As Susan Tschudi, marriage and family therapist and author of Loving Someone with Attention Deficit Disorder, would explain to me....ADHD is basically an allergy to boredom.


....ahahaha this is EXACTLY how I have been describing myself most of my life ("low boredom threshold," "I need a book going to calm down and think," "allergic to boredom," "if I get bored I will get in trouble"). Haha! //cries

(Yeah the treating the ADD thing has kind of gone by the wayside because I was on Vyvanse!, and Vyvanse! was motherfucking expensive and seemed to peter out, and they were also all hassling me about my blood pressure ((which is FINE)) and then a later doc terrified me about being overweight and taking stimulants and heart failure. sigh. I dunno. It also seemed to kind of set off my hypomania. On the other hand I've been napping every three hours again so....)
yhlee: wax seal (Default)
([personal profile] yhlee Oct. 21st, 2017 07:24 pm)
From Facebook.

Four things, etc. Read more... )

Back to work...
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gwyn: (skinny steve)
([personal profile] gwyn Oct. 21st, 2017 05:07 pm)
Celluloid Hero (43914 words) by gwyneth rhys
Chapters: 9/?
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Golden Age Hollywood Actors
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Steve Rogers, Bette Davis, John Garfield, USO Tour Dancers (Marvel), Original Characters, Barbara Stanwyck, Gene Tierney, William Powell, Cary Grant, Randolph Scott, Jack Warner, Delmer Daves, Ida Lupino, Hedy Lamarr
Additional Tags: Golden Age Hollywood, Hollywood Canteen, World War II, The Star-Making Machinery, Propaganda, someone's going to get his V-card punched, and by someone I mean Steve, Letters, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, First Motion Picture Unit, Pining Steve, Period Typical Everything


In which Steve has to cope with the terror of his first screen kiss, gets assigned to make sex hygiene films, and finds out his idols have feet of clay.
badgerbag: (Default)
([personal profile] badgerbag Oct. 21st, 2017 04:22 pm)
Moomin convinced me that the HCA Little Mermaid story is actually amazing because she just feels her feelings but isn't an asshole, doesn't get married, and becomes foam on the sea and an air spirit who helps people so basically her story NEVER ENDS and she is a SUPERHERO who flies around with air powers, doing good in the world! I started out with the complete opposite point of view on this story.

Also when he said he thought of me in relation to her feeling like she is walking on knives..... i actually think of that sometimes so that kind of touched me.

He is also reading Gilgamesh and some Bible stuff for philosophy class and seems to be keeping up in his other math class! So nice to have him here even for a day. <3
isis: Write what you're told! (micah wright)
([personal profile] isis Oct. 21st, 2017 05:25 pm)
Author reveals have just happened for [community profile] femslashex and were yesterday for [community profile] crossovering, so I can cop to the fics I wrote. The discerning reader will notice similarities. :-)

Footsteps in the Sea (5926 words) by Isis
Fandom: Black Sails
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Captain Flint/Thomas Hamilton
Characters: Captain Flint (Black Sails), Thomas Hamilton
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Rivers of London Fusion, Supernatural Elements, Post-Canon, Genius Loci, Crossovering Exchange
Summary: James and Thomas escape from the plantation, find passage to the islands, are caught in a storm at sea, and make a bargain with Neptune.

When I saw [archiveofourown.org profile] linndechir's crossovering prompt for Ocean God Flint, I knew I wanted to write that. I didn't actually game the system, but there were only two people I could write for, and so I was delighted to get this assignment. My favorite part of the Rivers of London series is the existence of the Rivers themselves, the idea of genius loci who rule over their small parts of the natural world. Plus I had always wanted to tackle James and Thomas's immediate post-canon story.

The beach on which Thomas and James find themselves after escaping the plantation, by the way, is where the Bull River empties into Wassaw Sound. The beach where Thomas awakens after the shipwreck is in the Berry Islands of the Bahamas.

