-Harper's Island, Week XII, the Finale--SPOILERS )

B

-Can anyone explain to me why the U.S. government requires thirty to sixty days to switch direct deposits from one account to another? AOL can do it in days, for Christ's sake. Now I've got to play Which Account Will My Check Appear In while the transition is processed and can't yet sign up for automatic bill payment. If my ATM card doesn't work in the Mayberry ATM down the feed sore/salon/soda fountain/optometrist and mini-mart, I'm screwed and will have to mooch off my mother until the change takes effect. Thanks, Uncle Sam.
-Harper's Island, Week XII, the Finale--SPOILERS )

B

-Can anyone explain to me why the U.S. government requires thirty to sixty days to switch direct deposits from one account to another? AOL can do it in days, for Christ's sake. Now I've got to play Which Account Will My Check Appear In while the transition is processed and can't yet sign up for automatic bill payment. If my ATM card doesn't work in the Mayberry ATM down the feed sore/salon/soda fountain/optometrist and mini-mart, I'm screwed and will have to mooch off my mother until the change takes effect. Thanks, Uncle Sam.
No, I didn't slip in the shower, crack my skull, and become a sad statistic, a corpse uncounted until the stench of my decay wafted upstairs to alert the thundering colossus who lives overhead. My writing computer nearly threw a fatal rod on Sunday, and Scandisk discovered a bad sector. The drive has been balky and chuntering since surviving a lightning strike, and so this comes as no surprise. I'm sure the multiple power failures have done the hardware no favors. It is, after all, ten years old, a relic in computer years. I've backed up most of my fic save Part III of "Detail Man", which I hope to save today. Once that's done, it's in the hands of fate as to when my faithful girl breathes her last. Thusfar, she's run beautifully since Scandisk quarantined the bad sector.

I have another computer, and so I won't be completely absent if and when my girl refuses to boot, but my online presence might be more sporadic, as I hate the setup of the newer model and have no desire to give myself a permanent hunchback from hunting and pecking on the feeble white-on-black keyboard whose letters suffer from severe erosion since Roomie tickles the technological ivories like a bee-savaged bear clubbing a Steinway. I noticed Best Buy is offering Dell laptops for $500; I might look into that come fall.

"Detail Man" Part III is nearly done. I hope to have it posted by Friday, but it might take until next week. Does anyone remember when I produced 2-3 pieces of fic a month? Does anyone but me miss those fecund, motivated times?

I'm going to opine about Harper's Island in greater detail tomorrow, but in brief:

Harper's Island, Week XI--SPOILERS )
No, I didn't slip in the shower, crack my skull, and become a sad statistic, a corpse uncounted until the stench of my decay wafted upstairs to alert the thundering colossus who lives overhead. My writing computer nearly threw a fatal rod on Sunday, and Scandisk discovered a bad sector. The drive has been balky and chuntering since surviving a lightning strike, and so this comes as no surprise. I'm sure the multiple power failures have done the hardware no favors. It is, after all, ten years old, a relic in computer years. I've backed up most of my fic save Part III of "Detail Man", which I hope to save today. Once that's done, it's in the hands of fate as to when my faithful girl breathes her last. Thusfar, she's run beautifully since Scandisk quarantined the bad sector.

I have another computer, and so I won't be completely absent if and when my girl refuses to boot, but my online presence might be more sporadic, as I hate the setup of the newer model and have no desire to give myself a permanent hunchback from hunting and pecking on the feeble white-on-black keyboard whose letters suffer from severe erosion since Roomie tickles the technological ivories like a bee-savaged bear clubbing a Steinway. I noticed Best Buy is offering Dell laptops for $500; I might look into that come fall.

"Detail Man" Part III is nearly done. I hope to have it posted by Friday, but it might take until next week. Does anyone remember when I produced 2-3 pieces of fic a month? Does anyone but me miss those fecund, motivated times?

