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that I have learned in the last 24 hours:
1) Where my occiput is, and how much it hurts when I pass out and wallop it on the sink (for one never knows when one may be required to add veracity to that day-after feeling)
2) Not to keep anything other than flat things in my back pockets, for landing heavily on one's arse is painful enough, but now I have a dent to go with the headache.
2) That my flash drive still works after being accidentally put through the washing machine in the aftermath of said passing out.
also, two bathrooms are not sufficient for a household of three to be sick in at the same time.
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I can't decide whether to have a go at the ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) reel_torchwood challenge or not.
I was a bit put off to start with by someone asking in the sign ups if it was all right to include Gwen-bashing, but it's pretty much a fact of TW fandom, and the mods have at least asked her/him to warn for it. (Yes, it makes something boil in my brain. No, I don't have to read it).
Also - mainly - I've got 38,000 words of a TW/Rocky Horror crossover that I'd love to finish, and this might be a really good way to kick myself up the backside and actually *do* it.
Also it's another (mainly) J/G fic, and there does seem to be an acute shortage of these for some reason or other, so I should at least *try*, shouldn't I...?
Hmm. Okay, I got a plan
1) Check with the mods if they're accepting fics featuring characters from the original film, or if it has to be an entirely TW/DW 'remake.'
2) If 1 checks out, make a note-to-self to sign up on the 15th *IF* I've finished revising more than half of the last 23 pages of my current WIP. (Also J/G. Does that make me one of these rabid Gwackers I hear about?)
3) Don't panic
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Thanks to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) canaana (*waves*) I can now demonstrate why it is that, even though I tend to write fic longhand until the words start flowing good and freely, I have no fear of leaving my pad sitting around the house...
The Rules:
1. Write your username.
2. Write your 2 favorite bands/groups of the moment.
3. Write something you ♥, aka lemme see your heart.
4. Write the name of your favorite person of all time.
5. Write the name of your recent favored person.
6. Tag 6 people to do this meme.
Okay (she says), I can write... ( of course, that doesn't mean you'll be able to read it though... )
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It's been a busy week. Lots of people in work, non-stop phone, loads of referrals from the job centre for CVs (yes, but not until next week now. You need one this afternoon? Ok, fill this form in, I'll find you a free computer. Can you type?), lots of people wanting to sign up on courses (no, we have no age limit. Honestly, 70 isn't too old to learn IT. Our oldest student so far was 93. No, you don't have to pay us. Yes, it is good, isn't it.), and the autopilot has been working wonderfully, but by three o'clock I've simply run out of words. Nothing in my head, nothing getting in or out. I'd call it psychosomatic cramp, but I can't quite persuade my tongue to move either, so I probably won't.
Anyway.
Today is an impatient day. No work, so I want to get things done! I want to tidy my boooks (ie, build new book shelves - I've run out of space again, and there must be 50+ on the table), draft out the Midsummer Night's Dream (Cyber!Tosh) bunny - or better still post finished sections of unfinished long fics. Something to say hey, hello, I'm still doing something, even if I'm not talking. I'm still alive, still thinking over here. Or maybe just to prove to myself I can write. All these things I want to say seem to shrivel before they get to the keyboard though, get lost under everything else that needs doing, until I'm caught between trying to shut the noise out so I can think and wishing I could just let go.
So, one of those days. They pass. I know I'm tired, everything feels off. Play the music loud, ignore the phone. Meh.
And then I was finishing Half of a Yellow Sun this morning, and it hit me that there is no one right way to be. Just that understanding - there's no absolute right. It's not exactly a revelation. I mean, I knew that anyway. Of course I did. But reading the scene where ( It's an amazing book, don't let me spoil it for you )
I need music now. Some unreality and some music. Muse - loud, while there's no one here to shut the doors or turn the TV up (or on). I've got chunks of the new album floating around my head, and I need want to finish my Jack/Pie 'oh' pah fic for Omnijaxual before school picking up time today.
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On this day, one year ago, the Community Resource Centre where I was employed closed due to lack of funding and lack of a lease on the building from which we operated, and I was made redundant from the post of Assistant Coordinator. My boss had had something like a nervous breakdown, and I spent the last month of my employment there closing everything down, it was one the most depressing periods of my working life.
