April 8th, 2009


Odin's Day

It's Adam Day. Yay Adam!

Hello to new readers arielstarshadow and syncopated_time!

Still feel like eurgh. *droops*

If you wonder at my occasional bleak moods, consider this: it's most likely going to be something like yesterday that gets me. And while there are things that help - taking my meds, getting enough sleep, etc. - nothing can actually fully prevent it. I was fast enough yesterday, is all.

So. I have been reminded. Today? Today, I start writing faster.

I'm there. As Shadesong. I was lazy.

Wind Tunnel
MIT has a wind tunnel. Dude. I kinda want to go get photographed in front of it.

Interfictions 2 Auction!
ellen_kushner says: "Interfictions 2 will be published by the IAF w/Small Beer Press in November 2009. To celebrate - and to support this quixotic venture - we will be running another auction, and will be inviting people to create Wearable & Portable Art based on the stories in the new anthology (which, in a complicated way I am not yet at liberty to disclose, will be offered to artists ahead of publication - cool, huh?) as well as the first anthology."

ktempest is looking for help on organizing this - go here to volunteer!

And yes, this means you can create pieces for my story "Valentines". And I hope you do. I kinda love that story, and it's not short on imagery to use!

Link Soup
* Charles Tan has compiled the ultimate Directory of SF/F on Twitter. This makes me all twitterguilty. I ought to tweet more. Also, I must start following some of those feeds...
* The dark side of Dubai.
* A revolution in Moldova... organized via Twitter. Details here and here.
* This is a picture of Tila Tequila with Billy Corgan. They are apparently dating. No, I don't care about that. I post this picture because she is my height. So you can see what I look like standing next to people. Except I would not wear that dress, and my boobs are natural. Also I do not wear heels.
* Oooh, shiny! More fabulous jewelry from sihaya09!

Link Soup: Daily Science Edition
* Quantum lasers! This, of course, brings us one step closer to Schrodinger's Laser Cats.
* The five ages of the brain.
* For the first time, MIT researchers have shown they can genetically engineer viruses to build both the positively and negatively charged ends of a lithium-ion battery.
* Early warning clues for dementia.

Write. What myth ought I to poke at today? Hm. Also I hope I can get further into "My Empire for Ashes".

Tonight, Adam's birthday dinner. (And I can't wait to give him his gifts!)
Wind Tunnel Dreams

Wind Tunnel Dreams: Month of Myth

I noticed him right away because he was the only one in group therapy who never said anything. Besides me. That, and he was the biggest guy I'd ever seen - not just tall, but bulky.

Some of the others just shunned him outright, and that was unsurprising. There are cliques and castes in the mental ward just like in high school. Only thing different is that here the top dogs are determined not by designer clothes and fancy cars, but by how many orderlies it took to put them down when they acted up. It would probably take all of the orderlies in the hospital to put Emmet down, but he never went off on anyone. Never spoke. Shuffled into group, shuffled back out; read or drew until lights out.

I only rarely went off - usually when they were trying to get an IV into me. All my work at staying thin, and they wanted to pump me full of fat... it happened every time the nurses noticed I'd found a new way to hide my food, to fake it. They'd page the orderlies, I'd see them coming at me, and next thing I knew I was in five-point restraints with a bag dripping into me.

And then I'd end up back in group, picking at my bandaid, listening to the others talk about their crises and withdrawals and recoveries. And Emmet would never say a word, and neither did I.

So I started to sit by him in the dayroom. The quiet was calming. I could just sit and read, and every so often Emmet would look over and duck his head a little, which was his version of a wave. I would nod back at him, and that would be it. And we could be out of the relentless parade of bullshit, everyone just telling the doctors what they wanted to hear, all the crazy dramas. We could just be us.

Emmet's drawings were blueprints. I asked him if he wanted to be an architect when he got out; he nodded.

I asked him why he didn't talk. He shook his head.

And okay. He didn't need to. I wasn't going to. I just wanted to know. Because as big and weird as Emmet was, he wasn't stupid, and he was actually pretty interesting. And I wanted... I wanted him to not be hurting.

The ward had been on good behavior for a month, so they decided to reward us with a dance. The tables got cleared out of the cafeteria, and some staffer's boombox got plugged in - instant dance. Lots of staff on the floor to make sure people weren't being inappropriate with each other, but otherwise they left us alone, and soon it was just me and Emmet on the sidelines. I sat next to him, darting looks over; he seemed totally absorbed in watching the others - til he caught me looking. Impulsively, I stood and held out my hand. "Dance with me."

He looked up. "I can't." His voice was low - I had to strain to hear him over the music.

"I suck too. I'm - I'm awkward these days. I get dizzy."

"I don't know how."

"I'll lead." I was holding both hands out now. "Please?"

He did know how. And it turns out you can waltz to hip-hop. And, feeling so fragile... I began to think maybe there should be more of me to hold. Maybe.

Blame this on my Facebook friends, who, upon seeing my status message wondering whether to write about golems or bone women today, exhorted me to write both.

I grew up in adolescent psych wards, pretty much. The thing about social status being based on how many people it took to put you down? So true. Code Yellow < Code Red < All Available Males. I was the only girl who had All Available Males as her default; that was mostly reserved for the bigger guys. I was 4'11" and 85 pounds, but I did not like people touching me. To put it mildly.

There's always a big weird quiet guy in group, and always an anorexic girl. Psych ward archetypes.


Money goes to send Elayna to Explo. Elayna does not have my childhood and adolescence. Thank god.