bironic

Since last we spoke—warnings at the link for discussion of mental health, death fixation, weight, babies—I upped my meds dose again, got a promotion in honor of the crap-ton of work I did last summer while high on serotonin, and… bought a condo.

!

Given that the housing market here was obscene even before the pandemic hit, and based on friends' and coworkers' recent experiences and agents' advice, I'd expected to spend a long time browsing and making occasional offers that would be rejected in favor of cash offers way above asking price with every contingency waived before securing anything. So it was a surprise to have my first offer accepted, at asking price, just two months after taking a state-sponsored online home buying course.

I'd also expected, or even hoped, to land on one floor of the triple-deckers that define middle-income housing in the greater Boston area, or a small single-family home further out if I was extra lucky, yet here I am in a condo complex. It's got tall windows and trees outside and CENTRAL HEATING/COOLING and a POOL, it shouldn't involve too bad of a commute once we go back to the office in the fall, and it's two bedrooms instead of one, so for the first time in more than 10 years, visitors can enjoy a door when they stay over, along with not sweating or freezing their butts off.

On the one hand, my bank account now provides none of the safety net I'd taken comfort in for years. On the other hand, I can stop worrying about being kicked out at lease renewal time (*cough* last apartment) or not having control over things that should be fixed (*cough* current apartment). If you can believe it, the monthly mortgage payment will be less than what rent cost. Now to convince my brain to stop yelling THIS IS ALL A TERRIBLE MISTAKE at intervals and ease the occasional pit of dread in my stomach.

Move date is in less than a month.

I put together a registry and then dithered about sharing it online. Brain: It's tacky to ask people for stuff! It's extra tone deaf in a pandemic! Yet why should registries be the province only of people getting married or having kids? So here is the link. The intro contains some of my Thoughts and Feelings. I hope you will forgive me if you find the whole thing untoward.

Crossposts: http://bironic.livejournal.com/369572.html

VIDDING

I keep thinking I've updated recently but it's just placeholder vid posts for Vividcon. I ended up making a third vid at the last minute for Premieres. It is a simple little thing for the animated movie Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. Anyone else of a certain age remember Chrysta and Batty Koda and Tim Curry as the smog monster? I got the song idea when someone nominated the source for Festivids, but then no one requested it, so here we are.

DOING

Got back last evening from 5 days on Long Island -- well, 3 1/2 plus driving -- where to my disappointment there wasn't time to connect with my city fan friends nor a contingent of Brit fanquaintances on account of I spent most of the weekend with my childhood friend A. (who now lives two time zones away) & her family, who were in town for a wedding, plus dinner with my also-in-town-from-out-of-state cousin, boat ride with my mom and her bf, combo high school graduation/birthday party for various stepfamily members, visit with my remarkably old yet mostly lucid grandparents, visit with my dad & his fiancée, etc.

The beginning of the trip involved too much driving around and socializing, but by the end I had relaxed. It was a relief to eat meals prepared by someone else, and tasty meals at that, like Dad & E.'s grilled skirt steak with summer corn and bruschetta. My mom and I came across reruns of some TV shows we hadn't seen since my childhood (Night Court) or hers (George Reeves Superman). Dad & E. & I settled in for some of the Olympic trials in swimming, diving and gymnastics. I swam a little. Helped my dad organize some bookshelves that had been disturbed after a burst pipe, and then we squared up a six-foot-tall PVC cage around his pea patch that is the latest escalation in his battle against vegetable-swiping chipmunks.

I slept well the last two nights. I never seem to sleep as well anywhere else as I do when I'm in that bedroom where I lived from age 9 to 18 and college summers and a few years after that.

Packed a few more boxes of books and my old stereo to bring up to Boston. Sat for a while after I had gotten back and unpacked, looking at the new-old books on the shelves and thinking about who I was when I collected and read them and who I am now and strengthening the connections between the two. I've been slowly shedding books that I will never read or that I read and didn't like. These aren't going anywhere.

