bironic

Doing: I confess I am not doing great, friends. It's probably just cyclical biochemistry, but combined with shenanigans at the office and acknowledgement that I need to turn back to medicine in search of help for stuff that therapy didn't budge after two years—even though it was dissatisfaction with medical solutions that sent me to therapy in the first place—there's been more than the usual amount of existential reflection and droopiness. Work is not getting done. Fun is not really happening either. I feel defeated in several arenas. Stuff annoys me everywhere I turn: an intractable audio delay on the Roku I bought over the holidays because the old one couldn't run apps anymore, road closures, bloggers' overuse of parentheses, con and other event organizers inviting original submissions without enough lead time, continuing frustration that so many Twitter users who cross my dashboard don't, to name one of many behaviors, track down original sources before RTing commentary.

This, too, shall pass.

Good things: Friend J. and I attended a book talk and signing with a powerhouse trio: G. Willow Wilson and Helen Oyeyemi interviewed by Kelly Link. It had its moments, but I wish it had gone deeper. The bookstore event organizer and Link both mentioned a conversation the authors had had earlier in the evening, and that sounded better than what we got. By contrast, last night coworker R. and I went to an alternately entertaining and illuminating talk with Werner Herzog, done conversation-style with a classics professor who has collaborated with him on ten films. It ran two hours with Q&A and could have gone longer, as far as we were concerned. Well, not the Q&A part; the questions and "questions" were of that painful sort that come from university students trying to sound smart.

My sister came to town for about 36 hours on her latest gig, with the Russian National Ballet, so disgruntled_owl and I got to hang with her. For those of you who are new here, my sister is basically a freelance tour manager for musicians. My favorite part was when one guy, whose English was better than most of the troupe's, gently teased her in the green room for eating sushi without drinking beer, and then a few minutes later, while watching the evening's performance of Swan Lake, I discovered he played the prince. Having seen the dancers offstage at the hotel and at the mall added a fun layer to the viewing experience: that one over there, she's the one who made an adorable pout when told the venue wifi wasn't working, and those two have just recovered from a bad landing and a fight, respectively…. Also, did you know the ballet has alternate endings? In this version, to the probable benefit of the children in the audience, Rothbart got defeated and Odette and the prince lived happily ever after.

Last and perhaps least, I replaced the living room area rug I'd disliked for five years. Pretty. (Not my apartment.)

Reading: Local friends are wrapping up a March mini-version of our autumn reading challenge. I decided to use the communal motivation to finish some books I was stuck on, plus one I'd had on the shelf for 20 years, A Canticle for Leibowitz. So at least some books made it back to the library completed after the maximum number of renewals and a few cents in fines.

Fanfic-wise, I tried some Star Trek: Discovery fic and have enjoyed this person Alethia's collection of Christopher Pike/Michael Burnham stories, except for one thing. They have excellent banter and good character voices and a variety of simple yet enjoyable premises, but there's little to no attention paid to the incredible breach of protocol inherent in a ship's captain sleeping with a crew member. It's either not mentioned at all, or it's brushed aside in a line or two. For me, that's a big disappointment. Also, the author likes italics more than I like reading them, because you shouldn't have to rely on them to indicate what you want emphasized, and even if they add force and movement to words like thrust in a sex scene, you don't need them multiple times per paragraph. Okay, see above re: being easily annoyed. At least it's not The Magicians, where, I'm told, fandom has decided fic should be written in the style of e.e. cummings.

Watching + Vidding: Ask me about the time I watched an entire TV show for Equinox Exchange after saying it was going to be a low-effort project. That's done now, and over the weekend I returned to a sports movie vid I'd been planning two years ago but set aside when Fandom Trumps Hate came along. It has structure. Structure is my friend. When I'm feeling less despondent I would like to work on the vid I suuuuuper owe deelaundry, as well as other projects recently mentioned here. And, you know, actually finish something.

How are you?

For various dull reasons, I am for the first time watching an American Idol season premiere. It is just as embarrassing and commercial-mainstream as I expected in its judgments, but some of the nice stories are nice. Anyway -- I just wanted to say to anyone else who watched that that grumpy guy in glasses was totally Dr. Kavanagh, yes? I mean, not in looks, but in attitude and in the reactions he elicited.

So then I went to the webz to read the obvious SGA/AI fusion where Rodney is Simon and various other staff are the rest of the judges -- I dunno, Zelenka can be on the panel, and Teyla, and maybe Ronon? -- and John's the next American Idol, but the story doesn't seem to exist. Am I wrong? Should this be taken to sgastoryfinders?

Also, rec of joy for Fascinating/Indeed, a super-cute SG-1/ST Reboot crossover (gen). This deliberate bad!fic snippet (Reboot, Kirk/Spock) made me laugh too.

Today I felt so tired I couldn't see straight, let alone get any substantive work done. When I asked if my supervisor would mind if I worked (such as it was) through lunch and left an hour early, she said go home whenever, and don't set my alarm tomorrow morning if I don't want to. At my last job, it didn't matter how much overtime we worked; we were expected to be in the office from 9 to 6, and never mind that you have the flu or there's a blizzard or the air conditioning is broken and it's 90 degrees inside or they're tarring the roof right above you or painting the neighboring office and people are taking breaks outside from the fumes.

In other words, another reason I really like this job. Too bad that by virtue of technically being an internship, it's not going to last. The reason I felt so tired in the first place is I haven't slept well for about a week, which I'm attributing to birthday angst followed by job angst. Need to find a place to take me in in just under a month, and a place to live near wherever that is. Or, if that plan doesn't work, find an apartment near here and look in the area. Have put out the metaphorical feelers; we'll see. Prospects are uncertain in this economic climate, and I do not do well with uncertainty. And then there's the Groucho Marx syndrome to deal with of losing respect for companies who would have me as an employee, especially if they're the ones who seek me out and not the other way 'round.

Have also landed what might be a regular freelance writing gig (nonfiction). I've done freelance writing before, but usually only one job at a time. So that will be nice if it works out. I have problems with letting go of money, particularly when -- for some strange reason -- future employment is not guaranteed, but earnings outside of a salaried job go right into the spendable file, guilt-free. Which means I can do things like fly to see synn and my grandparents and not mooch off the deelaundry domicile more than I already have.

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Before I duck back into the hunt, ( here are some stories and vids that have brought me joy recently: )

Anyone read any good House fic lately? I am out of touch.