Seeing these boys tonight at Record Collector in Bordentown, NJ. My grandmother used to play spoons and thimbles/washboard in a jug band. I'm a sucker for the stuff. Anyone who can't tap a toe to this stuff needs a fun transplant.

Methylation is an important metabolic process, especially in the brain, but also in the bones and joints.  Most people's methylation pathways become degraded by modern lifestyles.

The list of foods that contain the necessary methyl donor molecules will probably look familiar: green leafy vegetables, legumes, citrus, berries, and nuts. Although in this particular case, it’s very important that the foods have been processed as little as possible before you eat them—and that includes heating and freezing. Keeping these foods as fresh and “raw” as possible helps preserve the methyl donor molecules they contain.

There are also a few supplements that supply methyl groups, including particularly S-adenosylmethionine (SAMe), followed by methylsulfonylmethane (MSM), betaine (including the betaine from betaine hydrochloride), 5-methyltetrahydrofolate (a “new-in-the-stores” and more natural form of folic acid), and methylcobalamin (a form of vitamin B12).

Improving the methylation process by "boosting" the precursor count can improve depression (SAM-e in particular has been studied in this regard) by helping the conversion of 5-htp into dopamine, and can make your joints and bones more strong and flexible (by improving the methylation of calcium).
It also will improve the metabolism of estrogen, for all of those on HRT.

Not actually food crime, but I have the tag, I might as well use it. This was mostly an improvisational meal with flavors that I thought would work well together. They did, marvelously. Basically just recording this for my own notes.

Ingredients
One bulb of fennel, roughly chopped
One leek, washed and roughly chopped
Three stems of celery, roughly chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Three chicken leg quarters (leg + thigh attached)
1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup white wine
2 tbsp cold butter

Preheat oven to 350. Place fennel, leek and celery in roasting pan. Place chicken on top of vegetable layer, season with salt and pepper. Roast chicken until done (Internal temperature 165), remove from oven. Remove vegetables and chicken, set aside. Place roasting pan on a burner set to high. Place chicken skin side down in roasting pan and brown until skin is crisps, then remove. Deglaze the roasting pan with mixture of stock and white wine, reduce to half, remove from heat and add butter, stirring sauce until melted. Serve chicken on bed of roasted vegetables and accent with sauce.

(EDIT: Chicken no longer joins gang when browned)

How much is riding on City of Heroes: Going Rogue?

( Text of article beneath cut )

NCsoft responds to City of Heroes speculation

( Text of article beneath cut take 2 )

Ja

Rei

You what would be kinda cool, maybe about ten years from now? A console game that starts as real-time strategy, then uses each battle to procedurally generate a first-person shooter where you play a single soldier in that conflict... and then analyzes the complete history of your battles to generate a wargame -- you know, an old-fashioned hexgrids, dice, and counters turn-based wargame -- of the entire conflict. Just as a little experiment in layers of abstraction.

Here's what I've posted to Twitter over the past 24 hours:

• 22:19 PSA: I officially have the flu. Given that I had the regular flu shot, it seems likely it's the swine type. Please take proper precautions. #

Aggregated by LoudTwitter

Originally published at Sythyry. Please leave any comments there.

“I’m sorry, Songuth, but this is a matter of some delicacy and I will need to speak with Magister oa Iretario in private,” I said.

“La, those wizards can get righty pissy, can’t they?” she said, and clopped off.

“I’m very sorry, miss…”, began Thenel.

“I think we could do well to be a bit quieter about this. Perhaps in a time bubble?” I asked.

Thenel nodded, and said, “I would be much happer of that. I didn’t want to ask for it, you know.” The familiar ripples of a bit too much Tempador magic filled the room, and any Songuth eavesdropping on us would hear only incomprehensible chirping. “Thank you, Bluelark. I treasure your discretion.”

I put my hands on my hips, because bipeds usually do that when they’re scolding me and I was trying to look all scoldy. “I am afraid I do not fully reciprocate. Indeed, you were discreet about your own engagement to Rehit: too discreet by half.”

His ears and tail drooped. “We’ve been engaged for years and years; we’ve been living together for nearly that long. If I thought about it, it’s obvious that you wouldn’t have heard about it up in Ketheria. But everybody I know here knows all about it, everybody. So I didn’t think to tell you — I haven’t needed to tell anybody in so long. I’m quite sorry.”

