http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/nothing/redrobin.asp

Can an Internet-distributed coupon be redeemed at Red Robin restaurants for a free hamburger and sundae?

Of all of the things I never, ever, ever expected to say in this lifetime...

Because general_jinjur is amazing, and the OTW is amazing, and the AO3 is amazing, and the Wrangulator is amazing, and because everyone who is uploading stories and tagging them is amazing...

Go read:

forma by general_jinjur. It's Tag Wuzzle Wrangler RPF.

I will apparently be cosplaying myself next Escapade, y'all.

(If there is a fanartist in range of my voice who can draw in the style of Nausicaa Valley of the Wind and is willing to do a commission, please let me know.)

(Heck, if any fanartist wants to do something related to this, let general_jinjur know... she says the Wrangulatorverse is open to sharing according to the open-transform statement on her profile, but I'm sure she'd love to hear if you make any derivative work from it!)

And yes, the tag wrangling team is still looking for more volunteers.

*holds out hand*

This entry was originally posted at http://elke-tanzer.dreamwidth.org/1016266.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

Sigh. My cake didn't rise, and worse, it tastes like failure.

*crosses that recipe off the list*

On the upside, there was reviewing of yuletide source. Now I just have to figure out what I'm writing.

***

This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/98189.html. people have commented there.

Did my first word count verification of the NaNoWriMo website this evening. I really didn't think i was going to make my daily word count today but I got a brief second wind when I came upstairs and managed to complete a scene and just get a little higher than the suggested 35007 at this point. I do find having a NaNo themed wall paper on my desktop helps so much as does filling out the daily report card. It makes it all so manageable.

about Thursday's Supernatural. And this isn't bitter angry recriminations or anything, just, there was that one scene, right? If you've seen the ep, you know which one I mean, I think. I've seen some folks' interpretation of it and want to present an alternate viewpoint.

( SPOILERS AHOY )

http://ancienthistory.about.com/b/2009/11/21/ancient-finger-counting.htm

Has a joker ever tried to show you that instead of having the obvious 10 fingers, he actually has 11? This is done by bending down and counting fingers on one hand backwards from 10: "10, 9, 8, 7, 6...." The joker then says "... and 5 makes 11".

Okay, this is the plan for hiatus:

1. yuletide
2. Broken Toys
3. the 5.10 story I'm working on right now (I keep having to stop because it's making me cry! That never happens to me when I write!)
4. The Dean-Michael dream story
5. Drought Conditions (casefile)
6. Nothing but Winter in my Cup (casefile)
7. the Dean/Sam/Pam story

That's quite a lot, considering November and December are usually the time of my fannish malaise.

This song is not helping with the crying, iTunes!

Now, though, I think I am going to bake a cake.

***

This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/98022.html. people have commented there.

http://community.livejournal.com/abandonedplaces/1990241.html

The property was originally called "Maudlands", an enormous three storey Italianate mansion built in 1882 and from what records I have seen changed hands repeatedly in it's first ten years before being divided up into flats before World War 1.



At both the front and the back of the property two small blocks of Arts and Crafts style flats were erected in around 1915, and since they are also by a noted local Jewish architect (who also designed the Synagogue on Alma Road) they can't be torn down. The flats seem, from the outside, to have many intact original features but I can only see the intricately molded plaster ceilings.

After realising this morning that the doors had been violently kicked in on the back of the boarded up and abandoned mansion, I had 45 minutes to kill, and a strong urge to see inside....



I climbed the short side fence and entered via the 2nd floor fire escape at the back, where there was plenty of light. The place had been vandalized but wasn't as filthy as I had imagined. It has only been boarded up for three years and had been sub-divided into flatettes many years ago. Only recently I was at someone's house and a painting hanging in their living room had been painted by someone who lived in the house a few years ago, so I imagine there were a few artists there and it would have been perfect with great light and ambience.



Fireplaces had been ripped from walls and light fittings ripped out. Forgive the blurriness of some of my pictures as I didn't know if I needed to use the fash, and I didn't know if there was anyone in the building. Since the doors were open anybody could have been lurking inside.

