Because my last post was too depressing: Something I sent to some friends by e-mail, oh, months ago.

Subj: Proof that I am *such* a geek sometimes.

My father is playing Donkey Kong 64.

There was this section in it - a tricky flying thing - that he was having trouble with.

I had not played the flying thing before.

I took the control.

I did it in five minutes.

That's not the geeky part.

I then said: "Kneel before Zod."

I tell no lie.

So I dreamed about Mouse last night. And some other cat that doesn't exist, and a house, and my family being different from how we really are, and in the dream I was younger or something... And Layanna, a toddler I know was in it, and so were her parents... but mostly the dream was about Mouse.

And in the dream I took her to the vet's, and I had her put down. In the dream she had feline leukemia, but in reality I know she's had her shots and she's healthy as she could be given that she's very, very old. But in reality I also know that she's losing weight again, and she doesn't have any to spare these days, because when I stroke her I can feel her bones. And I know she's not breathing so well some of the time, and sometimes when I stroke her she kinda chokes on her own purr, and I know that I'm not going to have my cat any more very, very soon.

And it hurts to think about that, because I love my cat. She's older than I am but we've had her for maybe twelve years, and that's not enough, because she's a sweet and wonderful cat but her life was awful before we got her. Awful enough that it took her about two years to settle down to sanity after she came to us, to a life with regular meals and without beatings and abuse and being set on by a German Shepherd. Longer before we dared pick up a stick or a broom near her for the way it made her frightened, and before she learnt to trust anyone but us even a little.

I want her to have had a longer happiness than this.

A few days ago I found some older photos of her, and it was kinda nice and kinda sad to see them - when her fur was a shade darker, and sleeker, and while she was never ever fat, she had flesh on her, and she was so pretty... Because as much as I love her, the way her ribs and spine jut against my palm now are saddening, because I know she's dying. And we have photos of her in her old favourite place to sleep, on a shelf amongst blankets six feet off the floor, and now she struggles to get onto the seat of the couch, because she can't jump even that high any more.

And I can't work out how much of not having her put down yet is the knowledge that she's still a happy cat, purring often with people who love her, and how much is the fact that we don't want to let her go yet.

Even in my dreams, I cried for hours.

Something just spiffy. Link courtesy of Watha James the Mighty. It's a search engine that connects related sites and stuff. My oath, says Rae, that's just cool.

So this morning I started my day oh-so-joyfully; I installed virus software to see if that solved my problems with my system, and scanned the whole disk, and it helped not at all, which I think validates the fact that I'd not been running antivirus stuff before, because I have never acquired a computer virus in my life. I'm very hygienic that way.

Anyway, I reinstalled Windows, because my computer was crashing, and my computer just does not crash. I've been running it for nearly a year, and last night was the only time it's crashed when I wasn't doing things which were completely unreasonable of me. And now it's running fine, so it was all surprisingly painless to repair, given that I just set the reinstall going and left it there while I went out all day. Then had to reinstall the drivers for my ethernet card when I got home. Less than traumatic, I must say.

While I was out, I:

- played far too much EV Nova
- studied some but not enough
- beat Tom at Scrabble
- learnt to own completely against pirates, am working on others [sub-event of playing too much EV Nova, but that was in my somewhat rocking Starbridge, and I just bought a Manticore, so now I have to learn all over again...]

Of course, the fact that I am starting to use "own" in a non-traditional sense is bothersome. I know too many men, or something.

Vaguely amusing: The SMS I got from Stephie tonight, telling me she could see me and I should go home from UCC.

Today's UberCool: EV Nova.
Now listening to: Some chick my parents are playing tapes of, "Holly Holy".

My parents, as much as I can sometimes have issues with them, do on occasion entertain me mightily. Tonight conversation had me laughing to the point where I triggered a coughing fit that cost me at least one lung.

We started, of course, from the point where we rib Dad mercilessly for his stupidity in locking the keys in the car last week - with his things still in it and the ignition still turned to the accessories setting.

Then we eventually get on to teasing Mum about her old Mini - which has been gone from the lives of my family since before they had my sister, but the tales are still worth telling.