I thought about that for nine seconds. “In that light, it does seem a natural mistake. I quite accept your apology.” (Naturally he can’t be attracted to both his own species and other ones, so, well, no wonder the engagement was so long and nonmarital. Poor Rehit. But that is a matter for later.)

So he ruined it by saying, “And of course whatever we were doing has to be secret from Rehit and everyone else. It’s not a real love affair.”

I snapped, “I will accept the secrecy, but I’ve got a quite real infatuation running all the way from my crotch to my crest … when I have a crest … and it’s all your fault.”

He chewed his tailtip a bit before he managed to say, “I will admit to feeling something of the same sort of … feeling … thing … at the moment” Which is quite an admission from a guarded-tongued Eigrachter.

“Well, can we continue on with our … I don’t know what to call it?” I asked, quite eagerly. Downright wagging my tail like a Cani, if you must know. I am so useless at irritated vengance wizard.

“I am still engaged,” he noted.

I didn’t quite start crying, but I rather whined a bit.

Thenel stomped his foot. “I am not cheating on my fiancé. What do you take me for?”

“You have the high honor of being both the most appealing and the most perplexing person I have welcomed into my …” (How did I want to complete that? heart? vulva? imagination?) “… home.” (Not quite honest — I have had some astoundingly perplexing guests — but close enough.)

He bowed a bit. “You are too kind, madam.”

“Could you explain to me just how it is that you are not cheating on your fiancé?” I had to ask. (This sort of thing matters to me. If I wanted a morally-questionable affair, I’d call Inconnu to my bed. He’s not only amazingly cute and amazingly traff, he’s trying to collect all seven other species.)

Thenel looked miserable. Since I am a terrible agent of interrogation, I nuzzled his cheek and curled my tail around his waist, and eventually coaxed him to talk.

“I have certain … if I may be so bold … certain amatory tastes that do not meet with general approval,” he said.

“I believe I know to what you are referring. For that matter, I believe that yon couch still bears the marks of my buttocks from such amatory tastes,” I said.

“Actually, no, you don’t. I refer to … certain activities … which we did not do. I would never request them of you. It is not dignified or polite, even to the very limited extent that a cross-species entanglement is dignified or polite,” he said, looking hideously embarrassed.

“My dear Thenel, I have been a patron of wrongfolk for well over a century, in a rather libertinous city. If there is any sort of body-play that primes engage in, I have heard of it; I have seen it; I have done it.”

He told me what it was. I had heard of it. I had not seen it, and I had most certainly never done it. I tried not to look surprised and disgusted, but I don’t think I succeeded very well.

Thenel saw my expression. “Rehit tried it once … I shouldn’t say that … but … he doesn’t much like it. Can’t say as I blame him. I wish I didn’t want it, but sometimes I need it. So he agreed that I could, well, hire professionals to provide certain services which he is unwilling or unable to provide himself. Once in a while.”

“I suppose that’s reasonable,” I said. I didn’t really mean to, and didn’t really realize it until afterwards, but I uncoiled my tail from his waist. “And that Orren woman who blackmails you?”

“Well, she’s blackmailing me. I don’t really have that much choice in the matter,” said Thenel.

“So, you’re (1) engaged to another Rassimel; (2) cheating on your fiancé and justifying it to yourself on the grounds of being blackmailed; (3) like that enough to regularly hire prostitutes to do it.”

“That’s … basically true,” he had to admit. His ears were miserably flat.

“And you really can’t have any sort of honest relationship with me. Unless I blackmail you and you want to pretend that that’s honest.”

“That’s the sum of it,” he said.

“I’m not going to blackmail you, and I’m not going to cheat with you, and I’m not sure you’re really even traff,” I said.

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asked.

“I suppose I am,” I said. “If one can break up with someone with whom one has had two sexual encounters, leavened by only the smallest and most marginal of social and friendly chatter before and after.” Which was harsher than it needed to be, but breaking up is best done cruelly.

“I deserve nothing better,” he said. “Indeed, I deserve nothing at all … but … may I have one more kiss?”

“You most certainly may,” I said.

…

Nine minutes later, I had rather lost count of that one more kiss, and I was helping Thenel undo one of the knottier knots on my belt.

…

Nine minutes later, I was on my back, trying to tug his cloak out from under my rump when he wasn’t pinning me to it. We were giggling like a pair of mad things. The “one more kiss” had gotten quite out of hand.