Today I am the Coordinator of that same revitalised, reopened and bloody marvellous Community Resource Centre. We have new management, a board of Trustees that does what it says it's going to and takes responsibility for the projects under its care, an offer from one funder to buy the building for us, and what looks like enough funding to keep us going for the next two years.
I've got to write it down because even though we've been reopened since February now, I'm not sure I believe it.
We did it.
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I've got the day to myself, the first day in ages with no one else here, and I'm wasting it, sitting here, staring at a screen and getting nothing done. It's sunny out too. I could be in the garden, reading and enjoying the child-free silence. Or even writing something else - maybe finishing yet another of my long-past due stories...
This is silly. It's just a *fic*, it's been on my hard drive for longer than I care to think about and I've finally posted it. It's not going to matter if I take another half a year or so to find the guts to x-post it.
I just wish I knew what I was so scared of. I mean, it's not like they can see me, right?
*sighs*
ETA: okay, now I've x-posted. A bit. Enough that people might *see* it, anyway. And... still terrified.
I think I can hear the Heffalumps calling. Can you hear Heffalumps?
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title: Cold, mashed swede (2/2)
fandom: Doctor Who / Torchwood
characters/ pairing: Jack Harkness/Tish Jones, the Master and other Valiant 'residents.' TW mentions, including canon pairings.
word count 11,000 (17,500 total)
Rating & warnings: NC17. Dark-fic, contains non-consensual sexual activity, other violence and torture. Oh, and swearing.
A/N: I finished this in April, and then nerves got the better of me and I buried it on my hard drive until last night, when I discovered that I'd posted the first part in October 07...
Huge thanks to aeshna_uk and jwaneeta for betaing and massive quantities of encouragement, and to darth_fi for being twisted enough to make me want to write this in the first place ;)
summary: He should’ve broken his neck when he had the chance. He’s never been ashamed of his body: what it needs, what it wants, what it does - but he’s going to have a regeneration out of the bastard sadistic Time Lord for every single blank-faced woman with a gridwork cut into her knees.
part one
( Cold, mashed swede: 2/2 )
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I was just starting to think I was getting close to the point of s3 meta - and then I skim past ( spoilers )
Who do I have to bribe for s4? Please?!
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title: Landscape and Memory
by: mimarie
fandom: Torchwood
characters/pairing: Gwen/Jack (Gwen/Rhys)
word count: 3500
spoilers/warnings/rating: spoilers for Ghost Machine / PG13
A/N: Huge thanks to my wonderful beta aeshna_uk. Anything that doesn't make sense is entirely my own fault.
summary: Gwen broke Jack's rule about not taking alien tech away from the Hub without permission after he introduced her to the firing range. She got what she wanted that night, but only because Daf and Karen fell out. What if they hadn't?
( Landscape and Memory )
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Congratulations, America - and thank you!
(Can I hope that the vote on clause 8 in California went as well?)
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It's been a good few days away. I've been toasting my feet in front of an open fire, writing, playing football, watching Skip and Josh play 'di Blob' in the Wii (much too cute)... And if that wasn't enough I've been (as good as) offered my old job back, when the centre reopens 'under new management' as they say. Oh, and I've also been invited to interview for three jobs at the local county council.
This afternoon, not long after returning home, I also discovered that nice-but-soggy boss was actually a lot more of a self-serving prick than I'd given him credit for.
The lease that the Centre needed in order to be able to apply for serious amounts funding? The Council were all ready to go ahead and give it to us, and he told them we didn't want it because the centre was going to close. And yes, the Centre *did* close, but this conversation took place BEFORE the Trust even started talking about closing down, which they were doing (apart from the part where they were bloody awful managers, etc.) because we couldn't get a lease and therefore couldn't get funding...
I already knew he'd said he didn't want me to do extra hours, or for the Trust to employ anyone else to try and raise money to keep the place running, and it was all because he wanted to ensure it closed asap so he could have his redundancy money.
I'm not really sure how to feel about it. Sick, certainly, but I have no wish to confront him - I've had enough of his tears and his BS - but I've been so wound up about that place for so long...
I just want a fresh start there now. Actually doing what it was set up for. I'm not particularly ambitious, and I know I can be too believing if not downright naïve at times, but I just can't play politics. It's a centre for people who want to learn and 'better' themselves, but don't have the opportunity anyhow else. I loved working there, and now – all going well on Tuesday - I'm going to have the chance to be a part of that again. That's utterly wonderful, and it's more than good enough for me.
