lies, damned lies, and fiction

I have never done this before, but I have posted on
THE FANFICTION LOVE MEME
at toast_ofthetown. Love seems really, really, really not bad right now.

I don't normally do this, as there aren't that many of you on my list, and it's usually well covered by overlap anyway, but I really wanted to add my .02$.

So... many of you will know or know of britgeekgirl. Her husband has been battling cancer valiantly, but it looks like the end is pretty well nigh. Because of the way our society treats people in these times of crisis, they are in need of our help. If there's anything you can give, her paypal is johanna_mead@yahoo.com; I know it would be much appreciated.

One of the things I love about fandom is how it is a community, when f2f sometimes falls so short. This is a part of that, and so I'm asking.

In conclusion, fuck cancer.

As usual, rm says it more eloquently than I.

*This Bristol conference is driving me maaaaaaad. I'm emailing with my advisor about it, and she's all, "why are you being so crazy about this?" and I have no response to that, except that I'm, well, nuts. Woe.

*Because here's the thing about talent that's always puzzled me. If you're never allowed in front of people to show what you can do, then how do you ever know if you have it?

*Not that this makes sense, because theoretically, they'd see the germs of "talent" and let you go up there. But what if they miss it? Or what if they don't, and you just have to reconcile yourself to the fact that you suck?

*MY PLANS TO CRUSH THE WORLD UNDER MY BOOTHEEL -- ALL SHALL LOOK UPON ME AND DESPAIR -- ARE NOT GOING WELL.

*I have a million folklore exams to grade.

*It is raining.

*Kill me now?

You know you only get early morning posts from me when I've been up all night, right? I only ever see the sunrise from one end.

ANYWAY I said I wouldn't sleep till I wrote some of my obligation-stuff. Next thing I knew, it was 8am. Yay. But hey, at least I got some stuff done.

It's hard right now because the things I'm writing feel a bit... mechanical through no fault of their own. I'm not writing stuff that I'm actually feeling like writing at the present moment, because inspiration is thin on the ground, and what little I have is other-things-related. It's a bit odd.

Okay, doctor's appt. at 10am. I should shower.

( Spoilers! )

( Here there be Spoilers. )

I've seen the trailer for the next ep, but I know nothing else aside from a few casting spoilers, none of which are verified, and I like it that way. PLEASE DON'T SPOIL ME IN COMMENTS. Thanks!

Meanwhile, it feels pretty awesome to be writing an episode review post again. =D

Dear Writer of Yuletide Goodness,

It's that time of year again, and here we are. This has been a crazy year for me, but I've still been looking forward to yuletide -- this is a fandom-tradition that's very dear to my heart, and I'm so pleased you're writing for me, whoever you might be. Thank you!

( Basically anything you enjoy writing will be cool with me, but if you want a little more... )

It's been forever, guys.

I have not been reading LJ. I've barely been reading email. I'm not really back yet either.

And 2009 is going down as THE WORST YEAR EVER, OMG.

1. Dad-cancer. Really I thought that was enough to make this the worst year ever, omg. Brain tumor/surgery week still reigns supreme as the worst week ever, but my friends, it has now had some serious competition, at least in the Aggravation Category.

2. STOMACH PLAGUE. That's right! Those of you who know me in person, are aware that the last few months, years, no wait, actually it's been a decade long exciting, fun-filled tour of interesting auto immune ailments, and now they've really decided to show what they can do. In a creative entry, my stomach has decided that the occasional insurrection doesn't really reflect its true potential; it's decided to play in the big leagues of full fledged revolt! At increasingly smaller intervals, there's the rending, agonizing, inexplicable stomach pain, the vomiting, and of course, the other humiliating and inconvenient occurrences which I do not wish to describe!

Naturally my insurance company has been extremely helpful.

Oh, right, I live in the United States. So, scratch that, they've been the devil, and not in that as-fair-as-the-morning-star kind of a way.

So first they sent me for a C/T enterography to a place that doesn't do that test. It's a fasting test, of course, so then I ended up at another hospital, where the tech did it for me "as a courtesy" at the end of his workday, because they felt sorry for me. Test involved drinking a few measly quarts of barium (I now understand that part re: Dumbledore in HP & the Half Blood Prince excruciatingly well). Test revealed some abnormality in the duodenum. So then my doctor wanted to do the video capsule thing, to see what's going on. Insurance says: Fuck you, not medically necessary. My doctor explains to me that they will instead do a colonoscopy (uncomfortable, humiliating, doesn't reach duodenum b/c tubing not that long!!!), + biopsy and when they don't find anything (???), perhaps insurance will authorize other thing.

And if I have Crohn's disease (which he thinks might be likely), they might be able to see pitting elsewhere, like the illium.

Fabulous.

Meanwhile, stomach pain continues, at increasingly short intervals, and for greater durations each time. Doctor has prescribed belladonna derivative as anti spasmodic, and gently suggested another anti-spasmodic -- cannabis indica.