…

Nine minutes later, I grabbed him by a convenient handle to stop him. “We can do more, but enough with the freebies. I’m gonna have to charge.”

“… charge? …”

“Ten lozens, or my pants go right back on ‘n I walk out the door,” I said. He sort of stared. I laughed. “What? You get a rent-a-girl, you better pay the rent!”

He stared at me, then laughed. “I knew that you were a nendrai-wrangler, a wizard, and an enchanter. I did not know you were also a courtesan!”

“I have many skills!” I said. “But honestly there’s not much difference between nendrai-wrangler and hooker, if you must know. Hey! You’re not going in there ’til you pay up!”

He got up and hunted around in his scattered clothes, and handed me a ten-lozen coin. “There you are.”

I grinned as lasciviously as any Orren can, which is a lot. “OK, I’m rented for as long as you want ’til the time bubble is over. But not for anything. Don’t expect any joy from my hands or mouth. You’ve got a fiancé for that kind of thing.”

“Ah, you’ll only do things which he is unwilling or unable to provide. Thereby satisfying the letter of Rehit’s permission, and not all that far off the spirit, I guess,” said Thenel. “So we’re not breaking up after all?”

“Not ’til your bank account is empty!” I said. I am a practical sort of whore.

With a practical sort of ethics, now and then.

Hello Everyone!

I just joined this community. I am hearing and currently taking ASL classes.

For my English 102 class final project I am writing about the Deaf community and Deaf people's identity.
I'm hoping some Deaf people could answer my questions, so I can better understand the Deaf community and write an accurate report. Books are all well and good, but I believe first hand knowledge is the most important and interesting.

How much of your identity is being Deaf?
Would you consider Deaf as your culture first, or your heritage (such as being Irish or French) as your culture?
Do you look for a partner only in the Deaf community?
Do you want your children to be deaf? to pass down the language and culture?
And any other information on Deaf identity and what that means to you.

I hope none of these questions are offensive or too personal...
Thank You!

Two of my dad's tires ruptured so he needed to take care of that while I took mom to the doctor. It went off without too much trouble. There were some delays but it was much less painful than most times. And hopefully they wrapped her foot right so that it doesn't get ripped off again after two days and I need to figure out a way to cover it on my own with what I have.

Yay!

About a month ago I swore I saw a zeppelin. My friend thought I was mistaken and that it was just a blimp but the size and dimensions of it made me sure it was a zeppelin.

Well today my entire office just saw it. It is in fact a zeppelin owned by airshipventures and based at Moffet field.

There's even a tracking site for it. Woot.

http://www.airshipventures.com/tracking.php

People telling me I don't see giant airships everywhere. HA!

Okay, I came across this video (no sound, Hearies) a little over a week ago. As I'm still refreshing my knowledge of ASL, I think I understand most of it, but I'm stumped by a sign that is repeated toward the end (starting around 1:39), where the vlogger is wrapping up and making his point (It looks like it combines "HERITAGE" and "TELL," maybe). Can someone here give me a hand?

( I've put it behind this cut )

This is where I really wish there were Sign-to-English dictionaries online, the way there are English-to-Sign ones. ... Are there any that I don't know about?

HUMBLE ADVICE:
Whereby the Demeanour of Martian Tigers is Made Explicitly Known to Yaz.
by Electric Keet


The uniformed blue-furred feline offered a mild smile. “Anything to declare?”

“Yeah,” Eekay responded with a self-serving pose. “One hundred twenty kilos of awesome.”

I was about to chide zim, but the customs agent already had a response. “Unlikely. According to the manifest, you have only fifteen kilograms of luggage.” Amid stifled giggles from the rest of the queued team, he continued with impeccable politeness. “Is there anything else, or shall I ask that you be made comfortable in a holding cell while we search for the remaining one hundred and five?”

The snow-leopard’s enthusiasm drained. “Nothing to declare.”

“Excellent. Welcome to Luna’s Omicron Dome. Enjoy your stay, friend Eekay.” The mooncat looked to me. “Next?”

Eekay stalked toward the baggage claim with zir travel bag. I stepped toward the lectern. “Yaz Lenslight, resident of Io, staying four days on business.” I tapped just below my left ear to activate the comm. “Authenticate.”

The display in the lectern lit up with what was probably my life story in more detail than even I remembered. The customs agent nodded in approval. “Thank you. Anything to declare?”