I'm going to opine about Harper's Island in greater detail tomorrow, but in brief:

Harper's Island, Week XI--SPOILERS )
-Harper's Island, Week X--SPOILERS )


-There is plenty to discuss in the CSI:NY fandom, but I don't have the energy or the inclination to don the safety goggles and hipwaders and brave the spooge. I am glad that Top41 created a separate thread in which to continue the soul-numbing Danny-Lindsay psychoanalysis fest. It was interesting at first, but the tenth time Maya316 reiterated a point she made three posts ago, I reached for the mouse. I'll give her credit for being a polite, articulate Lindsay apologist, a rarity in them thar fandom hills, but it's simply one of those discussions only of interested to the participants, and I was glad when they stopped hijacking the spoiler thread for their Dr. Phil impersonation contest.


-Rather than coming up with new plotkits, I need to work on the 2,345,654 bunnies currently crowding the hutch. No, brain, I don't need to write a My Bloody Valentine fic about Tom Hanniger's ten missing years before he returned to Harmony. I don't.
-Harper's Island, Week X--SPOILERS )


-There is plenty to discuss in the CSI:NY fandom, but I don't have the energy or the inclination to don the safety goggles and hipwaders and brave the spooge. I am glad that Top41 created a separate thread in which to continue the soul-numbing Danny-Lindsay psychoanalysis fest. It was interesting at first, but the tenth time Maya316 reiterated a point she made three posts ago, I reached for the mouse. I'll give her credit for being a polite, articulate Lindsay apologist, a rarity in them thar fandom hills, but it's simply one of those discussions only of interested to the participants, and I was glad when they stopped hijacking the spoiler thread for their Dr. Phil impersonation contest.


-Rather than coming up with new plotkits, I need to work on the 2,345,654 bunnies currently crowding the hutch. No, brain, I don't need to write a My Bloody Valentine fic about Tom Hanniger's ten missing years before he returned to Harmony. I don't.
Harper's Island, Week IX--SPOILERS )

-Dear CBS and the CSI:NY producers,

Fuck you for not submitting Eddie Cahill for consideration for the Emmy ballot. You submitted A.J. Buckley, but not Eddie. Forgive me, A.J. fans, but that's bullshit. I love Adam and think he's a brilliant complement to the show, but he is absolutely not more deserving of consideration than Cahill, who has been consistently superlative for five years. He should've been put forth on the strength of "Dead Inside" and "Pay Up" alone. That you ignored his body of work for the season in favor of Buckley's single outstanding turn in "Party's Over" is ludicrous and inexcusable.

Then again, you are the lackwits who submitted "Grounds for Deception" for consideration in the Best Writing category. You must be joking. That episode was televised badfic. Even ficcers worth their salt would've dismissed it as revisionist wish fulfillment. The only reason "Grounds" was put forward is because Melina wrote it while laying down heavy fire in the bathroom. To include it alongside the truly good "Yahrzeit" is an embarrassing joke and an obvious incident of ego pandering.

-Seeing Eddie Cahill so sloppy drunk and grungy makes me sad. I know he probably had a great time, and that most folks are social drinkers, but when you come from a family of raging alcoholics, booze
Harper's Island, Week IX--SPOILERS )

-Dear CBS and the CSI:NY producers,

Fuck you for not submitting Eddie Cahill for consideration for the Emmy ballot. You submitted A.J. Buckley, but not Eddie. Forgive me, A.J. fans, but that's bullshit. I love Adam and think he's a brilliant complement to the show, but he is absolutely not more deserving of consideration than Cahill, who has been consistently superlative for five years. He should've been put forth on the strength of "Dead Inside" and "Pay Up" alone. That you ignored his body of work for the season in favor of Buckley's single outstanding turn in "Party's Over" is ludicrous and inexcusable.

Then again, you are the lackwits who submitted "Grounds for Deception" for consideration in the Best Writing category. You must be joking. That episode was televised badfic. Even ficcers worth their salt would've dismissed it as revisionist wish fulfillment. The only reason "Grounds" was put forward is because Melina wrote it while laying down heavy fire in the bathroom. To include it alongside the truly good "Yahrzeit" is an embarrassing joke and an obvious incident of ego pandering.

