air_n_darkness: (Default)
I detest silence.

Not the silence of the outdoors, mind. Nature has a music all its own, a different movement unique to a time and place. It is not Silence, void of warmth and heat. No, what I can't stand is the absence of background, of music, of melody and rhythm.

Admittedly, we are never in true silence; there is always something, but often that something is noise, a discordant cacophony of random input, not even white noise. It is why if I shop at Target, I shop quickly and with purpose, for example. They don't play music, so there is no underlying melody to drown out or unite the assorted mishmash of sounds from shoppers and cashiers. It unsettles me.

I have had music in my life from an early age. The first song I clearly remember singing along with? Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys. I was six, and we had it on reel-to-reel. It seemed there was always music playing in the house, usually the radio, or a favorite artist of my mother's. We had vinyl, 8-tracks, cassettes, the aforementioned reel-to-reel, and later CDs, of course. But there was always something. Music played as I got ready for school, while my mother made dinner, whenever the TV wasn't on.

I started playing piano in fifth grade, a truly random decision made on a whim. I enjoyed it, but dropped it for band the next year; we could only afford one or the other if I wanted to continue art classes, and many of my friends were in band. Plus, band replaced the dreaded PE, where I was always the subject of ridicule. My familiarity with the piano prompted the director to place me on xylophone. I wanted to play drums, but 1) there were already too many drummers in beginner band, and 2) my mother was highly opposed to the idea. This didn't stop me from learning, however, and I was often called out for having better rhythm than the boys drumming. I loved percussion, and stayed with band through high school, though I was never a "proper" drummer. I remained a bells and xylophone player to the end, though I became very adept at juggling a lot of secondary instruments, especially in orchestral band. In middle school, I fell in love with metal, largely because of the driving percussion and how it was juxtaposed with melody and lyric. From there, industrial and darkwave captivated me as well, for a similar reason; the relentless backbeat of the percussive line, regardless of how it was produced, could send me into myself in a way that meditation could not.

Now to what prompted the post

I've not ever been without music, and there are very few genres in which I can't claim to like at least a song or two. But I somehow... lost it. Oh, there have been artists that grabbed me, music that caught my attention for a short while, but I enjoyed it and moved on. I seldom allowed myself the true bliss of sinking into the music anymore, lost the desire to search out the new. It became nothing more than background noise, silence that wasn't silence, a little death of spirit so subtle I didn't even realize it.

I've been rediscovering music again over the past year and a half, thanks to a couple of dear friends. Specifically, I've rediscovered metal, fallen in love again with the genre and fascinated by it's evolution since the days of my youth. Some bands I've was loosely familiar with before (Nightwish, Leaves's Eyes) but others were unknown, now welcome additions to my music library. One album in particular demanded my attention, speaking to me deeply: Kamelot's latest Silverthorn. (Mind, I like their older music as well, especially Ghost Opera. But Silverthorn clinched it, and that likely has to do with their new singer as much as anything.) It has roughly 300 plays on my iTunes, as I often leave it on loop while I sleep. It captured me enough that once I was shown a video of the group performing live, I decided I really wanted to see them in concert.

I've always talked myself out of going to concerts, no matter how much I want to see a group. The last "big" concert I attended was Rush, on their Counterparts tour; that album was also one of the last albums to grab me as strongly as Silverthorn has. The crowds trigger my social anxiety issues badly, and I usually require a seat. Just the idea of standing room was enough to send me into panic. But I greatly enjoy live music, and missed the experience. This time, I had someone to go to this concert with, someone who intimately understands my issues with crowds (which meant he could hopefully talk me down if I freaked out), and was also a big fan of the group. I was determined that I would not miss this event, that I would make it through to the end of the concert without bolting- even if it was standing room only.

I expected to enjoy it, to have an amazing time. I didn't expect a bit of spiritual epiphany.

