And if you can't say somthing nice...

You know what? I had something I was going to post. But it was fairly snotty, I had a bad sleep last night, and I try really hard not to post things that I'm going to regret later.

That's true, you know. This place might seem like it has almost no content some days and veers sharply towards verbal diarrhoea on others, but in the end I do think about my posts at least a little bit. I decided two things at the start of my blogging career: that I would never fully delete posts (edit? Yeah, but mostly for grammar), and that I would never post something that warranted being deleted.

One thing I could never understand about the blogging world in general is why so many people use their blogs as personal diaries only to end up horrified if others discover what's been written there. I mean, come on, people. It's the freaking INTERNET. If you hang your undies out on the line for everyone to see, sooner or later someone out there is going to notice what brand you wear and how ratty they are. If you don't want people to read what you write, keep it in a journal under your bed. Don't start a blog.

Same goes for Facebook or whatever else out there. If you don't want someone to know about something, keep it to yourself already. It's as easy as that.

Um, yeah. I mentioned the lack of sleep thing, right?

Anyway, in the end I have deleted posts, but not from an active blog. I deleted a whole bunch of stuff from my old blog (which used to be my main blog) when I decided that I wanted to use it for my doodles (such as they are). And incidentally, if you do ever check the old blog (the link's on the sidebar. I'll leave you to figure out which one it is if you don't already know. Or, failing that, just click on my profile at the top of the page), I have different rules over there. As in no rules. If I decide I don't like something that I've posted there, out it goes.

Kind of my equivalent of tossing out the crumpled paper if I have writer's block, I guess.

I'm... going now.

Considering the current mood, that's definitely for the best.

Bonus pointless photo of the day:

So, I was sitting here at the computer painting (sorry. Considering my skill level that should be "painting". And yes, watercolour painting at the computer is kind of stupid. I needed a reference picture, though), and it occurred to me that you might like to see my bruise.

Nice, isn't it?

I have no idea how I got it. I obviously burst a blood vessel (the obvious part was because of the accompanying lump), but I don't remember slamming into anything hard enough to do that. Or slamming into anything, for that matter.

Get a feeling that sometimes my life is the Lefty Extreme Games? So do I, really.




And... five points to anyone who can tell me what in this picture would have informed Sherlock Holmes that I'd eaten an orange before I came down to paint.

[/silliness]

Games people play

Well, I'm a little late posting this (so I'll try to keep it short) because I got stuck playing a new flash game on the computer that I was only going to try out for a couple of minutes.

I won't tell you how many couple of minutes it turned out to be in the end. It's kind of embarrassing.

Anyway, in honour of kind of embarrassing today's post is now officially going to be about gaming instead of what it was going to be about. Which I can't remember at this point, so it's just as well.

First, I should say that I'm not a gamer and never have been a gamer (although I do now own the piece of equipment featured in today's not-entirely-pointless photo, courtesy of my latest birthday). I'm kind of inept at gaming, if I'm going to be honest. Oh, I do all right at logic-type things (let's hear it for sudoku, boys and girls) or puzzles, and if no one's watching I've been known to enjoy failing miserably at things that involve a bit of strategy. I don't have a very strategic brain, I'll admit, but if it's just me'n the computer I'll give it a go.

The problems start when the game requires reflexes.

I'm just sooo bad at trying to hit the right buttons in the right order, so to speak.

It doesn't help that I get rattled a bit too easily. Too many things going on at once gets me wanting to throw up my hands in defeat before I've even really tried.

I've got a feeling that that sort of reaction juuust isn't going to be good for the DSi.

Which, apparently, needs a wipedown at the moment. Ok, ignore the dust in the photo, everyone.

And now that I've said that I just know that you're going to have to look for it. Yeah, I'm evil.

So if I'm so bad at gaming why do I end up playing the games in the first place? Well, as long as it's just me, myself, and I playing it doesn't matter if I suck. I can enjoy sucking as long as no one watches me suck.

The irony of all of this is that when I was younger I used to consider video games a really good spectator sport. I, the person who can't really bear the thought of someone watching her play a game, used to love to watch other people play. Still do, in fact, although I don't get much opportunity to do it nowadays. Watching a talented gamer play is far more entertaining to me than, say, watching tennis. And with today's graphics it's almost like watching sports and a movie all at once. What could be better?

