fayanora: Elle Fanning by LJ user bitemeee (Elle Fanning)
So I just got the sudden inspiration to write the following:

My name is Katelynn Hermione Winters, and for most of my life I was an ordinary American girl born and raised in small-town Iowa. I lived an unremarkable life in an unremarkable town in the most boring part of the state. I was neither super-popular nor was I unpopular. I got fair grades but I was never a nerd. Sure, I read for pleasure sometimes, but never anything weird. Just shallow pre-teen kinds of stories, no science fiction or anything like that. Looking back, I wish I had. It might have prepared me for what my life would become.

It happened toward the end of a perfectly ordinary day. I was in my bedroom laying on my back in the bed, talking with my best friend Chelsea on my cell phone about my crush Brandon. Quite suddenly I blinked and everything was different. I was suddenly a 4'5" Vietnamese man wearing a parka and sitting in a grey room surrounded by tall sinister men in tall sinister suits, pointing guns at me and speaking in rapid Hungarian. I tried to ask what was going on and how I'd gotten there, and heard myself speaking Vietnamese. One of the sinister men lifted his gun higher and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light and a bang, and suddenly I was back in my own body, in my room. But ever since that day, I have had a Vietnamese man named Nguyen Bao living in my head with me. I know only he was the man in the vision, because I don't understand Vietnamese, don't know how to write it or pronounce it to find out what he's saying, and in all these years he has never learned any English; I don't know why.

What's more, Chelsea reported that during the vision part of the phone call I had been speaking rapidly in "some Asian language," a distinct note of panic in my voice. The noise had even gotten the attention of my mom, who was down the hall, though by the time she opened the door, I was standing there, shocked, having just returned from my vision.

He, and the vision I had of him, was the first. He would not be the last. And his wasn't even the strangest vision; in fact, it was the most normal of them all.
fayanora: Hermione not amused (Hermione not amused)
Well, we had a bit of an adventure yesterday. I woke up to Amy shrieking in terror. Came out to see what was the matter, and the water was running blue. And smelled like borax. Amy had drunk some of the clear water just prior to this, and so she's been worried all day that she was poisoned. We spent several hours calling all kinds of places to find out what it was, because posion control couldn't tell her what to do until we found out what it was. Steve, the property manager, was not helpful. Not only had he failed to notify us that someone was doing plumbing work on the apartment to one side of us (14, I think), he didn't seem to believe us when we said that the water was blue. He also refused to accept any responsibility, nor to reimburse us for bottled water until we were sure the water was safe again. (The water ran blue for 15 minutes or so until going clear but still stinky.)

The Portland water people assurred us that it couldn't be anything from their end, and considering it was only doing this for the kitchen sink faucet, I believe them. They also said nothing native to pipes looks or smells like that. They figure somebody put something in the pipes at our end, which I'm assuming is from the next-door neighbor's plumber.

When Steve proved unwilling to pull his head out of his ass long enough to take us seriously, we went over his head to the company he works for, and they bullied him into taking a look and into calling a plumber. The lady we spoke to also made a note or dispensation or somesuch to reimburse us for any bottled water we needed until we could be sure the water is safe to drink. (Amy has not yet died or doubled over in agony or anything like that, so she probably dodged a bullet, but we don't know for sure.)

Steve's visit to look at the sample of blue water we had collected was his shortest yet. He usually talks your ears off for at least 5 or 10 minutes, but he was in and out in maybe 2 minutes, and on the phone to the plumber as he left. A plumber who was different from the one in the next apartment later came and took some of our sample (we kept some more just in case), and took samples of our current cold and hot water, to test them for safety at a place in Milwaukie. We should hopefully hear something tomorrow. In the mean time, we bought 7 gallons of drinking water for the time being. (I wanted to get distilled water, so that if it turned out we didn't need it all, I could use it for my CPAP, but Amy says distilled water makes her ill. I don't know how that can be, but whatever, we got "drinking water" instead.)

(She's fine so far aside from diarrhea last night. She knows she's a hypochondriac and is trying not to panic.)