A huge grand staircase is in the centre of the building, in remarkably good condition.



Illuminating the staircase is this original and very grand stained glass window with two handpainted Victorian ladies looking around forlornly at their decrepit surroundings. I am amazed that this window is intact, with only one lady having a crack through her. The window can really only be seen from the inside as from the outside it is partially obscured by the kitchenettes and fire escapes tacked haphazardly onto the back of the building. This window dates from 1882 when the house was built as a grand single residence. Stained glass panels like these that I have seen in antique shops sell for a great deal of money.



There is a surprising amount of light. The staircase and everything looks secure as do the floors but I'm still not sure if there's anyone in the building. It is very quiet. I venture up to the third floor...







Nothng and no-one around, but I don't feel alone, I feel I am being watched. I don't know what I expect to find or why I've come alone, I'm not normally likely to do this kind of thing on my own. I venture down to explore the second floor again.



It's then I realize that the very top of the stained glass panels is what I can see from the outside of the building. On the second floor it is gloomier, but there is no smell of damp and there is a lot of air in the place. This is a remarkably solid house which would have been warm in winter and cool in Summer.



I then decide to descend to the ground floor. It is darker as all of the ground floor windows are boarded up and the light from the huge stained glass windows doesn't reach everywhere, especially into the dark rooms I am about to enter....



The origanl entrance hall has many of it's surviving tiles from the 1880's.



At this stage I feel more and more as if I'm being watched and even as I type this I have chills running up my back. I feel distinctly unwelcome and as if the entire building is holding it's breath, it is used to intruders and vandals and it is waiting silently for me to leave, but I have no intention of hurting it.



There is a series of large rooms which were probably sitting or dining rooms, and they have floor length windows which are boarded up from the outside. They have obviously, from the wallpapers and old heaters, been divided up in the late 60's. There are strange rooms behind which may have been original kitchens but are now dilapidated bathrooms and kitchenette. It is very creepy where I am and I am listening intently for any sound but nothing stirs. I think that I have about 20 minutes to get my train and my camera battery is low, and I am not quite scared but there is just the feeling of immense sadness in this house, as if nobody ever had any luck here. It feels as if the house is waiting for someone to to return who isn't coming.



I head back to the second floor and take a peek at the kitchenette and bathroom that every flat seems to have tacked onto it like a tumour. They can't have been easy to manouever around in. I see that there may be what looks like drug paraphernalia lying around, and my biggest concern was that I may rouse a sleeping junkie given the ferocity with which the back door has been torn off. I know there was ahomeless guy sheltering in the stables a while back because I could hear him wailing and cursing.



This shows how the stained glass is hidden from the outside almost completely.




I wonder what the plans are for this place and if she will ever gaze down upon a happy scene again. It astounds me that the building has been left to rot like this.



I head back out into the street where I see that no adventure I have shall ever take place without the appearance of a magical white cat to greet me, like Alice's white rabbit.



I feel as if I have gazed through the looking glass, down the rabbit hole at the past, and I head back to reality and to my waiting train and to my day back in this century and not the one that forlorn lady looks back on....

http://community.livejournal.com/abandonedplaces/1990069.html

Пахнет здесь смертью
призраками
намёком на кровь
и гуще всего пахнет болью



Под катом больше размером.

From soupytwist:

I have been thinking about this topic lately, so I would like to hear if you have any Thortz on ambitions - if you have any, what they might be, how you go about achieving them if so. :)

I'm a little weird with ambitions, because in many ways 'ambition' to me is linked to a lot of bad behaviour, politically motivated actions and relationships and all the stuff I dislike in the workplace. It's stepping over people and on people and being fake. Someone who is 'ambitious' is someone I probably don't like. And I actually know it's not true, Allegra and Dylan have the ambition of being published authors, Lucy an illustrator, another colleague a musician - these are ambitions I wholeheartedly approve of and support.

However, business ambitions aside, having things to aim for is, I think, a fairly necessary part of life. Or at least of mine. If I thought I was going to continue on exactly as I am now for the rest of my life that would be horrendous. Because for me at least growing and stretching myself is very very important, to improve myself in whatever way I can. Because I'm never going to be perfect but I can get better and be a better person. And also I like challenges (I curse 'em, but I like 'em!) and I like using my brain and learning and knowing things.