First, of course, there's the engine held together with clothes pegs. Apparently the Mini had a design flaw whereby (to cut the assessment short) when it rained the radiator blew water all over the distributor cap, which soaked in and shorted things out and made the car stop working. So Mum put a plastic bag over it, held in place with clothes pegs, which worked fine - until the clothes peg failed and the plastic bag got sucked in and the engine was barely working, and Dad had to drive it across Durban with it like this (unfortunately in a textual medium I can't reproduce the sound effects) to get it to his parents' place, where he had light, and could then fix it in one second.

He added: "... the plastic bag, held in place with clothes pegs and pink wool..."

So Mum responded, in tones of well-judged derision: "No, the pink wool was for the choke thing that had come adrift."

Dad has particular problems with the pinkness of the wool.

Tied in a bow.

Ah, the summary does it far too little justice. Alas, I need sound effects.

In my family, the most well-remembered family lore is that which involves us tormenting one another for stupidity. This probably explains a lot about me.

But I'll get mileage for years out of last Friday.

Okay, template adjustments are complete for now - the archive template is still the old layout, but I had to learn enough new HTMLing and futz around trying to get things to work as it is, I've had enough for tonight. You may notice a distinct similarity to the design of Dimensions, if you've looked at that. I assure you it is deliberate.

Presently I've been mocking a fresher harshly in #unisfa. I think the detailed explanation of the way it's hard for us to tell freshers apart because they're inherently dull and lacking in distinguishing personality features wasn't too nasty, but the comparison to ants was that extra touch that made it beautifully harsh.

Hey, the beginning-of-semester grace period is concluded. The freshers who have failed to make themselves interesting or particularly likeable yet are now fair game. Rowr, rowr! To attack with savagery!

I'm messing with the template. You'll all just have to bear with me.

Opinions?

How to park a car. ~1MB.

Of course, I gave away today's UberCool already before the UCC committee meeting in which I was appointed to Door Group. Which is nonetheless fairly cool, but clearly can't be the UberCool.

I'm pondering the effects of habit and tradition. For example, few people I know put rice in their salt shakers; my family does, I probably always will, just because it's a habit and a pattern and just something I do. Now, in Perth, it's a strange quirk that's somewhat incomprehensible. Dry climate. In Durban, where I was born, and where my mother learnt the habit that I have since acquired, humidity is persistently extremely high. Salt gets clogged and gums up the shaker from the moisture - so you put rice in to absorb it, and keep the salt loose.

This is something I may yet pass on to my children, even if they're living in a climate where it makes no sense, just like I am now. Tradition.

Rebuild those nuclear shelters.

Julie gets no props whatsoever today. Mme Spoiler Pusher has got me to the point where I'm going to start watching Buffy again. Thus spoiling my record of non-TV-watching. Le sigh.

It's barely past midnight, and I've already given the UberCool for today to goth.Chris. (New link on sidebar.) He just got a LiveJournal. (I'd like to point out, Stephie, that the only reason there are more LJs than blogs in UniSFA is because you push harder. Dealer. I let people make their own decisions.) And so far he's cool and interesting (which is more than most LJers seem to manage. (Rimshot.))

Fortunately, since I'm sick, it's Friday, and I have no classes on Fridays, I'm not going in to uni today or likely to interact with anyone other than my parents, and maybe IRC people. And it's hard to get the UberCool by IRC, so I should be pretty safe from a conflict of UberCool interests. (There can be only one.)

You know, I'm going to have to make a graphic for the UberCool. Anyone who gets given it can take the little I am the UberCool button, and... well, do whatever they want with it, really. And anyone who claims it when they've never earned it will of course burn in a special circle of Hell all their own for all eternity, for the UberCool must be respected.

The current topic in #unisfa is the masks people wear, the way people hide parts of their personalities. One thing the current blog/LiveJournal trend achieves is a forum in which we let our less masked selves show a little more. Of course, it means that to a certain extent we're letting this stuff out in an uncontrollable way, since this is the Internet, where nothing is truly private ever. But then, it's a matter of where the privacy is necessary. I don't mind my friends reading this - they all know full well I encourage it - because the parts of myself that I show here, I don't mind them seeing. On the other hand, I don't want my parents reading this, so they don't even know it exists.