Amy has a theory about why Steve mysteriously can't find the plumber who was supposedly responsible for the blue water, why he was so unusually reticent to believe us, and why he was so unusually taciturn during his visit: she suspects he billed the company he works for for a plumber but did the work himself and once he saw the blue water he realized he'd fucked up. Knowing and loathing him as I do, I would not be surprised.
fayanora: pensive (pensive)
I had a creepy dream last night. It was one of those ones that was creepy but entertaining, and so not really scary; probably because a part of me knew the whole time I was dreaming.

Anyway, it was taking place at a house similar to the one we used to live in at Wiota, Iowa. In it, I had the upcoming Night Vale book, but not only was it already out, it was decades old and bound in light brown leather with peeling gold lettering. I got the sense it had been written by someone else, ages before the podcast started coming out, and neither artist knew of the other, so it wasn't plagiarism, it was like Night Vale was real somewhere and telling two different people in different eras about itself.

But that wasn't the creepy bit. The creepy part began when the book rang like a phone. I answered it, and there was this creepy Asian kid on the other end. How I know he was Asian, I don't know, because he had an American accent, but somehow I knew he was Asian in heritage; Chinese-American, I think, but I'm not sure.

Anyway, the kid talked in a creepy way. I don't remember anything he said, but I do remember occasionally he would draw out words, for instance instead of saying "I want to feel your heart," he would say "I want to feeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllll your hearrrrrrrrrrrrrtttttt" (though as I say, I don't remember anything he actually said. I pulled that for-instance out of thin air).

After he talked long enough for me to be thoroughly creeped out, I hung up the book and told my younger sister Tara not to answer it if it rang again. Then some other stuff happened, boring stuff that I don't remember. But it did ring again at one point and Tara answered it and then hung up. Then more boring stuff happened and I found myself reading the book (as opposed to using it as a telephone), and the poems in it were so awesome that I was actually trying to control my real body to grab some paper and write them down. I kept thinking how awesome it would be to share poems on my blog that my subconscious mind had dreamed up. And if I could have consciously controlled my body while still asleep as I wanted to, I don't doubt I could have done it, and the poems would have been real words and from what I remember, would have made sense.

See, my friend Brooke says that when she dreams, she can read but there are no actual words. But me, I can see real words. The level of detail in my dreams is high enough that getting trapped in the dream world and never being able to wake up is a legitimate fear of mine. Hell, I even once read a sign in Spanish in a dream once; I knew it was Spanish, and I could tell the sign would make sense if I knew Spanish, but I couldn't read it. Despite the fact I consciously know very little Spanish, I feel certain that if I could have remembered what the sign said and written it down upon waking, that I could have gotten a translation. I doubt the sign would have made much sense, but who knows... maybe it would have. I mean, how weird would it be if I could see perfectly-written signs in dreams that are written in languages I don't know how to speak or understand when awake? It would be very weird, and also very cool.

Anyway... when the Night Vale book comes out at last (some time in 2015, I think), if it's bound in tan leather with gold lettering, that would be creep-tastic.
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
So last night I was thinking about toilets, and wondered what kind of toilets the people of Traipah would use. I thought about it, and decided that they would poop in a more healthy way than us in the West. I don't know how many of you know this, but pooping sitting down is REALLY unhealthy. It takes more effort and it damages the anus and surrounding area. It also tends to make people constipated and have other pooping issues. The healthiest way to poop, for us humans, is in a squatting position. That's how we evolved, after all.

So since the Ah'Koi Bahnis are humanoid, I decided that's how they pooped. From there, I designed their toilet:

You enter the bathroom, and you see this one foot tall round thing on the ground. It has a lid, which is off to one side currently. You squat over this short toilet and do your business, including wiping if necessary. Then you stand up. There is no water in this toilet, and you wonder how the poop will go away. But then you see there is a button on the wall behind this toilet, with a button on it. You press this button, and the lid automatically closes. You hear the sound of high-powered water flushes. The lid then opens again, and the poo is gone.

For people who can't squat very well, there are powered seats that help you squat and then help you back up.