I feel drugged all the time, and my nightmares have become intense, and intensely real. Toss up as to which is better -- low levels of pain, or drugged, stupid, logy feeling, with a dollop of insanity to round it off!

Colonoscopy scheduled for this Friday. I'm totally freaked out, and also by the conscious sedation thing. Apparently you don't remember it (??) so though you're awake, it doesn't matter (???). Uh yeah, sounds like fucking retcon and I'm terrified.

3. At the same time, they found FUCKING BEDBUGS in my apartment building. As such, they're doing extreme prophylactic measures. Everything I fucking own is wrapped in air tight plastic bags -- clothes, books, papers, everything in closets; and has to stay that way while the extermination is going on! the procedure for wrapping the couch was so fucked up we just ended up chucking ours. So we don't even have anywhere to sit!

Just call me Job.

I miss you all.

On a cheerier note, an old friend just performed the following at the White House, OMG, and really, I think it might be the best thing ever. It's hip-hop. Subject? Why, treasury secretary, Alexander Hamilton, as narrated by Aaron Burr. No, really. A-Ham in the house, yo.



I love the expression on the Obamas' faces as they realize what's going down. And also, I find it oddly... moving. I really hope he makes this album. I will totally buy it. =D

So, I had to leave for work at 7:30am-ish. (This is slightly worse when you consider that I don't get back until 8:30pm-ish, so that's a LONG ass day.)

Anyway, I made it to work, graded, sat through meeting, taught two classes, did some more work, left for home. On my way out, I cut through the Student Union, which is sort of a short cut through campus. I'm walking through the halls, and then suddenly - MUSTARD. EVERYWHERE.

A kid had got some food from the cafe, and was carrying one of those little condiment containers? The ones that come with the lids? Only his was unlidded, and he tripped and fell scattering french fries and MUSTARD. Did I mention everywhere?

ALL OVER MY SHIRT AND PANTS AND EVERYTHING.

I had to then embark on my two hour commute home, soggy and damp and fucking yellow. I looked like someone had vomited the Yellow Brick Road all over me.

The look I gave him probably had to be seen to be believed. He's lucky he wasn't one of my students. I'm not sure I could've resisted saying, "NEXT TIME PUT A LID ON IT. THE GRADE YOU SAVE COULD BE YOUR OWN."

Then I missed my bus. And then, when I finally got to the subway, the turnstile wasn't functioning, and I had to hop my yellow ass over it. WHAT THE FUCK.

My shirt is a disaster (the vinegar, dish soap combo recommended by the internet was only marginally helpful) and I still can't believe this happened.

WHAT THE HELL, YEAR? SRSLY 2009, WHAT THE FUCK?

And all I hear in my head is, "~They got the mustard out!~... NOT"

Title: That One Talent Which Is Death To Hide
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Author: kalichan
Rating/Warning: explicit; hurt/comfort, not-quite-right-in-the-headness
Summary: Ianto picks up the pieces.
Spoilers: Exit Wounds
Wordcount: ~4400
Author's Note: This was written for the final in the third round of writerinadrawer. The challenge was someone or something gets clean, literally or metaphorically; the story also had to include a board game. All the chess problems in this story are real joke chess problems; the last one is taken from The Mysterious Benedict Society, which I recommend to any and all who like children's books, and brain teasers! I would have evolved my own, but I haven't played a full game of chess since I was about eight. The title is, of course, from Milton's On His Blindness, which is one of my favorite poems; the ghastly pun perpetuated in said title (read the story and you'll see what I mean) is all my own doing, for which my apologies.

( That One Talent Which Is Death To Hide )

Also, I seem to have come in second!



But seriously, I'm just chuffed to bits to have been in the final with Sam & Nick {aka copperbadge and cruentum who both wrote fabulous stories for the end game, and throughout the competition. It was a (nervewracking, challenging, nail-biting, fun!) pleasure to play with you, guys. =D

...and, in two and a half hours, I have to go in for various g.i. tests. Doesn't that sound like a fun way to spend a Friday?

GAH.

If my story even makes sense, it will be by some kind of divine intervention. I've never done the beta thing aside from co-writing. On the other hand, I always resent pro writers who say they "don't need editors." Clearly I am doing something wrong here. Tell me about it, people.

Also, I meant to tell you guys who commented on my last post, thank you. I've been so sick these last couple of weeks, I haven't even been able to muster up the energy to reply, but your words really touched me. Thank you and well, ♥.

Meanwhile ( SPN 5x04 last night )

It's raining. Sort of.

Not really, actually, just hot and humid and I'm swollen like a sausage.

Every joint is screaming. I have tears in my eyes.

I hate this. I hate it. Everything. Myself. What's the point? Of anything.

It took me nine minutes to successfully type this post.

I don't even know why I'm posting this.

