beachlass | pebbles

I read two great stories this past week with characters who turned invisible. In both stories the invisibility was sometimes involuntary, instigating a fear of fading away to nothing, being lost, unseen, unlooked-for, forgotten.

I wonder how often we have those moments, of feeling like if we just faded away that no one would miss us? Of feeling our self, outside of role, be invisible. I remember how much it means to me when someone says "I haven't seen you/seen you posting recently, and I missed you and was wondering how you are."

Sometimes I long to be invisible. More and more I take the time to shop at a grocery store if I'm in the city, so I can buy my jar of puttanesca sauce and not be "the minister", stopped in the aisle and told of the latest concerns. It's a blessing of small town living, but a double edged one. Like how I should take my old laptop in for data recovery, but don't dare do it locally, because of the explicit fandom stuff saved on it.

Like in the stories, it doesn't take much to feel seen. The loneliness is assuaged as long as a few people can see and name, and remember and look for the us when we're fading. And that feeling of being seen and known has been a huge gift for me from you, my online community. And I'm so grateful for it.

The stories I read this week, hidden because I think the invisibility is a spoiler for the second story:

Hunted - http://archiveofourown.org/works/323064 - by taste_is_sweet - H50/SGA/Predator

and

In Plain Sight - http://hd-holidays.livejournal.com/205208.html - by oldenuf2nb - Harry Potter

My ex husband, for the following exchange

Ex: calling about travel arrangements for Youngest Child today
Lass: information about road conditions where we life
Ex: tentative arrangement
Lass: agreed, call me when you're ready to leave the city
Ex: "I'm just wondering about our financial obligations to Eldest Child. I've just been informed she expects me to pay for her replacement passport"
Lass: I don't know what you mean, and yes, she is broke, and her passport needs to be rush replaced. I have no plans to cut her off, she`s only 19.
Ex: "But I'm wondering about our financial arrangement about her. Can I expect to see this money back"
Lass: I still don't know what you're talking about; if you expect her to pay you back, you should talk to her.
Ex: "I think we need to talk about the financial arrangement. I gave her $100 last week"
Lass: And I gave her $140 two days ago. She`s broke.
Ex: I`m wondering if I can expect you to pay me back for money I loan her....

Lass: *head explodes* If you aren`t willing to give her money, then you need to tell her that. And I will continue to financially support her and we will deal with it. I don`t really understand what you`re asking me.

Ex: We just need to have a conversation about this. I don`t think I`m being unreasonable.
Lass: If you are expecting me to raise Youngest Child on my own, with almost no support, and think that I have enough money floating around to help Eldest Child, and also pay you back for any money you loan her; that is not happening. I don`t have that kind of money.
Ex: I don`t know what you`re getting so upset about. I`m not being unreasonable. And you`re on speaker phone in the car.
Lass: *head exploding again*
Ex: It`s not like we ever shared finances equally in supporting Eldest Child (ed note: not a single fucking penny in child support because he opted to suddenly play the `just a stepfather` option) --- so I don`t see why we`d start now. We just need to talk about it.
Lass: Goodbye.

20 min later: text message from Youngest Child, asking if I`m okay

I'm working my way through a not-very-relaxing To Do List today, which was supposed to be a day off, and really, really isn't going to be. I'm experiencing a lot of stress-by-proxy, as Eldest Child tries to rush around getting her passport replaced in a rush. Plus, I had to talk with my ex today, and negotiate parenting stuff with him.

I'm on about my last nerve with regard to people complaining that I'm not juggling my 10,000 responsibilities well enough, or criticizing my parenting choices. Yesterday it was people complaining that I wasn't at their meeting early enough; after I'd led three worship services and driven for an hour to get there. (And then chaired their meeting and drove home. Without a break.) This morning it was my ex second guessing my decision to let the Boy stay home from school when he was sick; and miss school one day this week for a photo shoot, hair cut and casting.

Argh. RL people. Learn some fucking manners.

I have Reichenbach falls on hand, I don't think I'll be able to watch it until late tonight, when I'm done driving kidlet around and going to work.