I was feeling kinda crappy about my Festivids and life in general, and stressed out about some work stuff, but it's tapering. Let us not dwell.

.

Last night I was hanging out with my college friend S., the Trekkie, whom I sometimes remember is the kind of non-fannish friend one can make slashy subtext jokes with. So we spent most of "Past Tense" parts 1 and 2 fleshing out (heh) an alternate reading where Sisko was pimping out Bashir for clothes and building access and to calm people down and stuff in the Sanctuary district. It all started because the guys on the front stoop of the building with roof access were totally eyeing him up when they said maybe there was something they'd be interested in trading even though Sisko and Bashir didn't have any valuables. S. started pointing out all these audio recuts that could be done to tell the story. Good times.

.

Speaking of Trek hilarity: It is HIGH TIME I told you properly about this TOS rewatch

ignazwisdom and I have been doing long-distance since she invited me to join a few episodes into season one... a year ago? A while ago. This is her second time through, and it's my I don't know how many times through because it depends on the particular episode; some I've seen like once a year for decades, others I haven't watched since I was about six. A few I have no recollection of whatsoever.

( Not too long ago I was afraid to do a rewatch on account of my brain not being able to reconcile innocent childhood memories with stuff like slash & kink goggles )

Anyway, so iggy has been posting snort-worthy episode recaps and reblogging a ton of fan art and photographs at her (so very NSFW) tumblr. Confession: I give a little fist pump anytime she quotes something I've said about an ep. If you, like me, prefer to only browse the recaps, there's a tag for that. If you're interested in specific episodes, there's a masterlist.

The latest post at this moment is "The Deadly Years", and up soon is "The Trouble with Tribbles." These were special because they were the first ones we were able to watch together in person! Last weekend, when I had an iggy for a houseguest. The rest of the time we've been watching on our own and exchanging emails. Some past favorite recaps:

Before we finish the season, there will be three episodes in which Kirk and Spock are shirtless, caged and/or collared. Based on the fact that my sister and I were able to discuss and/or joke about the Kirk-Spock vs. Kirk/Spock readings of "Amok Time" while watching that ep at Thanksgiving, I think I have indeed reached a point where I will be able to enjoy these without some part of my brain retreating to a corner going "la la la, I can't hear you."

( (There are of course numerous ways episode viewing and appreciation have changed unrelated to sexual matters) )

In February I felt great and did a lot of RL things. In the form of a meme, it might look like this:

Did: Probably many if not most of you will sympathize when I say that I do best when I have something to focus on (a.k.a. obsess over), and in the past six weeks or so it has taken the form of homemaking. After years of hedging on properly setting up my apartment for comfortable long-term living, and after deciding to stick to the studio rather than stretch my budget with a one-bedroom, something gave and there was a bit of a whirlwind of organizing/furnishing/decorating. ( Details and sample pix: ) Diving into the archives of Apartment Therapy was excellent for idea generation and for accepting that fixing little day-to-day annoyances can lead to a big improvement in your enjoyment of your living space.

Oh, and on a roll for making changes, I picked out new glasses frames at the store where my dad's fiancée, E., works, and got a haircut. And there went the rest of my last freelance paycheck.

Traveled: Weekend trips to Pennsylvania and New York. Made a batch of soft and tasty hamantaschen with my dad and E. for Purim. Got to see my mom for half a day. There was still snow on the ground on Long Island from the 30-inch storm three weeks earlier.

Watched: The usual TV shows, including The Vampire Diaries—which made me feel something several episodes back, gasp—plus more White Collar on Netflix and I think a movie.

Read: Cloud Atlas. Short stories on CD: sci fi radio plays from the 50s and 60s. Fic: an Inception Pretty Woman AU (WIP), an Inception lit mag publishing AU (WIP), something else I'm forgetting. Started a book called Alien Sex (!) found in a used store in

synn's town. It honest to goodness includes a series of epistolary poems called "Sextraterrestrials" by Joe Haldeman and a friend.

Wrote/Vidded: Nothing, but have ideas. On the cool side, two recent vids will be showing at Muskrat Jamboree!

