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Ancient Rome Rebuilt Digitally
¡Fantástico!

Six of Cups
Good will, innocence, childhood.

The tree I planted Memorial Day weekend has died, and so has one of my orange tree seedlings.  We got some terrific rain the last couple of days, though, which dropped the temperature down to the 80's.

I may have lost a client; they contract with Fleur, who likes to use their own translators, and my name's mysteriously disappeared from their mailing list.  I'm having to send emails asking what's up, trying to get a straight answer.  Depressing.  The Irishman will probably let me know what's going on.

It was a good weekend, overall.  Mom and I didn't fight at all, the office party was cheesy but fun, and we had a nice laid-back day off Monday.

The party was at a wanna-be theme park which had wagon rides, a gold panning place, and a couple of stores.  They served a bbq dinner, and I was bored until the after dinner show, which was a decent American folk band with an excellent fiddler.  We asked afterward just to make sure - yep, Irish, did lots of Irish fiddling too.  Mom wore a shirt with red pineapples on it.  Red.  I had been teasing her about the weird red pineapples earlier in the evening, and when we went up to talk to the band, the oldest guy looked at her chest for a moment and then drawled, "What are those things?" XD

Mom went to CA to see Molly etc. last week, and when she came back there were a bunch of floaties, pool toys, out around the pool.  Brandy had left a message on her machine saying that her daughter wanted to use the pool, was that OK?  Of course it was, Mom's given them a key and all.  But when Brandy came by, the first thing she said was, "We wanted to use the pool, but you weren't here so we didn't."

So I went off, "Oh no!  Someone was here using the pool, but we thought it was you guys, oh god, someone must have broken in, did you see anyone around?  We should call the police," etc.  Brandy went kind of red and Mom changed the subject quickly (she was laughing, later, but she was also embarrassed by me).  Brandy was pretty drunk, so I doubt she remembers it anyway.

Dropped by to see Jimnpat on the way home and they fed us dinner.  I took too much painkiller and went kind of wonky *headdesk* because I didn't want to have to go home.  Pat's a sweetie and  told me not to worry about it.  DL got a job, which puts him several steps ahead of his mother.  Kind of sad to see him having to be the adult in the family at 15, but he's a good kid.  We need to take him out camping again sometime soon.

( Ordering Posts - the clueless way )

Got a collection of first-hand accounts from Napoleonic era sailors at Bookman's. Also, took a bunch of Dad's old books from Mom's, since she's trying to get rid of them. Didn't realize until later that I'd taken some of the collector's items, but Mom says keep 'em. I don't know that I want them, unless I'm just going to put them up on ebay, since you can't read them without lowering the value.

Y claro, no tengo ni idea de dónde está mi mente.  I decide to get a cup of tea to help my brain cells along.  I walk into the kitchen, and there's my tea maker, filled with water slowly going cold, and my tea cup and tea bag sitting out waiting for me to use them.  I have absolutely no memory of going and doing that.  Apparently my brain cells are past help.  But tea is still good.

Watched El arte de morir last night.  Meh, The Others did it better, and I didn't think that movie was all that great either.

Headed back to Mom's this weekend, because the Chandler office is having their big annual party and SH has to should go.  I threatened to sit in a corner and pretend I don't speak English - it'd cut down on who I had to talk to, at least.  But since I've done translation work for them, they're not likely to believe it.  Vaya.

Dy's a bastard.  Wish I'd never created him.  My characters are fighting me and they're winning.  I just don't know how to surrender gracefully and see where this takes me.

SH had a dream last night that he was an atom and all his electrons were escaping.

Looking back over the randomness of this entry, it's pretty clear that tea will never be enough.  It's an accurate picture of where I am today, though.

Big scorpion in SH's sink this morning.  Ehh.  I know the little ones are more poisonous, but it's the big ones that give me the creeps.  Also, nearly stepped on a rattlesnake sunning on the back porch the other day.  Summer is here, and we're under attack by nature!  Gah!  Actually, the snake was beautiful.  I think it must have just shed its skin.  It slithered under the house before I could catch it.