Someone suggested last week that I start tracking how many full days off I manage each week. *laughter*

I have fabric for new curtains downstairs, blue green sheers, and am loving the change in light.
The turtle ate today, for the first time since he moved in. Apparently he likes carrots.
I finished turning the heel on my current pair of socks while waiting (for an hour) at the medical clinic yesterday.
Kidlet got his bloodwork done, now we just need to wait, and see if there's a reason why he's sleeping all the time.
Both kids have been reading their Christmas books this week, and loving them. (Cory Doctorow and Libby Bray)
My girl is coming home for the weekend.
I've managed to take enough time off from work this week that I'm less on edge.
I've been reading my way through The Losers fanfic; and it is awesome.
And I have The Losers on dvd to watch this weekend.
I remembered to soak my yellow eyed peas overnight.
I have Batman's No Man's Land to read this weekend.
Coffee and Corn Pops for breakfast.
I'm wearing my newly knit red/pink/white variegated socks.

Oh shit, are we playing Nice Canadian White Girl Rummy today?

Just let me check my hand.

I've got a pair of "I Care about Native Issues" - spent two weeks on a reserve once, and have some books by native folks.
I've got three of a kind for "Canadian Cultural Sovereignty" - Greg Curnoe art, Slings and Arrows box set and Margaret Atwood novels.
I've got two "Canadian Activities Today": taking my kid to the doctor for free and curling at the rink.
And four wild cards: "My best friend is....", "single mom formerly on welfare", "rural", "queer"
Oh! And an ace in "Obscure Canadian Etymology" - use of "camp" in Northern Ontario instead of cottage or cabin

To be clear, I am not at all bothered by the Canadian Shack fic trope, am enjoying the current fest immensely.

I am angered and saddened by the appropriation of people's pain, including snide remarks about poverty in the rural Southern US, and the use of the housing and infrastructure disaster on Canadian reserves to score points in a fandom argument.

My fucking country today, you guys. I'm sorry.

Jason Isaacs gets around. From Azkaban to Neverland to my Netflix queue (The State Within).... doesn't it make you wonder about bedtimes at the manor, when Lucius read Draco Peter Pan? How he did the voices, and had the scariest tic toc tic for the crocodile? Did Draco fancy himself Peter Pan? Did he realize he was Wendy through and through, longing to fly away from nannies and social expecations to find the Boy Who Improbably Lived Despite Peril at a Young Age? Did Lucius want Hook to win, did he identify too strongly with Smee's misplaced loyalty? Did he know how much he would give to have the relief of the Darlings' be his own at the safe return of his child?

The house elves made Draco Peter Pan birthday cakes, with animated scenes playing out in icing. Pansy and Draco had sleepovers, and dressed up in Narcissa's nightgowns and leggings. Goyle and Crabbe only ever got to be Lost Boys, and were ordered around mercilessly.

Harry never heard Peter Pan. Not until he had children of his own, and they went to the panto and yelled and heckled and laughed, and stopped at Fortescue's for peppermint icecream on the way home.

++++++

Snakes. I am rather seriously phobic about snakes. Of the involuntary shrieking and jumping away at harmless garter snakes variety. So why on earth I thought watching an X Files episode about snake handling was a good idea, I'll never know. Snakes! Religious authority figures sexually abusing minors! Moar snakes!

++++++

I have knit two pairs of socks for myself since Christmas, and when I am more ambitious will put some pics up on Ravelry. But they are cute, and I am pleased.

+++++++

Sherlock. I've watched the first two episodes of Season Two, and am quite pleased, overall.( SPOILERISH TALK )(Someday I will find words to describe my love for Jude Law's Watson. Today is not that day.)

++++

Best blessings to you all. I have had a lovely day off, spent entirely in my pyjamas, which is an all to rare treat for me. Oh! And I have a new (old) turtle.

Yesterday morning I woke up and had bouts of dizziness. (No idea why, and eventually they went away on their own). I had diligently left my To Do List on the desk in my office, and after some discernment and a caring (and requested) twitter scolding from

anatsuno , I stayed at home to work. But my list was on my desk! My liturgical books were in my study!

I had to write the service without my favorite books of prayers, and in doing so discovered a liturgical blog by one of the new-ish twitter people in my circle. And I had a limited stack of books on the 'church' shelf in my kitchen.

[Digression - a couple of years ago, I sequestered a section of the kitchen shelving to hold books that had migrated from the church to the house, and am so grateful I did so... I lose far less work these days, spend less time searching for books, now that I have a place to put them at home. And when the shelf is over-full, it reminds me to take some back to the office.]

I pulled out Barbara Brown Taylor's Leaving Church, and have read the whole thing in 24 hours. This is and isn't surprising - I love reading, but I'm a magpie reader at work, tending to read chapters here and there, depending on my focus for the day or week, and often abandon a book partway through.