It hit me during the drummer's solo spotlight. We were only a few rows back from the stage. The acoustics of the space caused the music to surround me, and the wooden floor vibrated to the beat, sending it through my body. Combined it made me feel as if I truly was one with the drums, with the music, and the feeling continued through the rest of the show. I can't remember the last time I truly let go and felt music, not like that, let my guard down and just rode the pulse of it.

I hadn't realized how much I missed experiencing music like that- or how much I needed to do so. I'm already planning more such concerts.

There were people at the concert who spent the whole time with their phones in the air, trying to record it. I feel sorry for them. Sure, they have a nice little personal record of the event; however, how much of their experience did they sacrifice to get that record? How much more could they have felt, how much more memory would they have made if they had put the phone down and just listened, banged their head, clapped their hands, screamed themselves hoarse (as I did) when prompted?

Music isn't background noise to me. Music is vital. I need it in my life as much as I need air. How did I forget it's importance? Thank you so much, my friends, for helping me remember this.

Mrf

Jun. 9th, 2012 02:13 am
air_n_darkness: (maleficent- witch please)
Today was a pretty good- albeit mega-high on the pain scale- day. Still, I find myself inexplicably melancholy.

I have the oddest feeling that I'm missing something. Missed something. Uneasy, distracted. There's been an obvious change, a shift, and while I can identify the results, I can't identify the cause. It makes me wonder if I erred in some manner, made a misstep. I always look at myself first for such things.

Walls where there were none.

I find myself murmuring that walls were made to be torn down.
air_n_darkness: (PoOrose)
The world has seen fit to remind me of late that one cannot exist in a vacuum. For my own comfort and sanity, I would have preferred for said reminder to have taken a different shape, but if needs must, then needs must. I have ever trended toward the road that leads toward forgetfulness, that walled path where I might keep those memories, errors, and pains upon which I would rather not dwell at careful distance, only glimpsing them through the occasional viewing alcove. I lose myself- willingly, I must add- in the comfortable persona I have developed over the years. I am seldom myself and more often what others need me to be in any given moment.

Not, I must add, that I am not also myself. I am more myself at this moment in my life than perhaps I have ever been. In the nearly two decades since my world shattered, I have grown much. I fell, fell hard, and more than once. I don't fear falling anymore, failing, perhaps, but not falling, and even failure is not the great death that it once was for me. I am at my core a survivor. I may not enjoy what I must do to survive, but survive I will. Admittedly, survival over the past years has led me to strange places and stranger companions, but there is little I would wish away. Even the pain of that first loss must always remain for it was the catalyst for so much.

I have never been a religious person, though I have always been a student of religion. I was brought up loosely as a Christian, mostly in a "that is the way it is done, so that is the way you must do it" way. I attended many churches, mainly for the company of friends. When one grows up in the country, and Town is small in size and mind, one clutches to what social circles might present themselves, you see. I also tended the ancient triangle of oaks in the backyard, sweeping careful paths around them, and leaving the center of the grouping open for I knew not what. So while there was always some structure of religion in my life, there was always magic of a sort as well. I always felt my prayers were stronger when spoke to earth and sky rather than my folded hands at bedtime. Still, I found the structure of religion appealing at the time, nearly as appealing as the company of my friends, and so I went, and I studied, and I considered.

Looking back, I understand more of why I was drawn to the idea of a structured religion. Growing up in a household always in flux, I needed something to ground myself with, to lose myself in. It never quite took, though. I would attend or awhile, then stop. Wash, rinse, repeat. It wasn't until I was in high school that I truly realized that I attended for the camaraderie, not for spiritual enlightenment. Certainly there was something else out there, and that something else might well include a capitol "G" god, but that god wasn't something I needed or even wanted.

What I wanted was magic.