If the spam we get is any indication, the cyberworld is full of fat, sexually impotent stock gamblers who really want fake Rolexes.

SH picked up a little book by Patrick O'Brian for me from Bookman's - Men-of-War.  Not much new information, but a lot of handy tables/explanations etc., and some beautiful reproductions of paintings.

The Apples have decided not to do the trailer park (too many regulations, making it too expensive, too destructive).  Huzzah, hooray, yippee!  I feel much better.

Oh, and D2 says that the hills behind us are full of petrified wood.  I haven't seen any (but then, I never find anything) so we need to get M&M out there looking.  They found a bunch of pottery pieces out back last time they were here.  It'd make for a fun hike.

( Got this from a client... )

It's in Bolivia.  Whew.

1) The Passive-Aggressive.  My absolute, hands-down, least favorite.  This person usually starts the conversation with some vague question, dishonestly pretending to be interested in a debate over theology.  The P-A is almost always Christian (haven't run across an atheist one of these yet), but refuses to admit it, or in fact, give any details at all about what they believe.  They will ignore questions, prefering to remain vague.  This means that they will answer a long post with one or two words, or a question, or a meaningless but smug rejoinder.  If you argue one thing, they will say, 'but I don't believe that,' - still refusing to tell you what they actually do believe.  The debate goes nowhere for however long you have the patience for, and when you give up in disgust, the P-A wanders off with a condescending little smile, having scored yet another victory over his silly opponents.  The clichéd phrase, mental masturbation, really does apply here.

2) The Playground Fighter.  Another real winner.  This person is usually a fundamentalist of some kind, and will not only tell you what he believes, he will tell you what you believe.  If you try to correct him on his misunderstanding of your position, he will just repeat his statements - over and over and over.  Not only can you never go anywhere with the debate, you can literally never manage to communicate with him.  Anything you say is met with, 'I can't hear you, nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.'  Once you give up arguing with this type of debater, he is likely to finish with an explicit declaration of victory.  Frequently, this person is too stupid to understand that he cannot debate and hasn't won anything - but you do get the intelligent ones who simply refuse to understand what a debate is and how it is conducted.  The Playground Fighter is also one of the more likely debaters to get personal, violent, or insulting.

3) The Naif.  This person will enter a debate with an 'aw, shucks, I just happen to have the truth, y'all' attitude and is quickly upset and astonished when everyone doesn't immediately recognize how sharp and incontrovertible his argument is.  He's generally unaware that his arguments are unoriginal, and ignorant of scholarship concerning the debate.  Because his own beliefs seem so clear and obvious to him he's unable to deal with opposition and usually retires quickly after a comment or two about how mean-spirited everyone else is.  Annoying, but harmless.

4) The Pseudo-Scholar.  Someone who debates with quotes, links, and odd assertions about topics he clearly knows nothing about.  Hasn't read the books he quotes, or the articles he links to, and doesn't understand the concepts he's arguing.  The only thing he knows is that he has it all figured out.  Often, this type of person spent formative years without being exposed to debates or active thinking and then was suddenly thrust into an environment full of debates (usually college, but sometimes just the internet).  Because the first arguments he hears are new and exciting to him, he assumes that the reason other people disagree with that position is because, like him, they never thought about it before.  Once he's latched onto a position, he then ceases to think about it all - he has found the Truth, and no more thinking is necessary.  A bore and a boor.

Why yes, Virginia, I have been lurking on chat boards again. This is the reason I never join in.

( Abismo y gloria )

Tengo ganas de quebrar este momento de mi vida, celebrar la novedad de algo - un suicidio sin razón.  Lo que me apetece es el terror del momento, la vida en la mano que no puede escapar, no puede ablandarse en algo menos importante.  No quiero suicidarme, claro, sólo tener la emoción fuerte, la vida.  Qué es el porque de tener vida más fuerte en el momento de perderla?  Me entierra la apatía, la falta de pasión que me envuelta.  Estoy en mi sepulcro, ya me quedo baja las tierras vivas.

