or Nine Inch Nails t-shirts by then. Regardless though, I have a ponytail down to my ass, and there's just no talking my way out of that one. Next to me sits one of my sister's friends. Another one of my sister's friends walks up and says something along the lines of "You two should go out". We sort of look at each other and think "Yeah, ok" and then make out for the rest of the evening. And so on. While a bit of an extreme example, that seems to have set a theme, as most of my relationships start with something akin to me going to sleep in a magical fairy ring and then waking up next day in a relationship and thinking "Hey, neat!" So this is really my first experience with the whole dating thing. I think my main problem is that I just don't have that many different internal settings. Romantically speaking, I seem to have approximately two, labelled 0 and 11. Which works just fine ... in relationships. In dating, it's a bit more problematic, as I've found that going around set at 11 is akin to not just wearing your heart on your sleeve, but sending it off to a particularly cruel elementary school in dorky clothes (dare I suggest a hypercolor shirt for your mental image?) with a "Kick Me" sign on it's back and then walking around issuing everybody steel toed boots. It works poorly. More succinctly put by Interpol "She feels that my sentimental side should be held with kids gloves *ridiculously non-applicable line snipped* She swears I'm just prey for the female" So, my goal for the near future is to look for a new knob, maybe one with a 5, or a 6, or dare I even hope, a 7? One can dream.
How the hell do you people do this? Show me the way to the nearest fairy ring! Because, you know, that turned out so well for all parties involved last time.
Anyway, it was becoming easier and easier to not update, and I've been down that road before, so here I am. Besides, Diana was guilt tripping me about it. Meanie.
The problem with these updates after long gaps is that they're either a millionty pages long (or, considering how verbose even my small entries are, more like a trillionty), or else you need to be very surface about everything. I'm going to try for the second one and probably end up with a happy medium somewhere around the size of your average doctoral paper.
So, random things that have not sucked:
The See Colin Slash/Gothsicles/Caustic show was easily the best show ever that has included the Konami code, a Frontline Assembly cover, ridiculously oversized cowboy hats, incredibly well deserved jabs at Combichrist songs, and Under The Harvest Moon (actually not entirely sure if that's the name of the song. I tried to google the lyrics I could remember when I got home, but didn't get anywhere. Apparently there are almost as many songs about harvest moons as about more mundane things like, you know, battlefields, and swords, and robots, and headhunters, and duck hunting in marshes, and things like that). Regardless, funniest show ever. If the universe were perfect the deluxo edition of the CD would include all of the show patter, but somehow I doubt that's going to be happening. Added bonus, so many old fogies showed up that I actually knew more than half of the concert audience.
Tom Parker, campmate of the year (That's as short as I'm able to make his name/title. Generally my intrinsic laziness causes me to start chopping off parts of people's names when I refer to them, until everybody is just a pleasant monosyllabic blur to me, but I am incapable of even thinking Tom... without then continuing with Parker, campmate of the year. As an aside, ever since I first began listening to the Violent Femmes, every time anyone ever says Chicago, my mind immediately follows it up with "That bitch took my money and she went to Chicago", which was problematic when I had a college roommate who was actually from Chicago (TBTMMASWTC)). Wow, that was parenthetical of me. I'm rocking the old terseness about as well as expected it seems. ANYWAY, Tom Parker, campmate of the year had a barbecue (other people were involved as well, but I don't have their LJ usernames, and hence, they go creditless), wherein there were kittens. I'm told that there were people there as well, but mainly just kittens. Oh my god. Kittens. Saw lots of people I like and don't see much due to their unfortunate taste in places to live. Seriously, nothing good can ever come of anywhere south of San Jose, and I'm still on the fence about them. Saw lots of people I see a fair amount, but somehow still manage to like anyway as well. Also, kittens.
