So apparently today was Trans Day of Visibility, which I missed because I was out at a Camp NaNo prep meet which didn't involve much prepping, mostly due to me being a shit ML and also because there were about four of us, one of which isn't doing Camp NaNo at all but comes along 'cause it's fun and we like him. But the three of us did do a little work, we ascertained one person's plot problem was now resolved anyway without us and the third writer got a whole lot more done than me. (But I did figure out a character's name and motivation, so not a dead loss either.)
Hi. I'm Pax. I'm super-gay and a trans guy, except one whose home life means he's so far in the closet he's in fucking Narnia, to quote quite a lot of people smarter than me. And also technically aroace because autism and don't fucking touch me and shit, but pretty guys. Seriously. (Also pretty girls, but not really in quite the same way.)
Given how incredibly gay Metal Gear Rising was, it's a wonder Jack managed to get Rosemary pregnant at all.
Given how incredibly dim Jack is, it's a wonder he even figured out how to.
(These random thoughts brought to you by Far Cry 5, which is good but I'm dying too frequently — while running away from a bloke in a car while two others shot me and a mountain lion tried [and likely succeeded] to eat me, at one point — and the perennial yearning to play MGR again. It's now backwards compatible on Xbox One, but 45-hour work weeks and the fact I can't prise my mother off the console mean I'm limited to the console right next to my work laptop instead. Hence FC5. But fuck I miss MGR.)
You can tell I'm English. I wasn't born with music or dance in my bones. I was born filled with mud. And unlike most, I wasn't born with any real creativity, just the voices of people who don't exist in my thoughts.
You can tell I was born with Viking blood too, but the urge to fight gets you nowhere these days. Especially not with these bones, and not with all this shit in my head.
Unexpected realisation on the Radial third arc I'm categorically not writing for Camp Nano, most of which I suspect is because I was thinking about the Weird Generic Time-Travel Shit instead. I was faffing around in the kitchen and listening to a Franz Ferdinand song I'd had stuck in my head for a couple of days — by accident, I'll add; not that it was stuck in my head by accident, but it was the second song up on Alexa, which was handy — and I realised how a plot point I'd been stuck on happens.
Also I figured out how to piss off Alex even more, which amused me vastly. It also gives me a way to do something else I'd been wanting to do. Nicknames are fun.
I also started playing Audiosurf again, which was oddly fun. Mostly playing Metric tracks, so hey I'm not entirely hung up on one band. I'm hung up on two instead. (Lost Kitten is an excellent song; Satellite Mind inspired one of Milos's neighbours in his old apartment, though I've never written about him. He hates Alex, for varying reasons. One-way high level empath/low level telepath is an unpleasant combination.)
I wasn't impressed they've knackered up Stealth mode. It's now called Ninja and it's now near-impossible to get the scores I was getting before. Gone back to Mono, it's just like how Stealth used to be before they fucked it up. ...The irony is, I was playing Stealth because they'd fucked up Mono. They wiped a bunch of the scoreboards too so songs I know I've played on Stealth (like Blestyashie's A Ya Vse Letala) now say no one's played them.
Well, it's not like I'm gonna get much chance to play it, or listen to much music at all, in the next two weeks. 44-hour work weeks here we come... Chances of me getting 100% moderation accuracy while moderating a few hundred items an hour? *sigh* Maybe if I only moderate two or three things in all 88 hours? Think they'll notice...?
My work laptop decided to run up the white flag so I've had to move to my mother's old work laptop. It's exactly the same as mine, but when that one forgets how to connect to the wifi, it doesn't reboot at the same time and then lose the whole modem.
It does have a couple of other things though. Like the way it sometimes makes random slurping noises. There was a Commodore 64 game when I was a little kid called Flip & Flop and roughly half the levels involve being chased by an upside-down net, and it makes almost exactly the same noise. The odd thing about it though is it comes from the right-hand side of the laptop, while the sound card and speaker socket are on the left...
Well, so long as it doesn't electrocute me it's all good.