I saw a gal in the car behind me skid off the road and slam into the side of a hill this morning.  She caroomed off and managed to straighten back out - wasn't hurt.  She said she'd fallen asleep, and thanked me for stopping.  I didn't tell her I stopped because I thought she was drunk and was trying to get out of the way.  I followed her up through the valley, just in case her car broke down or something.  It did look like she was trailing something under it.

I did a reading this morning to welcome in June.  ( June )

My car won't be well again until Monday, at least.  It's got a recall out for the fuel line, and they have to order parts for it.  A recall?  For a faulty fuel line?  And I've been driving it for four months.  I'm really starting not to like the bumblebee.  The lemon laws might be something we need to look into.  Hey, it's the right color for it.

Ace of Wands - oh yeah, doesn't that just fit.

Quiz...

( Read more... )

I am sitting in the library because my car is once more in the shop. The gentleman across from me and two computers down smells strongly of smoke and something a little more nauseating. And on the way down here I had several thoughts on my story which might improve the general plotline or might just rip everything I've written so far up into little bits and just might be my subconscious sabotaging me.

So far, the day is not going well.

And what's with the loud, stupid, annoying conversations in the library? Newsflash honey, you have nothing to say so stfu.

Also, jaydecrow is one of the journals that has been locked down - I can't seem to leave a comment there.

Censorship is good, obviously. The Victorians covered piano legs, and no one back then ever molested their children. It works for the deeply religious, whose teenyboppers never get pregnant. And if everyone would just shup up about the *disgusting* habits of those otherwise clever ancient Greeks, no one would ever dream of wanking around with young boys. Ignorance works!

Just for the record, pedophiles should be castrated. Not LJ's.

It's Memorial Day, so we aren't out camping, since everyone else and their dog is.  It's good weather for it, though.  I planted a new tree that doesn't look like it's doing too well, but the orange trees are doing better.  It's finally hot enough.

Mostly, we stayed at home and watched movies.  I actually liked Domino, which was unexpected.  Nothing else we got was memorable, except Dragon Storm, which was terrible, horrible and awful except for the dragon animation, which was actually pretty cool.  We just fast-forwarded through the rest of it.

I tried out a new stew recipe and it was really bland and dull, so tonight we dug everything out of the fridge and added jalapeños, olives, leftover veggies, a jar of salsa, bit of this and that and a lot of weird spices - anything that we don't use often.  It's bubbling away now and smells pretty good, so here's hoping.

I'm up into aorists with the Greek.  I'm the only person I know who gets excited over verb forms, but yes, I'm excited.

My pyromaniac of a husband just walked through and told me if I heard a loud bang, I should come check on him.  I don't want to know.

Saw Pirates of the Caribbean take 3 this weekend.  Brilliant imagination, moments of really fantastic writing, great special effects, piss-poor storytelling.  One hell of a mess.

( Spoilers )

( People want to be dead. )

***

I was close to the end of Zen and ran into this passage: "And he is reading H.D.F. Kitto's The Greeks, a blue and white paperback which he has bought for fifty cents..."  I put Zen down and went over to the stack of books I bought at Bookman's last week.  Yep, there it is, a little blue and white paperback by Kitto.  I paid two dollars for it.  Damn inflation.

I'm reading it now in honor of the coincidence.

I have an interview this afternoon with the court for the interpreter position.  They want me to meet the interviewers in Probation. *snicker*  This has got to be the most drawn-out hiring process I've ever been through.  Every month or so I get another call from them.  Not a problem, just baffling.

SH has to go to Tucson for MSHA training, and won't be back until tomorrow night.

Also, I have to get over to the airport to vote before driving to town, then while waiting in town I won't be able to hang out in the library.  It's closed for the voting.

Chopped up day, I have to get all my writing done this morning.