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It's half-term this week, so instead of running after Josh to get him to school on time this morning, I'm... not.
*sighs happily*
We've got a few days away (half a farmhouse in Cambridgeshire), so while Skip spends his last day at work for a week trying to work out how to fix J's school shoes with a spot-weld (velcro straps should be held in place with a simple metal loop. However, when small(ish) child exhibits strength of small elephant...), J and I will be packing and cleaning the fridge out and other thrilling pre-holiday prep.
It's 8 weeks since I was made redundant. I've been doing Pilates for about 6-7 of those, as well as assorted other dissect-and-rebuild/ confidence-building / how-not-to-panic type exercises (the ones I've been putting off for the last 20 years or so), and I'm just beginning to think I've located most of my brain. It's still pretty reluctant to talk to anyone (it's not that I'm not-talking to anyone, I'm just... not talking to anyone), but I've stopped feeling sick and bursting into tears all the time, heck I even managed to answer the comments on my last fic post a few weeks ago, I must be feeling better!
I'm applying for jobs too - I've got an interview on the 10th :) - and writing (with many fewer omg, no-one will like this, why am I bothering moments large black holes of despair and worthlessness), and simply stopping and relaxing, which I don't think I've ever really managed before. This whole 'taking it one day at a time' business seems to be working pretty well for me right now, I wish I'd tried it before.
(For my next trick I shall attempt to ameliorate my need to reread everything at least fifteen times - just in case some rogue word or meaning has slipped in, or the language has changed while I wasn't looking, of course - and write and post something this long in less than an hour...)
And then of course there's an Ironman DVD out there that needs me to buy it this afternoon...
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Okay, that explains a lot...
Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test... Non-conformist, Visionary, and Independent7 Abstract, -6 Islamic, -6 Ukiyo-e, 2 Cubist, 3 Impressionist and -19 Renaissance! 
Abstract art uses a visual language of form, color and line to create a composition which exists independently of what may appear to others as visual realities. Western had been underpinned by the logic of perspective and an attempt to reproduce an illusion of visible reality. It allowed the progressive thinking artists to show a different side to the world around them. By the end of the 19th century many artists felt a need to create a 'new kind of art' which would encompass the fundamental changes taking place in technology, science and philosophy. Abstract artists created art that was diverse and reflected the social and intellectual turmoil in all areas of Western culture. People that chose abstract art as their preferred artform tend to be visionaries. They see things in the world around them and in people that others may miss because they look beyond what is visual only with the eye. They rely on their inner thoughts and feelings in dealing with the world around them instead of on what they are told they should think and feel. They feel freed from the tendency to be bound by traditional thought and experiences. They look more toward their own ideas and experiences than what they are told by their religious upbringing or from scientific evidence. They tend to like to prove theories themselves instead of relying on the insight or ideas of others. They are not bound by common and mundane, but like to travel and have new experiences. They value intelligence, but they also enjoy a challenge. They can be rather argumentative when they are being forced or feel as if they are being forced to conform. Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy
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I don't want to step back and start thinking critically about Turn Left - good or bad, writing or acting - because that was just bloody brilliant
Now, 'scuse me please - thinky later, need to go bounce a bit more now, put the sofa back together and wipe my eyes again. I don't even care if I hate it at second viewing, just - wow.
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title: Time; past
author: mimarie
characters Rose Tyler/Jack Harkness, The Doctor (ninth)
rating: NC-17 overall - adult themes and language
spoilers/warnings: nothing past DW S1. This was once canon-compliant, but has become slightly AU since Torchwood S1.
word count: c.2,700 (/c. 38,000)
summary: He won’t remember talking to her, buying her a drink, laughing, dancing, flirting. He won’t remember anything he said...
notes: This follows on from Time; present (which needs to be read first, or this will make very little sense).
Claimed for the 100_situations challenge. Prompt 79 - safeguard
Huge thanks to my wonderful betas aeshna_uk and jwaneeta, to mallory_x and text_life for reading very early versions of this and heaping on the encouragement, and to laurab1 for the cover art. :)
( Time; past (7/9) )
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I’m still not exactly sure what I think about Midnight, but my brain seems to like it, because( spoilers, and RTD's real agenda )
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