The Pirate and the Mermaid (8628 words) by Isis
Fandom: Original Work
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Pirate/Mermaid
Characters: Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Mermaids, Pirates, Supernatural Elements, Cultural Differences, Shipwrecks
Summary: "Of course," said Charlie pettishly. As if she was just a stupid kid, asking stupid questions. "How was I supposed to know? You're the first mermaid I've ever met."

"Well, you're the first woman-with-legs I've ever met!" snapped the mermaid.

Oh, man, this was the most fun thing to write ever. I kind of ignored [archiveofourown.org profile] elstaplador's specific prompts and just keyed off the idea of a (female) pirate and a mermaid, and although I had the (general) ending in mind from the beginning, the story went there in its own way. As I said to [personal profile] sovay it ended up being sort of YA femslash, more of a story about two young women from different cultures hanging out and discovering commonalities than anything sexy or overtly supernatural. It's mostly mermaid worldbuilding, really, and I had a kick doing that. (I actually had a whole sexytimes idea in my head - more worldbuilding, from the physical POV - but that ended up not fitting into the story!)

In other writing news, I've been cheerfully writing lots of little stories and ficlets for [community profile] trickortreatex, but it's about time to turn my keyboard to [community profile] yuletide.
telophase: (Default)
([personal profile] telophase Oct. 21st, 2017 06:09 pm)
Black-footed kitten in case you need some cute today.

(I'm at an annual party where all our friends congregate and socialize, boardgame, and LAN game for 3 days and it's nice but GAH THERE ARE PEOPLE EVERYWHEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE)
naye: the sky and mountains above lake geneva (mountain dawn)
([personal profile] naye Oct. 21st, 2017 10:07 pm)
The Last Day at work has come and gone. It was an experience of time stretching and jiggling and vanishing without warning.

Biking to work, I chose the longer path - the quieter one with much less traffic and more nature, and I pedaled and remembered and tried to memorized and then found myself slipping into a far more mundane mindset. Worrying about one more piece of bad news seen on Twitter. Thinking about the books I'd just finished. Flashes of annoyance at other cyclists and the not-quite-rain that slowly soaked my jeans and then vanished to leave me sweating in the rain gear I'd changed into under an awning.

In the office, I alternated between answering the kind of queries I've been dealing with for over four years now, and training my replacement, and tidying up my desk for the new PhD student who is starting on Monday.

I spent quite a while ripping out the wire spine of notebooks both big and small. All those to-do lists, all the meeting notes, all the bolded emergencies and quotidian scribbles that was the past fifty or so months all sunk into the maw of the confidential waste bin, down to the last page in my last notebook that had the day's tasks listed on it. The wires almost all went into the office bin, except one I sculpted into a scraggly heart and gave to my IT tech buddy who teared up back when I first told her I was leaving. (When I went up to turn my work pass cards in I saw it taped to the IT office door.)

There were the last of many thousand cups of tea and hundreds of lunches from the M&S and then the first of many hugs.

I wrote the traditional departmental farewell email, and teared up.

I cried hugging the postdoc who is one of the sweetest men I know, and then we laughed talking about his future puppy and my current cats.

I didn't cry hugging the director, but I was deeply moved that he took time out of a schedule I have tried squeezing meetings into often enough that I know how very full it is to see me and the young woman who is taking over my role in his office just to say goodbye to me and to welcome her. And yes, he did hug me, and I'm so glad I got the chance to thank him because I've always been grateful to work somewhere with such a positive and supportive culture. (My replacement was mildly astonished - she said on her last day, the director of her old department had popped in to ask her office a question and had blanked on her name...)

Somehow morning cycle and lunch and cleaning and hugs turned the day to evening and I was walking hand in hand to my wife to a pub - apprehensive and anxious because I am uncomfortable in pubs and dislike being the centre of attention - where she and I were both having our traditional goodbye drinks.

There were more familiar faces, including two professors and my manager and some of my favorite postdocs and it was a small but cheerful gathering at the end of the row of tables reserved by my wife's much bigger party and people kept wanting to buy me drinks and I forgot to be anxious as attention drifted away from myself and (half shouted - I still dislike pubs) conversations sprang up around the table and then there were hugs and farewells and the crowd thinned and somewhere along the line I got such an emotional series of hugs and parting words from my manager that I feared one of us would burst into more tears. I just didn't know which one of us it would be.