The Empress
Mothering, abundance, nature.  Also, had a jumper: 10 of Coins.

It's one thing to write short stories, or fanfiction, and win a couple of contests, get a few pats on the back.  It's another to sit down and actually commit to writing a novel.  It scares the hell out of me.

This is one of those days when I look over what I've written and wonder what the hell I'm thinking.  When I write, I write fluff.  Bunny, bouncy fluff.

I can write.  I'm good at characterization, I have a distinct style, I can follow a plot through, I know how to describe a setting, I have a good sense of pace.  When I read the usual crap from writers' workshops and pages, it amazes me that people have to be taught what is so obvious.  Then I feel great about what I'm doing.

Then I read about some twelve year old who has a published book and wonder what I think I'm doing with my life.  Not that I've been wasting time, but why decide at thirty-six that you suddenly want to be a writer?  More than that, what makes you think anyone would want to read what you have to write?  How do I get to the point where I care as much about the characters I'm creating as I have loved the characters others create?

All I want to do is entertain.  If there are deep thoughts, they're on their own.  I'm not going to keep them out - I'm just not looking to write War and Peace.

Oh crap.  Fluff, fluff, fluff.  DO NOT DELETE.  You will get over this mood and you have to keep slogging through it.

Crap.  I hate this.  This is a bad day full of procrastination and avoidance.

The Hierophant
Conformity.  Group identification.  Education.  Belief systems.

(168.0)

I had a much better weekend than I expected to have.  Friday night, SH came home and said that the little Morenci theater was showing Spider-Man 3 for $4, so we went to see it before heading for Casa Grande.

( Spider-Man 3 spoilers )

Then we drove to CG and got there late.  Spent most of Saturday shopping, some with Mom.  We ended up in a line next to this Russian woman and her daughter.  They were from Moscow and had been here about 13 years, and were an absolute riot.  New Yorkers, talking over each other and to everyone else constantly.  The mom was buying little cacti in pots and trying to figure out how to smuggle them back to NYC (I don't think there are regulations about cacti on planes?), and the daughter was talking about how she'd shaved her head (like SH) but it was really ugly and how she used to have knee-length hair (like me) but it was too hot.  They thought we were twins.  I'm not sure which is worse, people assuming we're brother and sister and then freaking out when we're affectionate, or realizing that we're married but secretly assuming there's some incestual relationship...for the record, no relationship at all.  We just look a lot alike.  Narcissism at its finest.

Mom and I had a couple of talks, not instigated by me, and she actually repeated most of what I wrote last week, down to the 'I just need to get over it' part.  I also got to realizing that a large part of my dreading visits to her is that for so long visiting CG meant that something terrible was going on that I needed to cope with - too many trips to the hospital, too many fights over insurance-money-sick leave, too many horrible attempts to play nurse.  I'm still braced for disaster every time we head west.  And I keep assuming the problem must be Mom.  But mostly, we just had a good time this weekend.

Misplaced my purse while we were shopping.  I thought it was gone for good - couldn't find it anywhere - until SH rang my phone and we followed the ring.  Adrenaline jolt for the day.

Also got to visit the M&M's, and see her new baskets.  They are really gorgeous and unique, and she's developing a brochure and hoping to start selling them.  Someday my basket's going to be a collector's item, I swear.

OTOH, SH wore himself out (shouldn't have pushed so hard after his reaction) and stayed home from work today, just to sleep.  His allergist still hasn't gotten back to him on how to continue his therapy.  That guy is sliding from object of anger to object of contempt pretty quickly.  We may have to find a new allergist, which will once again suck.

(168.5)

It's a bad week getting worse fast.  OK.  The allergist SH had retired, new guy took his place.  New guy had all the records, plus letter from old guy.  First thing he does, like all the fucking new doctors, is decide the old guy didn't know what he was doing, was old-fashioned, yada yada yada.  Changes all of SH's therapy.  This includes new allergy shots, at a much higher concentration.  SH questions this, and gets treated like a hypochondriac.  So he goes ahead and starts the new routine.  Fine.