Taylor's book is an account of settling into a wonderful parish in Georgia, and then leaving it. It's not quite a story of burn out, because her reflections move beyond that and into questioning the whole practice of priesthood and church life. She reflects on power and busy-ness and liturgical practice, and has left me with some good questions about clerical role and identity and the intersections with church structure and congregational life.

I just... haven't quite formed the questions yet.

But I'm reminded that a few times recently, I've come across references to the yearning for uninterrupted time; for silent retreat, or an hour of creative writing space, and the wisdom by early monastics that we bring our own distractions even into our cell of seclusion. I was reminded of it this morning, checking my twitter feed between chapters in my reading - for no good reason. Reminded when Brown talks about her initial panic when she face her first day of not doing a hundred things.

I've been rewatching the X Files over the last couple of months. I'm partway through season six. And I'm absolutely loving it.

I still find the first season the scariest; probably because when it aired, it was some of the first horror I ever watched, so I have a visceral fear reaction to the glowing tree bugs, and the squishy guy who slides through the vents. I love how the interaction builds between Mulder and Scully: the care and teasing and trust.

It's neat to re-immerse into another decades popular culture, into the conspiracy and alien mythos when the current flavour is vampires and werewolves. I love how bad ass Scully is; she's the good shot, the one who rescues Mulder more often than he rescues her (at least at first). The lead actors seem to enjoy the characters, David Duchovny in particular appears to be enjoying the hell out of himself frequently. I also love all the surprise! guest appearances; from teen! Ryan Reynolds and child! Jewel Staite to awesome! Lily Tomlin, all kinds of people show up in episodes.

I'm less fond of the times when culture and ethnicity are the flavour of the week; and troubled by the monster-identification of mental and physical disability. Sometimes the show is reflecting on cultural tropes, more often it seems to be perpetuating an 'othering' of difference, and allying it with the literally monstrous.

I'm far enough along into the run of the show now that I generally haven't seen the episodes I'm watching, which is fun. And I'm so happy the whole thing holds up as well as it does after so many years.

I remember when

nezuko used to write his morning pages, I always enjoyed his stream of consciousness writing and admired his discipline of sticking to writing and throwing it at the virtual wall to see what stuck. So, be warned... stream of consciousness rambling ahead.

Damn, it was cold today. About -17 C both times I actually checked the temperature. Cold enough to be cold in snowpants when I walked to the optometrists. (Apparently my astigmatism has healed itself, wtf, and I only need my reading glasses now.) Cold enough the the car was a bitch to dig out and scrape off and the doors were frozen shut.

I led a women's group at the church today that included reflecting on five risks we haven't had the guts to tackle, and what the worst case scenario is for each. Mine included asking for an increase in child support (cue laughter from anyone who has heard any stories ever about my ex); and trying to fix the leaky holes in my kitchen ceiling. And start planning my sabbatical. Also on the list was finishing my masters, which, probably no, because the worst case scenario there is mental health deterioration.

I've watched Scandal in Belgravia once, and my initial impression is I loved it. I've been reading a lot of insightful critique of Irene Adler's characterization and the plot, so I'm looking forward to watching it again.

repost of an Inception story from September
Language of Love by beachlass
Written for cobweb_diamond.

ALOE- GRIEF( Language of Love )

Incredible piece of piano/electronic music, with the score, replete with every accidental ever and all the time changes you could want and more.

( You may live in Canada.... )

So. My laptop died in July. Since then I've been online at home only through my Blackberry playbook, which is absolutely wonderful. Except that it Does Not Play Well with the update window on either DW or LJ.

Reading and commenting: just fine. Journal posts: from hell. (But, I loooooove my playbook, and if you are thinking about a tablet, I really encourage thinking about a blackberry)

So I've spent the day on the new laptop, installing and installing and then working my way through putting together slideshow presentation for tomorrow's workshop. Nothing like a steep learning curve.

Anyway. I still have to throw together the props and costumes for tomorrow (drama and visual aids, it's almost like the church will be in the right century tomorrow)... but I am so HAPPY to be able to type in the update window and see it at the same time.