My manager... we've had a working relationship with ups and downs, from excellent teamwork to stormy misunderstandings, but I've always respected her for her sharp skills and professional dedication and done absolutely no socializing, but yesterday she hugged me with the kind of emotion I've only felt parting from my dearest friends.

Four hours passed in that dreamy way it does when strong emotions and drink mix, and I had some excellent conversations and some really boring conversations and really hit it off with one of my wife's favorite coworkers and then hunger (and pity for me) finally led my wife to take me home and I relaxed the control I'd been exerting over my seeming sobriety and sunk into giggly exhausted drunkenness that stretched into sleep and then nightmares and restlessness and left me kind of groggy with an emotional hangover and very real headache for the better part of the daylight hours today.

It only really cleared up with a walk outside carrying the cats in their carriers (we're getting them used to it for the move) and liberal applications of tea and Yuri on Ice (and then the Chihoko stage drama and some of the amazing FS programmes from the Rostelecom cup).

The suitcase is out.

Tomorrow I pack and leave.

Monday I'm back at work in Sweden.

Then more days and weeks and then that will be home, and it will be normal, and all of this will be a memory fading with time.
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([personal profile] desperance Oct. 21st, 2017 02:43 pm)
After a truly horrible very bad night, we went to the clinic this morning and Karen was immediately whisked off to a side-room for intravenous meds to get some kind of control over her nausea etc. They followed that with what we were really there for, the transfusion of her stem cells back into her body. I was sent from the room and didn't get to see that. Don't know why, as it was the pivot-point of this entire adventure and I cannot conceive any health risk in having me present, but there you go. There I went.

Afterwards they trotted out cupcakes and candles and sang "Happy Birthday", for this is the conceit, that all our group of patients has just been reborn. Karen-people, we are adding October 21st to her commonplace birthday of March 21st: it's not quite a half-birthday, but close enough and readily remembered.

Now we're back in the apartment, and Karen is resting in her room, sipping a ginger ale and nibbling a Ritz cracker or two. Me, I am drinking wine. We may be establishing a pattern here.
I must confess, I got Frances Little’s 1906 bestseller The Lady of the Decoration because I suspected it would be a racist trainwreck - it’s a novel by an American author! set in Japan! written in 1906! - and I could get a delightfully cutting review out of it.

Rarely have I been so pleased to have my expectations dashed. It isn’t perfect (and the moments of racism that really rocked me back were all against black people, and not the Japanese, which is quite a feat given that there aren’t any black characters in the novel) but neither is it a trainwreck, and in fact I liked it a lot. The descriptions of the Japanese landscape are gorgeous, and reminded me in a slantwise way of Natsume’s Book of Friends, which also has long loving landscape shots. And both stories have the same sense of the protagonist finding at last some precariously balanced happiness, after long difficult years.

The narrator in this case - I’m not sure she ever does get a name! This only just struck me. The novel is told as a one-sided stream of letters home, so it feels perfectly natural that her name never comes up. She’s a young widow, who lost an unlamented husband who made her life a misery - we get no details (presumably her correspondent knows all about it already), but he left her in a state of nervous exhaustion, and she went to Japan to teach at a missionary kindergarten (despite having no missionary leanings and little religious feeling) on the hope that a change of air and scenery combined with useful work might help her put herself back together.

And it does help, although it is also a struggle, right up to the end of the book. “The whole truth is I’m worsted! The fight has been too much. Days, weeks, months of homesickness have piled up on top of me until all my courage and my control, all my will seem paralysed. Night after night I lie awake and stare into the dark, and staring back at me is the one word ‘alone.’”

Then she heads out to mail the letter in a raging storm, after which she walks recklessly onto the sea wall, climbs the stone lantern, and lets the rain beat on her face and the thunder roar above her and the waves rush against the sea wall until the storm dies away, and the sun rises above the sea, and through some sort of meteorological transference, feels her own spirits rise within her as well.

