fayanora: Icky (Icky)
I woke up today certain it was Monday, only to find out it's Sunday again. I say "again" because I clearly remember Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Granted, I was ill on Friday and Saturday, but not so badly I could lose track of time.

I remember going up to Brooke's place Friday, coming back after two hours because of being ill, sleeping an hour before eating, going back to bed another hour. Then, I remember spending all Saturday long at the computer suffering from a headache and feeling like shit. I went back to bed Saturday night - actually night for once - and was up Sunday morning (actually morning).

Sunday, I texted Jesse and Lily about meeting, and they said they were at a con, but never said anything to suggest it was actually Saturday. Wasted some time trying to decide where else to go, preferably somewhere open 24 hours, but everywhere I found either was a place I knew was too busy or wasn't sure they had Wi-Fi, or else the site said Easter was possibly screwing up their hours, and I remember checking the computer's calendar and it said it was Easter still (before midnight). I kept looking for an hour or so but then it got too late for anywhere other than this IHOP that's a mile's walk away, so I tried to write at home, ended up publishing the next Many Faces chapter instead and then running out of energy. Watched Star Versus the Forces of Evil until Monday at 7 am, went to bed, woke up at 3 pm to my phone telling me it's Sunday again.

It is possible I'm misremembering and lost track of time, but considering how detailed my memories are, I doubt that I did that. Clearly, accidental time travel is to blame.

I hope today only repeats this once, because I hate Sundays, and I hate Easter Sundays even more than usual Sundays.
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: 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)
Watching something on Discovery Channel about the Bermuda Triangle. They're currently on airplane disappearances. They've explained Flight 19, but this one guy survived an odd encounter: he traveled through a swirling vortex of clouds and supposedly traveled over 300 miles in 3 minutes. They were talking about silica creating weird magnetic anomalies to explain his instruments going wonky, but so far they don't have an explanation for how he traveled so far so fast in a plane with a top speed of 190 MPH. Now they're getting into weird stuff like space warps.

My theory: we know magnetism can futz with people's brains. I think an appropriate amount of time passed, but the magnetism messed up his brain temporarily, making him think time had gone much faster.
fayanora: Elle Fanning by LJ user bitemeee (Elle Fanning)
I've been watching a TV series on DVD called "Kyle XY." It's about an apparently 16 year old boy who wakes up in the woods naked and covered in pink goo, with the mind of an infant. But in the space of several days, he learns how to speak, read, write, and do math, among other things. Oh, and he has no belly button. His abilities are phenomenal; he gets an MRI done and his whole brain is lit up like a Christmas tree. He's the smartest human being in the world. He learns how to swim with just one lesson, can read and exactly remember binary code enough to reproduce an image he saw in raw binary, and he makes photo-quality pictures by tapping on paper with crayons. It is an awesome series, full of mystery and intrigue.

Here it gets spoilery. )
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
I was at IKEA a few days ago and got a few things. One, some lingonberry/cranberry oat crisp cookies that are so good I have to hide them from myself to keep from inhaling them. Also I got a jar of gooseberry preserves and a jar of cloudberry preserves, to try them. Haven't tried them yet, but already my mind gave me strange ideas for cereals, dunno how well they'd sell: Cloudberry Crunch Cereal, Gooseberry Hallow Cereal, and Lingonberry/Cranberry Puffs.
fayanora: cognitive hazard (cognitive hazard)
Who wants to buy this construct of compressed carbon set upon a band of AU79? This construct of compressed carbon in a crystallized lattice set upon a circular band of refined AU79 with added copper, its value is relatively low in an emotional context for me. The female human I was ceremonially and symbolically bonded to removed it from her digitus annularis, thus symbolically ending her affiliation with me. My perception is that the construct's compressed carbon has lost its luster, more symbolically than literally. The construct's personal emotional value has become minimal. So if you have a human being of same or opposite sex whom you wish to ceremonially and symbolically bond with, perhaps its value will be greater subjectively for you. Let its crystalized, compressed carbon surface reflect light cast upon it for you, symbolically representing the light of love.