Not "cauldron boil and cauldron bubble" magic, mind- I wanted what I had as a child, the connection to light and life and dark. The road to my present as far as that connection is convoluted, confusing, and already chronicled in part in this journal. I'm rather secure in myself, in my power and in my path now, something I couldn't say but a handful of years ago. I have no religion, and I follow no deity, and I have found my magic. I suppose I have found something of a spiritual path as well, though the term leaves a poor taste on my tongue. Much like using the term Pagan to describe myself does actually- I find it overused, trite, and more or less meaningless. I'll use the words to convey the base idea of myself to others, but don't claim them for myself.

A friend gave me a gift not long ago, a rather valuable gift of a calm space. That may sound like a strange thing to say, but it is not so strange if one understands that I have no resting state. I am always in some state of low-to-mid-level agitation, unless I have managed to take enough medication or imbibe enough alcohol to put me down. It is why I don't rest much when I sleep, among other things.

I have started taking advantage of that gift, sitting outside on my front stoop, a candle on the table beside me, bare feet planted on the bricks of my small, calm courtyard as I look between a triangle of trees at my small patch of night sky. Within the house, I leave music playing, and I can just hear it through the door upon which I am leaning. My courtyard sits on a crossroad, with all that entails, and in such a place, in such a state with such steady calm I simply can't allow my mundane troubles to burden me. At the same time, I am reminded of other obligations, and grow contemplative. I am forced to admit that there are things in life I really do miss, and that, perhaps, they are worth risking myself for.

Time will tell, I suppose.

On Stuff

Apr. 8th, 2012 11:15 pm
air_n_darkness: (goomi)
I went digging through my storage unit this morning, looking for items to toss on ebay. Botcon is the end of the month, and too many Major Issues in a row plus the Diamond thing mean I have not nearly enough saved towards it. I'll admit, I went into the year expecting that I'd also have a work bonus to put toward it and yeah, well. No dice. I'm at that point where I am seriously questioning by ability in regards to my job, but that isn't what I'm in the mood to write about right now.

I will say I am thinking about skipping Botcon next year, just because it seems that every year, Things Happen that make it more of a financial stress for me than an enjoyment.

Anyway- to my point.

I have a lot of stuff. When I moved last year, I was able to downsize to a storage unit half the size of the one I had, that is I went from a 10x10 to a 5x10. My apartment is stuffed to the gills (and still full of boxes, BTW), but I did manage that. Really, given that the unit goes up eight dollars every year, I need to seriously see if I can figure out getting out completely by this time next year. So it isn't just Botcon that prompted me to go digging through it.

Half of my unit is taken up by very large totes full of action figures. I believe there are between fifteen and twenty totes. Admittedly, these are almost all figures that are still in their boxes, and some of those boxes are very large. That's still a lot of figures. Also in the unit are mu holiday decorations and several expensive statues, as well as all my movie posters and such. In short, it's a bunch of random shines that once made me happy. I discovered today that most of them do still make me happy, even though I manged to cull about a tote and a half out of the unit to send away.

The problem comes down to this: I value these things enough that I have paid quite a bit of money to keep them in storage for nearly four years. Not that I ever intended to keep them in storage this long, of course.

Why do I keep these things? Stubbornness, I think. Also, my OCD problems. There are two totes full of Monsieur Bome figures. There are about three totes of Transformers, maybe four. There are three totes of McFarlene Dragons, and I'm still debating on them. The reason I still have them is that those would sell for so little as to be not worth my trouble, and I do like the sculpts on them quite a bit. Then there are the random imports, the amazing Lovecraft figures, my old school Ghost Rider Collection... so many things that made or make me smile. Really, it took me longer than it should to go through the unit because I kept pulling things out and grinning and gleeing over my stash. Of course, I packed it all up again and walked away, leaving it in boxes in the dark.

So why keep them for "later?" I get no real pleasure from these items when they are packed away. I've paid close to five grand over the past few years to keep my things in a safe, climate controlled storage. For what? So that one day, when I have a "real" home I can have those things out and look at them. Except that the things I have brought out of storage are still sitting in boxes or shoved to the side, because I don't take the time to live in my space rather than exist in it.