It'll probably electrocute me.
The biggest issue I have with it is one of personal preference. I'm one of those people who has to invert their controller's vertical axis or they end up staring up at the sky in whatever game they're playing, and this extends to my laptops too: I invert the trackpad, so I push up on the pad and my screen scrolls down.
My mother is not one of those people, so instead of scrolling down the page, I usually end up failing to move anywhere, or, if I've forgotten and managed to get halfway down the shooting up the page instead. It's quietly frustrating; I'll probably surreptitiously invert it and then swap it back when I give it back. Or forget. I'll probably forget. Maybe we should see how long it'll be before she notices.
T-minus 6 days until new laptop arrives.
I managed to have simultaneously the weirdest and most generic time-travel dream last night. I won't go into it, but it was serious B-movie fodder. This is clearly what I get for watching Silent Hill: Revelation and then listening to ten minutes of a Chronicles of St. Mary's audiobook.
I'm half-tempted to write it, but it means 1. that I'd have to write and 2. I don't know the ending because some idiots decided to stop and gab outside the window while their dogs yap-yap-yap-yapped incessantly. Because responsible dog ownership and neighbourhood skills are like good parenting around here: just not fashionable.
I had to get out of bed and check though, 'cause if it was the moron who lets his Yorkshire terriers chase my cats over my own fucking property I'd have probably ended up punching him. Not just because, y'know, my cats and my property, but because if he's so fucking incapable of controlling his dogs there's a good chance they'll run into the road and get hit by a car (because what're speed limits?).
Moron shouldn't be allowed dogs if he isn't going to look after then properly.
Time is passing weirdly just lately. Sometimes it's like a little kid dragging its feet because it doesn't want to do something, and others I look at the clock and find forty or fifty minutes have passed without me noticing. Not even at the times you'd expect either. Wish it'd just make up its mind.
I think something keeps trying to tell me something. But it's giving incredibly mixed messages so I wish it'd either start being clearer or just shut the fuck up.
I have many, many peeves about site design, but the one currently driving me crazy (crazier) is this weird new trend for popups.
I get that these shiny-shiny ones, so far removed from the scourge of Angelfire, supposedly increase visitor time on websites (and I certainly know fuckall about that, Google Analytics bluntly informs me) but really. Nothing sends me running far, far from websites than the new trend for incredibly intrusive popups, and I don't think it's just me either. (Although it might be. There's a lot of things I thought other people do but nope. Just me.)
Case in point, I was reading one site yesterday. Now, I joined the mailing list in a moment of positivity madness (what's the point of me thinking positively? jfc self.) so I am already pretty much a captive audience. But the moment I opened the page, this oversized image swept down like the Nazgul and took over the page — the entire page, which is quite a bit of real estate on a 23" monitor in a smallish room — to inform me ... uh, something. Probably inviting me to join the mailing list I'm already on, since it had a small box in the middle of this giant image — but I can't remember what it was because I immediately got rid of it again. I'd gone to read the fucking article, for fuck's sake, and there's this thing swooping down and actively stopping me reading it. I was this far from just canning the whole fucking page because they obviously don't want me reading the article.
And that's where these shit marketing tactics go wrong. If I'm prepared to ditch an article I'd gone to the effort of opening because you're dragging me away from reading it, how exactly is this encouraging me to stay on your page? And why the hell would I sign up to your mailing list (that I'm already on — might wanna look at adding referrer data to your email links...) if I can't read an article that might encourage me to sign up to it?
It's like my other popup peeve, the huge box that appears the moment your cursor strays within twenty pixels of the tab bar in case you were even thinking about closing the page. (You weren't, were you? Were you? You disgust me.) Because of course the only reason the cursor might be going up there is to close the page. No one would ever think of simply ... you know, switching tabs? That maybe it's a pretty long article and they wanted to do something else, like check Twitter or their email? No! Those filthy plebs were gonna leave your page! You give 'em what for with an intrusive popup, that'll change their minds! You guilt them into staying on your page!