The compressed carbon part of the construct is certified to be naturally made and not produced via artificial means, which I find to be a potent metaphor for the quality of one's love. And if your mate does not cheat on you (however you define cheating) and more loyal perhaps, then perhaps this construct can have symbolic meaning for you where it does not for me.
fayanora: Steph phone (Steph phone)
Most nights, I cannot seem to get *enough* sleep. And then there are these randomly occurring nights wherein time goes at a bizarrely slow rate. Last night was one of those. I think it was around 4 AM when I got to sleep (it was something like 3:15 or 3:30 when I went to bed), but by 9 AM I woke up on my own and had to resist the strong impulse to stay up because some odd part of me AND my body seemed to think it was 1 PM already. But it wasn't, and I could not possibly have gotten enough sleep in 5 hours. So I rolled over and went back to sleep. Kept waking up partly now and then with the same thing going on, my mind and a slight... not an ache, really... in my back telling me I'd been in bed too long. With my rational part of my brain saying, "Fuck you both, you're wrong. Now shut the fuck up." Then going back to sleep.

I don't know what was up with that shite. Maybe there was a time dilation field in my bed all night long? Bleh.

Sure, I'd taken an hour nap from 8PM to 9PM the night before, but I doubt that had anything to do with it. There was nothing unusual about that, aside from the fact I napped for exactly an hour without even setting an alarm. Very odd indeed.
fayanora: Little Girl in rain By lj user never_end (Little Girl in rain By lj user never_end)
I wrote a bunch of poems today for my first poetry fishbowl, the theme of which is Weird Things (which you can still give me prompts for). There are three $5 poems and five $10 poems so far. Here's the list, if you see any you want to sponsor (that is, "give money to get it published"):

Poetry Fishbowl Poems that are written, awaiting sponsors. All have at least "weird things" as a theme, even if they don't say so:

"The Way The World Turns" - Themes/prompts: alien intelligences, differently civilized people. I like this one a lot! 16 lines, $5

"I'm Glad I'm Not A Giraffe" - Theme/prompts: giraffes. 12 lines, $5. SPONSORED: Click here to read it!

"Hooray and Hoorah!" - Themes/prompts: weird things, Chippendale acrobats in front of the pope. (Very bizarre.) 12 lines, $5

"Mother She Loves Us" - Themes/prompts: weird things, humans with inhuman intelligence, differently civilized people. 20 lines, $10

"The Many-Angled One" - Themes/prompts: tentacles, weird things, an invading species with no body. 28 lines, $10.

"The Baobab Tree" - Funny poem! I think Molly influenced this one. It's more like a song than a poem, too. Nice whimsical, playful attitude. This is my favorite of the lot. 20 lines, $10

"A Burning Love" - Themes/prompts: alien intelligences, it wasn't his heart she set on fire, the argonaut has a detachable penis. 20 lines, $10

"What Defines Sentience?" - Themes/prompts: alien intelligences, animal culture. 24 lines. $10

And here is the button to give me money! If you want (a) specific poem(s), you should tell me in the "comments to seller" area, or email me at fayanora@gmail.com telling me your username/PayPal name so I know who you are! That's so I can properly credit you as being a sponsor. :-) Funds donated with no specific poem specified will go into a general fund for everyone to later vote how it will be spent.

Anyway, here's that button:

fayanora: Dakota being weird (Dakota being weird)
Anybody else talk to inanimate objects as though they were people? I don't mean cars, computers, or other electronics, I mean tables, chairs, keys, cardboard boxes, and other random objects around the house and elsewhere. And not just in anger, either. Like, just a few minutes ago, I set an egg in the groove on the wooden cutting board and casually said to the cutting board, exactly as though asking an unusual favor of a friend, "Hold this for me for a moment, okay?" It wasn't until after I said it that it struck me as odd. Or, more accurately, that it would be odd to other people. It's something I do frequently, usually without noticing. I don't do it when using an object in a manner it'd be familiar with, only when I want to have it do something unusual, like holding an egg when that isn't its usual function. I use the cutting board like a shelf often enough that I don't do that when putting most things on it, but an egg was - apparently - sufficiently unusual enough to warrant talking to the cutting board about it.