A few weeks into the new routine, SH starts getting concerned, because he's getting bumped up and bumped up in dosage every week unless he has a skin reaction.  Problem?  He's taking so much antihistamine, he's afraid he won't have a skin reaction, even if the dose is too high.  Faxes concern to allergist, gets back a scribbled note that says nothing more than, "Keep taking the antihistamine, you'll get to a higher dose."  No shit, that was the concern.

So, SH continues the treatment.  Gets no skin reactions.  And yesterday he ends up with a systemic reaction.  Thank god and all the little fishes of the sea, he's familiar enough with this crap to recognize what was happening to him and used his epipen, then got someone to get him to the clinic before he stopped breathing.  They kept him in emergency for a few hours after the epinephrine kicked in, until they were pretty certain he was going to keep breathing.  Not a whole lot else you can do, with anaphylactic shock.  He's just damn lucky not to be dead.  He came home with nothing more serious than a migraine, and the hibiscus tea he drank really seems to have helped that - thank you, jaydecrow.

Scared the shit out of me (I need to stop calling him at work to hear his voice), which of course pisses me off.  Damn it, I know doctors know a great deal, and that every patient has their own little theories and quirks, which doctors as a whole tend to ignore.  But SH has lived with severe idiosyncratic allergies for forty-two fucking years.  Give him a little credit for being familiar with his own syndrome and stop being such a know-it-all dick.

I don't think SH is going to let me handle calling the allergist and talking to him.  Overreact?  Who, me?

I've been writing mad all morning.  I suspect most of what I've written won't end up usable, but it's fun.  And the weather is gorgeous.  Maybe I'll go out for a walk this afternoon - just go up the wash, see how close to the mountains I get before I quit.  I need some soul space.

SH has gotten three job offers this week.  It's nice to be in demand.  I haven't got a job offer from the county, but apparently they're still making up their minds.  Slow.

Three of Cups
Party card.  Boy, I could use a party.

(166.5)

I'm going with SH to Casa Grande to visit Mom this weekend.  I'm just not looking forward to it.  The standing joke when Dad was alive was that Mom would always wait until you were walking out the door and then ask, "Do you really want to wear that?"  Nowadays it's worse.  I never see her without ending up feeling down, depressed, mad.  She picks me to pieces and then seeming surprised and hurt that I took things the wrong way.  Some of it is me - hell, who can get to you as easily as family? - but a few times there've been others around and they've had about the same reaction I have: why the hell is she trying to make me feel bad about everything I do?  I can't say good morning without getting slapped down, and it's getting old.

I know some of it is that since Dad died I'm the one who had to step in and take over, so she needs to reassert herself.  Fine.  It's been two years, you're on your own, get over it.  I don't mean Dad dying, whatever, I mean needing to lash out at other people to make herself feel better.  I'm not the enemy here.

Last time I saw her, I mentioned something about China developing gunpowder centuries before it hit the West, but never inventing guns.  She got in my face upset - in tears - talking about how awful it was that people were always putting other civilizations down, how rude and ignorant it was.  I was just sitting there, jaw on the floor, thinking WTF?  I tried talking to her for awhile before I walked out, because she wasn't hearing a word I said.  Some people might think that making fireworks instead of weapons showed more civility, not less - aw hell, I still want to make her sit down and make sense.  Later, she told me she was sorry she got upset and...forgave me.  For mentioning China, apparently.

Grr.  But hey, we'll be coming back through Phoenix, so I'll have a chance to pick up things we need and go to a bookstore.  Bookstores good.

JohnB got a new puppy the other week.  This morning, he was telling us all about a dream he had last night.  He was flying an old WWII plane and his dog was in the rear seat, paws crossed over the button that dropped the bombs.  He was plunging it up and down while JohnB yelled, "No!  Not yet!"