What I liked the best about this design, aside from the fact that human tourists would probably goggle at them, is that the Duenicallo and Shaokennah could probably use the same toilets without difficulty.
fayanora: by lj user holdonbaby (Elle looks up)
I had perhaps my weirdest dream ever last night. There I was, having a perfectly normal (for me) dream wherein I was flying in some kind of large airplane with huge glass plate window, looking out at the clouds. I was also opening and closing doors for some reason. Then, there was something about the plane being a submarine at the same time. That's when the orcas showed up, and everything went fucking crazy.

Basically, once the orcas showed up, reality went fucking bugnuts. It was pure chaos, and all I can say about it beyond that was that reality was burning, twisting, warping, melting, colors were exploding like the ultimate LSD trip, and reality turned to poison. When it all calmed down, I found myself in the front yard of one of the houses I used to live in, back in Iowa. Oh, and there were dead orcas EVERYWHERE. Sticking out of the ground, melted into trees, melted into the house, melted into the road, so on and so forth. Dead orcas, in the middle of a place that is landlocked for hundreds of miles.

My mom and dad came running out, terrified and wondering what the hell was going on. We all tried to figure out what was going on. From what I was saying in the dream, it was plain I thought I was awake, and that all this weirdness had really happened. Anyway, all we figured out about things was that I now had superpowers: shape-shifting and mass-shifting, but I couldn't control them. I was also immortal. At one point, I got blasted to smithereens, and re-formed myself at Grandma's house three weeks later. By then, the whole issue was passe to everyone else, apparently, and they wanted me to sit down and eat dinner. But all I wanted to do was to was go online to find out more about what happened. I remember I especially wanted to talk to KatrinaTheLamia, because some of what had happened reminded me of how she said she viewed reality all the time anyway. I was trying to decide whether or not to eat dinner or go find my laptop when I woke up.

*Sigh* My dreams just keep getting weirder all the time. Like my brain is trying to one-up itself.
fayanora: pensive (pensive)
(Written Saturday.)

Molly Elizabeth, our collective's resident inner child (a blonde, blue eyed, innocent-looking 7 year old girl), is... well, weird. There's really no two ways about it.

Of course, we've known this for a long time. It kinda goes with the territory; we're all weird, in the Fayanora collective. We share memories, too, and co-front, so that spreads the weirdness around. But Molly's weirdness is usually restricted to being a horny little girl who likes to drive the rest of us crazy by singing country western songs and other of the world's most annoying songs over and over and over again at random intervals.

Today, though, she did something odd even for her. It started out with this image in our mind she sent us, of her sitting on the floor drawing and coloring, which was normal and boring and we weren't paying much attention. Then she starts telling this children's story she was making up on the fly. We were distracted, so we weren't paying much attention. We were following the jist of it, though; two siblings are being hunted by a man with a mustache, a man in a black hat; they get away, out-think the man, and thwart his dastardly scheme when the good police officer arrests the man for attempted kidnapping.

Just as we're expecting "And they all lived happily ever after," Molly instead casually says, "And they all died horribly when the train they were in falls off a cliff and onto an orphanage THE END." Which threw the rest of us for a loop. Molly just kept on coloring in the image she was sending us, without looking up or blinking or even smiling more than usual.

Later, she did it again. Only this time, it was a version of The Three Little Pigs. The three pigs thwart the wolf as usual, and he goes away. Again, the "happily ever after" is pre-empted, this time with "And then the farmer lassoed the three little pigs and cut their heads off, chopping them up and eating them as bacon THE END."

Though it's mildly creepy, I find myself so amused I think I may just have her help me write them out as "Macabre children's stories." :-)
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
I have a tendency to cuss in nonsense, foreign words, or words in languages I’ve made up. Some of the words I say when cussing, I have even adopted as words in my constructed languages.

But lately, I’ve been noticing a real WTF kind of thing: cussing in something that sounds like Chinese or Japanese. (A bit like “Ny een ah ny ah nah” or something. I can’t really do it justice.) Since I don’t know any Chinese or Japanese or any other Asian language, it isn’t that. But it sounds like it.
fayanora: Hit Girl (Hit Girl)
A few days ago, I was out and about and very very hungry. I went to Grocery Outlet and looked around a while, then bought a smallish bag of Lunchables brand chicken nuggets, honey BBQ flavor. I tried one, and it was the most vile thing I'd ever tasted. But I forced a little less than half of the things down my throat, because my stomach was demanding food like a barbarian warlord demanding blood. When I got home, I tossed the rest in the fridge, thinking I'd try them with some real BBQ sauce, see if the sauce could drown out the vile flavor of them.