It's not like I wait for an answer or anything; I just assume the answer is yes. But I ask anyway.

So, anyone else do something like this?
fayanora: Steph phone (Steph phone)
Technically, this morning.

This morning around 11, I kept getting woken up every few minutes by someone calling my cell phone. I'd answer, and all that was on the other end was silence or maybe a few beeps now and then. I thought it was a telemarketing place's autodialer, and finally got pissed enough where I was trying to report them to the police. The lady on the other end at the police asked if I'd blocked the number. I replied, honestly, "This is a Tracfone, I don't know if there's even a way to do that." But looked for one anyway. "Add to reject list" is what I found, so I did. Haven't been bothered since.

Also, I called the number trying to call me, to tell them to stop (at police-lady's suggestion), and got modem noise. I think it must have been a modem or a fax machine dialing the wrong number.

Stange: I have no idea why, but when I looked at the reject list, it was listing this number under "Brooke Erickson." No way to edit the name, either. But it wasn't Brooke's number; hell, it's not even a Portland number! So why it's doing that, I have no idea. I just hope that's the only number it's blocking.
fayanora: Elle reading (Elle reading)
Okay, you know the section of book stores like Border's where they put all the conspiracy theory books, the aliens/ufo books, and all the other fringe science and pseudoscience books? Well, I admit I've been drawn to that area since I was a child. Weird tales of inexplicable things, like modern rubber shoes being found fossilized with dinosaur bones, have fascinated me for as long as I can remember.

Now, I read everything from that section with a huge bag of salt. I like to keep an open mind, but I don't want it so open that my brain falls out. But in amongst the obviously crazy stuff like the flat-earthers, moon landing deniers, and alien-invasion paranoia books are some books that may, in time, be moved to the conventional science area. And it is possible. Plate tectonics was once relegated to fringe science.

It's been ages since I read it, but I think "Uriel's Machine" by Christopher Knight and Robert Lomas is one of these. It makes a VERY convincing case for the most recent ice age having been prematurely ended by a comet strike that severely disrupted human life and led to lots of tales like the tale of the global flood (found among Amerindians, too, before Christians ever came over), which also gives an explanation for the mini-ice age Europe went through in the middle ages (arguing that, the comet strike having prematurely warmed things, the earth had been cooling ever since before warming again). It also shows ancient peoples as much more advanced than usual archaeologists give them credit for (and plausibly so, with much evidence given). It was a fascinating read, and I highly recommend it.

Then again, there are other books in that category that are obviously never going to be proven right, but make entertaining reads anyway. I really need to track down the actual books by this one guy, because I was reading one of his articles about the Giza Death Star, and it was engrossing and awesome stuff. Basically, he posits that the pyramid at Giza is - or was - a planet-killing weapon used by the Atlanteans/Lemurians in their war with the Martians. Apparently the Martians had been using genetically engineered mutant soldiers, chimeras, in this war. Things escalated into an arms race of epic proportions, the Martians having their own planet-killer in the Face of Mars. Though it seems, now, safe to say that the Atlanteans/Lemurians won that particular war.

Anyway, when I read that, I remember thinking (because it was written like non-fiction), "A fictionalized account of this would make the most awesome trilogy or better in the entire damned world, and I would read the SHIT out of that!" I also knew that I could never write it, it was too big, and too far out of my writing style, for me to do justice to.
Oh, and I think there was made mention that all our modern domesticated animals were genetically engineered as well.