Different sides of me for different people. One of the ways I cope with life is by separating my family and my friends very clearly. This evening my parents came up to UniSFA for a while to wait out a traffic jam. I left them there (which was perhaps mean to Oliver, but he deserved it for combining with them to mock me) and played EV Nova in UCC.

I got asked if this was a good idea, since perhaps I should have stayed and talked to them, but you see, having my parents in UniSFA is disturbing enough for me without hanging around to see it happen. If I go elsewhere, I can pretend my parents aren't invading the place that is my sanctuary from home. Apart from anything else, if I'm in the room, I have to deal with even the little things that make me way too tense for UniSFA. Like if I'm there by myself, and someone swears, I don't really notice or pay attention; tonight I heard the word "fuck" leave Kieron's lips and cringed, because, sure enough, Dad was giving me significant looks. And I begged him quickly not to make an issue of it, and he said Kieron should be reminded that there were ladies present.

He doesn't get that campus living doesn't follow those rules, and I wouldn't even consider asking the good folk of Cameron Hall to change while my parents are there, because that's stupid.

But it still makes me tense. EV Nova all the way.

Something else fun. Create a miniature you with Lego!

Today: I was about to say I did nothing of interest, but actually I was quite busy - quite a bit of it in changing my enrolment, mind you, which is interesting to no-one but me. I'm now doing "Blood and Soil: The Rise and Fall (and Rise Again?) of European Fascism" next semester. It should be interesting, actually, especially what with le Pen and his ilk.

Tonight at UCC I tried out Escape Velocity Nova. It has the potential to be way too addictive, especially right before exams...

I'm going to get very quiet, and rather dull for the next few weeks. Exams coming up and a fuckload of assignments to get done. (Yes, fuckload is a technical term.)

Well. I overslept and missed going into uni way-early getting dropped off by my parents today, but given how little sleep I got anyway (insomnia, yo!) and the fact that I'm worseningly ill, it may be a good thing. Getting in early wasn't critical, I just have all this work to do. I'll still make it in to see Dr Henderson and the sub-dean in plenty of time - and the "be nice to me, I've been sick a lot" thesis may well be helped by the fact that I'm losing my voice.

A Microsoft veep has testified that Microsoft code is too buggy to be open source.

I'm not adding to that, I just figure it's an article worth reading. Apply thine own interpretation.

I'm procrastinating to avoid studying.

My desk has a hutch thing, with shelves.

On the shelf that is at eye level when I'm sitting here sit the following items, from left to right:

- A framed picture of a water cascade, which I like to look at when deep in thought.

- A small, carved stone hippo thing.

- An Excalibur paper knife, which came in handy with the UniSFA graphic novels when I discovered one had two pages stuck together and used the knife to slide in to separate them without damaging them.

- A half-burned squat green scented candle.

- An ammonite.

- The "Geography of the Ancient World" map from Zeus.

- A calculator.

Eclecticism is fun.

I made a difficult decision tonight.

I put Zeus away in a drawer until I finish all the assignments I have outstanding. Possibly until after exams, even.

Other random details: I have relinquished Pedantor to Oliver, because he complained. Bastard.

Everyone should read this. Because I say so. And because it's good.

I've decided that what I need to do to get writing again - which is something which is important to me - is just do it. Start with character sketches, build a world, build a plot... I have all these ideas and I'm not getting them down. And it's starting to make me feel... I don't know, almost like an incomplete person. Writing is part of my identity. If I don't write, who am I? But I'm going to try something other than fan fiction. Some short science fiction, perhaps. (I tried fantasy once. It isn't me. And that present-day novel is stuttering at chapter three right now.)

Kit's Concatenation had some interesting comments on writing on Monday or so. Kit's one of those interestingly literate fanfic authors who validate the blogging phenomenon for me. (Although I don't think I've actually ever read any of her fanfic...)

