Today, I found out that God has a blog. Yes, that God. The Almighty. His userpic is awesome. Michaelangelo painted it, after all. He has awesome pictures. He apparently sees himself as CEO of some global or maybe universal corporation, He has memos. He has administrators. Sin is an acronym, as is love. I'm not telling you, you have to go see for yourself. Lo, it boggleth the mind.
http://thelordgodalmighty.wordpress.com/
And now, tonight, I find that even elder gods have blogs. Made a silly remark over at http://loltheist.com/, and I got a line about Cthulhu sneezed at me. Unable to instantly translate what ever the fuck his language is, seeking answers I found guess what?http://lolthulhu.com/
and discovered there that I'm safe for the moment, his notsnuggly greatevilness is still asleep.
It wasn't me that said everybody has a blog but my butt, I cheerfully stole the concept from my friend Spinningginny who claimed there was a website about everything but her butt. I think she could remedy that without too much trouble, actually. She's terribly creative, she made a giant vagina one time. claimed it was for a play or something.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
well whaddya know
I thought I'd start off my new experience of blogging with a lot of whining just to get it out of the way. Now I go back and read it, and it's some serious whining. Not like me at all. Or is it? that's the issue, that's the problem, there's the confusion. What is me like?
I had an epiphany, right around Epiphany oddly enough. I realized that finally, there was absolutely no reason not to be who I wanted to be and live the life I wanted to live. All would have much more satisfactory if I had realize this, oh, say, in my 20's, but it's better late than never. I don't have to seem compentent at things I am not competent at. It's okay to admit that I don't know everything. Well, that's a little pointless, seeing as I do actually know everything. Or nearly everything. And what I don't know I can look up. Like Her Highness the Bagel of Everything says, I don't have to know things. The Internet knows things for me. I lurve me the internets. I lurve the strange language that has me looking up things in the Dictionary of Urban Slang. I love kitty pidgin and pictures of cats with snarky sayings on them. I love, love, love finding other people who say fuck way too much. I love smart people. although that is not the only type encountered on the internet, and today I even ran across a blog that does nothing else but celebrate the stupid. Case in point, at one time I spent a lot of time on tribes.net, mostly lurking, but I joined the Laughing Smiling tribe so I could comment on their hilarious posts and writing stories one random insane line at a time. I don't remember anymore what we were talking about in retail, but I remarked that my life at my old job would have been far better if
someone would just have put an IQ meter at the front door. I got a few laughs from other people, and one memorable post from someone who had to have been a Valley Girl, there is no other explanation possible. "Wow!" she gushed "Where did you get one of those? Post a pic when you get a chance!" I was totally nonplussed. I had nothing. I had to just walk away from the keyboard.
I have met some people who seem to have a slightly dark turn of mind in the craft world of the internets. It was all Marilyn Manson's fault, actually. One day I got to wondering what kind of towels he had in his kitchen. I couldn't really believe that he had the stupid kitchen/floral/chickens towels from Wal-Mart, there had to be towels for the Goth. Didn't there? I'd never seen any. Skulls on terrycloth. Bloodstained dishrags. canisters with spiders for your sugar, flour and rice. Nope. So I started searching, thinking maybe I had something there. Maybe it could make me some money. And then I found the Anticraft.http://www.theanticraft.com/go there. now. you'll thank me later.
Anticraft is an online magazine, with projects, articles, and many other things for the slightly sinister. Now, there is a book. And a very, very lively forum where I've met people from I don't even know how many wheres, some of them aren't even on this continent. Awesome! And reading the blog of the Anticraft founders, Zabet Stewart and Renee' Rigdon, I found the cult of the LOLTheists.http://loltheist.com/
go there, immediately if not sooner.
oh, you want to know about the towels and Marilyn Manson? That, my friends, is a tale for another day.