All of the above just to say I really need to reconsider the priority I give to stuff in my life. Knowing and doing are two different things, and I'm aware enough to know that a lot of the issue is the security I get from Stuff. Belongings have always been more constant in my life than People and ultimately have given me more pleasure and less pain. And I am an obsessive-compulsive who focuses her compulsions through collecting things. This is why I have three years of unread comic books in boxes, among other things, because I couldn't make myself stop buying even though I was no longer reading. I'm better about those things than I was, but it's still an issue.

bleh

Dec. 30th, 2010 11:37 pm
air_n_darkness: (my weakness)
I am feeling more like I am tolerated by most folks rather than liked lately. I know this is not correct and that this is a depressive response to the various shit that has been happening lately. Doesn't change the fact that right now I can't find very much evidence to the contrary to use as a salve for my anxiety.

Next week: making doctor's appointment.
air_n_darkness: (craxy-cheshire cat)
I have a job interview Monday. Please to be crossing fingers and toes for me.

Gah. Nervous. Haven't actually interviewed for a job in almost ten years.
air_n_darkness: (The light!)
Once upon a time, I defined myself as an artist. If a random person asked me what I believed myself to be, what the definitive term to describe me was, I'd still say "artist"; I just wouldn't feel it as a truth. Somewhere in transitioning from child to adult, I lost my creative connection. Creating became about productivity instead of about creating.

I honestly can't remember the last time I made something just for the sake of it. I can't remember the last time I had an idea in my head that would not let me sleep until I put it on paper, or built it, or brought it into being somehow. Making art at some point became all about justification: justifying the time, justifying the expense, justifying my ideas. What is my vision? Why am I making this? Do I think this is commercial? Can I make money if I do this instead of that? Oh yeah, and my favorite: what statement am I making?

Gah! I never cared about any of that; at least, I didn't until I got to Art Collage&trade. I just wanted to make the visions in my head reality. I wanted to learn techniques, to learn everything I could about what I felt called to do. Instead, from almost the beginning I was pressed to decided on an artistic point of view, a meaning, to pick some driving force and "greater meaning" behind my work. After the first year course work, there wasn't any structured technique lessons; instead, you said "I want to make this" and the teachers would show you what you needed to know to maybe make that. Or they'd tell you to drop it because it was out of your league, or wasn't "real art."

What's so wrong with wanting to make lovely things? And maybe, just maybe, to make lovely things that people appreciate and want and admire? Why must it always be about "deeper meanings"?

To paraphrase, sometimes a flower is just a flower.

It isn't that I don't admire those artists who do have a Statement to make. If that's what they feel they need to use their gifts to do, then power to them. I don't always get it. I admit, I fail to see the "art" in a lot of Modern Art. I fail to see the beauty in the macabre testaments some artists make for and against whatever social issue they focus on. And while I appreciate the abstract movement, and would certainly be in awe of seeing say, a Pollack or a Picasso in person, I do not find them attractive. Wait, let me amend that- I find some of Picasso's works quite fascinating, but strictly from a technical standpoint. I would not desire to have one of his works handing in my home. Ever. Pollock's works will always just be paint splatters to me, even though I understand the work that went into them.

Nothing and no one will ever convince me that Frida Kahlo's works are beautiful. I see no technical merit in her works. I just don't, and this even after we spent a great deal of time studying her in one of my history classes. Do I understand her place in art history, etc, etc? Yes. I simply don't like her work.

Mondrian and Matisse, now, I like their works. Mondrian, because much of his work speaks to me structurally- it evokes a 3-D connection with a 2-D object. Matisse because of the sheer flow of his drawing style. Then there is Klimt. Oh my god, Klimt. I have this overwhelming and crazy desire to one day turn The Kiss into a 3-D metal sculpture, a master copy in different media. All those little, detailed metal panels...