Ok, yeah. You don't need to tell me that I'm weird. I'm pretty much aware of the fact.

Um, anyway. I should probably go get some lunch now, so I'll just end this by saying that if anyone out there wants to recommend some games to someone who's a novice with a handheld but is quite willing to secretly suck, leave me a comment.





Oh, and since I've probably given one or two people an earworm via today's post title, you may as well just get it over with.

Sigh

See today's photo? Today's photo is not of snow. If it had been taken today it would have been of snow, though. This is because it's (wait for it...) been snowing.

I hate snow.

I hate snow both for the fact that it's snow and for the fact that it symbolises winter. Which I also hate. And since we're on the subject of what I hate, let me also add the fact that it's hovering around freezing right now which makes a snowy day extra extra special. All around me I'm hearing it's an ice rink out there.

I really don't need to be hearing that. I'm not a big fan of winter driving, but at least I know my limits. There are way too many other people out there, though, who seem to be surprised every single year to find out that snow can, in fact, make roads slippery.

Now I'm completely unsure of what to do. I'd normally be heading in to my father's, but I don't know if I trust the roads. On the other hand, the road reports say that the highways aren't in terribly bad shape overall. So here's the deal. Do I risk driving all the way south back to my place on the slippery city roads and stay in town for another day, or do I risk driving a little way north on the slippery city roads until I can get to what may be less slippery highways?

Did I mention how much I hate snow?

Yep.

Maybe I should just sleep here for the night.





You know, the irony is that they're predicting a high of 8C for Sunday...






Augh.

Let's all just go back and look at the pretty flower, ok?

Stupid people in trucks

Today's pointless photo is not of stupid people in trucks. You know, in case you wondered.

I am, however, really sick of stupid people in trucks.

Now, don't get me wrong -- I'm not against trucks per se. Well, not completely. Trucks can be useful things under the right circumstances. Around here, though, it seems that most of the trucks on the road exist only so stupid people can have something to drive.

And yes, I do know that not only stupid people drive trucks. The stupid people who do, however, are so overwhelming stupid as to skew the curve more than a bit.

Not that I have an opinion or anything.

I'll save my thoughts about aggressive idling, road hogging, and highway tailgating for another time. Today's post is in honour of the absolute IDIOT whose pick-up is currently parked in my apartment building's lot. Now, I don't know if this person is visiting someone in the building or if someone in that particular unit recently acquired a second vehicle, but Stupid Truck Driver Of The Day has decided that it's absolutely necessary to have his (I'm completely assuming that this has to be a he) truck parked at a particular stall in the lot. Which already has a car in it. Yep, STDOTD has DOUBLE-PARKED his truck behind another car in the parking lot, leaving a very interesting little lane for the rest of us to try to navigate through.

And the part that has me really wanting to key the STDOTD's precious vehicle (don't worry. I'd never actually do it. Just think about it a lot) is that we have half a dozen empty visitor stalls in the lot that ANYONE is welcome to use.

Idiot.

This better not be a permanent feature of our parking lot, let me tell you. If it is I'll... well, probably just stew a little, to be honest.

But maybe somebody ELSE would consider keying his truck...





Idiot.

Pointless photo of the day:

Look! It's not a mountain!

It's a...

Birthday present.

Not my birthday present, though. It's my father's.

It's the largest frigging Lava Lamp I've ever seen, is what it is. Apparently they make them even bigger, but this one's plenty big.

If you look carefully at the photo you can see reflections of my father's television and a lamp. I don't quite know why I'm bringing this to your attention, but... Yeah, I've got nothing.




Was it horribly obvious?

I figured.

Pointless photo of the day:

One last look at the mountains.

That's it for today, folks. Busy with some other things just now.

A little bit of history

Today's photo features a former guard tower from Camp 130, a WWII German Prisoner of War camp on the site of the present Barrier Lake Field Station.

Prisoner of War camp in Alberta, Dee?

Yep.

We had, according to this list, several. And if you want more information I'll point you here so I don't have to bother with a bunch of quotes.

World War history isn't exactly my strong suit. I'll leave it to those with more of an interest/background in that sort of thing. Really, I was just looking for a reason to post the picture...