I had an epiphany, right around Epiphany oddly enough. I realized that finally, there was absolutely no reason not to be who I wanted to be and live the life I wanted to live. All would have much more satisfactory if I had realize this, oh, say, in my 20's, but it's better late than never. I don't have to seem compentent at things I am not competent at. It's okay to admit that I don't know everything. Well, that's a little pointless, seeing as I do actually know everything. Or nearly everything. And what I don't know I can look up. Like Her Highness the Bagel of Everything says, I don't have to know things. The Internet knows things for me. I lurve me the internets. I lurve the strange language that has me looking up things in the Dictionary of Urban Slang. I love kitty pidgin and pictures of cats with snarky sayings on them. I love, love, love finding other people who say fuck way too much. I love smart people. although that is not the only type encountered on the internet, and today I even ran across a blog that does nothing else but celebrate the stupid. Case in point, at one time I spent a lot of time on tribes.net, mostly lurking, but I joined the Laughing Smiling tribe so I could comment on their hilarious posts and writing stories one random insane line at a time. I don't remember anymore what we were talking about in retail, but I remarked that my life at my old job would have been far better if
someone would just have put an IQ meter at the front door. I got a few laughs from other people, and one memorable post from someone who had to have been a Valley Girl, there is no other explanation possible. "Wow!" she gushed "Where did you get one of those? Post a pic when you get a chance!" I was totally nonplussed. I had nothing. I had to just walk away from the keyboard.
I have met some people who seem to have a slightly dark turn of mind in the craft world of the internets. It was all Marilyn Manson's fault, actually. One day I got to wondering what kind of towels he had in his kitchen. I couldn't really believe that he had the stupid kitchen/floral/chickens towels from Wal-Mart, there had to be towels for the Goth. Didn't there? I'd never seen any. Skulls on terrycloth. Bloodstained dishrags. canisters with spiders for your sugar, flour and rice. Nope. So I started searching, thinking maybe I had something there. Maybe it could make me some money. And then I found the Anticraft.http://www.theanticraft.com/go there. now. you'll thank me later.
Anticraft is an online magazine, with projects, articles, and many other things for the slightly sinister. Now, there is a book. And a very, very lively forum where I've met people from I don't even know how many wheres, some of them aren't even on this continent. Awesome! And reading the blog of the Anticraft founders, Zabet Stewart and Renee' Rigdon, I found the cult of the LOLTheists.http://loltheist.com/
go there, immediately if not sooner.
oh, you want to know about the towels and Marilyn Manson? That, my friends, is a tale for another day.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Today I played the Treasure of ElDorado. I played this game a long time ago, it was one of the first games I tried, and boy did I suck! I've honed skills since then. I don't sleep, so what else do I have to do at night? But I still suck. It's one of those brick-busting games where you have to click repeatedly, and this one has a little bomb that looks like the fish in the go fish game, only with a mouth full of serrated teeth. Level 3 is all about aiming those damn bombs, but there's not really enough time to work it out, you just have to guess. I don't like to guess. Maybe that's why I still suck.
Husby had the day off today, and he also had yesterday off. I get scared when he's going to be around too much, the potential for stupid grows proportionately to the time he has off. Uncommitted time is a real problem for a brain injury patient, his thoughts go bouncing all over the place and if he decides to or accidentally acts on one of the totally random one, you get things like 5 bags of Chex cereal in your kitchen cupboards for months. Or some kind of dollar store food you have never heard of that he bought instead of the mayonnaise you sent him out for. We have been trying to find our way back to each other, he wants to have sex in the middle of the night, but I will settle for most of a day without bitching at him. And then telling him I'm sorry, but if he would stop being stupid, I would stop bitching. He's trying, I can tell. He came home with mostly the right food. I'll tell you some other time why I don't go with him.
I rescued my knitting from the place where I had flung it last night. The sad thing is, it was no worse for wear when I picked it up, the error and tangled yarn had not changed at all. See, I got frustrated because there was one stitch with some split threads and I tried to fix it. All I had to do was drop it the rest of the way, capture the errant loop and put it back. Nothing is ever that simple for me, and the stupid stitch began to ladder, the one next to it thought it'd follow, and the next thing I knew, all of the stitches on the left hand needle had just slid right the hell off that damn metal needle. I tried picking them back up, failed, and that's when it took a dive. And the notions bag and the magazine pattern followed. Knitting is too light to be a satisfactory temper hurled object, that's why the bag and mag had to go too.