I never got around to that. I was in a hurry to leave the house today, but hadn't had breakfast, and so despite the shudder of dread that passed through me as I did it, I grabbed the vile chicken nuggets with me for my breakfast. I put one in my mouth, fully expecting them to taste as wretched as they had a few days ago, and was very shocked, therefore, to find that... it wasn't bad. In fact, it was even somewhat tasty. Not the most wonderful thing ever, but edible, even yummy.

This confused me, I must admit. I tried another, and another. Yes, the taste was different. I examined the bag, and the nuggets, and my memories, but unless the Taste Fairies had transfigured them in the fridge, it was the same product. At first, I thought maybe the fact they were cold made them taste better, but then I remembered that they'd been from the fridge section of the store - and thus cold - to begin with. My confusion deepened. I examined my memories more thoroughly, and I finally came up with a bizarre but plausible explanation.

My memories showed me that I hadn't been feeling 100% the day I got them. This happens to me a lot; between the physical effects of my chronic lifelong depression (which is responsible for most of my ills) and the heat of the day I had gotten them, I'd been feeling headachey, exhausted, and generally cruddy.

Now, I'm no stranger to my depression-caused unwellnesses having weird effects on me. Some foods I can eat without problems when I'm feeling fine, like greasy foods and stuff with MSG in it, will cause me to get worse if I'm already feeling crappy. Headaches and neck-aches get more intense, exhaustion increases, I get uncomfortable and fidgety, and I develop nausea when I eat certain things at the wrong time. And I have enough experience with thinking I'm just fine, only to find out that I'm not, that I try to avoid greasy foods and MSG just in case.

However... if being ill this way actually caused something to taste foul one day and fine another day, then this is the first time it's ever happened to me, as far as I know of. Add this to the list of strange things that can happen to me.

And to give you an idea of the change in taste we're talking about, when I first tried these chicken nuggets, they tasted like a strange, sweetish cross between soggy bread and cheddar cheese left on the counter in the sunlight for an hour, only worse. And now they just taste like slightly moist, breaded chicken nuggets.
fayanora: Hermione not amused (Hermione not amused)
The library wifi wasn't working for me yesterday, and I have no idea why, since it was working fine for other people. I tried restarting, that didn't help. Tried moving, that didn't help. I finally had to use a different wifi network, coming from some other business.

So today, I went to a different library, the Hollywood library. (In the Hollywood district of Portland, OR.) The wifi here worked, but... at first, it would do this weird thing for LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, and certain Facebook games, where it kept demanding I accept the terms of using the library wifi, which I had already done. Further, it kept doing weird things to the page that made it impossible to click "accept." And it only did it on those three sites.

I restarted, and now so far it seems to be working normally. Still, that was peculiar.
fayanora: pensive (pensive)
A week or so ago, I was digging around in a box of old clothes, and to my surprise found a purple tie-dye top I didn't recognize, which was brand new, and still had the tag on. And fit fine! I consider it a gift from the Clothing Fairy. :-)
fayanora: Fay doll icon by me, original pic by Lady Dark (Fay Doll still)
I was on the MAX (light rail) and saw this guy smoking just before getting on the MAX. He looked like your normal Portland hipster. A few minutes later, he gets my attention and asks for spare change because he's supposedly $13 from getting a hotel room for the night.

MY reaction, and the words we spoke: "Sorry, I don't have any cash or change on me. But I wish you luck." (True enough, if not the real reason; the real reason being "I'm living hand to mouth myself as it is.")

Alex's reaction, luckily confined to the inside of our skull: "What, you can afford cigarettes, but you can't afford $13 for a room? Maybe you need to sort out your priorities before you go spanging."

(Spanging [spain-jing] is a slang term that means asking for spare change. It's short for "spare changing.")