-Seeing Eddie Cahill so sloppy drunk and grungy makes me sad. I know he probably had a great time, and that most folks are social drinkers, but when you come from a family of raging alcoholics, booze loses its appeal.
-Harper's Island, Week VIII--SPOILERS )

-I've been reading Dan Simmons' The Terror which is an atmospheric, delightfully creepy historical horror/suspense thriller about a lost Arctic expedition and what might have befallen the doomed crew. It's predicated on real events and historical figures, but skewed to the eerily fantastical, with a tongueless Eskimo witch and a formless creature stalking the Arctic wastes in search of blood.

-I've set aside Caleb Carr's Angels and Demons. It started out with such promise but eventually bogged down into a tired courtroom drama with a cast of fusty Victorian tightasses. Reading it was like tuning in to an episode of CSI, only to have the Ben stone-era cast of Law and Order crash through the set ceiling and stage a theatrical coup. Add that to the fact that I had scant sympathy for anyone except the Linares baby and the quiet Cyrus Montrose, and I simply decided to waste my increasingly myopic eyesight on more interesting fare. It's as disappointing and turgid as The Alienist was refreshing and exciting.

-I watched Pathfinder this morning. Pure cheese, but also chock full of Karl Urban manflesh, including a shot of his gloriously bare, copulating ass. Why you'd take time to bump uglies while hordes of armored Viking warriors are in search of you, I don't know, but mmmm.
-Harper's Island, Week VIII--SPOILERS )

-I've been reading Dan Simmons' The Terror which is an atmospheric, delightfully creepy historical horror/suspense thriller about a lost Arctic expedition and what might have befallen the doomed crew. It's predicated on real events and historical figures, but skewed to the eerily fantastical, with a tongueless Eskimo witch and a formless creature stalking the Arctic wastes in search of blood.

-I've set aside Caleb Carr's Angels and Demons. It started out with such promise but eventually bogged down into a tired courtroom drama with a cast of fusty Victorian tightasses. Reading it was like tuning in to an episode of CSI, only to have the Ben stone-era cast of Law and Order crash through the set ceiling and stage a theatrical coup. Add that to the fact that I had scant sympathy for anyone except the Linares baby and the quiet Cyrus Montrose, and I simply decided to waste my increasingly myopic eyesight on more interesting fare. It's as disappointing and turgid as The Alienist was refreshing and exciting.

-I watched Pathfinder this morning. Pure cheese, but also chock full of Karl Urban manflesh, including a shot of his gloriously bare, copulating ass. Why you'd take time to bump uglies while hordes of armored Viking warriors are in search of you, I don't know, but mmmm.
-Yes, I'm working on my first paper, and I can tell it's going to be another whopping manifesto, because I'm still laying the groundwork for my first point. On page three. Why can I never be concise or succinct?

-Harper's Island, Week VII )
-Yes, I'm working on my first paper, and I can tell it's going to be another whopping manifesto, because I'm still laying the groundwork for my first point. On page three. Why can I never be concise or succinct?

-Harper's Island, Week VII )
-Dammit, I missed Harper's Island last night because of a storm. Of course I did. I was looking forward to the next installment. It's not great television, or even particularly good television, but it's got atmosphere, and I'm invested in seeing how several plot threads resolve themselves. Do Henry and his friends discover Fat Man's nefarious didoes with the purloined money? Did Mr. Wellington survive the chandelier collapse, and will he confront his philandering wife? Will Abby ever dislodge the splintery, Daddy-hating stick from her ass long enough to tell us why she hates him?

Sometimes, I wish I had high-speed Internet with which to watch the shows I miss, but it's just not in the budget.

-I was fortunate enough to watch most of my shows' season finales. On the main, I found them lackluster and underwhelming when compared to previous years, but with the exception of the Bones season finale, which collapsed with three heave-inducing words, they were serviceable.

Bones Finale--SPOILERS )

D

NCIS Finale--SPOILERS )

C

The Mentalist Finale--SPOILERS )

A

So, a recap of season finales:

NCIS: C
The Mentalist: A
Criminal Minds: A+
CSI:NY: A
Bones: D
Supernatural: N/A
Numb3rs: B+
-Dammit, I missed Harper's Island last night because of a storm. Of course I did. I was looking forward to the next installment. It's not great television, or even particularly good television, but it's got atmosphere, and I'm invested in seeing how several plot threads resolve themselves. Do Henry and his friends discover Fat Man's nefarious didoes with the purloined money? Did Mr. Wellington survive the chandelier collapse, and will he confront his philandering wife? Will Abby ever dislodge the splintery, Daddy-hating stick from her ass long enough to tell us why she hates him?