So anyway, I got a 2 sizes smaller circ needle, pulled the damn bastard needle out the rest of the way, ripped back a few rows and knit it all back together. Then I had to figure out which row I was on and how many inches I had to go before the next change and then I had to adjust my row counter/pattern counter thingy. then I put it down and picked up the beads.
Beads. How I love the beads. I haven't made a lighter cover in about 10 years, and the last ones I made, I still have. because the workmanship was shoddy. like all my left over crafts.
That Hat Attack binary hat was the very first thing that I ever made in any medium that I corrected every single error or flaw in. Because I was sending it to someone I didn't know, and because if it wasn't perfect, my victim wouldn't die. It was awful. It took me 2 entire days to knit that hat, but when it was done and on its way, it was the most incredible feeling.
Anyway, the beads. It took me 2 hours to figure out how to start peyote stitch in the round on a slippery item like a lighter, and every bead that was the wrong size or mis-placed got removed, the thread was waxed, the pattern was AWESOME, but now I'm at the bottom. that't the hardest part, to decrease smoothly and close the bottom. It's all about tactile sensation, it has to feel smooth like water. Tomorrow. After a certain time of night, all the holes disappear out of the beads, and that happened a couple of hours ago.
Husby had the day off today, and he also had yesterday off. I get scared when he's going to be around too much, the potential for stupid grows proportionately to the time he has off. Uncommitted time is a real problem for a brain injury patient, his thoughts go bouncing all over the place and if he decides to or accidentally acts on one of the totally random one, you get things like 5 bags of Chex cereal in your kitchen cupboards for months. Or some kind of dollar store food you have never heard of that he bought instead of the mayonnaise you sent him out for. We have been trying to find our way back to each other, he wants to have sex in the middle of the night, but I will settle for most of a day without bitching at him. And then telling him I'm sorry, but if he would stop being stupid, I would stop bitching. He's trying, I can tell. He came home with mostly the right food. I'll tell you some other time why I don't go with him.
I rescued my knitting from the place where I had flung it last night. The sad thing is, it was no worse for wear when I picked it up, the error and tangled yarn had not changed at all. See, I got frustrated because there was one stitch with some split threads and I tried to fix it. All I had to do was drop it the rest of the way, capture the errant loop and put it back. Nothing is ever that simple for me, and the stupid stitch began to ladder, the one next to it thought it'd follow, and the next thing I knew, all of the stitches on the left hand needle had just slid right the hell off that damn metal needle. I tried picking them back up, failed, and that's when it took a dive. And the notions bag and the magazine pattern followed. Knitting is too light to be a satisfactory temper hurled object, that's why the bag and mag had to go too.
So anyway, I got a 2 sizes smaller circ needle, pulled the damn bastard needle out the rest of the way, ripped back a few rows and knit it all back together. Then I had to figure out which row I was on and how many inches I had to go before the next change and then I had to adjust my row counter/pattern counter thingy. then I put it down and picked up the beads.
Beads. How I love the beads. I haven't made a lighter cover in about 10 years, and the last ones I made, I still have. because the workmanship was shoddy. like all my left over crafts.
That Hat Attack binary hat was the very first thing that I ever made in any medium that I corrected every single error or flaw in. Because I was sending it to someone I didn't know, and because if it wasn't perfect, my victim wouldn't die. It was awful. It took me 2 entire days to knit that hat, but when it was done and on its way, it was the most incredible feeling.
Anyway, the beads. It took me 2 hours to figure out how to start peyote stitch in the round on a slippery item like a lighter, and every bead that was the wrong size or mis-placed got removed, the thread was waxed, the pattern was AWESOME, but now I'm at the bottom. that't the hardest part, to decrease smoothly and close the bottom. It's all about tactile sensation, it has to feel smooth like water. Tomorrow. After a certain time of night, all the holes disappear out of the beads, and that happened a couple of hours ago.
Monday, March 3, 2008
bloggity blog blog blog
So, blog. write about what is important, write about what I'm doing. okay.