That reminds me, I should read something from that aisle again.
fayanora: Cyborg velociraptor by Djinni (Cyborg velociraptor by Djinni)
Oh the joys of thinking I've posted something to LJ/DW and I find I never did. No, what I remember was writing a letter to Mom and Dad, and then tweeting about it. Reminds me of the time a few days ago when I was rudely awoken by what I thought was the doorbell, only to discover it was a dream/hallucination. (My doorbell does not sound a thing like what I dreamed/hallucinated.)

Anyway, so this post is going to be about my bizarre perceptions of time. I'll copy from the letter I sent Mom and Dad:
Sorry if I've forgotten to send birthday or whatever cards. I've been
learning a lot about myself lately, with all the extra time, and one
of the things I've learned is that I have a majorly weird sense of
time. I pretty much live naturally in the moment (not *for* the
moment, just *in* it), and apparently always have. The past is a
jumble of disordered memories I have to struggle to put into
chronological order, and there are more gaps than memories. From about
the age of 5 to somewhere in my early teens, I was lost so utterly in
my fantasy world that I remember very little of my childhood, and a
large percentage of things I think I remember from then turned out to
be reconstructed from things you two have told me. Looking at how my
brain continues to function, I'd say the reason is simple - reality
wasn't real to me, so I didn't bother remembering most of it. The
short-term memories just never became long-term in most cases. As to
why things I *do* remember are a jumbled-up mess, I have no answer for
yet. But I've remembered a LOT more since snapping out of living in
fantasy land all the time, and even that is a jumbled mess with lots
of missing pieces. A large portion of each day just seems to be deemed
irrelevant by my mind and promptly forgotten. Some days I have
difficulty remembering not just *what* I ate but IF I ate. About the
only reason I know I ate something sometimes is because my stomach
would be screaming bloody murder at me if I hadn't.

But back to the topic of my sense of time. It is majorly wacky, and
often appears to be entirely random. Sometimes hours can feel like
mere minutes; other times, minutes feel like hours. Days feel long
while I'm in one, but once it's "yesterday," things get really weird;
weeks feeling like a day or less, for example. I've come across
numerous times when someone would mention something, I'd be like, "Oh
yeah, you told me that yesterday," and nope: they told me about it
weeks or even months ago. But in my mind, it feels like yesterday. On
the other hand, sometimes a day or two in the past can feel like it
was months ago. Which is why I can totally understand and agree with
Conversations With God when it says linear time does not exist; I have
never experienced linear time, not really, and I can't even truly
understand it from a purely intellectual standpoint.

One of my myriad struggles in life has been adjusting to other
people's conceptions of time. Looking back, this was the cause of one
of my myriad issues with work. The interaction among my sense of time,
the temporal framework of employers, my brain being absurdly quick to
boredom, and being unable to meet all the requirements of an job no
matter how hard I tried due to massive social deficits and
difficulties with changing rules and the logic of the workplace, made
an 8-hour shift at work feel like a 14-hour shift, and made the
occasional 12 hour shifts feel like 24 hour shifts. If you had to work
a 14 hour shift every day for five days in a row, and occasionally had
to do 24 hour shifts, you'd be extremely cranky and exhausted, to say
the least.

But yeah... my sense of how much time has passed seems to go up the
more active my mind is. The more activity, the longer a minute feels
like. Earlier today, I was doing a whole bunch of stuff. When I looked
at the time, expecting it to be 9 PM, it was only 5. Three hours had
felt like seven. Now you consider that it took every available ounce
of my brain power and parallel processing capabilities to try to
convert my insane sense of time to the standard norm, process the
logic of commands, process social cues and body language to try to
figure out social things, and about a dozen other things just to get
through a standard work day, that's so much mental activity that no
WONDER 8 hours felt like 14.
I'm naturally inclined towards multitasking, but even I have my
limits. While I was working at a place in town called ACS, doing
customer service in the billing department, I experimented with this
multitasking ability of mine, adding new mental programs to help make
me faster. And it worked pretty well, usually. But... if you run too
many programs on a computer at the same time, the computer will freeze
and even crash. The human brain is a little more flexible than that,
so I didn't crash, but pushing the limits of my parallel processing
like that meant that every now and then, I would completely freeze up,
everything in my brain having become a tangled mess, and I'd have to
take up to a whole minute to untangle everything. And it made a 6 hour
workday feel like 12 or 13.