I'm going to look at some of the Illustration Friday entries now. Have a good war read, if you decided to follow one of those links. If not, have a good whatever else.

Communal living

I really should be cropping these photos before I post them, but what the heck. It doesn't hurt to get things fresh from the camera now and then.

What you're looking at here are bits and pieces of the Barrier Lake Field Station, which hosted the conference that I was at. I mentioned the conference, right? Yeah, I thought so.

I had half a thought to talk more about the conference itself, but I've decided against it since it really wouldn't be of much interest to the general public (or my two fans, probably). We came, we saw, we conferenced (is too a word. For today, anyway), and I for one left with a general sense of... well, exhaustion.

Exhaustion partly because I didn't sleep worth a damn most of the time I was there (big surprise, I know), but also partly because of the whole constantly being around people thing. I can't help it. I'm used to a fair amount of alone time, and being surrounded by people for most of the day every day gets a little hard on my loner brain. It's tricky to keep myself switched on for that long.

What you're seeing in this photo is the Main Lodge, which houses the dining hall and the women's dorm. Yep, separate dorms for men and women because boys are icky.

Or something. I don't know.

Dorm living is an interesting experience when you haven't done it for over twenty years (twenty years? Really? Geez, I'm old). The dorm we were in wasn't bad as far as dorms go. Reasonably quiet, and thick enough walls that you couldn't hear every time your neighbour turned over in bed. I think you'll agree that that's a good thing. We also were a small enough group that we didn't have to share rooms, and that was definitely a good thing. Two words, folks: BUNK BEDS. Can you imagine your friendly neighbourhood OLF not only dealing with sharing a room but dealing with bunk beds as well? Just as well that we didn't have to go there.

The dorm wasn't bad, as I said, but there are some inevitable downsides to the whole dorm experience. Generally they have to do with the bathroom. It's not really ever a good thing when a bunch of women find themselves sharing a two-stall, two-shower bathroom. I tend to shower fairly early in the evening to avoid the rush so that was ok (although we were warned that there wasn't a lot of hot water so we were encouraged to take Marine showers. As in, water on to dampen, off to lather, on to rinse. *SHIVER*), but even the simple fact of having to get back into all of one's clothes directly after having a shower is never, ever going to be comfortable to me. Nothing like trying to get yourself back into the ol' underwire suspension device while only towel-dry. I'm not a nudist by any means, but I can tell you that by the time I got home I was more than ready for the freedom of going about my business in whatever degree of undress I felt like.

Um, in my apartment, of course. I did get dressed to go outside.

Anyway, I managed to survive four and a half days of enforced socialisation almost completely intact. Yay me. On the off-chance (waaay off-chance) that any of the Field Station staff stumble upon the blog I'd just like to say thanks for taking such good care of us and that I miss having someone make me breakfast. And lunch. And supper. And two fresh-baked snacks a day...




Ok, so the communal living thing isn't all bad.

There WILL be a post. Honest.

Tonight, maybe. Or tomorrow failing that. I have a bit to catch up on, internettally-speaking.

As a preview, however, please enjoy a photo that isn't of last summer's flowers or a miscellaneous spider. This, boys and girls, in all the glory of morning light, is Mount Baldy, and it's where I spent most of this past week.

Well, not actually on Mount Baldy. Near it, though. Details (and more shots of vaguely mountainous-looking things) to come.

----------

Oh, before I forget... as of this morning I've been aunted again! Congrats to my brother and sister-in-law, and big brother Colin. I hope everything there is well, and I hope I actually get to meet the boy before he's married.

Now you see it...

You know how that ends, I'm sure. I shouldn't have to type it.

I'll be doing a bit of a disappearing act for the next few days. Just as well, really, since I still feel like hell and am obviously not in the mood to blather. Anyway, I'll be heading to a conference on Sunday and won't be back until Thursday. Not sure if I'll be in to post tomorrow, so I thought I may as well do my vanishing trick now. See you in a while.

Feel free to poke the Not-Toronto office with a stick if you need some reading material.

Sorry, but I don't really feel like whinging

And since I don't actually have anything but whinge and snot in my brain at the moment, I'm guessing that this post isn't going anywhere.

So enjoy the photo.

Bye now.

Ugh.

