minxy

This morning I reached for some fake sugar without really looking at what I was doing; whole wheat lasagna noodles poured all down my arm onto the dish rack. I put them back with a fairly bemused attitude about it, but didn't clean any of the dishes again because I noticed the coffee maker gurgling grounds onto the counter. It was that kind of morning.

But yesterday was made of win because I, in my first ever ficathon moderator post, sent out 40+ Gateverse Remix assignments. I'm pleased to say that only one bounced back at me because the email address couldn't be found, and I'd failed to change the salutation name in two emails, but got the assignment correct, which I feel is probably more important (self identity and such notwithstanding.)

I've only second-guessed one or two assignments, even, one of which being my own (omgwhatwasIthinkingtooooohaaaaaard...) but I read a poem today that is really, really Vala, and I think it might help direct the story choice.

Super seekret confession: my remix technique is to pick a story as fast as possible so as to have lots and lots of time to live in the world and learn it, make it my story, that kind of thing. Which means I'm already behind on picking a story, dammit.

( QUOTE DUMP! First poem is the one that makes me think of Vala. There are a number of traveling quotes too. )

No, seriously. An prep I worked all week on FAILED right before it became useful, and then my housemate (accidentally) wailed on me with a racquet later when I met her at the gym.

Leading to a HEAD WOUND.

Well, okay, just a big goose egg on my forehead, but it required ice! And it is still swollen a little and it hurts today!

And I may have volunteered to give a journal club presentation in my woe over the failed experiment (dammit! I was going to do some fun stuff today and now I can't on account of LOSING THAT PREP.)

One of my grad students tried to suggest that I buy a lotto ticket yesterday in anticipation of the dramatic karmic upswing that was bound to happen. He underestimated the depths of bad karma that would apparently be plumbed.

It's a tale of woe.

To cheer myself up, I'm posting a quote dump, collected since the last time I posted a quote dump, but with significantly more poetry, actually. I partially blame synecdochic for introducing me to a kick-ass poetry community called breathe_poetry. As before, there is very little fannish relevance here, unless one of you take these as inspiration.

( Quote Dump 11/2/07 )

Random icon actually chose a headwound shot. Ironic.

That is all.