Yes, that kind of thing is why I generally forbid Alex from speaking aloud. Because he's the kind who'll burn his bridges before he even gets to them. And that was one of the tamer, nicer things he could say.

And last night (Saturday), Alex was complaining aloud (muttering, really) about people smoking in the bus stop shelters and how he'd like to grab the cigs out of their hands and put them out in their smokers' eyeballs. It was all I could do to stop him going over there and bitching them out for smoking in the bus shelter. It bothered both of us so much that we actually walked two blocks away to the next stop to get away from it. He was in a bad mood after that.

Later, we got on the line 14 we'd been waiting for, and not long after getting on, the bus was stuck waiting for some cars on the other side of the road to move, so the bus driver could turn the bus. This was mainly because some idiots had parked on our side of the street at the corner there; if the driver had turned anyway, he'd have scraped the sides of the parked cars. Given the narrowness there, and the needs of the buses, if parking there isn't already illegal, it should be. I think someone heard us when Alex said, "Just turn anyway and scrape the sides of their cars; it'd serve the idiots right for parking there." I honestly think Alex would have had a near-orgasmic spasm of joy if the bus had done exactly that. As I write this, he's imagining the bus breaking their windows as it bullies its way past them, and shoving the cars up onto the sidewalk as it turns.

Also, I think Alex is more British than American. He came very close to calling cigarettes "fags" aloud last night, and it's the word he initially thought at me on the MAX today.

Alex is a bit of a paradox, really. He hates humanity, but only because humanity sucks at having compassion for people. He's socially progressive and compassionate, but individually detests everyone on principle until he gets to know them personally, and even then he doesn't like or trust everyone 100%. Also, Alex agrees with me that nobody should be wanting for food or shelter in a society as rich as ours, unless it's entirely by choice. (And even then, he keeps talking about force-feeding anorexics and not letting bulimics use the bathroom by themselves.) But in the same breath, he can fantasize about causing all of humanity to go extinct for the good of the planet. I don't think he'll be satisfied with humans until they morph 100% into Ah'Koi Bahnis - culture and all. Anything short of that, and they're disappointing at best, to him.

Changing the subject now...

Last night, I saw a woman who looked a lot like my friend Alyssa, while I was at Starbuck's, but it wasn't her. It's odd, but in the past year or two, I've seen about one or two dozen people that look almost exactly like Alyssa. The hair, the glasses, the clothes, the face - it's like Alyssa has god-knows-how-many dopplegangers of her running around Portland.

~ ~ ~

Earlier today, at the UU church sermon, I learned something interesting. Okay, so according to the Reverend, the truest translations of The Bible from the original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic have Moses unable to look directly at God, even as he's up on Mount Ararat. He actually has to hide in a crevice, while God puts His hand on Moses's face. Now in most translations, Moses sees God's back as He leaves. But in the truest translation, Moses see's God's arse (buttocks) as He leaves. More evidence that a Discordian wrote The Bible! :-D (Personally, I think Eris was having some fun messing with Moses's head by pretending to be Yahweh, and couldn't resist flashing Her rump at him.)

Also, the King James version of the Bible mistranslated Jesus's frequently-spoken phrase "kingdom of God." The Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic words used for "kingdom" in those quotes are actually feminine words. The Aramaic word (and remember, Jesus spoke Aramaic) for "kingdom," in fact, is related to the word for "womb." Therefore, the best translation into English for "kingdom of God" is actually "love's dominion" or "love's rule." And this is one of the phrases that the historical Jesus is known to have used frequently - these weren't words put into his mouth by later people for their own reasons.
Personally, I'd go with "compassion's rule," but it amounts to the same thing.
fayanora: Picard facepalm (Picard facepalm)
I have a problem. I use a wired USB mouse because none of my wireless mice will work anymore, except the old white Dell mouse that I use for my laptop, and switching it between the two computers is a fucking pain in the arse. As if that weren't bad enough, the wired mouse I use causes the speakers to produce this annoying fucking hum. I can't turn the speakers off, because I play videos on YouTube and games with sounds too much, and constantly turning the speakers on and off would drive me batshit faster than the hum. Can't use the wired Hello Kitty mouse I have, either, or another black wired mouse I have, because both are PS2 mice, there's only one PS2 connector on the back of my desktop machine, and that connector is where I plug my awesome curvy ergonomic keyboard at (yes, it's PS2; I got it cheap at a thrift store). Never had any luck with splitter thingies for PS2 connectors, either.