“No, I....” Just then, I caught a glimpse of a strangely familiar ursine figure leaving another queue. “I think I know that guy.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh! Sorry.” I chuckled. “Nothing to declare.”

The mooncat smiled. “In that case, welcome to Luna’s Omicron Dome. Enjoy your stay, friend Lenslight.”

I nodded my thanks and dashed over to the bear. As I neared, I could see the telltale scar behind his ear. “Elbey?”

He turned and looked me up and down. “’Ey, Yaz. Nice boots.”

I laughed. “Sorry, the answer’s still no. Hey, what’re you doing out here?”

“Herding cats.” He motioned to a group of five crimson tigers waiting impatiently to clear customs. “Didn’t realise your team was on the same flight.”

I shook my head. “Wait, you’re managing The Humblest? I thought—”

“Look, chief, I’d love to chat, but I gotta get some arrangements together here. Drinks later? Here.” He tapped beneath that same ear. “Swap with Yaz Lenslight.”

I did much the same. “Swap with Elbey.” A moment later, I heard a confirmation tone. “All right, I’ll blip after my people are settled in.”

“Great....” He paused, motioning to the flower over my ear. “Then you can tell me what’s up with the pansy.”

I smirked. “Hey, I—” He’d already turned to head in another direction, though.

---

“I’ll admit, I’m amazed.” I held up my glass to stare at Elbey through the amber. “I figured you’d go right from Allilouxia to, I don’t know, dee-dogging. Something nice and safe compared to hanging out with Martians.” He only shrugged, so I continued. “So how come I saw someone else in the observation tower for the last two races?”

“I got hung up.”

Hung up. That was his way of saying that further inquiry would likely shift my role from “long-time friend” to “accomplice”. I shot him my best dubious expression, but his remained steady.

If Falda knew what he’d meant, she didn’t show it. “How do you handle them, anyhow?” she inquired. “The tigers? I know how rowdy they can be.”

He chuffed, “So I’ve seen,” and then continued speaking directly past the withering look he got in response. “They’re not so bad, really. You just gotta be firm, but reasonable. When you get right down to it, they’re just overgrown kittens.”

I shook my head. “Not to be accusatory or anything, but your kittens keep trying to turn the ribbon into a meat grinder.”

“They’re just enthusiastic.” The bear tapped his mug heavily on the table, then leaned in and dropped his voice. “Look, Martian races are meat grinders. It’s demolition, but instead of dogfighting in skimmers, they play bumper cars on the ribbon. The reason you don’t ever see replay vids from our neck of the woods is because they’re bloody disasters like so much high-speed snuff. And that, I know you ain’t seen, snow-puff.” He nodded that last to the wolf, then washed his words back down with lager.

Falda shook her head incredulously. “Luna has pretty clear rules about that sort of thing.”

Elbey snorted. “Yeah, and the only reason the Lunarian nannies don’t clamp down on it is because it’s only the tigers chewing each other up, and they’re basically impossible to kill. For the love o’ rust, they only take about a third the time in a tank of any sane organism. Mooncats look the other way and Martian audiences get what they consider to be light entertainment. You see my team trying to grind you up? I see my team being amazingly sedate, almost like someone’s been tossing soma in their kibble.” He raised a conspiratorial brow.

I sighed heavily. “I’ve walked into insanity.”

“An’ in the sweetest boots, too.”

Almost on automatic, I smiled. “Thank you! They were suggested to me by—”

I paused when Elbey held up a hand. He was staring off to one side; I followed his gaze to see the striped shoulders of two of his racers, and just past them, a pair of blue ears. The bear began to bellow. “Tanvi, you put that waiter down right now or I swear I’ll tear your leg off, carve your femur into a clarinet, and shove it so far up your tailhole you’ll belch polkas, you hear me?”

One of the tigers waved a clear sign of disrespect back toward Elbey without turning to look. The other did as instructed, and a rather distraught mooncat scurried into the kitchen with what little composure he had left. Elbey snickered. “Like I said earlier... firm, but reasonable.”

Falda said something about putting Eekay into perspective. I was too busy trying to get more alcohol into my system to respond.

---

(( Remember, bodyracing fans and fanatics, you can read comments on this part and add your own at the official 13R site. You can use an OpenID login – try username.livejournal.com or similar! Also, stay tuned for a surprise in the next couple of days....))

