collacentaur

I'm loving my Kindle. It was very convenient in Boston to have a small bookshelf with me in my shoulder-bag, at least until I ran out of charge.

So far, I've been reading mostly free books. Rather a lot of the contents of Project Gutenberg are available for the Kindle from Amazon, which is the most convenient way to get books. I've been indulging in a lot of late-nineteenth-century girls' novels. I'm beginning to notice the flaws, however. For one thing, there's a distressing lack of adult supervision. This is to be expected in the boarding-school stories, where part of the point is to sneak around the books. But I've read a few too many in a row where the mother dies, leaving the teenage daughter to keep house for her absent-minded father and raise her multitudinous younger siblings All By Herself -- which is to say, with the help of between two and six servants. All of this with nary a mention of the decades of therapy they're all going to need as adults. At lunchtime today, I found myself growling, "Well, doctor, if you'd just kept it in your pants from time to time, you wouldn't have nine motherless children!" Methinks it's time to change genre.

I intend to put myself through a virtual stack of literature with which all well-educated people are familiar, but I have somehow missed. I've got Poe and Doyle and a smattering of others queued up already. Of course, after last weekend, I think I need to catch up on my Norse mythology first. Foolishly, I stipulated that Andrew couldn't use any of the Cthulhu mythos in the game. It didn't occur to me to make him promise not to drive my character insane through other mythologies.

( Sunday and Monday – In which Scheherazade makes an appearance. )

And so that was Arisia. The office was still standing after my being gone for three days, and my boss managed to not call me even once. Of course that meant it's been crazy catching up. Today, I'm coddling a cold. I don't know whether to blame it on concrud, which I've managed to escape in the past, or reading-to-preschooler crud, which catches me every time. Don't suppose it matters much.

Next up: Wicked Faire, February 18-20, mercifully close to home.

Posts written in my head:

1. Review of World War Z by Max Brooks.
2. Thoughts before Arisia.

Posts written on computer:





I so want that telepathic transcriber.

It's been a long day, for all that I didn't really do much.

( A tale of snow )

Anyway, now I'm tucked up with a mug full of gourmet hot cocoa, the kind that has to be made with milk and not just water. I don't often have milk in the house. I should. I also want to know how other people make the whipped cream form that perfect shape. Mine always comes out funny-looking.

This is the holy night, my religious holiday. But I don't believe that God takes attendance at the services. I don't belong to a church here, for several reasons. So, I make my observations on my own.

I went for a drive tonight. I listened to a recording of Lessons and Carols from Kings College in Cambridge, England. I turned down side streets I'd never explored, looking at the lights and following the luminaries.

As surely as if I were in a pew in a candle-lit church, my car became a sacred space. For wherever and whenever I hear the familiar words, "In those days, a decree went out from Caesar Augustus..." I am hearing it the way I have for decades, the way my family has for generations. I hear the music and it sings to my soul. O come, let us adore him. Glory to the newborn king.

I pulled into the garage, and shut off the car, and sat for a moment in the silence before going inside. On this silent night, this holy night, everything stops for a time. I did, honestly, take a moment to pray for peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Also for my loved ones and their loved ones, for all our concerns and needs.

Tomorrow the world will start again, with things to do and lists and deadlines. But for tonight, none of that matters. I, at least, will sleep in peace.

I'm struggling with Christmas this year. I know I'm not alone in that. I've seen a lot of people saying the same thing. I'm getting everything done, slowly, but I feel like I'm just going through the motions. With everything I do, I'm asking myself why I'm doing it, and whether it really matters.

I sent out 36 Christmas cards this year. So far I've received two. I know the season's not over and I'm not the only one running behind. I never expect anywhere close to the number I send. But... two? I advertised my open house, but I don't know if anyone other than Amy and Craig will stop by. So I'm having trouble getting motivated on the cleaning and shopping and planning. I haven't baked any cookies at all. I'm not sure if I'm doing any of these things for others, or for myself. If no one else cares, and I'm not into it, why am I even bothering?

Christmas spirit has a way of slipping in past negativity, though. I know that one of my cards brightened someone's day. If I made a difference, no matter how small, then it's worthwhile. Amy's hairdresser asked her about the cookies. daernhelm told me tonight that he's trying to figure out if he can manage to visit for a little while on Christmas. I know it's not really practical and it isn't likely to happen. I won't be disappointed. It's enough that he's thinking about it. That makes my whole Christmas, right there. All these little things add up to bring me the magic.

I still believe in the magic of Christmas. When I come downstairs on Christmas morning, I'm holding my breath to see if Santa filled my stocking. I believe I'm going to get kissed under the mistletoe. I hope someone unexpected will stop by to see me. It doesn't matter that I haven't hung a stocking or so much as seen mistletoe in close to ten years. The hope and anticipation doesn't go away. And every year, there's something special and surprising and beautiful at Christmastime.

So, this year, even if I'm struggling, I'm sticking with it. The magic's still there. I just have to hang in there and let it happen.

The meme sheep are grazing all over Facebook this week.

I was relieved when the cartoons-for-child-abuse thing went away. I really prefer clearly identifiable profile pics/userpics/icons. I want to be able to tell at a glance who I'm looking at – because, let's face it, some people get more of my attention than others. I want people to be able to easily see when it's me. That's why I mostly use my face. I may not like my face much, but it is incontrovertibly me, and mine.