I play games online. Not group games, just silly games. amusing games. from a game site. I search for hidden items, I free fairies from ogres and I line up 3 things in a row. I learn, and I get better. It gives me the illusion that I'm in control of something in my life. Exercizes my brain, I hear that it's important to do that.
Today I was playing Cradle of Rome. I play Cradle of Rome every day. It's so rewarding to match up 3 things, clear the board, and build little things. If you're good, you can get little people too, although it doesn't tell you what is required to get little people, they just pop up here and there if you do things like complete a level in 3 minutes or make 15 drops of 5 or more matches, I don't know how to get the fisherman. And there's somebody hiding behind the haystack in the field next to the windmill. At the end of each level, there's a triumphant fanfare of trumpets. When you get to the end of that era, there are fireworks. I wish I could live there.
I have also been beading. I had a little go at my knitted sweater, but the threads split, a stitch dropped and I flung the entire mess across the room. I won't look at it, and I won't let anyone else pick it up either. That'll show that evil bitch. I walk around muttering about a knitting bonfire. This is not the first time, it's not even the tenth time that I've flung the knitting. Sometimes I fling other things after it. That's how I lost the last set of stitch markers. and the big yarn needle.
I'm good at crafty stuff. But right now, when I really need to be creative, the inside of my head feels like glue. The yellow kind that smells bad. Trying to think thoughts with a head full of glue is really terrible. I need to be creative. I need to bare my soul in my work. I need, really need, to make a damn buck. I need to stop procrastinating. My life has become a joke like the for want of a nail joke. Oh, the joke goes like this: for the want of a nail, a shoe was lost. for the want of a shoe, the horse was lost, for the want of the horse, the soldier was lost, for want of the soldier-- the battle, the kingdom, the life, etc. all for the want of a nail. all for the want of a little attention to a traffic related ticket that I got in the mail, for an offense that I was not even PRESENT to commit, for lack of attention to that matter, my car, my job, my freedom was lost. So I need to be creative and I can't. Now, funny, that I can do.
I play games online. Not group games, just silly games. amusing games. from a game site. I search for hidden items, I free fairies from ogres and I line up 3 things in a row. I learn, and I get better. It gives me the illusion that I'm in control of something in my life. Exercizes my brain, I hear that it's important to do that.
Today I was playing Cradle of Rome. I play Cradle of Rome every day. It's so rewarding to match up 3 things, clear the board, and build little things. If you're good, you can get little people too, although it doesn't tell you what is required to get little people, they just pop up here and there if you do things like complete a level in 3 minutes or make 15 drops of 5 or more matches, I don't know how to get the fisherman. And there's somebody hiding behind the haystack in the field next to the windmill. At the end of each level, there's a triumphant fanfare of trumpets. When you get to the end of that era, there are fireworks. I wish I could live there.
I have also been beading. I had a little go at my knitted sweater, but the threads split, a stitch dropped and I flung the entire mess across the room. I won't look at it, and I won't let anyone else pick it up either. That'll show that evil bitch. I walk around muttering about a knitting bonfire. This is not the first time, it's not even the tenth time that I've flung the knitting. Sometimes I fling other things after it. That's how I lost the last set of stitch markers. and the big yarn needle.
I'm good at crafty stuff. But right now, when I really need to be creative, the inside of my head feels like glue. The yellow kind that smells bad. Trying to think thoughts with a head full of glue is really terrible. I need to be creative. I need to bare my soul in my work. I need, really need, to make a damn buck. I need to stop procrastinating. My life has become a joke like the for want of a nail joke. Oh, the joke goes like this: for the want of a nail, a shoe was lost. for the want of a shoe, the horse was lost, for the want of the horse, the soldier was lost, for want of the soldier-- the battle, the kingdom, the life, etc. all for the want of a nail. all for the want of a little attention to a traffic related ticket that I got in the mail, for an offense that I was not even PRESENT to commit, for lack of attention to that matter, my car, my job, my freedom was lost. So I need to be creative and I can't. Now, funny, that I can do.
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