( dog picture to celebrate )

( Because for a fandom whose canon includes a lot of architecture, we've been remiss (and spending way too much time in non-descript warehouses) )

When inviting yourself to you ex wife's house for thanksgiving, playing on her sympathies for giving the kids both parents in one place,do remember to offe rto bring something Waiting until after thoroughly ridiculing her store bought gluten free pumpkin pie before commenting that you could have brought one is a little late.
Don'tbring your laundry with you. I can't believe it needd to be said, butno. Just no.
Bring something for supper. The bottle if wine that will send her to the hospital if she drinks it doesn't counrt. Food allergies, I know you remember them.
Do the dishes. Especially if I've led three worshipnswrvices, come home, cooked supper and hosted. Your mother once criticized my table setting for not including butter knives, I know you were raised with some manners.
If you are gauche enough to bring your own laundry, don't dump the hoisehold laundry in a heap in the living room, and proceed to berate the kids repeatedly for not folding it. And while marveling at how nice it is not to have to go to the laundramat in your building, saving you money, how about offering to help with something in return? Yes, the gutters do need cleaning.
Accusing your wife and daughter of cackling like witches over a game of cards is not called for, even if we were being dicks by high fiving over the last hand. We took that last trick by leading an offsuit nine, and its not funny to opine that you woukd have burned us at the stake if it were 200 years earlier.

So I went to vote this morning before heading to the office. The woman ahead of me at my polling station was pretty obviously mentally disabled. The poll officer took care to get her settled, reminding her to ask if she needed any help. When she had her ballot ready, she came to drop it in the box, and asked "Does my vote count?" - reassurances all round, of course her vote counts, every vote does... "Because someone told me that if I put it in a box, it doesn't count." she continued.

What?

So.. more reassurances, all the votes in the box get counted, that's how it works, her vote will be counted with everyone else's.

And it's not that I believe there should be an IQ limit on voting privilege; but it's the naive gullibility that makes me feel heartsick. Because there's someone who doesn't know enough about the basic voting mechanics to understand that the box is where the votes go; and it's exactly that sort of believe-anything-you're-told that the last round of OMG SEX EDUCATION WILL RUIN CHILDREN goddamn conservative political ads targeted in this election. And I confront it doing pastoral visits; (mostly) elderly people who believe any damn thing because they heard it on the radio; or saw on a TV show; or got a spam email, or are reposting on facebook. And, god help me, they all vote. Even the one who died before the election happened voted in an advance poll. From her hospital bed. (What are the chances that the people who make sure the elderly in nursing homes vote also advocate for prisoners and homeless people?)

I come round pretty quickly (driving down the country road to my office, cranking the dance tunes in a futile attempt to elevate my mood) - to all the bullshit hoops we make immigrants and refugees jump through to get into this country; and how residency is so hard to obtain; and how many born-here Canadians would probably fail the tests; and how age of majority is all that is required to participate in deciding who runs the country, the province, the town.

And I'm just frustrated this morning. By willful ignorance. By politicians who calculatingly take advantage of ignorance. By my own elitist asshole-ish reaction to the woman ahead of me. By voting in a first-past-the-post system where my candidate never fucking wins.

( I seem to be holding so many people in prayer this week, especially for illness, surgery, cancer or depression. )

This morning's twitter rumour is that googlereader can read locked lj posts.

Still can't get into my delicious account, although at least it seems to be there.

I can only find one of my sheepskin slippers.

It is so chilly in my house this morning. 16 degrees C. And when I went out to the garden to pick some of the little yellow pear tomtaoes for the boy's lunch, I didscovered that at least part of the garden was hit by frost last night.

Brrr. Going to find some warm socks and a woolen sweater for my day at the office.

Language of Love

Inception story for cobweb diamond - prompt "Now that you've tazed me I refuse to buy you flowers"

~~please excuse the lack of a cut, my tablet does not.play well with the entry posting interface~~

( twitter prompts are love )

Profile

beachlass

January 2012

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31

Syndicate

Page Summary

Active Entries

Style Credit

Style:: timeasmymeasure

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Page generated Jan. 28th, 2012 09:47 pm

like pebbles on the beach

pebbles

the invisible men: reflections and recs

And in the category of "Performance by an Asshole" the nomination goes to:

forgive my blathering

thirteen good things this friday

cards on the table

snakes, socks and Sherlock (and also Lucius Malfoy)

gifts of limitation

X Files

a frozen stream

story post

(no subject)

Some Canadian Humour, courtesy of my dad

new computer

inception architecture fest

the ex wife's guide to family holidays, thanksgiving edition

my inner facist doesn't believe in universal suffrage

a prayer

dear god, this week

it really is fall

language of love