That's a bit vague isn't it?!

Do I have specific ambitions? No. But I have some waffley ones!

• To raise a happy daughter. Especially given the issues that both Henry and I come with with mental health and intelligence and social (in)ability. I know she will face her own issues and problems because she's human and all people do but I want to be someone who she knows she can come to for support and who she trusts. So that whatever is going on with her she knows she can come to me and I won't condemn her.


• To challenge myself. At the moment I don't have many chances to step outside my comfort zone, but when the opportunities arise I try to remember to take that step. I think it's important to me. I spent a very large amount of my life hiding in my own head and not interacting with people (do you know that I am fascinated with mutism, especially elective mutism? It's something which ... when I find myself thinking of the attraction of not having to speak I know to take my brain and mental health in hand), for a long time the world inside my head was more real than the outside world. Now I balance between the two and every new achievement in the outside world I feel expands and strengthens me. I grow when I do new things.


• To have a job which challenges me and which I enjoy. (OK, this one's been harder the last few months but as I said to my parents today 'there's a light at the end of the tunnel, it may be a train, we don't know right now, but there's a light.') Ideally I want a job where what I do helps people. (Actually in my current post I do help people, kind of, but something a little more direct.) At the same time, while I'm good at customer service (the peril of being someone who's bad at reading people and wants to please people, the life skills transfer over into work skills too!) I'm also good at systems and processes. I don't know the name of what it is I want to do, and I'm not sure how to get there, but whatever it is it involves problem solving and troubleshooting systems to make them work for the people who use them and the customer. And helping people. Recently I've been most interesting in researching posts in the charity sector but without many specific skills or qualifications it's a little tricky. (Living in the small of the back of nowhere doesn't help either.)

I think all of the above add up to - my ambition is 'to be a better person', better in terms of being good, better in terms of being effective, better in terms of ... being a person! Just better.

(PS soupytwist - That probably was absolutely nothing like you were expecting - sorry!)

http://community.livejournal.com/urban_decay/2312639.html

Пахнет здесь смертью
призраками
намёком на кровь
и гуще всего пахнет болью



Под катом больше размером.

In today's "Activism: Ur Doin It Wrong" department, we have accusations that slurs against pagan rituals are racist. Set aside, for the moment, that said slurs don't actually exist. That... give some insight into the mind of the commenter, but isn't, in fact, relevant.

What's relevant is that she thinks Wicca's being insulted, and she's "calling" the supposed insulter on her "racism." (In a community about public transportation. So, um, more than rather severely off-topic all around.)

I don't have an icon that's halfway between "facepalm" and "headdesk." (And I don't want one; that would mean I expect to find *more* stuff like this to post about. Which I'd really rather not.)

Oh, and the comment threads hit Godwin's law, ablism, classism and childfreekiness. And NEVAR AGAIN TEH BURNING TIEMS! A glory of fucktupitude all around.

(I got this from dot_pagan_snark, and it's been on stupid_free, so apologies to people who already know about it. Sharin' the pain, folks; sharin' the pain.)

This entry is crossposted at http://elf.dreamwidth.org/283818.html. You can comment there with OpenID from your LJ or IJ account. Comments so far:

I was putting together what new material I have for Appetite and I was really pretty shocked at how little it comes out to be, when assembled. Part of the reason for this is that there are two scenes that I've spent a lot of words on, but it was all writing and rewriting them, trying to find the "right" take for them. So there's verbiage, but most of it is garbage. Or…if not garbage, than discards and it's a real struggle for me to be Zen about this and say that it will come when it comes and accept that with equanimity. There are some stories I can bull my way through. I used to be better at bulling my way through a stubborn story. But now it's a talent that seems to have deserted me and, as usual, I'm not sure how to recover it.

