A word about stubble

This will, hopefully, be quick. I have work to do.

The Toronto office and I have a fundamental disagreement about stubble. Male, facial stubble, that is. Or, to be more exact, designer stubble.

See, I don't mind if a guy is on holiday or something like that and chooses not to shave for a couple of days. That's fine. No problem. I do mind, however, if it's obvious that a man is carefully grooming the I'm Too Busy (or Careless, or Cool) to Shave look.

I'm sorry, but if you're walking around with a constant three-day beard, you're working hard at it.

I know that it's a little different for television characters -- you have to have some costume consistency -- but even there, I'd like to take three quarters of the fashionably scruffy men on t.v. and introduce them and their stylists to the concept of razors.

There's a reason for this slightly hostile attitude, you know.

The Eighties.

Specifically, the fact that in the Eighties (when I was regularly dating) (and yes, I am that old) (and shut up) too many men were walking around trying to rock the whole Miami Vice look.

Ugh.

I wasn't a particularly busy dater, but even at that I went out with far too many men sporting stubble, pastel blazers, and no socks.

We do not need to return to that, people.

Besides...

Do you scruffy men realise how frigging uncomfortable it is to snuggle up to you?...





Ok, maybe a little too much information there. Anyway, that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. I won't be blathering tomorrow since the weather's not my friend at the moment. The Toronto office is quite welcome to post a rebuttal in the meantime, but I'll see you later.

I have a headache

That's so not news I don't even know why I typed it, but there you go. I have a headache.

A sinus headache.

Started last night.

Probably means I'm getting a cold.

I'm thrilled.

Anyway, here I am with a headache and an evening program to do (and really? Who books a walk about beavers in the winter? At night? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?), so you can imagine that I'm absolutely in the mood to blather.

A nature walk in the dark? While it's snowing?

Good lord.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, nowhere. Whinging.

I'd whinge about the Oscars last night, but I don't think I will for a few reasons. One would be that I haven't seen any of the films so I couldn't care less who won, another is that it was somewhat less painful to watch than it often is, and a third is that I was being entertained (for the most part. When my head wasn't hurting too much) by the person I was watching the show with.

Who was in Toronto.

Yes, the infamous Toronto office. We were watching together by text. Kinda weird when you stop to think about it, but it apparently works for us. In some way or other.

Not too many opinions about the show, then (except the MUSICALS ARE BACK!!! number. Sooo painful. West Side Story vs High School Musical? Really?), and not too terribly many about the fashions either. I told the Toronto office that Beyonce was wearing a bordello carpet and I stand by that (but not on that, of course), Tilda Swinton was... Tilda Swinton, and I couldn't join the silly entertainment reporters in gushing over Heidi Klum's geometric whatever-that-was, but overall the dresses were nice, more of them men wore bow ties than I've learned to hope for lately (yay boys), and even though I haven't checked out too many sources of internet fashion review yet I've already found a couple of looks that were labelled BEST! by one site and WORST! by another, so I'm happy.

Yes, that kind of nonsense makes me happy.

Or it would if I didn't have a headache.





Ah well. Can't have everything. Unfortunately, my brain chose the headache over the happiness. Silly brain.

You had to know this was coming

I've got nothing.

Just not in the mood to think, I guess.

So... have a daylily photo.

I'll see you Sunday, maybe, since I won't be around a computer tomorrow. We can talk Oscar fashion preview or something, or maybe I'll just complain about the planetarium some more.

Later, all.

Pointless out of season photo of the day:

I see that I titled this photo orange when I saved it. Apparently I was too tired to type the word lily as well that day.

I probably should have just titled the thing shadow, though, because the shadows are the only reason I even bothered to keep it.

OLF, remember. I sometimes find photos interesting for reasons that make no sense to anyone who doesn't live in my pattern-addled brain.

Anyway.

That'll be it for today. I'm tired, cranky, and sore after the last three mornings spent wrestling the planetarium (yes, that's exactly what I do. Shut up), and I actually got busy talking about work-related stuff for a few minutes in a row so I haven't had time to formulate the day's blather anyway.

Tomorrow is a non-planetarium day. AND I won't have to be here so flipping early besides. Maybe -- just maybe -- the above two facts will put me in a more blatherific mood.




Don't count on it, though.

The problem with planetarium programs

The problem with planetarium programs (I mean besides the obvious aches, pains, and mystery bruises) is that when you've done a planetarium program or two you have no brain left for anything else you might have been planning to get done with your day.