The messages-to-the-numbers thing is interesting. I'm treating the ones I see as a guessing game. I'm not playing myself, though. For the most part all my friends should know what I think of them. I did that whole series of essays, for one thing, and I don't really conceal much. If anyone doesn't know, it's probably because I don't have much to say anyway. I'm not submitting numbers in part for the same reason. I mean, how many times have I exchanged one of these with daeron? I think we know where we stand. With others, I want to know very desperately, but only if it's what I want to hear. I'm not brave enough to take the chance, the likelihood, of being disappointed. I don't think my fragile self-esteem can take the hit. Oddly, it's not that I fear hearing something actually negative. I'm more worried about the lukewarm or indifferent. I don't want to know that I just don't matter.

Finally, several people linked to an article about depression. Amusingly enough, until I started thinking about this post last night, I hadn't noticed that I'm currently depressed. It's not like there were any ENORMOUS clues, like sleeping through most of Thanksgiving weekend and failing to contact a dear friend for a visit. Or obsessively playing logic games on the computer in preference over all other activities, including sleeping and eating. Yes, friends, the reason that I so often state the obvious is because the rest of the time I completely fail to see it. Anyway, what I wish I'd learned early, and that I could remember more often, is that one can be in a good mood and still be depressed at the same time. The physiological and behavioral symptoms are just as real and debilitating when the emotional ones are absent.

No need for anyone to be concerned. Both I and my doctor have been expecting and waiting for this to happen before adjusting the dosage. I was on a higher dose of the previous medication, but it didn't make sense to increase this one until we were sure that it wasn't sufficient. I already have an appointment at the beginning of January. And now that I've noticed, I should be able to manage it fine until then.

It's good to spend time with family. We have the same sense of humor, the same love of word play, the same desire to learn and fact-check. We know each other's quotes. And, although we're trying to be social and make the most of our time, there's not the same pressure as when visiting other people. I've napped through most of the afternoon for each of the last four days. I know I could still use more sleep. I've eaten well, too. Turkey, of course, but also pizza on Friday, rolled beef tonight, that pecan pie I've been looking for since August.

I'm reading an anthology of steampunk stories, with the title of Steampunk, so my dad asked me what steampunk was. Good question. I'm still working that out myself. I did the best I could to explain.

I went to church with my mom on Sunday. That's like visiting extended family. I grew up in the church, in the choir. I came in, and was greeted with hugs and brought right in. They rearranged seats so there was room for me in the loft instead of the congregation. I joined the rehearsal, and they would have been perfectly happy for me to sing with them on the anthem. If it hadn't been so many years since I was singing regularly, I would have; it was one I remember. But without practice, I've lost much of my range and don't trust the rest.

My parents have been cleaning out a little bit at a time, including their books. I'm coming back with a great number. In addition to all my dad's gaming stuff, I've got a bag of SF and a bag of other books. Some of them are references and classics, at least. I'm going to have to do another purge on my own books before long, because I think this is going to put me out of shelf space again.

It's been a good, long visit, but I'm looking forward to going home again. I want my queen bed instead of a twin daybed with a foam mattress. I want to catch up on TV shows I like, instead of an endless stream of football games. (Sorry, Eagles fans, it's my fault they lost. I was paying attention to that game.) I want my lap desk so I can use a mouse instead of this blasted touchpad. I was very happy to come home -- but now I want to go home.

Today's time-waster: Organ Trail.

Oregon Trail meets Zombie Apocalypse.

On Friday, oidhche and palingyuan came to my place for Big Bang Theory. I started recording at the beginning of the season, figuring we'd catch up before long, and now we have. oidhche was disappointed: not only there is no new content, but he won't get any more for at least three weeks. This weekend palingyuan and I will be at Philcon, and the following weekend I'll be in Massachusetts. We'll need to pick a new TV series for Friday nights. Oid thinks he'll just catch up to me with Star Trek and we can go from there.

Speaking of which, on Sunday I finished out the first season. Total score: of 28 episodes, I had definitely seen 8 before. Ten I'm fairly certain I could not have seen previously, or I would have remembered them. And the remaining ten I might or might not have seen before. Since I had trouble remembering some of them by the end of the disc they were on, it's entirely possible I could have seen them 20 years ago and not remembered. Anyway, that's roughly a third each way, which is not bad.

Meanwhile, on Saturday I finished reading The Iron Duke by Meljean Brook. While it's technically a romance novel, and follows some of the conventions of that genre, I don't think the romance gets in the way of the story. Certainly it's not the sort which sticks rigidly to a formula and has the sex scenes at prescribed page counts. It's also a mystery/adventure, and a very good one for a cross-genre work. And oh yes, it is also the steampunk novel I've been hoping to find all year. It has characters and plot and world-building that immersed me sufficiently that the clockwork and the airships and all actually made sense. Even the giant sea monsters made sense. And now I want MORE. Since there's no more from that world to be had yet (I read the short story the weekend before), I care enough to try some of the other stuff that's out there. And THAT is what I've been trying to find, the answer to why-should-I-care/what's-in-it-for-me.

So, now I've (finally) started reading Girl Genius.