News crops:

The legal implications of linking.

I'm never sure how I feel about internet legislation; on the one hand, I've seen various forms of copyright violation abounding on this great chaotic network that are inhumanly offensive, but on the other hand, this kind of gleeful anarchy and the way it settles down after a point to be in many ways self-regulating appeals to me. Personally I think prosecution of things happening online should attend most firmly to the more illegal and unconscionable varieties of porn. (Google still hasn't found this site, that I know of. If it hits on it now, who dares to contemplate the kind of referral hits I'll be getting now? Maybe I should talk about naked celebrities as well.)

(Or maybe not.)

I've been having troublesome thoughts about identity lately. Not least because my psyche doesn't have a handle. I think part of the problem is that if identity is all about the narrative of the self, as they taught me quite convincingly in Philosophy, then someone as word-oriented as I am is definitely going to have a pretty linguistically-articulated narrative, and identity - but I'm really, really uncomfortable with labels.

For instance, lately I've been a little uncomfortable when anyone - including me - makes reference to me being gay, or a lesbian. I don't like labels, or categories, and I sure as hell don't like them applying to me. I don't like it when that's placed in the context of being part of my identity in the eyes of others - I identify more strongly as a Librarian than a lesbian, thank you very much. The minefield of human sexuality is awful as it is, and I'm no exception.

A friend of mine remarked quite recently that he felt himself fortunate he was straight. Not because he thinks there's anything inherently wrong with being otherwise, but because it makes things easier in this world. And while homophobia isn't something I have to deal with on a really confronting level very often, it's true that people rarely consider heterosexuality something to make a point of remarking upon. Homosexuality is still cause for comment - or the occasional "Oh, cool! I know a gay person! Look how sophisticated I am, being accepting of this!" To which I have the urge to say: "Yes? You behave as if you expect congratulation for not reminding me I'm going to burn in hell for all eternity. Don't hold your breath." The other thing that bothers me about it is people making assumptions about me on the basis of my sexuality. I am an individual. The fact that I find girls more attractive than boys is a minor facet of my online-test-breakingly-complex personality that has almost no impact on my daily life.

I've digressed. The thing is, really the only label I'm comfortable with at the moment is "student". Which is problematical too, since I've been doing waaaay too little studying lately, but it describes my occupation, lifestyle, and general mindset fairly well. And it's nicely vague enough that by itself it says very little about me. I always have a problem when asked to describe myself. If asked now, I'd come up with something like this:

My name is Rae. I'm 21 years old. I was born in South Africa, but grew up in Australia. I like books and words and judo, and my favourite subjects at uni are Linguistics and History. I'm a loyal friend, and a good listener. I have a tendency to love people more than I let them know, and I'm protective of people I care about. I find it very difficult to let people love me, or take care of me, or help me deal with my deepest emotional problems. I have a nasty temper, but my fuse is long enough that almost nobody's ever seen me really get angry. I like music, almost never watch television, and almost never watch movies. My favourite ethnic food group is Italian.

My funk has just been lifted:

Tieryn: pedantor is more fun
Tieryn: RAH!
Tieryn: ROAR!
Tieryn: RAH!
Rae: But more wrong.
Tieryn: PEDANT ALERT!
Rae: GAMERA! GAMERA!
Tieryn: no. it's perfectly right.
Tieryn: it's a word that was made up
Tieryn: to express a giant monster pedant
Tieryn: that would eat us all
Tieryn: you, ma'am, are that pedant.
Tieryn: well at least at this moment in time

This amused me.

I think this will be my Secret B-Movie Monster Identity. Pedantor!

So today the UberCool is Elizabeth. Why? Because she used the phrase "oral presentation", thus reminding me that I have mine TOMORROW, which I'd FORGOTTEN. Which would have been a nasty surprise when I showed up for my tutorial.

Origins of Fascism, here I come.

<Entro> 'Existentialist philosophising ... now with handle'.
<Entro> Never mind.
* sonnlich giggles.
* maelstrm thinks that better be patented or there'll be issues later on
<sonnlich> It so should come with one.
<Entro> 'Soul of a poet ... now with all-new handle!'
<sonnlich> Although there'd be that problem where Nietzsche's would be too heavy for ordinary mortals to lift.