And, on a side note, the problem with not having taken any photos lately is that now the photos on the blog have turned into random garden left-overs from the past couple of years and make even less sense than they normally do.

Don't think I haven't noticed.

Anyway, now that the planetarium has done it for my brain (which at least exists today. There was actual sleep last night, in other words. Wheat's first words to me this morning were something to the effect of my looking a hundred percent better today. I must have looked like absolute hell yesterday, I guess, because right now I look... planetariumed), I have no idea what's supposed to end up on the blog. Not unusual, I know, but at least today I have an excuse. Same excuse goes for tomorrow, by the way.

Just saying.

I suppose I could tell you what planetariumed looks like? It'll have to be tell, because I'm sure as heck not going to show. I avoid putting photos of myself on the blog whenever possible, and I'm certainly not going out of my way to post a photo of myself looking like I do just now.

Planetariumed.

Ok, for those new to the program, when I say planetarium I'm not meaning big room with curved ceiling. I'm meaning smallish blow-up bubble that you crawl inside to project the stars in. Portable planetarium, in other words. And when a person's doing planetarium programs a person is crawling in and out of the blow-up bubble repeatedly, creating more static (and a more interesting hairdo) with every pass.

I look ever so slightly like I've been hit by a minivan. A small minivan, perhaps inhabited by passengers who have been enjoying some on-the-go baked beans or something.

I look, in other words, like a combination of being run over and being hit by a freak windstorm.

I've learned over the years not to bother doing anything much with my hair on planetarium days. I have fine, somewhat flighty hair to begin with, and there's just no point in trying to save the 'do once you add planetarium into the mix. Sooo... I do my best to ignore it. What else can I do but pretend that I was aiming for the absent-minded professor look?

Which I've definitely got at the moment.

And that, my friends, is what being planetariumed is all about. No brain, and the head to match.




Going back to pretending to work now. Later, all.

More of the same

Believe me, you don't want blather from the sleepless one today. Getting a few hours of sleep a night is one thing, but none at all? Is completely ridiculous.

I'm crawling under my desk now.

May or may not come out.





Yep.

Nada

Yep, nothing. Again.

Not for lack of trying, though. I've been sitting here attempting to get into blather mode, but apparently it juuust isn't going to happen today.

Or tomorrow, since I likely won't be anywhere near a computer.

I suppose I should get my own computer.

Prices have come down quite a bit, after all, and if I had a computer at home I could blather whenever the blather mood hit.

I'd have to pay for an internet connection, though. That's a problem when you're as cheap as I am. It'd be pay for internet, or hope that someone in the vicinity is silly enough to have unprotected wireless to... borrow.

I'm not sure I'd want to go to that length just to blather, though.

I do still have that annoying ethical streak to deal with, after all.





Anyway. There's your lack of blather for the day. I'll see you in a couple, when no doubt I'll be whinging about the exciting things that multiple planetarium programs do to a person's brain.

Glad to be of predictable service.

Fun

You know what? I miss being fun.

I used to be fun on the internet. I used to have no problem with letting my silly come out to play, and often for extended periods of time.

At one point I was able to respond to a question about what a one-person ping pong game was like with silliness like (and this is a direct quote) Kind of like the sound of one hand clapping... except with more ping... without feeling like rolling my eyes the next day.

Or maybe I felt like rolling my eyes, but in the end it didn't matter because it was all in fun.

I should explain the nostalgia, I guess. Something in my tracking mail led me to an old, old thread on a forum I help moderate, and that led me to another old thread, and that... well, led me to waste enough time reading old threads that now I really should be getting some lunch rather than blathering. This'll be brief, then.

Where I would normally end up after a long ramble is that I miss the person who actually took an active part in internet communities rather than lurking, which is what I do most of the time now. How the lurking started is something I'm really not sure about. We change over time, of course. Our interests change, our focuses change. It could be just that, or it could be the something to do with the way that internet communities seem to get so repetitive -- like there's only so many topics in the world or something. After a while a person gets tired of seeing conversations enter the exact same spirals, maybe.

Whatever it was, somewhere along the line I dropped out. I still moderate (although many people might be surprised to hear that since I've turned myself fairly invisible). I belong to a couple of other communities where I find myself an interested spectator more than anything.

But I'm really beginning to miss playing. I've spent far too much time guarding the gatorade on the sidelines, I think.