But I am digressing.

I miss creating. Yes, I work in a crafts store. Yes, I regularly make things for swaps, gifts or whatnot. But...that isn't the same. I like what I make. I enjoy the process. I damn sure enjoy collecting supplies. But it isn't the same. It isn't me really. It's just...stuff. I'm always tempering it down to work within the tastes of the group, or sacrificing an idea because I lack funds or time or space.

Time's the big one. I feel like I'm wasting time when I just sit down and putter with things. There are so many other things that "need" doing. So many people pulling for my attention. It feels like wasting time if I'm focusing on art now. I'm unsure when I adopted that attitude, but I wish I hadn't.

I'm trying to fix it.

Somewhere toward the end of last year, I started getting the Urge again. The urge to actually makes something, to work through it as one would work through a problem. I actually sketched a few things down, which is huge for me. I haven't been able to properly utilize a sketchbook since I started MCA and started getting graded on how much I utilized one.

It excites me, having this urge. It won't be sculpture in the classic sense of the word, but yet, it will be. On top of that, it has a Place and a Purpose and a Person to which it will go. Not because I am forcing it to have those things, but because it is simply part and parcel of the project itself. The Belonging comes hand and hand with the Being, and that is something that has not happened for me in longer than long. I've even started gathering the materials.

It will be quite the undertaking, and I'm expecting some technical snags along the way. I welcome then actually, for it's been far too long since I've truly challenged myself with art. It will take some time, because some aspects are very specific, and I will have to wait and hunt for the parts and baubles that will fit each particular need. But that's okay. I have no deadline.

I can't wait to get started.
air_n_darkness: (worship me)
I have had 3/4's of a bottle of a nice late harvest Riesling that my lovely and talented boss gave me. I am very much under the alchohence of flucohol. I have also enjoed with this wine some lovely cheese and olives.

Life, it does not suck so much as it could, right now.
air_n_darkness: (bitchy)
Yes, yes I know. I need to finish the Botcon posts. But that requires thinking, and haven't progressed to that level of concentration and wellness yet.

What I am considering at the moment is my lack of space. I have two racks full of CDs and various video games, and quite a lot of DVDs. Now, I've never been a fan of the wallet style storage for those things, mainly because it seems to me, that it would harder to keep up with what I have. Of course, my DVDs are all double stacked, which means I still can't see what I have, and that I never feel like digging to the back to find x, y, z movie. So I'm actually considering going to the wallets for my non-box set stuff/

So tell me, dear f-list: How do you store your CDs/DVDs? Feel free to extrapolate in the comments.

[Poll #1411243]
air_n_darkness: (reject reality)
More or less, anyway.

I am moved into [livejournal.com profile] uglygrandmother's house, my storage unit is full to capacity, and my ebay stuff is safely ensconced at [livejournal.com profile] slackeremeritus's house. There is a very small amount of random items left in the house, which I will be getting tomorrow. Things went more or less smoothly, as far as transitioning goes. I'm doing...better than I expected, mentally. I'll be glad when I have the last bits out. Every time I go back over there, it's like getting a punch in the gut. I admit, while I was mostly adjusted and accepting, there was still this stubborn little shred of hope or...something. I don't know. And it annoys me.

I really just want this to be done with. I've reached the point of being angry, I think, well and truly angry over it all. Because it was such a pile of bullshit.

Meh. Not going there at the moment.

The cats have all been moved and integrated into the household. Pepper is still a bit spooky about coming into the front of the house; he only does so when Mike and Trudy are asleep. Goyle thinks he owns the place, and Yin is very "Whatever, dude." He is Buddha, watch him nap.

While Trudy's cats aren't particularly happy with things, there have been no rolling furballs as of yet. Some hissing, chasing, cornering, and growling, but no furballs. Shadow is giving ground, and Hermes is just pissed. Midnight, the unfixed female, is happier than a pig in slop. She now has five boys to swish her tail at, instead of two. Of course, all the boys are fixed, so they can't really help her out much.

