Found in Translation

I've had this journal since 2002. Good grief that's nearly half my lfe. I've written a lot of pointless drivel in it. I've also had some wonderful discussions through it, things that helped me immensely at the time. And a big reason I'm still here is the fic communities.

Still, looks like it's time to tidy up my internet presence and move on.

I've had a Dreamwidth account for a while; I might actually start to use it. Same name - see you over there. :)

Today is brought to you by a sudden and overwhelming yearning to get off this island. It seems strange that I haven't left the UK in three years. I used to be on and off planes every few months, bouncing back and forth between here and Germany. Before that, I took ridiculous bus journeys all around Europe every summer.

The last proper holiday abroad I had was in 2008, visiting Carrie in Canada. I still count it as one of the best things I've ever done. I still can't believe it was that long ago. Last time I left the country was the trip to Eurocon in 2010, but I can't really count that - we went to visit my parents first, and my mental health took a dive off the deep end for the rest of the trip.

My job situation has been too precarious, and money too thin on the ground, for us to have a honeymoon this year. Now it's been more stable for a few months, I return to my old conviction that travel is one of the most worthwhile things I don't strictly need.

I want to see Iceland in the middle of summer, when it never truly gets dark. I want to take a ferry out to the Greek islands the cheapskate way, sleeping on the deck and watching the moon on the water. I want to spend a couple of weeks somewhere I can roll out of bed and walk out into dunes and down to the water's edge, where the air smells of summer and sea. All my best memories involve being sleep deprived and far from home.

I came across a very useful phrase the other day: reward behaviour. It's a technical term that I hadn't encountered before, but makes perfect sense for a certain set of patterns.

A main point of this recent 'unfuck your habitat' campaign is actually changing my reward behaviour. Right now, the majority of my evenings go like this: 'Come home from work, cook, eat, spod around online looking at shiny things, pass out when tired.' I'm attempting to change this script to: 'Come home, cook, eat, do some useful stuff, brag about it on the internet, then spod around online looking at shiny things.' The 'brag about it' part is essential. People reward me for it by giving me attention and generally acknowledging my existence. This is a HUGE incentive. I also get to feel like I achieved something. But really, the actual result of uncluttered living space is almost a side effect in the larger context of changing unhelpful habits.

Speaking of which, progress continues.


( Stuff: Achieved )

Special mention needs to be made of lordofthewheel, because he rocks. When I got in from work last night, I found the laundry done, the kitchen tidied and wiped down, and he spontaneously helped with the great assault on the underbed space by repacking all the camping rolls and air beds we keep there. I think my bout of getting things done-ness is rubbing off on him. He claims he did it so he doesn't have to feel guilty. :p Whichever it is, it's an enormous help and five shades of awesome.

Next goal: wardrobe. (Muahahaha.)

Things get better from here. That's my resolution. Considering how good things have got so far, I rather look forward to it. Hell, my life isn't anywhere near free of problems, but I know when I'm onto something good.

Last year, lordofthewheel and I spent Midwinter curled up in front of the fire in our new house. (That's also when we decided to get married, but then didn't tell anyone until August. Actual wedding next year and all that. :D) Anyway, this year we headed out to Brighton to see the Burning of the Clocks.

I've got this soppy affection for Brighton. I'm never there long enough to notice any of its flaws, plus it's full of lovely people - I seem to meet more of them every year. As we were walking along the sea front today, I realised I've known this place for over seven years now. Still seems it was just the other year that I first came for a visit. Bloody hell, how time flies.

Back then, I was fresh out of school and a little unsure about whether I'd get into uni. All my future was hanging in the balance. But I knew even then that I'd be back, and the years went by and I came back over and over again and built a life here. And today we stood on the Promenade together, with the sound of the sea and the drums in our ears, and watched the bonfire on the beach and the fireworks above, and it was exactly what a Winter Solstice should be. One of the ways, anyway.

I'd say I wish I'd known about all of these things way back when. But I think I could see the shape of them even then, vaguely enough. Can you see it? All ye spirits of Christmas Past, can you see it?

Merry Solstice, everyone.

lordofthewheel and I have just bought a house.

That is all. :D :D :D

Five years ago today, I moved out of my parents' house and into my first apartment. That was probably the single best thing I've ever done.

My first place was in halls, tiny, with standard-issue furniture and increasingly full of silverfish--the whole building had them. On a whim, I gave it a name: Atlantis, due to the movie poster I'd stuck to the wall. One of my reasons for moving there was to be closer to uni, but I have to admit that during the next two years or so, I partied more than I studied. I made friends with people halfway across the world and fell into ungodly sleeping habits; this was the place I shared with lordofthewheel for a week on his first visit, and History Happened. Personal history, anyway. :)

In July '07, I moved into a basement flat a stone's throw from campus, which I shared with a girl I'd met in class. Nearly all the papers of my uni carreer were written there, including the thesis, because after two years of slacking off I had a lot of writing to catch up on. Many, many night shifts were pulled, but that hardly mattered because my room got next to no daylight anyway. On the up side, I had space. Lots of it. Shame only that towards the end of my lease, a pipe in the bathroom broke the tiniest bit and sneakily soaked my wall over the weeks it took me to discover the huge damp patch. Joy. It was a good place though; I don't miss the flat, but I did like the neighbourhood, and I've been back a couple of times to wander around my old haunts.

My current flat is nominally in halls again, but privately run, and I was able to bring my own furniture. Worlds of difference. It's a lovely little place, and it has a name again: Riverbank. That's what the German street name translates to, for one thing, and I can actually watch the ships go by right outside my window. (Considering the 'Winter in the Willows' larp that is currently brewing and will no doubt do horrible things to my childhood, this amuses me to no end.) I won't be living here long; I'm planning to move out in February and get settled in England. With lordofthewheel . Let's see how we fare when we're genuinely stuck with each other. :)

Hot off the press, the latest edition of 'It takes a special kind of stupid': after washing out a pair of gloves in the bathroom sink, I discover that the plug is jammed in its hole beyond retrieving. Attempts to lever it out with fingernails, knife blade etc. spectacularly unsuccessful. I guess getting one of those rubber suction thingies is my next step, before finding that this also fails and having to attack the plumbing from the other side. Just saying, when you get the news I drowned in my own bathroom, this'll be why.

To round off the complete pointlessness of this post, have some pixel dragons.

Taking a break from last minute pre-deadline madness to squee incoherently and grin in a possibly deranged fashion because this page here:

http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20090701

 makes me incredibly happy in oh so many ways.

That is all.

(Deadline is the 14th. Expect no sense from me before then.)

I stayed up for about 30 hours straight yesterday. Again. My body seems to get confused about time zones, and my bedtime sneaks ever closer to dawn, and I find myself waking up around three in the afternoon. The drawback of being done with classes: the thesis deadline is too far away to get me out of bed.

(www.xkcd.com/448 <--Yep, this is me.)

So from Wednesday to Thursday, I skipped sleep entirely. Crashed at 9 pm or so, slept through the night for a change, and was awake by eight. The results are rather startling. So far I've got more reading done today than in the last four days together, walked for an hour, shopped for some small necessities, and cleaned my entire flat. (The bathroom is technically Steffi's job, but a) she's not here right now and b) I felt one could only get dirtier in there the way it was...) What with all this domesticity, I should go out tonight and make up for it--if only that wouldn't switch me back to nocturnal in no time flat. It's disconcerting how much more productive I am when I put mornings at the right end of the day.

Also, it's the equinox today. Happy spring/autumn, depending on where you are. :)

Edit: my new desktop picture.
( Hungry? Don't click. )