The empire strikes back

In recent weeks, we've taken huge steps towards blocking spam accounts on LiveJournal. In fact, we've suspended as many as 30,000 accounts in a single day! We've implemented several pre-emptive measures to prevent the creation of spam accounts, and we've honed our detection of suspicious content. Spam bots are a crafty lot, so we'll continue to refine our tactics and keep up the good fight to keep you safe from spam attacks on LiveJournal.

RSS feeds again

If you're addicted to xkcd_rss, icanhaschzbrgr, or other syndicated feeds, we're pleased to report that we've resolved the update error that was mucking up your RSS feeds. While content was being pulled correctly, it wasn't being posted to the feeds themselves. Late last week, we finally nailed down what we hope was the root problem, so content should post properly. We thank you for your patience.

Wii have killer CSI Deadly Intent contests!

c_s_i

If you're a gamer who loves CSI, have Wii got news for you! c_s_i is sponsoring killer contests. Simply post a question to a member of the CSI crew. The winner will get a free copy of CSI: Deadly Intent for Nintendo Wii (with a retail value of $39.99) and get their question answered by a member of the CSI writing team! There's also a fantastic monthly contest. To enter, join c_s_i, play the online version of CSI: Deadly Intent, and respond to a two-part query for a chance to win a Wii! Entries will be judged on composition and originality. Sorry, but you must be a U.S. resident and over 18 years old to participate. Check out the rules here.

Enveloped in postcards

Last week, we asked you to send in postcards to help us decorate our drab concrete walls. Here's a photo of the results so far! Thank you so much and please keep them coming! You can mail them to Frank the Goat, Esq., c/o LiveJournal, Inc., 539 Bryant Street, Suite 210, San Francisco, CA 94107. Be sure to include your username, since we'll be giving ten random users paid account credits.

Photos of the week

If you haven't visited our new LiveJournal photo community, you're in for an amazing visual trip. LiveJournal users from around the world will take you on a scenic journey to everywhere. Post your own pictures or kick back and enjoy at lj_photophile. You can view some of this week's awesome photos after the jump. Please start tagging with geographic location, since we'd like to track all the places around the world represented in this community. Keep on commenting too!
( Read more... )

Originally published at Sythyry. Please leave any comments there.

I — by which I mean Bluelark, not Sythyry — knocked rather fearfully on the door of the Tree-Shaping of Thenel oa Iretario. A tall and very rose-colored Herethroy woman wearing a pale green leafy suit answered it. “Oh, good morning. Are you from the Ketherian skyboat?”

“I am, indeed. Is the tree-mage Thenel around and free, for me to talk with him?”, I said, in slightly awkward Srineian.

“La, you speak our language like a preffly!” she exclaimed delightedly. I obviously don’t, in some part because I have no idea what a preffly is. “I’m afraid he’s stepped out for kathia. He should be back within a third or two-thirds of an hour. Would you like to come in and have a seat in the parlor? Or shall I simply leave him a message if you wish to come back later.”

“I’ll wait, think you very much,” I said. She giggled just a bit. “Oh, I mean ‘thank’, don’t I?”

Waiting was a bit harder than usual. Ordinarily Zi Ri wait with elegance and grace: after all, in theory, we can outwait you for almost any value of you. But this was the parlor with the heavy drapes and tapestries, the parlor with the substantial and lockable door. The parlor where I had, a week and a half ago, quite happily given over a half-century’s chastity to the gentleRassy I was here to interrogate, or whatever I was here doing.

I waited seven weeks — or perhaps a third of an hour, though I certainly wasn’t fiddling with the flow of time. (Oh, and why did I not fiddle with the flow of time? Because I do not have a device to make time pass more quickly. I have spells for it of course. But I am very busy with enchanting, sometimes in sneaky ways, and I have actually been running short of cley and needing to scramble to get extra, which is troublesome for Phaniet and/or me. So I have been trying to avoid using spells.)

The Herethroy woman came back in. “I’m sorry, but Thenel isn’t back yet. Could I bring you a refreshment, a local cider or dried eel perhaps? Or maybe a selection of periodicals on technical topics, imported at a delay of only three or four months from countries which you probably visit regularly?”

“I should be grateful with some cider,” I said.

“Certainly! It is made from local apples and cherries,” she said, and filled two arkenwood chalices with cider from a two-gallon cask in the cupboard. One was for me. “I-low am Songuth, Thenel’s butler and general assistant.”