On the upside, the hum can be hidden by music. So I play music. Unfortunately, I tended to play music anyway before the hum; this is unfortunate because I have a habit of listening to an artist's albums over and over and over again until I get bored or tired of that artist, and move on. It takes a few months to go back to some artists under this system, and if I go back too soon I go batshit. So though I have an extensive music collection, I'm limited in what I can play. And lately I've been playing things that I wasn't ready to go back to yet, all because playing them makes me less crazy than the damned hum does.

Luckily, I was reminded earlier today of something that may save my sanity: certain sounds are like a stimmy to me. I had to stop using this noise-making tube toy I got at OMSI months ago because I'd constantly be making noise with it, to the point where it felt like trying to go cold turkey on an addiction when I put it aside. When Lilla and I lived together, I used to spend hours thrumming the bars on the daybed thing that was my bed, because the sound they made was addictive. And I was reminded today, I feel the same way about bagpipes, harpsichords, and the pipe organ, along with a few other instruments I can't recall offhand. So armed with this knowledge, I can compile a playlist of songs that are addictive to the point where I can play them over and over and over again and never get tired of them. Hell, it may come to a point where I have to put that playlist in my liePod to keep from going insane from cold-turkeying it when going out of the house.

Oh, that hum? It isn't even steady. It has a kind of pattern to it. It varies in pitch and volume in a pattern. I just don't know why it happens. But it's like an anti-stimmy. I can tolerate it for a few minutes, and then it's like "MUST STOP THE HUM OR GO FRAKKING BATSHIT INSANE!!!"

Heh, this is the kind of thing I think I should cross-post to [livejournal.com profile] asperger. I think I will.
fayanora: Martha and Ten by mischief89 (Martha and Ten)
I had a dream last night wherein I was looking for something, and on my way to find it, I saw a pair of bullies picking on a smaller boy. This debacle was blocking my path, so I intervened, talking to the bigger bully, who smugly said, "Maybe we should pick on YOU instead," and then tried grabbing my genitals. I grabbed his arm to stop him, and began twisting his arm. I was apparently super-strong in this dream, because I was barely even trying, and yet managing to twist his arm so hard that he was shouting in pain. I ignored him, saying, "I really don't like when people do that without permission," and kept twisting. Over the sounds of his screams, I heard his bones making crunching and cracking noises, and at one point sensed his elbow being dislocated or worse. I finally let go of him, and he collapsed to his knees. I kicked him over and went along as if nothing had happened. The other bully, and their victim, had both disappeared. And that's when I woke up.

So, in this dream I was both super-powered AND an insensitive, uncaring asshole who only intervened to begin with because it was an obstacle in my path, and callously left one of the bullies in agony with an arm so badly broken it may never be right again. Weird!
fayanora: Dakota F says Eh? (Dakota F says Eh?)

You know, in the future computerized toys like that are just going to get more complex. They will one day move on their own, and maybe even think for themselves like the teddy-bear robot in the AI: Artificial Intelligence movie. Can you imagine the havoc caused if something like that catches a virus? Or worse, someone hacks into it on purpose to spy on people, their kids, or to give it new instructions that will scar the children for life? How many children will end up with moving teddy bears that will one day spontaneously chase them while holding a knife, just because some dickhead thinks it would be funny? Sheesh, it's bad enough already; Teddy Ruxbin scared me so much when I got one for Christmas one year that I was still having nightmares about moving, talking dolls up into my early 20's. (The last one had my doll Buddy talking to me, and I turned to him and told him that while I love him, I don't appreciate dreams where he talks and moves. That was the end of those dreams.)