On the other hand, I feel like AKB is going like gangbusters. Which is awesome and I am thankful for that, but, at the same time, it's hard not to feel like my success with AKB and that all my excitement and creativity going toward it is detracting from my other goals. And while a part of me doesn't want it to end, the glimmering of the end on the horizon is also a relief. Of course, it also brings up a certain morbid curiosity about what, exactly, will take its place as the object of my obsession. And, of course, the fear that nothing will.

In my current spate of 'trashy' reading, I'm reading LKH's Skin Trade and I realized a big part of the many, many things that bother me about the Anita Blake books (and their [de]evolution over time) is the distinct lack of femaleness.

( A little more about that. Not specifically spoilery. )

Another thing that I really want to write about, but haven't quite figured out how to talk about it without potentially offending people, is mini_nanowrimo. On the one hand, I understand that it, like anything writing related, is a tool and what people get out of it and how they use it and what it means to them is entirely individual. I can't dispute that. I can't argue with that.

But, at the same time, I confess to a certain (un-modly, personal) frustration when people either miss a day of writing or miss a day of posting and decide to pack it up and give up on the challenge entirely. I mean…I get the disappointment of not meeting the goals that you've set for yourself. Boy howdy, do I get that! And I do understand the impulse that, if you cannot be perfect, you'd rather be nothing at all.

But I also feel like it's a childish impulse, in its way. The older I get (and the theoretically wiser) the more I think less and care less about perfection and care and think more about perseverance.

The way we do one thing is the way we do everything. In this life, we make mistakes, we fail. We fail in so many ways. Some failure is inevitable. And, generally speaking, we don't have the option of packing it in, taking our ball and going home. Generally, we have to stick it out, strap it on and clean up our messes. And I find a certain grace in that. Much more grace, in some ways, than the people who do manage some level of perfection, because it takes guts to faceplant and then get up again and move on. I feel like we spend so much time trying to self-talk ourselves and everyone else into not making any mistakes, to being perfect and we spend none of that time teaching ourselves or each other how to recover from those inevitable failures. Or that a failure doesn't need to be the end of everything. And that a failure in one part doesn't equal complete catastrophe.

( Some more thoughts on the matter. (The opinions within are those of poisontaster, and do not represent the comm as a whole or in part.) )

I was putting together what new material I have for Appetite and I was really pretty shocked at how little it comes out to be, when assembled. Part of the reason for this is that there are two scenes that I've spent a lot of words on, but it was all writing and rewriting them, trying to find the "right" take for them. So there's verbiage, but most of it is garbage. Or…if not garbage, than discards and it's a real struggle for me to be Zen about this and say that it will come when it comes and accept that with equanimity. There are some stories I can bull my way through. I used to be better at bulling my way through a stubborn story. But now it's a talent that seems to have deserted me and, as usual, I'm not sure how to recover it.

On the other hand, I feel like AKB is going like gangbusters. Which is awesome and I am thankful for that, but, at the same time, it's hard not to feel like my success with AKB and that all my excitement and creativity going toward it is detracting from my other goals. And while a part of me doesn't want it to end, the glimmering of the end on the horizon is also a relief. Of course, it also brings up a certain morbid curiosity about what, exactly, will take its place as the object of my obsession. And, of course, the fear that nothing will.

In my current spate of 'trashy' reading, I'm reading LKH's Skin Trade and I realized a big part of the many, many things that bother me about the Anita Blake books (and their [de]evolution over time) is the distinct lack of femaleness.

( A little more about that. Not specifically spoilery. )

Another thing that I really want to write about, but haven't quite figured out how to talk about it without potentially offending people, is mini_nanowrimo. On the one hand, I understand that it, like anything writing related, is a tool and what people get out of it and how they use it and what it means to them is entirely individual. I can't dispute that. I can't argue with that.

But, at the same time, I confess to a certain (un-modly, personal) frustration when people either miss a day of writing or miss a day of posting and decide to pack it up and give up on the challenge entirely. I mean…I get the disappointment of not meeting the goals that you've set for yourself. Boy howdy, do I get that! And I do understand the impulse that, if you cannot be perfect, you'd rather be nothing at all.

But I also feel like it's a childish impulse, in its way. The older I get (and the theoretically wiser) the more I think less and care less about perfection and care and think more about perseverance.