Now that I no longer have to try to shove my square peg into a round
hole anymore, I find my sense of time - now free from *having* to
adapt itself to the utterly alien time-sense of other people - is more
pronounced in its peculiarity. I can still keep track of what day it
is, and I generally keep myself to a regular sleep schedule, but what
little structure is there, is there because I know I need it. I impose
a sleep schedule on myself so I don't get into the old habits of going
to bed later and later, getting up later and later, until I have to
stay up for 24 hours to straighten myself out. And I know the days of
the week because I have social gatherings called "meetups" that I go
to, where I meet other pagans in the area... usually on a group basis,
but occasionally on an individual basis. Also, if I let myself, it
would be weeks between writing sessions, so I make it a point to sit
down and write at least once or twice a week.

Perhaps now you have a better understanding of why "I'll be there in a
minute!" always took so long for me. :-) Or maybe your eyes just
glazed over and you've no clue. Ah well. :-)
I have this to add: breaks at work felt about half as long as they really were, or less. And part of why my sleep schedule here works so well where the one while I was living with Lilla wasn't is, I think, due largely to the fact that my PC is not in my bedroom like it was back then.

Also, no response to my email yet. But I did send it before the weekend, and they no longer have Internet at home. Might be Monday before they even read it. And considering that the above was only *part* of its longness and rambliness, [exaggeration] it may take them a few days just to read it! [/exaggeration] :-D
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
Wore my newly-repaired cloak out and about earlier today. Got my first in-person negative comments from strangers in a long time. One was "Little Green Riding Hood!" and another was "Halloween's over!" Only later did I think of comebacks: 1. "It's a cloak, obviously. It's too long to be a riding hood." 2. "Father Satan bless your soul!" I like that second one so much, I think I'll use it on any future idiots. :-)

*Sigh* Why do some people feel the need to mock people they've never seen before, for dressing in an unusual way? Ah well, the scared little minds, I'll give them something to fear with my Satanic blessing. Heh. If [personal profile] lupagreenwolf is willing to, I have a small sewing job for her, which I am willing to pay her for. I bought this patch at Moonshadow today, of an inverted pentagram with a serpent. I just can't decide where it would be best: my cloak, my monk's robes (which are shipping at last!), or my backpack.

As I said, I was at Moonshadow earlier. I was there mainly to try finding a better cord for my inverted pentagram, since the jumpring kept snagging on the satin and tearing it up. While I was there, I got the patch, some magnetic hematite, a couple pouches on cords for when I'm fully garbed so I can take important stuff without having to carry around my whole purse, and this beautiful book that was on sale. But they didn't have the kind of cord I needed; they referred me to this bead store a couple blocks away.

Went to the bead store, got a leather cord. They put a clasp on it for me, and got me a new jumpring because the cord was too thick for it. Looks very nice.

Also, was telling the librarian it would be cool if they had those little bitty cards you can put on key rings, like Fred Meyer's and Hot Topic have, and she said they do already! Had to get a new card number to do it, but it'll be so much easier than digging into my purse every time to get the damn library card to use on their machines (library cards at Portland's library have bar codes, and the checkout machines and other stuff have barcode readers).

Also, LiveJournal is down for maintenence, will have to save this as a draft until it comes back, or else it won't crosspost (I'm on Dreamwidth right now).