The reason I felt so good in February turns out to be health-related, as I was given a slightly different birth control formulation for 30 days while waiting for a refill of my regular one. The month (and more) before the substitution was crappy, as has been the week and a half since it ended (as Buffy would say, progesterone and I are unmixy things), so I am in the process of switching to the one that actually made me feel happy and energetic and let me sleep well and didn't make my head and back hurt. Nothing quite like realizing just how glum/lethargic/anxious/poorly rested/unable to concentrate you have been by virtue of it all being alleviated within like two days. Anyway, fingers crossed that it wasn't a fluke and can be recaptured.

How are you? I've been reading the flist & circle every day, just not participating…

Congrats to

roga,

queenzulu and

l_eremita for correctly guessing that Sebastienne was not the name of one of my Mary Sues. Sebastian is one of my favorite names, though, not to mention the vampire hero in one of the below stories, so it wasn't far off base.

For the rest: Mitzi came in with the most votes (4), which I find intriguing. That one was a child in a Trek-verse terraforming colony who'd been imprisoned after an alien race called the Ja'Han attacked the settlement. The kid was named Sarah, but I had her call herself Mitzi when she hit her teens because it means "bitter." There was going to be this whole symbolism where by the end of the story she'd been freed and learned to love life again and cast off the nickname, but I never finished it.

I imagine Julie was a tempting choice because it's ordinary, but in fact that was the name of My Very First Self-Insert -- the one who lived only in my head, when I was no older than 7 or 8 and Julie and Crystal (and, later, after I saw FernGully, Krista/Chrysta) were the most beautiful names I could dream of. In light of recent (to me) sociopolitical and race discussions, it's... weird to think back on that and consider the influences and dominant cultures in the media I watched that told me those were the sort of names that were to be yearned for. Other than that, though, the Julie stories I used to tell myself as I lay curled up in bed are essentially the same as the ones I write for myself now.

For the one who guessed Meredith: In a tale that is terrifying but true, I named that hurt/comfort Sue after a girl at school I was fake-mad at because she was flirting with the boy I liked and he appeared to be more interested in her than in me.

And for the one who guessed Amarantha: No, I really was that naive once upon a time.

I have a lot of Thoughts on Mary Sues and growing up and writing and discovering oneself and fandom and stuff. But they will have to wait.

* * *

I am still conference-hopping but I have my vidding computer back OMG yay and today I went and got a huge-capacity external hard drive (10-cent gigabytes! I am floored at technological progress) and so I might might might be able to pull off a couple of submissions for Vividcon after all, and I have my vids-in-progress that I seriously cannot wait to get crackin' on again. First step is to finalize a proper ripping/editing/encoding process instead of the half-cracked lazy cruddy method I was using before. (For the vidding curious and/or vidding experts, my latest questions are here and here.) Computer! Ooh, I just want to hug it.

I have acquired a couch! With a foldout bed, no less. Also a low roll-y table, so if former coworker J. from NY ever comes over again, she won't have to repeat her declaration that it's weird to have the TV on the floor. This is all thanks to someone a few floors down from me whose flier for a moving sale I saw after work, who let me browse through the pickings, and who then offered to help me move these up here. Really nice guy. In our trips to and from the elevator, puffing and hefting the couch, I learned that he has lived in Boston and NYC too, and when he saw Star Wars on my DVD shelf he said that's the movie that made him go into filmmaking.

Man, I have lucked out in this building. The guy I sublet from last summer; the guy whose lease I took over; my former neighbor; my current neighbor; and now this guy -- all strangers -- all very sweet people. This despite the building managers continuing to act, to use the vernacular, like douchebags.

After I'd paid him (more than he'd asked, because seriously, he saved me a lot of work) and he'd gone, I sent a quick thank-you email. When he wrote back, he added, "I hope this isn't out of line, but I just wanted you to know I thought you were really cute. :)" Which, plus couch, made my evening. *happy smile*

I don't know if "cute" means "fun and likable in a romantic way" or "want to ruffle your hair because, like everyone else, I think you look and/or talk like you're high school-aged instead of almost thirty," but I'll take it. I have never been and never will be someone who gets called "hot." ( Cut because this is getting long. )

I've always been ahead of the curve intellectually and behind the curve socially. Once again, I find myself saying: Oh. So this is what it's like to be a grown-up.