She has decided she wants my Yin. Not surprising, as he is the largest of the cats in the house now- stronger genetic material and all that. But Yin really has no clue. He isn't an alpha mentality, so he doesn't want to fight Hermes or Shadow for their spot. Yin hasn't ever known an unfixed female. He doesn't know what to do or why this tiny black cat keeps twisting about and shoving her butt in his face. He literally yawned in her face tonight. It is most amusing.

I have come to the realization that I have a lot of shit. My Master's degree in Space/Time Manipulation is being put to very good use at the moment. While I have not been able to make as swift a progress in unpacking as I would like, it's coming along. My futon will be here in about two more weeks, and by then, all the boxes should be emptied and things will at least be on shelves. Not organized, but on shelves. By end of May, I should be well and truly organized. I'm rather proud of my arranging skills, truth be told. Once the futon's here, I won't have a lot of actual floor space, but I will still have a room that does not feel horrible cramped, or that looks like an explosion has hit it. And if I want to be able to actually use the space, I'll have to keep it that way.

Cooked dinner tonight, and everyone seemed happy. Cleaned up before and after, which made Trudy happy, and then took out the trash, which made Mike happy. I can't possibly express how grateful I am to them both for giving me a place to stay. I just hope I can avoid being too much of a bother. My intention is to cook dinner once a week, at least. I enjoy it, and I know it will take some of the stress off Trudy.

So, yes, I am here, safe and sound in Millington. I'll be starting back up my regular list posts tomorrow, for those who've been missing them.
air_n_darkness: (mermaid:transition)
One of the items in my eclectic mix of visual media from last night included the 1996 romance Bed of Roses. I am not so big on "chick flicks" for the most part. However, I actually saw this in the theater way back when. So when I DVR'd it a few days back, just for the heck of it.

Truthfully, it is horribly contrived, jerky, with sudden and jarring expositions shoved amongst the romantic fluff. I kept thinking, "This is not a good movie. Why did it stick in my mind enough to make me want to watch it again?" The answer is not in the movie itself, but in the undercurrents of message hidden in the sappy dialogue and fairy-tale premise. Which, quite simply, is "Stop."

Just Stop.

Stop and enjoy the little things.

Stop nitpicking, stop examining every word and motion and facial expression.

Stop trying to be perfect.

Stop hiding.

Stop pretending.

Stop thinking you aren't worthy of being loved.

One of the scenes in the movie involves a scene between the two main characters, wherein Lisa is trying to find out from Lewis who sent her this beautiful floral arrangement. She goes into this tirade about how if someone really wanted her to enjoy the flowers, they would have signed the card instead of leaving her to go half crazy wondering who it was, and being so obsessed about it that she can't even enjoy them. Doesn't that defeat the purpose?

Later, Lisa is having the requisite best friend talk with her friend Kim, about her on again/off again boyfriend, Danny.

Kim: He's the romantic equivalent of a night-light.
Lisa: You say that as if that's a bad thing. I don't have time in my life for anything more.


Such a reflection of our world, there. We don't have time. We are too busy working, playing, living, struggling, existing. We can't just enjoy.

Meh. I'm waxing introspective about a romance flick. Should shush now
air_n_darkness: (Mirage: poof!)
It has been a particularly trying year, on several levels. The divorce, which is still pending; the closing of a more than just a business; the coming to grips with my inner demons and accepting that it's ok to accept help on that front; and finaces- mustn't forget the financial mess- it's all been one big mess. I've muddled through, better even than I thought I would. And now the year is almost over. Just a little over an hour left, looks like. I can't wait.