“I-low am Bluelark … I perform a variety of undefinable and generally unglamorous services for Sythyry. I tie ribbons around zir tail at need, and brush and tint zir feathers, and fetch books off of high shelves for zir, and am generally the one to run about when zie’s forgotten something.” (This is all true, incidentally. I also brush zir teeth, chew zir food, and take zir naps, but that would be too confusing to mention.)

“La, isn’t it true all up and down the tree, how lazy the masters are when there are servants about! Yet they’ve all the money and they’ve all the titles, and they wear the fancy clothes while you and I must go about in livery and wait on them hand and hand-foot and foot if they’ve anything they want us to do!” She lapped at her cider, so I lapped at mine. Sweet little bubbles went up my snout. It was delicious and crisp, and about as strong as beer.

“Oh, and what’s the most annoying thing Thenel has you doing?”

“I’ve got to dust the wicker walls! Any other house in Eigrach, and the wind will blow the walls clean and the rain wash them off. But for Grand Magister Thenel oa Iretario, that’s not clean enough! I’ve got to get a great big feather mop on a bamboo stick and climb about on ladders and swish them clean, thrice a year like clockwork. And then there’s all the sweeping and brushing, there’s no end of it.”

So we chatted — I used the Mystical Special Trick of asking about her opinions whenever the conversation flagged — and lapped cider, and waited for the Doom. Who took nearly two hours to show up.

Songuth popped up. “Thenel, Thenel, you’ve got a customer!”

Thenel looked at me. “Oh, no!”

Becky was a friendly acquaintance whose paintings I admired. Tragically, Becky was killed in October 2004 while she was changing a flat tire on I-95. She was just 28 years old.

Becky's portraits are now on display at The National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC, which open s this weekend. It's gratifying to see her work get the attention it deserves.

Here's what I've posted to Twitter over the past 24 hours:

• 20:48 The irony of getting sick after playing a Martian in "War of the Worlds" is not lost on me. I had no idea I was this much of a method actor. #

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Poor John must be spinning in his grave.

http://www.slashfilm.com/2009/09/11/disney-confirms-robert-zemeckis-3d-yellow-submarine/

Disney? Robert Zemeckis? (AKA Mr. Charmless who brought us Polar Express)


Ugh.

Ran into a link to this. I saw this in one of those compilations of shorts that did the rounds in the early eighties, and something about it stayed with me in a way most of those shorts did not.

Comments on Youtube suggest that the average person finds the ending creepy, but I seem to recall that my main emotion was "awe".

I park up the hill from my house, because gravitational potential energy is a good way to keep car thieves at bay.

In the driveway near me was a car with a bumper sticker that read "MY OTHER CAR IS TOTALLY PANTOMIMED" and as I started up my car, I saw a guy (dressed in normal clothes and without benefit of greasepaint) walk out to the empty part of his driveway, about ten feet to the left of his existing car, mime sitting down and turning the keys, and suddenly become whisked off by some unknown force at the speed of an automobile.

I followed him, of course, as he sat hovering a few feet in the air, zipping along the street at the speed of traffic. He got to a gas station, and parked in a spot with no pump, then paid the attendant nonexistent mimed money, went to a blank spot in the parking lot, and pretended to pump his nonexistent car.

While he was inside getting his change, I was tempted to pretend keying his car, but I didn't. I just sort of stared at it.

He came out and we had a conversation. Well, I talked but he communicated his side of the conversation very effectively with gestures. He's proud of his pretend sportscar (but he does have a mimed bumper sticker on it that says "MY OTHER CAR EXISTS") and likes his job.

He works for the worldwide sinister conspiracy that watches over us all! He doesn't do the spying work, though. He's a technical writer. He takes all the data from the spying, and the Panopticon camera, and so forth, and compiles that information into the clean, concise, glossy-photo dossiers that you always see the conspiracy has in the movies. There's a lot of hard work in collating all that data into a meaningful dossier, but it's engaging work that uses his skills, and the benefits are great, so he's pretty happy.

Technically, he's not allowed to talk about it, but, you know, technically, he didn't.

With all the new technologies and stuff constantly popping up, I know there must be new signs developing for the more popular items (e.g. facebook, youtube etc.). I'm curious about various peoples signs for these things, so share them with me - I'm particularly interested in a sign for youtube.

Also, does anyone have a sign for "bite me" - I can't remember the sign for that phrase and it's making me insane.

Ooookay. Time for more explaining.