I actually enjoyed the Thunderdome fundraiser. I guess this isn't really surprising, considering I've enjoyed all of the ones I've been to, but after last years Burning Man o' misery, I've been of pretty mixed opinions at best about the whole affair. When I saw the row of portapotties and started getting all misty eyed and thinking "Awwww, it's *just* like the playa", I knew I was probably going to end up going again this year. We'll see how my mood swing roller coaster is looking in a couple of months to be sure though. Also, going there with some Burning Man/Thunderdome virgins threw just how jaded I am into sharp relief. As we were walking up, it actually took me some noticeable lag to realize that their expressions of shock and amazement were because they were not accustomed to warehouses suddenly spewing gigantic gouts of flame into the air. I wonder just how much Burning Man has dulled my fundamental survival instincts. "Several million volts of electricity? *yawn* I saw this 7 years ago". Also, my new band name courtesy of this event, Do-Si-Do Forklift (thank you Jen for writing it down so I actually remembered it). I see us as Einsturzende Neubauten meets square dance. Now swing your partners into the circular saw *SKREEEEEEEE* *GRIND* *THUD THUD THUD*
I went to go see Miranda July (You might know her as "Oh, that You And Me And Everyone We Know person" (and if that's the case, I both applaud and am revulsed by your ability to think in HTML). I think of her as that person we used to listen to on the way to Shrine, and why my sister sometimes calls me Sasquatch, because I'm all old-school like that. Ok, ok, my sister's all old school like that, I just happen to have the good sense to realize when she's onto a good thing) read from her new book, which is wonderful, and I think less of all of you for not having already read it because I'm a judgmental ass. I'm not a hypocrite though, as I think less of myself for not having finished it yet also, but the bookclub book this month is actually a little hefty and something I haven't already read (Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children FWIW), so I needed to stop reading Miranda July so I could finish rereading the 1100 page fantasy epic I was in the middle of, so I could safely start on Rushdie. Books are hard.
Speaking of that certain ginormous fantasy series, I assume all of you good Malazan reading people (all, you know, three or four of you on my friends list) are aware that the 7th book is out, yes? For some "In England" versions of out that is. Borderlands didn't have their copies last time I checked, though that might have been rectified at this point. Again I state that if you like fantasy and are not reading this series, you're doing yourself a grave disservice.
Hrm. I feel like I'm missing an event or two. Such are the perils of updating a month at a time. Anyway, I think that's enough random event talk anyway. And now for something of import. To me at least. And considering you had the poor taste to occasionally allow me to waste 2345 normal sized livejournal entries worth of your friends page, you get to come along for the ride.
Dating is hard, and I'm not at all sure I'm wired properly for it. I've always suspected that this was the case, but have never really had to do it before, so didn't know for certain. As a case study in the relationship stylings of the elusive Joshie, then called just plain old Josh, or sometimes "Oh, you're that math kid", I give you me at 17. I am sitting on the couch, quite possibly wearing what I consider the height of fashion, a hypercolor t-shirt, but probably not as in retrospect, I think that was more of an early high school thing, and I was already onto Bad Religion or Nine Inch Nails t-shirts by then. Regardless though, I have a ponytail down to my ass, and there's just no talking my way out of that one. Next to me sits one of my sister's friends. Another one of my sister's friends walks up and says something along the lines of "You two should go out". We sort of look at each other and think "Yeah, ok" and then make out for the rest of the evening. And so on. While a bit of an extreme example, that seems to have set a theme, as most of my relationships start with something akin to me going to sleep in a magical fairy ring and then waking up next day in a relationship and thinking "Hey, neat!" So this is really my first experience with the whole dating thing. I think my main problem is that I just don't have that many different internal settings. Romantically speaking, I seem to have approximately two, labelled 0 and 11. Which works just fine ... in relationships. In dating, it's a bit more problematic, as I've found that going around set at 11 is akin to not just wearing your heart on your sleeve, but sending it off to a particularly cruel elementary school in dorky clothes (dare I suggest a hypercolor shirt for your mental image?) with a "Kick Me" sign on it's back and then walking around issuing everybody steel toed boots. It works poorly. More succinctly put by Interpol "She feels that my sentimental side should be held with kids gloves *ridiculously non-applicable line snipped* She swears I'm just prey for the female" So, my goal for the near future is to look for a new knob, maybe one with a 5, or a 6, or dare I even hope, a 7? One can dream.
How the hell do you people do this? Show me the way to the nearest fairy ring! Because, you know, that turned out so well for all parties involved last time.