Can you imagine if one of those reprogrammed future toys actually kills someone? Like, a serial killer who kills by reprogramming those toys remotely? So yeah, science and technology may one day cause all those "living doll" horror stories to come true.
fayanora: Steph Pensive (Steph Pensive)
Had a dream last night, another "I still live with my family and we're moving" dream. This one had my sister riding a moped while dressed like Stephanie (see icon); she was riding "biker bitch" style. This dream also involved a large stage-like platform, a huge moving truck, and another moving truck having been towed there for no reason beyond "we need another moving truck in case this one breaks down. I guess they figured they'd save on gas by towing the other moving van???
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
Living in Portland, you kind of get used to all the trees, to the point where you don't notice them. Then there are those occasional moments where you DO notice the trees, I mean REALLY notice them. Had a moment like that, today, while going to the local grocery store. I was like, "Fuck, man, there sure are a lot of trees here." Must've been more than 100, maybe even more than 200, that I could see just from where I was at the time. It was a little trippy, with thoughts like "is it a city full of trees or a forest full of buildings?" The moment ended with my thinking "This is how ALL cities should be: with fucktons of trees around everywhere."

It's the kind of city the Ah'Koi Bahnis would build, you know, if they didn't have to worry about accidentally planting the kind of tree that eats people.
fayanora: Fay doll icon by me, original pic by Lady Dark (Fay Doll still)
The Princess is a webcomic about Princess Sarah, a little trans girl. Here is the most recent thread. Sarah is the one with the crown. Irma is the girl with the fake moustache:

Cut for size )

I agree with Irma. Why would anyone WANT to be normal, typical, unexceptional, commonplace? Normal people are forgotten by history. It's the weirdos who live on forever!
fayanora: Djyahlah (Djyahlah)
Okay, I know part of my sleeping habits being weird is my being nocturnal, but I think there's more to it. I'm starting to wonder if my Otherkin-ness is to blame, at least partially. Traipah has longer days than nights, I forget how much longer. But I think Traipahni days are around twice as long as their nights. At the very least, their planet doesn't wobble on its axis like Earth does, and so they have one season all year long, and no changes in how long their days and nights are. (NO DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME, EITHER!!!)

Now, whether this is a soul influence or just psychosomatic, I dunno. But I do think it's an influence. Hell, if my having two inner children in here can physically manifest as my body trying to smell like the clean, earthy scent of children AND the more fragrant adult smell, and succeeding at neither (true fact!), then it makes sense that having two aliens in my head (three, if you count Shao'Kehn) from a planet with long days and short nights would have an effect on me.

But sometimes it's just weird. Took 1 5mg dose of melatonin last night, it did nothing at all. I took 2 doses at midnight, and it made me sleepy for a while, then I stopped being sleepy, and now I'm starting to get sleepy again.
fayanora: Dakota being weird (Dakota being weird)
I got friended today by someone who apparently is an artist who makes some really bizarre art. Since bizarre is my favorite, I'm sharing. WARNING: Very much not safe for work. The drawings seem to be of the artist and her (?) sisters as children, often nude. There is also violent imagery. If any of this will offend you or be illegal where you live, do not click the following link: http://alessaesteban.livejournal.com/7671.html Otherwise, go ahead.
fayanora: Cyborg velociraptor by Djinni (Cyborg velociraptor by Djinni)
Sent to me by [livejournal.com profile] kengr

You think English is easy???

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.

2) The farm was used to produce produce .

3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.

4) We must polish the Polish furniture.

5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.

6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present ..

8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.

9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

10) I did not object to the object.

11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.

13) They were too close to the door to close it.

14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.

15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.

16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

18) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.

19) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

20) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Let's face it. English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant, nor ham in hamburger; no apple or pine in pineapple. English muffins weren't invented in England nor French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat. We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write, but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce, and hammers don't ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth, beeth? We say one goose, but two geese, so why not one moose, two meese, and one index, two indices? Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends, but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why don't we say preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital; ship by truck and send cargo by ship;have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites? You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which, an alarm goes off by going on.

Note: English nor any natural language was invented by people. All natural languages evolved from rudimentary communications systems somewhere around 70,00 to 100,000 years ago. This an estimate as no one knows when human languages first appeared.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all. That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

PS Why doesn't 'Buick' rhyme with 'quick?'

We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails - Dolly Parton


fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
The Djao'Mor'Terra Collective

September 2017

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