I am continually astounded by how often characters in nineteenth & early twentieth century novels fall prey to their nerves - it might of course be selection bias, but then I usually select these books on the basis of “I know nothing about this book but it’s on Kindle for free!” which I think would rather mitigate against that. In any case it’s super useful: I’m working again on the book set after the Civil War, where the heroine has suffered what we would call depression (and they might also call it depression, but they would also call it “nerves”), and I definitely highlighted some stuff in here for reference.

This makes it sound super grim, which it is not. The “blue devils” (as the heroine calls these attacks of depression) are not always after her, and there are plenty of fun times, too: visits to Nagasaki, Kyoto, Vladivostok (which she does not like; this book was published fresh on the end of the Russo-Japanese War and America was solidly on Japan’s side). Even Shanghai! And she’s very funny, sometimes even when she’s in the depths of despair: she reminded me of a more worldly version of Judy from Daddy-Long-Legs in her gleeful but good-hearted irreverence. Witness this exchange she reports between a tract-bearing missionary and a seasick passenger:

“Brother, are you a Christian?”

“No, no,” he muttered impatiently. “I’m a Norwegian.

Now what that man needed was a cocktail, but it was not for me to suggest it.
which I have been hiding from for nearly a year owing to its close temporal (and partially causal) association with my major mood dip at the start of the year.

Because I am in no way MASSIVELY AVOIDANT or anything, no why would you think that.

I will accept praise and validation.

Okay, this guy is clearly in a state of confusion: I’m in a kind of love triangle and am so confused about what to do.

But, really:

It has got to a point now that I have told my girlfriend that we need to have a break so I can sort myself out. She has moved out and I do miss her a lot.... The space away from my girlfriend, I hope, would make me realise that she is the one for me and come back to her in a happier place where I feel I can be happy and give 100%.

Whereas she is probably busily blocking his number and any contact they have on social media and telling her friends not to pass any details on.

I mean, I think Annalisa Barbieri is right that probably neither of these women is The One and he is just trying to make one of them The One because he wants to Settle Down, but I do wonder if at least the girlfriend, if not the ex, is going to wait around for him to get his head together, and it's not so much a question of he should break up with both of them, but that he is likely to find himself broken up with.

Let him go, let him tarry:

So, I shall elect to call that Night Minus One, as against Early Morning Day Zero: for, as anticipated, Karen had a horrid time of it. She's sick as a dog, and staying in bed until the last possible moment. I didn't sleep much either, despite having taken a lorazepam in hope; as you know, I have my own issues, and was out of bed frequently beside to fetch her things she couldn't achieve herself.

Still'n'all, we can hope that was the worst of it. Eleven o'clock this morning, she'll be transfused with a billion stem cells of her own making, and they will leap into action to restore her murdered immune system. This will be a process of months - boosted along the way by a repeat of all her childhood vaccinations, which weirdly delights me - but little by little, we can rebuild her. We have the technology. Etc.

Meanwhile, the tradition of Thursday dinners continues at our house in our absence, which delights me. Also I suspect the boys of being pampered rotten, which kinda delights me also. We have already seen photos of their new fluffy snuggly beds.
truepenny: artist's rendering of Sidneyia inexpectans (Default)
([personal profile] truepenny Oct. 21st, 2017 09:25 am)
[A/N: So I wrote this for Lewis Carroll's birthday in 2009. It's an AU (alternate universe) of Shadow Unit, in which one of the main characters, Chaz Villette, is imagining what his life would be like in an alternate reality where he wasn't quite who he is, and since it currently exists only on LiveJournal in Chaz's blog, I'm posting it here as well, so that it doesn't get lost. I'm very fond of it.

[If you don't know anything about Shadow Unit: (1) this stands on its own; (2) go check it out! Buckets of free fiction from me & Elizabeth Bear & Emma Bull & Amanda Downum & Leah Bobet & Will Shetterly & Steven Brust & Chelsea Polk.]
***
Read more... )
skygiants: Jadzia Dax lounging expansively by a big space window (daxanova)
([personal profile] skygiants Oct. 21st, 2017 08:55 am)
After reading Ann Leckie's new book Provenance I went on Twitter and asked what you call a screwball plot if it isn't necessarily a comedy.