I got this message on an earlier entry from an anon:

I realise that I'm just an anonymous observer, but I would honestly rather see a journal by you, not by the different pieces. You seem like a really nice person, and I really don't think you need to default back to fictional counterparts to be interesting.

Now, naturally, since this was an anonymous post, I have no way knowing whether this person was expressing sincere sentiments. But the advice still rang true to me on some level.

Three months ago, I hit kind of a brick wall. I had the face the difficult truth that I wasn't as enlightened as I thought I was, and begun to fear that I was a completely self-absorbed sociopath.

I've had a lot of time to try and figure myself out. I've had some success. It's hard to say exactly what I've learned about myself, but I figure that the fact that I'm not sure how to verbalize it yet is a good sign. It makes me feel less pretentious, less "fluffy bunny" about the way I view my beliefs and world vies.

So, my point is, when I read that message, I found that I actually did believe I'm a really nice person. At least deep down. I've still got a lot of nastiness on the surface, but at least now I know that it's not the core of who I am.

I figured it was time that I stop splintering my personality so much, thus confusing myself and others.

I mean, I'm still an otherkin. I still believe that I'm an incarnation of Blaze the Cat and like four other characters. And I'm still going to keep the "Blazey Bakeneko" name since I basically made it into my main net handle over a period of time.

But I don't my personality to begin and end at "being an otherkin" anymore. I've switched to Amy Rose icons, but that doesn't mean I believe I'm Amy Rose.

I used to use Umi from Magic Knight Rayearth as a way of physically representing the way I felt inside. But I've changed a lot over time.

So, while I don't believe I'm Amy, I do feel that she's a good role model for me, and that she represents a lot of the positive progress that I've made, and the kind of person that I hope to be. She represents my tomboyish side, my feminine side, my gaming side, my furry side, my spiritual side, and furry side. And most importantly, she represents a balance between loving myself and loving other people.

I guess this whole post may come across as being silly...But I feel like I should get used to embracing silliness. I've always had a bit of a comedian in me. And I've spent too much time trying to be "cool" instead just trying to be "me."

I've had several lame encounters with bad food lately.

In particular there were pieces of plastic in the soy vanilla pudding and I had to toss all of it.

Four month old 'new' cereal again.

A snack bar with bits of cardboard in the package sticking to the bar.

And then constipation-causing bubble gum X_X...

Icky.

Still need to shake a headache but doing a little better.

Nameserver trace for www.bbc.co.uk:

* Looking for who is responsible for root zone and followed g.root-servers.net.
* Looking for who is responsible for uk and followed ns7.nic.uk.
* Looking for who is responsible for bbc.co.uk and followed ns1.bbc.co.uk.

Nameservers for www.bbc.co.uk:

* ns1.rbsov.bbc.co.uk returned (SERVFAIL)
* ns1.thls.bbc.co.uk returned (SERVFAIL)
* ns1.bbc.co.uk returned (SERVFAIL)
* ns1.thdo.bbc.co.uk returned (SERVFAIL)

(drums fingers on desk)

Hmm.

(Puts on scarf, grabs sonic device, goes for a walk and quick look-round..)

Test Server just got a new patch

Walk Power - All characters will now have access to a new inherent power -- Walk! This toggle power enables characters to move at a comfortable walking pace.

Test Patch Notes

( Read more... )

Julia Child makes primordial soup!

I have subjected myself to ridicule by posting on the official boards in the Hero Con area.

Here is my thread on tips for saving up for Hero Con, so that I may see more of you there next year.

( For those who can't see the OB, full text inside and it's a bit long )

I welcome discussion and tips from others, so that all may benefit. I'm sure to get some amount of flack or dissension, but it's to be expected.

So, my main badge hunter Electrilux, pictured in my icon, has only a couple of TFs left for badges: the Sara Moore TF and Statesman's TF. Let's do them this weekend!

Friday, November 6, 8 PM Eastern (5 PM Pacific) (can be pushed a little later if needed)
Statesman's TF
Level 45-50 - 8 players
37 merits
Badges: Saved the World, Peerless, Diplomat, Heatseeker

1) Electrilux, level 50 elec/elec blaster
2)
3)
4)
5)
6)
7)
8)

Saturday, November 7, 8 PM Eastern (5 PM Pacific)
Sara Moore TF
Level 40-50 - 8 players
64 merits
Badges: Destroyer of Strength, possibly Visionary

1) Electrilux, level 50 elec/elec blaster
2)
3)
4)
5)
6)
7)
8)

Neogeen.com Art Gallery - Click GALLERY for the archive.