So, you've probably guessed that I did end up getting sick. Am sick. I'd really like to go home, to be honest, but I was needed to cover a shift today so here I am.

My head doesn't work at all, but here I am.




I give it about an hour before my head hits the desk.

Talk at you... sometime or other. No promises.

So what are you going to whinge about today, Dee?

I dunno. My lack of new photos? I really need to get the camera out next week. There's only so long that these leftovers will last, even on this blog.

I could complain about my head, I suppose, but so far things haven't gotten any worse than they were yesterday so I don't want to jinx that. I've obviously picked up something, but maybe if I'm really REALLY lucky it'll turn out not to be the office crud. We've had some very sick people around the workplace, and I definitely don't want to be one of them.

I could talk about my new toy courtesy of my father, but then I wouldn't be whinging and I haven't actually had much of a chance to use it yet anyway. Guess we'll save that one, then. And when it does come up let's hope I'm not complaining about it. It's not the type of thing that should lead to complaints, even from me.

So... um...

A little help here?





Well, I suppose I could whinge slightly about my sketchbooks. Or how I use them, rather. I have a couple of moleskine sketchbooks that I really like (one for sketching and one for watercolour, I should say. And anyone who's looked at my other blog knows what a joke it is that I have a watercolour book). That's a big thing for me, because I get so bored with the paper in most sketchbooks or field sketchbooks that I find myself not using them at all. The moleskines, though, I like. The moleskines I use. There's a but, though. As in, but why can't I make myself use them better, then?

Notice that I didn't say use them properly. I don't think there's a way to use sketchbooks properly since different things work for different people. What I'd like for me, though, is to stop being so freaking nitpicky. In my mind I'd like my notebooks to be places for experimentation. Places to play in. To try new things, new techniques, new subjects. Places where the end result shouldn't matter as long as I've learned something from them.

But I don't do that.

Not as much as I'd like to, anyway.

See, I get too caught up in the permanence of a book. If I doodle something in a book it's going to stay there for as long as the book exists. There's that air of setting in concrete that makes me nervous to stretch things too much. An effed-up doodle is always going to be there staring me in the face unless I tear the page out and I really don't want to do that. So what do I do if I'm in the mood to do all those things I'd like to do with the sketchbook but I'm not sure how it'll turn out? Oh, I usually end up using a cheap sketchpad instead. Tear-out sheets and all. And then what happens?

Ok, here's the really stupid part.

Fairly often things turn out well enough that I find myself wishing I'd used the moleskine instead because it'd be nice to have a more permanent copy.

HOW STUPID IS THAT?

Pretty stupid.

I think I may have a solution, though. The solution's pretty stupid as well, but it just might work for an olf like me. I think that maybe, just maybe, I'll buy myself another moleskine sketchbook. One of the smaller ones, maybe. Or maybe even one of the ruled notebooks rather than a dedicated sketchbook.

And how would that solve anything, Dee?

Well, if I got another sketchbook and devoted it entirely to experimentation, that would mean I could keep my current "good" sketchbook for more finished doodles and actually experiment in the other one. Right?

Yeah, yeah, I know. But it sort of makes sense in my head. Sort of.




Anyway, there's your whinge for the day. I'm off to check out the Illustration Friday entries (so far), since I finally posted mine this morning (I don't let myself look at any until I've done one myself. More olf, yes). Or maybe buy a moleskine. We'll see what the day brings.

geh

Pointless photo? Pointless, as usual.

Head? Hurts. Sinus-headache-hurt.

Bugger.

Yes, someone here is decidedly not a happy camper this morning. I think I'll spare you all the fun of a prolonged whinge, though, and just say that my thoughts are murky enough that they don't even qualify as blather.

That's sad, don't you think?

I may be back later in the day to answer the Plinky prompt (which would be the first time in ages), but we'll see how it goes.

Bugger, did I mention?

Uh oh

Remember how I told you that most of the staff here has some form of the crud?

Yeah.

Guess who woke up with a stuffy nose and a scratchy throat this morning.

Shouldn't be too hard to guess, all things considered.

Yep, at the moment I'm feeling a bit... let's say delicate. I'm hoping that it's just a coincidence (a really really highly unlikely coincidence) and that I'm not actually coming down with something. I've had enough something already this year, frankly.