Sometimes, I wish I had high-speed Internet with which to watch the shows I miss, but it's just not in the budget.

-I was fortunate enough to watch most of my shows' season finales. On the main, I found them lackluster and underwhelming when compared to previous years, but with the exception of the Bones season finale, which collapsed with three heave-inducing words, they were serviceable.

Bones Finale--SPOILERS )

D

NCIS Finale--SPOILERS )

C

The Mentalist Finale--SPOILERS )

A

So, a recap of season finales:

NCIS: C
The Mentalist: A
Criminal Minds: A+
CSI:NY: A
Bones: D
Supernatural: N/A
Numb3rs: B+
-Today is Bloggy's sixth birthday. When I started him, I was an HP and LOTR nut and had just begun to post dedicated fanfiction. I was happy in a relationship, or telling myself that I was, and as yet unscarred by its abrupt dissolution a few months later. I believed that love meant sacrificing for the one you loved and caring about them more than yourself, and I made stupid choices in support of that belief. I'm still living with the consequences of those choices today. If I had known then what I know now, my choices--and my life--would be very different, but I was young and naive. Unlike many women who got to experiment with love as teenagers and discover what love was through trial and error, I went from inexperience to painful knowledge of adult heartache in one dreadful relationship.

It's changed me. I still believe in the love I so often write about, still believe it is possible, but I don't believe it exists for me. I no longer sacrifice my desires without resentment. With every sacrifice, no matter how minor(and by minor, I mean agreeing to order buffalo wings instead of getting Popeye's chicken), I wonder if it makes me that much more of a weak-willed, needy doormat. And I don't make big sacrifices anymore. I just don't. I look out for myself now, because I learned that sacrifice isn't a gift for the giver as well as the recipient. It's only a loss.

It's not who I wanted to be. I miss the hopeless romantic that I was, the idealist who believed that the opportunity and experience of love was always worth the cost. Maybe I'll find her again someday. Maybe on Bloggy's twelfth birthday, I'll be here rhapsodizing about my happily ever after. I hope so, and maybe that hope means the idealist isn't dead, but only sleeping.

-Harper's Island, Week IV--SPOILERS )
So CBS has shunted Harper's Island to the television graveyard of Saturday night. Who didn't see this coming? I did, but I was an idiot and watched anyway and stupidly got invested. Not in the characters, mind; they're so cardboard, they're breathing Frosted Mini Wheats with sex organs, but in the mystery. I liked playing armchair detective and guessing whodunnit, and now it's doubtful that I'll ever find out if I was right, because knowing network TV, Saturday airings will soon give way to webcast airings, and my creaking systems aren't equipped to handle the technology.

I knew I shouldn't've bothered tuning in. Screw you, CBS.

I tinkered about with my German books yesterday, and lo, I have questions concerning prefixes. I know that prefixes in German can be either separable or fixed and change the meaning of the verb to which they are attached, but I'm desperately searching for the pattern by which they change them. Right now, no prefix seems to alter the verb in the same manner, and none can be attached to a specific meaning.

Kommen=to come

ankommen=to arrive

bekommen=to receive

and

suchen=to look for

besuchen=to visit

In most cases, the new verb bears little relation to the stem. Sure, "kommen" and "ankommen" are similar, I guess, at least to a brain acculturated to inexact, lazy English, but "bekommen" doesn't pertain to people or time at all. Because there is no apparent rhyme or reason to the effects of a prefix on a stem, I can't rely on inferential context to determine meaning. So, when the text cheerfully prompts me to fill in the correct prefix in order to create a coherent sentence, I look like an owl-eyed drunk trying to bluster my way through a field sobriety test. For all I know, I've just made the "brave German soldiers" fuck the dog and braise the widow in wine sauce.