Changing a long-time habit isn't so easy, though. To beat the sports metaphor to death, maybe I'm too out of shape to be subbed in by now.

I don't know.

But if anyone out there can remind me how to be constructively silly or at least a little bit fun again, internettally speaking, feel free to drop some hints.

Lunch now.

So very much at a loss

Loss of what?

Of sleep.

And if you couldn't have predicted that, then you really haven't been paying attention.

Last night was one of those horrible nights when a person just stares at the projection clock's numbers changing on the ceiling and wonders WHY IN HELL she's still staring at the numbers on the ceiling instead of, you know, sleeping.

Not frustrating at all, no.

At the moment I'm tired enough that even though one of my coworkers (who needs a blog nickname. Thoughts on that, Wheat?) has very thoughtfully been handing out kisses (the chocolate kind, silly. It is, after all, International Pretend You Like Someone Enough to Give Them Candy Day tomorrow), all it took was one for my body and brain to decide unanimously that it would be a very, very bad thing for me to have any more.

Pretty sad when you're so tired that even chocolate isn't sitting right.

It is, however, a very unusual thing for me to get complete brain and body agreement. Maybe I should enjoy the feeling while I can.

And with that thought...

You know, I really should find a link or something to end with since I'm skimping on the pointless photo out of sheer laziness today.

Just a sec, then.

Ok, this'll do.

Later, all.

Crankypants

Didn't blog yesterday because I had a late program. And I was in a mood.

I'm in a mood today, too, but it seems to be a slightly better than yesterday's.

When I'm not moving, that is.

Oh, and before I continue on this line of whingitude, I should note that today's pointless photo is COMPLETELY pointless. No reason for it at all, except for the fact that I haven't been taking many photos lately. Taking pictures of snow just doesn't thrill me.

You might have heard that at some point.

Anyway, I'm creaking around pretty badly today, and it's making me just ever so slightly unhappy. The problem at the moment would be that the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, which in turn is connected to the knee bone.

Or so I'm told.

You see, my screwed-up knee has been causing me to limp (well, I limp most of the time, really. Limp more, I guess I should have said), which in turn has been bothering my hip because of the uneven gait. So... at the moment my body thinks that it's the hip that's the problem, and That. Makes. Me. Cranky.

It also makes me look like I'm about 107 years old when I try to get up from my desk chair. That's good times for everyone around me, I can tell you.

Last night's planetarium adventure is, of course, not helping any of this.





Is anybody glad that I'm posting this? I'm not especially glad.

Maybe I should go away and try to be less crankypants tomorrow, then.





Yeah. Sounds like a plan.
Or not.
Whatever.

Toys

There are a lot of toys on my desk here at work. Today's pointless photo shows just a few of them. I didn't choose to have a lot of toys on my desk, really; it just sort of happened. Most of the desk toys weren't even bought by me in the first place.

What can I say? People give me toys, and the toys end up at work.

And why? Well, I suppose it keeps me from scribbling or doodling when I'm thinking, or talking on the phone, or reading websites. My hands need something to do when my brain isn't paying much attention to them, and if it isn't playing with toys or riffling the notepads (yes, I riffle the notepads too. I'm sure it's very annoying to anyone around me, but I do it anyway) it becomes wasting paper and ink by making endless, repetitive patterns for no apparent reason.

And no, I don't especially want to hear your thoughts on the pathology of my personal OLF universe.

Anyway.

The funny thing about the toys on my desk is that everyone else plays with them too. It's sort of interesting to watch, actually. It doesn't take long for people to pick up on (and literally pick up) the toys, and most of the time they have obvious favourites. One person will spin the magnetic pen. One person will fondle the elephant (and no, that's not a euphemism. I suppose it could be, if you wanted it to, but it wasn't what I was intending). My monitor lizard (it used to live on top of the monitor before I got the flat screen) showed up mysteriously muddy one day, so it must have a secret fan who takes it on play dates. And the clacker ball... well, it's new so pretty much everyone's playing with it at the moment.

And if you're wondering what the purpose of a clacker ball is, I can tell you that there isn't one. It just makes noise and feels vaguely squishy, that's all.

It's a bit of a long-term office psych experiment, seeing which person is drawn to which toy. And the interesting thing about it all is that no one seems to think it terribly odd that I have a DESK FULL OF TOYS. They just take it as a given, from what I can tell.

This is a weird place to work, I guess.