There you go. It's not perfect and it's not everything, but it will be where I upload anything I draw (Or have drawn, as I find older stuff. It will be tagged "archive"). I will still post art image dumps here when I am able. The index page is not finished, but it will be a hub for my art, projects (Benth, Tower, etc), events (cheshire ball, etc), and contacts. I haven't tested it in anything but FF, but honestly I'm just putting this online because...

...I've come to the conclusion that I just do not have enough time for everything I do. For November I am going to sacrifice my internet/computer time and convert that directly into drawing time. I cannot work, draw, and be online/on the computer. So I am cutting one major part of my day off and attempting to use that time to draw (As much as I'd rather cut out work instead...). Yes, it will make contacting me a little harder then it is now. But I need to try this, as not having enough time to do everything is tearing me apart. I hate to cut my online social time even more, but I have to do it somewhere. I'm not sure the best way to stay in contact with people under my own terms - even social online galleries are outside my time right now (FA, DA). Please bear with me.

You can always contact me through email. Just make sure you spell it right! (No "R" in "neogeen" folks, remember!)

So the short of it: I'm on a break. I'll post art there and I will still pop up here on LJ. Just take my resounding silence as a happy sign - it means I'm drawing more.

Sadly, the time has come for me to replace my HAs. I have Oticon 380Ps currently; I've had similar models of this same brand since I was 4 years old, so I'm kind of reluctant to switch to something totally different, but the new ones my audiologist recommended (Oticon Sumo) were SO expensive-- there is absolutely no way I could afford even one of those, let alone two. I wish I could just find new 380Ps, but it seems like they don't even make them anymore. So I'm wondering if any of you who also have severe hearing loss and use BTE aids can recommend a model you have that's currently being manufactured, that might be a little cheaper (hopefully US$800 or less each). Also I am wondering if any brand even makes analog aids anymore?

On a related note, I was told by this same audiologist that open fit molds "won't work" for people with a severe loss. I tried to ask why this was, but she was kind of dismissive. Does anyone know if this is really true, and if so, why? It seems like it would be a lot cheaper and more convenient to use these than custom-made molds, since I assume when you needed new ones you could just order them online and not even have to go to the audiologist.

First chapter posting for Paranosis ^_^V

( Chapter 1 entire )

Hey, remember a year ago, when we'd just elected Black Superjesus Reagan?



It's a little bittersweet to watch now. As a friend of mine has pointed out, Mr. Obama could dedicate himself to playing World of Warcraft for as many hours as humanly possible and still be a better President than his predecessor. On the other hand, like the bubble whose collapse ushered him in, Mr. Obama is the beneficiary of more than a little wishful thinking. I don't regret not voting for him: I'm in a notably leftist zone of a notably leftist state anyhow, so voting Green (again) sits just fine with my conscience.

Still. Realistic or not, there was hope with the campaign, and hope is an unlikely powerful thing. Making a better world starts with the belief that there can be a better world, and if there's one thing that Candidate Obama and his team excelled at, it was fostering that belief. A year is long enough for the gloss to fade, for disappointment to register, for the sausage-making of American politics to take hold.

It is not, I think, long enough to give up hope. In the words of Saul Williams, a better world is possible and we can make it real.

The following is something that I wrote over a year ago, but never did anything more with it. It is not ment to start a new spirituality, as those who come to worship the Ultimate Mother must do so in their own ways, and for their own reasons. You can consider it a piece of fiction that others are now free to expand on or branch off of.


( Aimiko: A Beginning )

The time of year has come for me to shamelessly solicit undeserved birthday presents, with only the promise of my heartfelt thanks as recompense in offer for such consideration... anything else, we'll have to negotiate on an immediate, personal basis. Yes, so.

My Amazon wish list is here for suggestions; always get a better price if you can. ^.^ Handmade items, personal stuff, firstborn children and so forth are also delightful and will be greedily coveted. My birthday is on November 22nd. My address: is Ashtoreth Haas, 1622 Pomeroy Avenue, Apt. E, Santa Clara, CA 95051. Thank you for your kindness.

Just thought I'd see if anyone wants my skull after I'm done with it. I'm not planning on being buried, anyway, and I'd rather it go to a friend. All you have to do is write up a pitch/proposal on what you'd do with it. The winner gets my fat noggin upon my demise. Now go!