If only I'd been a Calgary Flame. I hear you get taken care of if you're a Calgary Flame...




Thus endeth today's whinge, by the way. I need to get back to work. Later, all.

Something about... work, I guess

Taking a quick break from editing the newsletter, which pretty much always drives me nuts in some way or other. Not sure I even want to elaborate on that, since it'll likely come up in the next few days out of sheer frustration no matter what I do, so...

Oh, I dunno. Wheat's playing Python's greatest hits in the background, and part of me would rather sing along than blog. Poor blog. You've been so neglected lately, and are likely going to be even more so in the near future since I'll be away the weekend after next.

Maybe it's time to poke the Not-Toronto office with a stick or something again.

I so have nothing. Can you tell?

I do have a bit more sleep under my belt (is that where you keep it?) than I have in the past while, but even then I'm getting really sick of waking up at COMPLETELY STUPID IN THE MORNING. Of course, at this point I don't know what I'd do if I ever actually slept like a normal person. Having real, unfoggy thoughts might be a little bit scary after all this time.

So there you have it. Me, unfocussed, and about to get back to work or something approximating it.

You know? I'm not sure I even want to read this back...




So I won't.

Sigh

As I said to Wheat a bit earlier, the last thing a person with effed-up sleeping habits needs is to have the clocks change.

I am so sleep-deprived right now that it isn't even funny. Well, it's never terribly funny to be sleep-deprived, honestly, but this is getting a little ridiculous. Monday I was semi-functional, Monday night I would have been better off spending the night watching infomercials for all the sleep I got, and last night? Last night I decided to change strategies and try going to bed later to make sure I was properly tired. Like I wasn't already. Anyway, I went to be around midnight, got to sleep sometime after one, and... WOKE UP AT FOUR. FOUR IN THE FREAKING AM.

*insert random epithet here*

I feel useless, and I'm kind of tired of feeling useless.




Actually, I'm just plain tired.

Later, folks.

----------

Edited to add this, because some birthdays just have to be celebrated. Forty? Sheesh.

You know how I never seem to post on Mondays?

Or at least, I didn't seem to post on Mondays in October?

What do you say we stick with that in November?

Yep. Translate the above as: I've got nothing. See you tomorrow.

If I have anything then...

We're all gonna die

So let's look at a pretty flower for a while.

Ah.

Feel better?

Well, Alberta's managed to bungle the whole H1N1 vaccination thing so badly that they've just announced they're closing the clinics (for the moment... and as far as I know the clinics only ever opened in the major cities anyway) because of overwhelming demand, and when they do open again it'll only be for those in the high-risk groups.

Way to go, Alberta. This after spending weeks telling us that we should all get flu shots and that everyone will be able to get flu shots and that it was REALLY REALLY important to get flu shots. Then they were surprised somehow to see thousands of people lining up for hours to get flu shots?

Yep. Well effed up, government.

But they promise that we will all get flu shots, you know. Just not right now.

Oh well. It's not like I'd even decided whether to get a flu shot anyway. And no, it's not because I'm terribly worried about the safety or the efficacy (although I think it's important to question both the safety and the efficacy, frankly. There's nothing wrong with wanting more information. Forget that step and eventually we'll all be drinking the Kool-Aid). It's... hmmm... come down to it, I don't know. I guess it's nothing more than the mere fact that I hadn't decided whether or not to do it, that's all.

There was a time in my life when the mere presence of a needle would have decided it for me, though. I was a huge needle-phobe. And yes, I do know that no one especially likes needles, but I was terrified. Terrified to the point that to this day if you examine my back end (not that I'm in any way suggesting that you should do that. Maybe just take my word for it) you'll probably be able to find the scar left behind when the nurses at the hospital tried to give me a shot of something or other before I had my tonsils out as a child. Seems to me it was two nurses and my mother holding me down, and even then I'm damned lucky I didn't manage to break the needle off in my rump because of the struggle.

I'm a lot easier to deal with now, I promise.

Still, there's always that little kid in the back of your mind going AAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAH!!! AAAAAAH!!! at the thought of a needle, isn't there?

Moot point anyway now, though, since who knows when I might have even the slightest chance of getting a flu shot even if I really wanted one?





Well done, stupid Alberta.