Nine of Cups Rx
Wishes blocked, excess, need to step back and think.

(168.5)

We were going to go camping this weekend, but since SH was sick too, we stayed home.  Just as well, really, since it stormed all weekend.  Made soap and planted orange seedlings.  Just couldn't get up the energy to do anything requiring mental effort.  Feeling a lot better today.

Went shopping on Saturday.  It was going to be a quick trip, turned out to be all afternoon and then some.  One of those trips where I realize how isolated SH and I really are - aside from the occasional unblocked pop-up, I never see ads.  Big posters and ads everywhere.  I wonder how it is that everyone isn't just sick of everything, having it shoved down their throats all the time.  Maybe you get numbed to it.

Worked out some more ideas for Moon, but ran out of steam on writing - uphill plodding.  I even got frustrated enough to go resurrect fanfic I abandoned more than a year ago, the poor story.  I almost finished a chapter on it, which I might post - and might not.  It's not a good thing to leave stories hanging for so long.  Besides, I start commiting to that I'll use it as an excuse not to write original work.

Page of Wands
Be creative, confident, enthusiastic, courageous.

(168.0)    Being sick has not been good for my diet.  Also, my back is killing me, which is the whole point of losing weight in the first place.  Aleve is not candy.

Still not 100%, but I've had a great couple of days writing.  Got hung up some on trying to figure setting/details in my universe, so I started writing a short story just to see if I could get past it.  That worked very well.  I've written more the last couple of days than I have in months.  It won't stay this easy, but I'm glad for however long it lasts.  I even wrote a couple of chapters of fanfiction, for stories I abandoned a long time ago - got some fun ideas and ran with them.

I have to take my car into the shop today, it's leaking oil all over the place.  Got under it enough to see that I didn't knock a hole in anything, and the plug isn't loose.  Might be coming from the gasket.  I swear, every time I let someone else work on my car, no matter how minor, they screw something up.  I really don't want to go all the way to town today, I don't feel up to it and it's such a waste of time.

SH is coming down with strep too.  Sorry about that, sweetie.  We might have to miss the party tonight.  I won't object too much to staying home and cuddling up for an evening.

Queen of Swords
Honest.  Astute.  Witty.  Experienced.  Forthright.

(168.5)

Women.

Damn them all, it's going to be a real problem.  I want women in my navy/other warlike areas, but not as an intrusive presence.  They're just there, a normal and expected part of the way things operate.  Otoh, the main events are going to revolve around male characters - other than Eliza, whose character is already set - and mentions of women are going to be of necessity rather brief.  This leads to the obligatory 'Officer Sue, have we made contact yet?' sci-fi woman.  I really really really hate that.  Almost as much as I hate the spunky superwoman who has taken over so many stories and movies.

Well, come to think of it...although I really want the Dy/Yati/O'Brian trio to be male, there's no reason O'Brian's counterpart has to be, and that is...hm.  I like female villains, and there aren't many really good ones out there.  Heh, OK, thought.

Also, although my plot is remaining fairly straightforward and simple, the cast necessary to carry it out keeps growing.  This scares me.  Not sure I can handle that many characters.

Weightlessness

Two of Wands
Boldness.  Originality.  Personal power.

(166.0)

I slept through forty of the last forty-eight hours.  I have to go to work tonight because my lío says he's got all of his documents together; if m'ijo doesn't show up, I'm going to hunt him down and breathe on him.

A man who raped an 80 year old woman and then ran a car over his friend escaped from Clifton jail yesterday.  They had traffic stopped for miles, although I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish with that.  Made SH late to work.

The Apples insisted on SH coming down to talk to them about the trailer park, but then didn't say anything to him that they hadn't said to me.  Not sure why they thought it was so important to talk to him as well as me, unless they just thought SH might see it their way?  Don't know, but their zoning hearing is tomorrow.

Nine of Swords
Worry, guilt, anguish.

I feel terrible.  And I've had 'Generals and Majors' stuck in my head for two days.