Christ, talk about needy.
In short... No. It doesn't make me want to stay on your page. It makes me think you'll never stop pestering me until I do what you want me to.
Which makes you untrustworthy.
S'funny, anything can look professional if you cover it with enough highlighter and pen marks. (And a smudge from an escaped piece of onion.)
This is all apropos of nothing really. I just wanted to see if printing it out in Courier really did help. I think viewing it on the old Kindle helps more, honestly. Made notes, then immediately revised them as I rewrote it in Libre Office.
On that subject though... It's funny. People always like to talk about the 'gatekeepers' of the publishing world — although this is always directed at the Big Name Publishers and never at half the things I've read today, but half of those are a whole other rant I need to be a little more ... I dunno, comfortable with talking about.* One thing though, one little example of gatekeeping that I doubt most of the most vocal people even would notice, was a flash fiction submission criteria I was checking out on the off chance of retweeting it. I'm all for following the rules of submissions etc., font size, spacing. But when they specify you have to submit it in Garamond?
You have to submit your less-than-500 words in a font that is most commonly only bundled with Adobe (expensive) or Microsoft word-processing products. i.e. you've got to pay for them. Which rather screws you over if you never use Word. Or Apple products, since it's apparently bundled with that too — and it damn well should be, the price of 'em ... yeah, Word is probably much cheaper. Are most people really going to go digging around for one of what appears to be only two free versions?
Yes. Well. I did, but I don't like being told what I can't do. There's probably something psychological going on there as well, particularly given the whole quit writing thing.
* Getting there, but somehow it was easier to talk about it on Tumblr with one person, even though everyone else who chose to look could see, than it is here. Even though no one reads this and I'm just talking to myself. Weird, eh? I'd say there's something psychological going on there.
I also wrote this before the previous reference to psychology, so now you know my brain doesn't work in order too. Yay? Weebly tried to eat it. Was it trying to save me, or you?
It's not just me and the poor sod from Tesco. A bloke from Asda's just turned up and tried to deliver a neighbour's shopping.
Must be something in the water today.
Laptop threw a fit this morning and almost got thrown out the window. It decided it couldn't find the modem. Fuck only knows where it thinks it lost it. Probably down the back of the desk — which is where some bottles of ink now are, because... yeah. So I had to get everything hastily installed on my mother's old work laptop. New browsers, new VPN software, everything. Managed to forget my VPN password and, having remembered it, realised I'd forgotten my VPN username. Once I managed all that my token software decided it couldn't find some random DLL.
All the while I'm desperately rebooting my own laptop again and again in the hope that it finds the modem behind, I dunno, the fucking fridge or something, all while talking to the work helpline, and still nothing. In the end, maybe 10 minutes before my next shift and one I'd really rather NOT miss thankyouverymuch.
...Just watched two women walking their prams, which I'm assuming have babies in, up the middle of the road just so they can gab. Because motorists won't be on it, right? That thing that cars travel on? JFC this town...
So anyway, I finally lose all patience and hammer the power button on the soon-to-be-ejected-from-an-upstairs-window laptop, then thump it again to turn it on.
Oh look! It finally found the modem. Must've been down the back of the sofa the whole time.
So I'm only one hour's work down, I've got a backup computer, and now I've just gotta wait for the new one to arrive, which should happen in about... 9 days. *sigh*
But at least I'm not the only person having a bad day. I'd finished work and was drawing the living room curtains when I realised there was a Tesco van parked outside. Figured it was for my irritating neighbours until he came down the lawn with two boxes. When I got the door open he'd gone to fetch some more, and I stared down at two loaves of wholemeal bread and some ethically-sourced eggs until he came back. Cue dawning horror on the poor bloke's face as I say, uh, we've not got a delivery today. "I'm so sorry! I'm so used to coming here when I'm on this street."
So I almost got someone else's shopping, but at least it's One Of Those Days for someone else too.
Asexual, aromantic, and transmasc non-binary. No, I have no idea how I ended up writing romance either.