Like, Provenance, while frequently funny, is not a non-serious book -- it concerns itself with classism, wildly unhealthy family relationships, interstellar warmongering, fetishization of cultural artifacts, and inhumane conditions of incarceration, not to mention murder -- but the structure of the plot is very classic screwball. Misunderstandings! Mistaken identities! Brilliant[ly ill-advised] schemes colliding with each other and blowing up in everybody's face! The faint air of Yakety Sax playing frequently in the background!

Honestly it feels a lot like Ann Leckie channeling Lois McMaster Bujold, with less intense character dynamics but also fewer moments of side-eye.

Our Heroine Ingray Aughskold is the foster daughter of an elected official who has been locked in competition with her foster-brother since they were both small for the eventual goal of inheriting their mother's position. Ingray comes from a public orphanage, while her asshole abrother is the son of a wealthy family, which gives him an edge that Ingray has never quite been able to best.

CUE: Brilliant[ly ill-advised] scheme! Ingray decides to attempt to break a fellow political foster-kid, Pahlad Budrakim, out of Compassionate Removal (i.e. terrible jail) in order to learn the location of the highly important cultural artifacts which Pahlad has hypothetically stolen.

Complication: Pahlad is possibly not Pahlad, and is certainly not inclined to be cooperative.
Complication 2: The space captain who Ingray hired to get them back home is wanted for theft by an alien ambassador, who Does Not Understand Humans, and whom everyone is panicked about offending due to some Very Important Alien Treaties.
Complication 3: Meanwhile, what Ingray's mother would actually like her to be doing with her time is shepherding around some other ambassadors, human ones from a different planet, who want to do politically-motivated excavations in a local nature preserve
Complication 4: Also, someone is about to get murdered!
Complication 5: And the cop in the case has a crush on Ingray!
Complication 6: And MANY OF THE HIGHLY IMPORTANT CULTURAL ARTIFACTS HAVE DISPUTED PROVENANCE AND IT'S VERY DISTRESSING (for everyone but me, because the minute I heard that title I was like 'this had better be about cultural heritage' and LO AND BEHOLD)

((...though I did want to see a little more documented archival paperwork and process surrounding the question of the authenticity of the artifacts, but I mean, ignore me, it's good, it's fine.))

My favorite character was definitely possibly-Pahlad, with their bitter cynicism and constant challenges to everyone else to do better; wanting More Pahlad all the time was probably my biggest complaint about the book.

My other favorite character was the almost entirely useless Radch ambassador, who just did not want to be there that day. Everything about the treatment of the Radch in this book delights me. "So weird to hear this totally clueless woman speaking with the accent we're used to hearing from villains on the TV!" You definitely don't need to have read the Imperial Radch books to enjoy Provenance, but I suspect it does probably make the few Radch cameos five times funnier.
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([personal profile] blueswan Oct. 21st, 2017 08:24 am)

Create Your Own Visited States Map


We used to go on three week camping trips when I was a kid. We spend hours and hours driving to random places so we could see big statues of Babe the Ox and other weird roadside attractions. My dad loved that stuff. I look at the map and I can see oh, that's our trip out west. Those are the times we went down east and Dad refused to drive through la belle province. There's that Florida trip that was weird and awful.



Create Your Own Visited Provinces and Territories Map


There's still so much of my own country I need to see.
I have to say the pie was even better the next day than it had been the night of my birthday. Really good pie.

Then we spent the day being lazy.

Pat did have to go out in the late afternoon to pick up his packet for today's 100 mile ride. But he brought home lo mein for supper, so that was fine by me. (grin)

We watched the Yankees/Astros game. (sigh) We were hoping for a win to close out the series, but nope. Not happening. Hopefully the next game will end in favor of the Yankees.

Today we are up early so Pat can be at the ride beginning on time. He'll ride 100 miles and I think I'll catch up on some tv I've missed.

Yes, I'm going to be a slug. SLUG LIFE FOREVER!
.

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