I want a handle.

Another game. Like MindBender, a game I used to play a great number of years ago, only not as good, but small, online and free, so it balances.

I caught up on some sleep, but I think I'm on the edge of getting sick, so I'm going to curl up on the couch with blankets and a textbook to read. Exams coming up, but I got abused today for not having blogged in a whole, you know, fourteen hours. Froggy, you suck. I love you not.

So tonight I met my father's workmates.

Of course, this had to be on the day I was:

- barefoot
- possessed of extremely messy hair, since Adam was scratching my head earlier
- wearing a faded, slightly torn flannel shirt
- generally looking very bogan.

Dad's boss, Steve, is a South African ex-pat. He's been here for ages, but still has the accent. He exhibited a phenomenon which is quite curious to me, in that only people with foreign backgrounds tend to comment on the unusually non-local nature of my accent.

You see, it's like this.

I was born in South Africa, but moved to Australia at the age of 18 months. The children in the playgroup I attended as a small child were all English. My father has a South African accent. I've spent a lot of time talking to Canadians and Americans. I've learnt a little of several foreign languages. All of these things affect my articulation.

I've been asked if I'm Australian, South African, English, Scottish, Canadian, American, Kiwi, German, you name it. My accent is non-specific in the extreme; it leans towards Australian, but I sound slightly foreign pretty much anywhere. I consider this to be quite cool.

Hmm. I should be leaving very, very soon to take the graphic novels I bought on Saturday for UniSFA in to UniSFA, along with the change and receipts, and to report on it for the committee meeting, and to actually attend the committee meeting.

I don't want to. I had 3.5 hours' sleep last night, and maybe six hours the night before. Accursed responsibilities!

Yeah, yeah, I'm going.

Why I should be allowed to sleep more

<sonnlich> Ooh.
* sonnlich just had a fun idea.
<sonnlich> Combine D&D and Feng Shui mechanics to produce a Xena/Hercules RPG. Characters and foes alike TOTALLY rorted.
<sonnlich> Action more so. After all, Xena knocked someone out by flicking her hair at him once.
<sonnlich> "I throw the frying pan to ricochet off two trees and a bad guy." <rolls> "You make. The bad guy falls unconscious, but your sidekick is pissed that the pan is dented."

Heh. I'll have to see if Unigames has the Feng Shui sourcebook - it's possible I can't resist this.

A new game, courtesy of Tom. It's so so wrong, and I love it. (No, I never actually did this with real ants.) It's not as addictive or as frustrating as the helicopter game, but it does have a sadistic delight for a few minutes.

I've been reading a comic called Top 10. It's really, really good. The copies I've been reading are UniSFA's. Assuming I had money, I'd want copies of my own. But then, there's a lot of things I'd like if I were rich. Starting with: a place of my own. Dad's driving me nuts today.

I should get the following printed up on little cards:

Things You Should Know About Rae, If You're Going To Spend Time Around Her

1) She loves her cat. She will very, very rarely admit this. When she does, she will later deny she ever said it.

2) Her father drives her nuts now and then. Sometimes this makes her angry and irritable, sometimes this makes her sad, sometimes this makes her self-destructive. She will never want to talk about it.

3) She has the attention span of a goldfish.

It would cut short a lot of conversations. Especially the ones that follow casual remarks about abusing Spike, with people wondering if they should call the RSPCA on me. I only verbally abuse Spike. And he both verbally and physically abuses me. Because he is, as I have often pointed out, a nasty little rat-bastard.

According to Davyd, the ban on Star Wars spoilers ends tomorrow. I thought it lasted a week; certainly I'm holding my opinions that long, here. Even though everyone who reads this and cares will have seen it very soon, I'm sure.

Listening to: Pretty mp3s lifted from Zeus

Feeling: That I miss my girlfriend. A lot.

Discussing: Star Wars spoilers, in an IRC channel created for the purpose. Called #spoilermuffin. Because I could.