Title: Love and Other Monstrous Things
Pairing/Characters: Ianto, Myfanwy, Jack, team.
Author(s): 1st part - kalichan;
2nd part - kalichan & rm
Rating/Warning: PG-13, pre-slash, hurt/comfort
Summary: Love your pterodactyl, don't love your pterodactyl.
Wordcount: ~1700
Authors' Notes: So… Kali wrote this thing for writerinadrawer, which Rach, being lazy, doesn't participate or vote in. However, upon checking in with the hive mind (can 2 be a hive mind?) it was determined that this really fit into the Traveling universe. Thus! Here is a little bit of outtake/candy from IHNIIHBT, for all of you who might be missing that world, and are waiting so patiently for chapter 3 of EtGB (it's coming soon, we promise!). First part takes place post TW 1x04: Cyberwoman, and the conversation afterwards takes place a while after There Are Some Men Who Should Have Mountains to Bear Their Names to Time and before Harbour.

( Two days, twelve hours, and fifty-seven minutes since Lisa. )

( Some Years Later. )

Title: Dorian (1/1)
Pairing: Jack/Wilde, (Jack/Doctor, Wilde/Lord Alfred Douglas mentioned)
Characters: Jack, Wilde
Author: kalichan
Rating/Warning: standard
Summary: "Have I not stood face to face with beauty; that is enough for one man’s life." - Oscar Wilde.
Spoilers: Torchwood 2x12: Fragments, DW: 3x11: Utopia -- for Jack's backstory. The beginning of the story takes place during DW 1x03: The Unquiet Dead. Spoilers for and allusions to Wilde's life, summarized here, abound. And, of course, the story is based on and around Wilde's novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Wordcount: ~1500 words
Author's Notes: This was originally written for round 3x09 of writerinadrawer; for which the challenge was to write a story which would include a photograph which one of the characters had in their possession, as well as a song title.

( You are the same, and the song is the same. Only I have changed )

( Images below the cut - Wilde & Jack and Wilde & Bosie )

( SPN: Good God, Y'all )

*smiles* Thanks for your encouragement on my last post y'all. I'll reply soon, but right now I have to, um, finish my wiad story. Uh, yeah.

Seriously? Mary? Really?

FUCK CANCER. FUCK IT A LOT.

I'm really sad, folks. And will be humming "Puff the Magic Dragon" all day.

It is only a couple of weeks into the semester, and I'm already completely exhausted and I DON'T WANT TO GO ANYMORE. I hate teaching. (Question: Why am I putting in all this effort to get a job doing something I hate? And for which, the market isn't exactly hopping, so I might not even get that? On the other hand, can I think of something I would like more? No. Basically I'm just fucked.)

Meanwhile:

Poll #1458838 Invisible Illness
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 28

Should I blog about my invisible illness[es]?

Gah. In other news, sam_storyteller wrote SPN fic, people. Yeah. Dean/Cas for the win! At least it's SPN day. There's a bright spot, I guess.

in the morass of the health care debate, and of course, having my own ongoing battle with the system, it's nice to take a moment and observe that fandom can be really fucking cool.

So, apparently there's someone who's been a casualty of said system, and there are auctions. To raise funds. I have literally not one dime to spare, but I find this very, very cool. Also many authors that people like are up for sale! Their literary servitude could be yours!

This doesn't need signal boosting from me, clearly, as it seems to be a fairly wellknown fundraiser, but... here's a link to the Doctor Who auctions in case anyone here's interested. Bidding ends Sept. 14th, I believe, so later today...

Meanwhile, a happy birthday to calloocallay who is in herself a discotheque of awesome, and also to kahtyasofia, for whom I wish a bouquet of Eric & Jack... no doubt she'll know exactly what to do with them. *grin*

...has sucked pretty hard. Which is sad, because it was birthday week. There was one bright spot of a small family-ish (i.e. nearest and dearest friends) party on Sat. -- which was pretty delightful, and I did get a fair amount of awesome loot from aforementioned nearest and dearest, but aside from that: I've had a head cold that is not going away, and yesterday I took an inexplicable dive down a hill and have ended up with scrapes and bruises EVERYWHERE and some strained muscles etc.

I also happened to be carrying my laptop (old and wonky as it is), and this morning when I was in the midst of my writerinadrawer story, the disk failed, and now it is pretty much a paperweight. I can only assume the fall must have jarred it in some way, but barring miracles everything on it was lost. This meant that I spent this morning frantically rewriting it, so, yeah, you can imagine my chagrin.

Seriously, this is all kicking me pretty hard in the teeth. Hopefully not an omen for the whole rest of the year.

Anyway... another bright spot: ( SPN: Sympathy for the Devil )

I also watched The Vampire Diaries. It wasn't quite as terrible as I thought it would be, though they're trying to copy Buffy speech patterns, and it's not working, and instead of inventing new slang, they're using current stuff, which guarantees it'll be dated in a red-hot minute. The show didn't zoom, but it didn't suck quite as bad as I thought it was going to. I'll probably stick around for a few more eps to see if they improve.