It's not that I expect some little fairy to come down and magically make things better for me at midnight. Far from it. But it does allow me to have a "fresh start" as it were. I'm on my way to that already. Currently, I don't have to move, but I have a place to go to when I do. I'm really starting to look long and hard at my Stuff and what I am going to keep. I'm recognizing that I channeled a lot of my depression and whatnot into buying Stuff for the momentary happy buzz. Yes, I want to keep most all of it; however, I don't need any of it. It's time to be a bit more realistic.

Health-wise, I've been doing ok. December has not been a good month for me, as far as my eating. I've been running ninety to nothing, and eating very, very poorly. The issues with my teeth haven't helped. So I've gained back about five pounds. It's annoying, but not heartbreaking like it might have been at one point. I'll get back into the swing of things next week.

I...dislike the idea of making resolutions. Possibly, because for so many years there was only one resolution, and that was to get skinny. And that never worked, because diets don't work. however, there are a few things I'd like be more conscious of in the coming weeks.

Money: Where it comes from and where it's going. I admit to having a bit of an impulse control problem. If I make myself sit down and actually plan out my funds and spending, I do much better. I want to pay my outstanding debts off, and if I really put my mind to it, I think I can do almost all of it in one year, student loans not withstanding. Maybe even without changing jobs. If I can just pick up a second PT job, and dump as much as I can on ebay, I'll manage ok.

Food: What I eat, when I eat, how I eat, and where the food comes from. I've become very, very interested in nutrition lately. I'm not a shining paragon of healthy eating and never will be. That does not mean I can't pay better attention.

Magic: Studying more. Doing more. I've let that part of me languish for too long. I need to step up and stop hiding.

Art: Heh, see above. Seriously, I need to get back into doing art for art's sake, not just for swaps or money. Oh, I enjoy the swaps. And it feels really, really good to know I really can make things people want to purchase. But it's been...years really, since I've made a piece of art for me, something just because I can.

Exercise: I am not, despite what some might think based on appearances, a lazy person. I actually enjoy exercise quite a bit. There's a lot I can't do because of the issues with my joints. Anything high impact does more damage than good. But I can still strength train. And bike. Eventually, I'd like to get a real bike again.

Stuff: Has already been covered.

Aside from the bills, there are a few purchases I'd like to make/things I'd like to save for. This includes:

Botcon. I have the time off approved. It remains to be seen if I will be able to afford the Primus package cost before they all sell out. But I'm not sure it matters that much to me, really. Ideally, I'd like to have between 1000-1500 to make the trip with. Since it's not till the end of May, that is doable, really.

I desperately need a new camera. My ancient Kodack 1st gen digital is a hairs breath from croaking, and if I'm doing commissions, I really ought to be taking pics of them. I don't need anything fancy. Just something that can get good pics of the type of detailed work I do. I am open to suggestions as to make and model.

My laptop either needs to be repaired or replaced. I hope for the former, but suspect the latter. So long as the PC is working, I don't need the laptop, but I admit to being spoiled by the convenience of it. Should it need replacing, though, I think I will just save up for a higher end one.

That about does it for the obligatory New Year's Eve post. Take care and see you all next year!
air_n_darkness: (maleficent- witch please)
Well, that didn’t take long. I’ve been on the SG list for, oh, three, four days now, and already I feel the urge to shake my head at people. Trudy may smack me for not being brave enough to voice my opinion on the list, but I don’t know most of these people, don’t really want to feed the wank, and am honestly afraid I’ll just come off sounding holier than thou.

Because some of you probably don't care )
air_n_darkness: (PoOrose)
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.


~Litany Against Fear from Frank Herbert's Dune, and its many offspring.

Yes, random words from a random work of science fiction. But powerful words. Here lately, I find myself reciting them from time to time and drawing comfort from them, and that perhaps is a testament to just how much of a geek I am. But maybe not. We take solace not in words, but in the meanings we assign, the connotations and context.

Words are powerful, they are tools which we too often wield poorly. We have forgotten, we have lost, and our society is poorer for the lack. Such a pity.

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June 2017

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