The way we do one thing is the way we do everything. In this life, we make mistakes, we fail. We fail in so many ways. Some failure is inevitable. And, generally speaking, we don't have the option of packing it in, taking our ball and going home. Generally, we have to stick it out, strap it on and clean up our messes. And I find a certain grace in that. Much more grace, in some ways, than the people who do manage some level of perfection, because it takes guts to faceplant and then get up again and move on. I feel like we spend so much time trying to self-talk ourselves and everyone else into not making any mistakes, to being perfect and we spend none of that time teaching ourselves or each other how to recover from those inevitable failures. Or that a failure doesn't need to be the end of everything. And that a failure in one part doesn't equal complete catastrophe.

( Some more thoughts on the matter. (The opinions within are those of poisontaster, and do not represent the comm as a whole or in part.) )

Hi, my name's elf, and I have a reading problem.

When most people say "reading problem," they mean "the letters look blurry to me" or "I've been assigned more pages than human eyeballs can absorb this weekend" or "ack, my comprehension of Russian is too low for me to get the right concepts out of this physics paper." It almost never means "I think I've been neglecting other parts of my life for reading."

Because reading isn't considered a dangerous addiction. It has no physical side-effects. It doesn't make the mind slow or incompetent. At no point, in the throes of reading, is one incapable of driving or performing surgery, should one's skills go in those directions. (Well, save for the "must put book down" part. However, after that immediate shift in awareness, one's reflexes and attention are both available to whatever tasks might be at hand.)

And it's not expensive. Nobody sells off his car and formal clothes to get books. Nobody hocks her wedding jewelry. Books--really good books--are available everywhere at prices ranging from "cheap" to "free." And the internet hasn't made that any less true. Entertaining content, informative & educational content, useful, delightful, important content, is free by the terabyte.

And oooh, I want to read it ALL.

( I read a lot. I could read a lot more. )

We are starting this years InsaneJournal holiday sale. From now until the end of the day Friday, November 27 we are going to be holding a sale on Self-Committed[paid] accounts and Extra Userpics.

The prices are be as follows

Self-Committed[paid]
1 Month -> $5
6 Month -> $15 $10
12 Month -> $25 $18

Extra Userpicx
6 Month -> $10 $5
12 Month -> $20 $15

Then on Friday November 27th from 8am until 4pm (Eastern US time) we will be running a very special sale on Permanently Insane accounts.

Speaking just as myself, and not in my role as volunteer tag wuzzle wrangler...

my first fanfic
my first explicit fanfic
embarrassing old fic

you don't have to know the canon

one of my best
if you only read one work by me

I think it would be so nifty to be able to see what others choose of their fics for those tags!

This entry was originally posted at http://elke-tanzer.dreamwidth.org/1016047.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

http://community.livejournal.com/abandonedplaces/1989778.html

Full set (larger views)here.




Completed in 1918, this building was originally constructed for Columbia Block and Tool Company. It is the largest surviving example of heavy timber frame construction that was typical of early False Creek industrial buildings. The building was originally board and batten siding and subsequently was covered over by the horizontal wood siding that is visible today.

The corner addition, built in the Moderne style, dates from the 1940s. The building is a neighbourhood landmark and is listed in the "A" evaluation category on the Vancouver Heritage Register.

http://ancienthistory.about.com/b/2009/11/21/on-this-day-in-ancient-history-september-21.htm

On this day in 53 B.C. Marcus Licinius Crassus died. Crassus was a member of the first triumvirate, along with Pompey and Caesar. He was a very greedy, wealthy man, but not as capable a military leader as Pompey or Caesar. However, it was largely through Crassus' efforts that the rebellion of Spartacus was put down in 71 B.C., even though Pompey took the credit.

In 53 B.C., Crassus was governor of Syria. He was attempting to earn glory for himself by invading Parthia, even though there was no justification for it. It was after the battle at Carrhae that Crassus was killed.

Read more about Crassus in Bingley's Biography of Crassus.

On This Day in History Crassus originally appeared on About.com Ancient / Classical History on Saturday, November 21st, 2009 at 07:53:32.