Is there a systemic way in which prefixes alter verb meaning, or is this simply a matter of memorizing metric asstons of vocabulary?
laguera25: Dug from UP! (Default)
( Apr. 24th, 2009 12:57 pm)
SPN Jump the Shark SPOILERS )

Harper's Island, Week III )

Still, it has excellent atmosphere, and I'm keen to keep playing Nancy Drew.


Finally, a link to information about The Community Choice Act, which would give people with disabilities more choice when it comes to long-term care, including in-home care. Right now, their choices are limited to hospitals and nursing homes, and if you've never spent an extended period in one of those places, I can assure you that they're where the soul goes to die. Why do you think I'm still faffing around in college despite the completion of all graduation requirements? It's because university accessible housing is the only accessible housing in the city, and while it might be torture to sit through class after tedious class, at least it's a torture of my choosing rather than the slow, ignominious death by institutionalization and obsolescence.
I was having a fantastic day yesterday until I boarded the bus and heard this:

"Let's move so we don't have to sit next to the retard."

I thought about crying because it was so obviously and gleefully mean, but I didn't. There was no point in it. Had I cried, the other passengers would've assumed that it was just the crippled girl having hysterics, and it would've lent credence to the oft-voiced opinion that "handicappeds" should relegate themselves to specialized public transit that costs twice as much as regular bus service and requires extensive planning in advance, but keeps us out of public view so small-minded assholes don't have to risk contracting cripple cooties. I've no doubt that the bus driver would've believed me had I told him why I was melting down; I've ridden with him for years, and he's a lovely man, but there wasn't much he could've done. The rights of able passengers to travel supersede the feelings of disabled passengers to feel secure, and there's no law against being a jerk.

Actually, the rights of the able supersede the rights of the disabled, full stop. When I was a sophomore in high school, the school district came up with the brilliant idea to have the emotionally disturbed students bussed with the physically disabled students. Yes, because putting physically fragile and defenseless students with the violent and mentally unstable ones won't cause problems, no sir.

The ED students were furious about having to ride with the "tards", as they put it, and so manifested their anger by tormenting us with a constant stream of insults and veiled threats. After six months of this, I was at my breaking point, and so, when they declared that they were going to throw us out the back of the bus while it was in motion, I told a school supervisor.

Mr. Spence was a wonderful man, and recognizing the danger these kids posed to us, convinced the transportation department to suspend them from the bus until a solution could be found. We deserved, he said, not to be terrorized on a daily basis because the ED kids didn't like being "lumped in" with "the tards".

The transportation department didn't agree. Less than a week later, they returned the ED students to the bus. Why? Because they had a "right to an education", and that right trumped the disabled students' right to feel safe. We were told to suck it up and cope and stop being so infantile. Mr. Spence was livid, of course, but his hands were tied. So, from then on out, he saw me safely onto the bus every afternoon and was waiting for it every morning. They never did hurl us from the bus, but I never felt safe, either, and I hope the sons of bitches at the transportation department choke on their parsimonious fingers.

So, anyway, back to yesterday. I never did cry because I didn't want to put the bus driver in an untenable position(y halo thar, limper guilt). I pretended not to hear them as they made "retard" jokes for the entire ride and snickered at my obliviousness. I also spent most of the ride wishing that I could point out that it hadn't been my choice to sit next to a cretinous pair of assholes, but that thought never left my mouth. When you are powerless, you know when to keep your mouth shut.

As soon as I got home, I loudly vented about what fucking retards those two were, and yes, I did use that word. It has its applications, as Denis Leary can attest. Then I wrote my review of CSI:NY and salved my anger by watching Rammstein's Volkerball and having absolutely lewd fantasies about Till and Richard. The opening lines to "Ohne Dich"'s chorus never fail to twitterpate me. I know how girly that sounds, and I know it can be interpreted as a song about drug addiction. Ask me if I care. How can you not be entranced by:

Ohne dich
kann ich nicht sein
Ohne dich
?

The sheer poetic rhythm of it...

Harper's Island, Week 2--SPOILERS )

So, that was yesterday. Now I'm going to make today.
.

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