But yeah. I'm tired of of blending in. I blended in out of fear. I want my weirdness known! I've also decided, if I find a good place to dye my hair that does pink, I want half my hair black and half of it pink!
fayanora: Dakota being weird (Dakota being weird)
Me, pointing at something on the Internet, speaking to my brain: "See that, brain? You could not possibly come up with something weirder than that!"

My brain: "AHA! A challenger appears! *Ponders* Okay, how about this: Lieutenant Worf as an effeminate gay man in hair curlers and a dress, working as a hairdresser, saying "Today is a good day to dye!" and then going into a rendition of "I'm A Barbie Girl."

Me: " ... You win."

My brain: "HA! Damn straight I win. I can fart weirder things than that in my sleep."

It's becoming more and more clear all the time that I am an avatar of Eccentricia, Goddess of Weirdness and She Who Doth Created The Internet. Put perfectly normal stuff in, weirdness comes out. Put weirdness in, brain-breaking bizzaro-gasms of doom come out.
fayanora: Dakota F says Eh? (Dakota F says Eh?)
I don't mind weird dreams, I don't. In fact, I love them. What I *don't* love is weird dream behavior. What do I mean? Well...

The last couple nights both felt really really long to me, because I was having a series of semi-lucid dreams. Meaning, I knew they were dreams and I could nudge them along now and then consciously. And though I didn't know what time it was, I could nonetheless feel the passage of the hours. The night before last was okay, it was last night's that drove me nuts.

Everything was going along fine last night until, for some reason, I wanted to change something in the dream, and I was no longer able to. But every time I attempted to make a change, something else completely different would come up. Conjuring wasn't working, nudges weren't helping, banishing unwanted characters didn't help; and no one was listening to my words, either. It got to the point where I was crying with frustration (and might have been crying for real, too, I don't know), trying to wake up and being unable even to do that. So then, that failing, I was filling my mind with this loud screechy noise to overload myself and reset things. No idea why, but it worked; I woke up just long enough to reset things and go back to the chain of semi-lucid dreams, this time with a different plot.

I don't remember any of the plots or related details, though, strangely enough. Except that the dream causing me frustration had me living in the horrible house in the country we used to live in, with my family in the dream as well.

Just to clarify things, I didn't mind the long series of semi-lucid dreams... it was the fact of being lucid but unable to effect changes or wake up that was insanity-making.
fayanora: Elle Fanning by LJ user bitemeee (Elle Fanning)
I just read this article about conjoined twins joined at the head who apparently share brain tissue, and can share sensory data and thoughts. This reminds me of a short story I started once wherein an unusual set of Ah'Koi Bahnis twins are in two completely separate bodies, but a quirk of their telepathic Gift makes them technically of one mind, like mid-continuum multiples. In fact, I think I had it where not only did they share thoughts and sensory data, if one died, so would the other.
fayanora: Dakota F says Eh? (Dakota F says Eh?)
I last posted about this maybe a year or more ago, but I have mentioned in the past that I have a penchant for using foreign cuss words, and also for making up cuss words. Aside from words in Trai'pahg'nan'nog, others I make up are nonsense. I'm particularly fond of "frak" from Battlestar Galactica, and several others have spun off from that:

* frakking nadjits
* frakgammon
* frakadder
* frakkle rock

Another spinoff is "frag." Spinoffs of frag include:

* fraggot
* fraggoty
* Fraggety Ann
* Fraggety Andy
* "Fraggety Ann, Fraggety Andy, and all their fraggety little friends."

Others (unrelated):

* yeesh-ka
* yursh-ka
* yarsh-ka
* graph nag
* grapf
* grapfnag
* glarpf
* glurf
* razmataz
* razz fradj
* razzlefrakkus
* spazmaglorpf
* frazmagatag

(These are all nonsense words I have literally used as cuss words or exclamations. No kidding.)

The following may be TPNN or Dvencoilii, I don't know yet:

* dahstraht

If I think of more, I will add them. They're had to remember because they tend to only show up when I'm genuinely cussing.


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The Djao'Mor'Terra Collective

September 2017

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