These are the last days of my Golden Year, and in fact it has been golden. I quit a job that was slowly destroying me, took a big trip to new places, spent a year at MIT with some wonderful people, met and solidified friendships with a few LJers, and am embarking on a different career path. That last is frightening, but it's invigorating too.

I don't think tomorrow itself will be of much note, other than my dad and his girlfriend are driving down for dinner, but it's been a wonderful week leading up to it, and speaking broadly, I'm in a good place in life right now. Never mind that after next month I have no idea where I'll be living or working (or whether I'll be working), or that I'm now at an age I barely visualized when I was a teenager (back when I thought fifteen was the peak of existence), and have no idea if I'm living up to my own expectations about the speed of life's progress. Was I supposed to have a steady boyfriend by now, and a career, and a home? I have none of those; but whether it's justified or tenuous, I'm more deeply satisfied than I've been in a long time.

The rest of today is free. I'd like to write something, but I don't know what. Maybe will poke around with a vid, which uses a different part of the storytelling brain. Speaking of vids, this one by the incredibly talented

newkidfan that I just came across this morning is beautiful: Language (SGA, John, gen)

I am a quarter of a century old today. It feels at once like quite a lot and hardly anything at all. Twenty-five years, and still straddling the border between adolescence and adulthood.

...That's about all I've got; for once, I'm not feeling particularly maudlin or even introspective. Perhaps it has to do with just having returned from a relaxing and fun week with

synn, jumping straight back into work today, not having too much time in which to brood, and/or becoming naturally less, rather than more, morbid with age.

To celebrate, there will be fic later. It's not new, exactly -- I'm still working on the two stories due in August -- but rather that long story I mentioned on the 1st, soon to be unlocked. Nothing says happy birthday like an inbox full of comments, right?

Also! Very happy birthdays to those of you who are celebrating/have celebrated around now:

synn,

purrlia,

firestorm717,

alisel_kat (much belated),

elynross -- am I missing someone?

Last year, I invited all of you to tell the stories of your usernames. You are still invited to chip in over there. This year, I will merely be a geek and list some celebrities who share(d) my birthday: George Bernard Shaw, Aldous Huxley, Carl Jung, Stanley Kubrick, André Maurois, Mick Jagger, Nana Visitor (Kira on ST:DS9), Helen Mirren, Kevin Spacey, Sandra Bullock and Kate Beckinsale. How strange the ways in which we feel connected to people.

Cary Tennis over at Salon.com offered more brilliant advice today in response to a letter entitled, "I'm 28. How do I grow up?" The advice-seeker described the difficulty she's having in moving forward with serious relationships and the lifestyle she's crafted for herself. These were my favorite parts of Cary's reply (the second paragraph especially):

What I would say to you about adulthood, to liberate you, is that certain actions are just actions, not gestures. [...] When the roof leaks and you get a new roof put on, that is not symbolic of middle-class existence. That is keeping the rain out. So I speculate that for your generation, schooled in postmodernism, part of moving out of the postmodern maze, which contains in its complexities many cruel intellectual traps, is learning to see action simply as action, not as gesture. You are not your iPod. You are not your pants.

...I continue to believe that understanding the death of modernism and the power of postmodernism to shape how we perceive the world is key to making decisions about adulthood. You have to learn to see how you are seeing in order to recognize how you are constructing what you are seeing.

Do we not stand in awe?

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Entries tagged with growing up

Things: they are happening

New York, part one

Trekking back into Trek

Uh, whoops. One month, no posts. Hi!

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In which a post about a piece of furniture morphs into self-reflection.

Another year older (almost)

Happy birthday to me! (And many of you too.)

The alternative is to be pitiful, or dead.

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