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http://www.tvshowsondvd.com/newsitem.cfm?NewsID=13010

By David Lambert - We've got a special Saturday post for you today at TVShowsOnDVD. And why not? After all, with the holiday just a few days away, many of you will soon be traveling, and Daria after... (more)

http://community.livejournal.com/abandonedplaces/1989548.html

 

                                       

     

Oy, this day. Or, well, yesterday, at this point. The less said, the better. And did I mention I got my period this morning? oy.

I left work late - I think I was the only person left in the office - and all I wanted was to come home and watch this week's Friday Night Lights. But the file I dl'd wouldn't play on WMP or QT or even VLC. I updated DivX and it wouldn't play on that either. So I deleted it, rebooted, and redownloaded, and it worked.

I thought I might actually get through the episode without crying. I don't know why I thought that. I don't think it's ever happened, and it certainly did not happen tonight.

Friday Night Lights: A Sort of Homecoming

( spoilers )

***

Okay, I just asked this in meret's comments, but ( spoilers for SPN s5 that's aired so far )

***

*yawn*

Man, I totally need to sleep.

***

This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/97606.html. people have commented there.

http://kfmonkey.blogspot.com/2009/11/netflix-friday-4-king-of-kong.html

Saying the world can seem both very large and very small is hackneyed; however, I believe we've entered a period of time when those two conditions are interdependent.

This is a discussion we have in new media all the time -- who is famous, and what use is fame now? Paul F. Tomkins (thanks Wil) is a fine comic and well-known, but I wouldn't call him famous. And yet, he manages to get enough people in major cities to pledge to see his shows that he can make a living travelling from fan-cluster to fan-cluster across North America, summoned by people's need to see him perform. He has the respect and appreciation of a large enough group of people to fill his perceptual horizon. Does anyone need more? Is it even possible to rationaly understand what more is? Is that why famous people go mad?

I'm getting to the movie, I promise.

So we have Steve Weibe, an average guy who takes to practicing Donkey Kong after he's laid off. Anyone who's spent any time hacking away at video games can understand the impetus -- you spend time, you attain a goal, and the goals come at intervals short enough to reinforce the adrenal hit. I've occassionally floated outside myself while playing a video game at 4am, asking "what are you doing?", and getting the answer "Not failing to solve that Act Two problem."

Weibe gets good enough to consider going for the world record. He needs a damn win, in a way that we all understand.

That's when we go down the rabbit hole. That's when we meet Billy Mitchell, the reigning champion of that particular 80's arcade game (among others). While Weibe comes across as a somewhat obsessed hobbyist, a character all we geeks count among our friends, Mitchell has parlayed mastery --

-- I want to back up and take a run at this. Mitchell has parlayed mastery of an thirty-year old arcade game into a business empire that has nothing to do with that arcade game. A small empire, but one that fills his perceptual horizon. He has used that arcade game world record to fuel his own confidence, his own drive, his own success. That record may only be acknowledged by a small world, but its power within that world gives Billy Mitchell the lodestone he needs to survive and thrive in a big world where others become lost. Every morning, he wakes up "Billy Mitchell, world record holder in Donkey Kong", and that sustains him with a fierce power that would shame the faith of a Jesuit priest. In a world of losers, the lost and the damned, Billy Mitchell is a winner.

And Steve FUCKING Weibe is not going to take that from him.

You know what that is? That is the recipe for great. goddam. drama.

The relentless grind of small indignities. The cumulative blessings of small victories. Honor, cheating, ego, sacrifice, suspense ... The King of Kong is available for your Netflix Streaming enjoyment even as we speak.

So after how many months, I finally got a Dreamwidth account. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it, but here's the link. gwionfawyr.

Deathly tired and just ready to fall on my face and sleep, but I'm not down with NaNo, even though I did hit the 50k mark. Still have Finals and two separate tests to study for, an essay to do, and about 20 Cengage assignments to turn in for my English prof. Sleep is going to take a back burner and soon.

Oh well. Here's my first cross post to all three.

Jenn


x-posted: ij, lj, dw