Probably why I've been here so long, come to think of it.

Guess what?

I don't really have anything again today.

This is rapidly becoming non-news, I know, but that's how it goes. Honestly, I could use a bit more sleep at the moment, and I really should get back to work instead of trying to blather when I so obviously have nothing in mind to blather about.

Yep.

Maybe I really should get a blather notebook together. I always seem to be able to think of blather at three in the morning when I'm busy not sleeping...






Yep.

Uh-huh.




Going now.

Pointless photo of the day:

Honestly? I can already tell that I'm not in the mood to blog (although the general mood is, overall, not too bad. I'm just tired, that's all).

Think I'll give it a miss today, then.

Later, all.

Not really a post

Just... watch this, ok?

Yeah.

Pointless photo of the day:

No reason.

No blather, either.

I have a very blank brain at the moment.

I hate it when I haven't blathered for a while (for whatever reason) and then when I actually have time to devote to a proper, full-on drivelling blather I'll come up with a big fat irritatingly blatherless nothing.

Like now, obviously.

I guess I hate now.

The most annoying thing about times like these is that I could swear that I had real, honest-to-Whomever blather topics floating around my lack-of-brain all week. You know, there always seem to be ideas when I don't have a chance to blather.

Maybe I should start taking blather notes.

It works for bad poetry, after all.

I should explain that.

I've not been writing poetry lately because I find I have to get into a particular mindset to care about it, but when I'm in that weird poetry brain space it seems like poetry sort of spills out like diarr a waterfall. Or, um, something at least a little more pleasant than that first thought I had.

Anyway.

When I'm in bad poetry mode I find myself taking a lot of notes. Just things that pop into my head that may make decent topics to play with later. In fact, I generally have to carry a small notebook around with me to keep myself from scribbling ideas in the margins of work-related papers and things like that.

Maybe I need a blog blather notebook.

Maybe.

It would imply that this blog is not entirely pointless, though, and we all know what will happen if the blog's not pointless.






Or maybe not all of my two fans do know what will happen if the blog's not entirely pointless. It's been a while since I've stated it outright, after all. Here we are, then:

If the blog's not entirely pointless, it will turn into a pumpkin.

That wouldn't be good.

Then I'd find myself having to carry around a pumpkin notebook.








Um.





My brain hurts.

I think I'd better go now.

Creeeak

This'll be quick because it's late, I'm not in the mood to be terribly expansive, and I am, quite frankly, sore.

Sore and creaky. Sore muscles, creaky joints. And all because of two days helping to man a booth at a convention.

I'm too old to be spending two days on a concrete floor.

And I'm too young to be so fricking creaky.

I'm just about the right age to whinge, though, so I guess everything works out all right that way.

Anyway, I'll try to actually post something worth reading tomorrow. In the meantime, here's the closer-to-true-life-coloured companion to the mangled photo I posted... geez, was it really almost a week ago? Guess I'm slipping in the blather department.

Do you suppose anyone noticed?

I mean, honestly. This place could easily develop quite the echo...

Quick mostly non-post

I wasn't in the office for the past couple of days. Definitely not planned.

I won't be in the office for the next couple of days. Actually planned.

All of this means that I probably won't be posting anything much until Saturday.




Try not to miss me or anything.

Blues

The flower in the pointless photo isn't blue. Or wasn't blue, anyway. This particular flower would qualify more as shrivelled and brown now in real life.

I was doing some photoediting and decided that maybe today's flower should be blue. No reason. Sometimes I just like playing with the sliders, that's all. Today's result? Blue (or slightly purplish, I suppose. Let's call it blue for now, though) flower. Tomorrow? Well, I'll probably post a photo of the same flower that's a little closer to what it actually looked like.

So, today's question: did I turn the flower into art by making it blue? It's certainly a bit more evocative of... something, I guess, now that the colours have been mucked about with. It's no longer simply a duplicate of the real flower. I'd imagine that some would say I've made an artistic choice by pushing the colour temperature slider all the way over to cool.

But is it the result art?

Honestly, I don't know. I just thought it looked kind of neat this way.

----------

Speaking of the real blues -- if any of my two fans wondered, I've been feeling more myself the past few days. Yes, I think I was probably not in the greatest place mentally for a while and I'm not sure that things are still where they ought to be, but it's been a bit easier to get up in the morning lately. That's a good sign, right?

I'm choosing to think so.





Now go back and look at the pointless flower some more already.