Halley's Journal
Saturday, June 7, 2003
7:28PM
Go here. Go now. I love fanfic, but boy, are there times I feel like this.
Gacked from ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
andrewducker
7:15PM - Men's Sweat: New PMS Cure?
In the most recent issue of Discover Magazine, there is an article describing George Preti's work in human pheromones. More specifically, they describe experiments in which men are found to prefer the scent of shirts worn by ovulating women (regardless of whether any smell is discernible), and in which the smell of men's armpits, even when disguised, is shown to cause a significant shift in a woman's reproductive hormone cycle. (The Discover article isn't available online yet, but you can go here or here for other discussions of the research.)
( Read more... )
Wednesday, June 4, 2003
4:21PM - ask, and find out
TIffany came by the office today to talk about the case. She was hesitant and hair-twirling, but her spreadsheets were clean and she seemed to have a good grasp of the issues -- once I could get her to tell me what she thought. So we wrapped up what she needed to do next and commiserated briefly how the data we're trying to reconstruct has as many holes as swiss cheese. Then my boss came in and asked if we were "engaging in girl talk?"
( Read more... )
10:38AM - stereotypes
If there were ever a person I was likely to hate on sight, it was Tiffany. The name doesn't help. She's also a soft-spoken, breathy-voiced, bleached-blonde who wears sundresses and sandals to the office -- and yes, her toenails are painted to match the dress. If she were even a little assertive, the fact that she's an accountant might outweigh the rest, since it would mean she was comfortable having a brain. As it is, I despise everything about her and what it says about her strategies for handling the world.
She seems to want to interact with me as if we were somehow related objects, like the accident of our mutual female state makes me a legitimate source of potential friendship. If there is one thing I have never understood, it is a passive-femme woman's assumption that we have anything in common.
Why do I hate women more than men for falling into stereotypes? I may dislike individual men and their actions, especially when they fall to a stereotype I dislike, but it isn't the huge anger I can sometimes feel toward women. And I usually care more about the male stereotypes which insult or take advantage of others, and the female stereotypes that piss me off are frequently the ones which directly affect no one but the people acting them out. And I can't say I'm angry at her for her own good, since the passive-femme strategy can be quite effective in our society and she may well be getting exactly what she wants from her life.
8:59AM - Soup
Since I forgot last night, I am making emergency lunch food to sit in a container at work and (I hope) become decent soup by lunchtime. A can of cannelini beans, some broth, diced tomatoes, a few dried onions, some celery seed and cumin. And some pasta. So far, so good -- but will it actually be soup?
Tuesday, June 3, 2003
9:11AM - The meaning of names
I'm used to the puns -- that Minnewa (with his brown curls and bull's horns) is actually a mispronunciation of Minoa didn't occur to me until later, but it doesn't surprise me.
I'm used to the book references. Florian is the name of the charismatic ex-aristocrat and rebel leader in Lloyd Alexander's Westmark trilogy. He was a charismatic, trust-inspiring leader with devious plots -- which translated well into Florian Hale, head of Delgado Security.
I'm even used to the mixed word play. A krait is both a harmless-seeming poisonous snake and a kind of fighter ship in S.N. Lewitt's Dancing Vac -- which tells me a lot about Krait (though I had to figure out that she's Tavistani; sometimes I'm a little slow). Talat is both a reference to Aerin's lame warhorse in The Hero and the Crown and a play off talent, which, as it is both the name of a coin and "ability," always indicated alchemy to me. So, Alexandros Talat, the reclusive and wheelchair-bound alchemist.
But I haven't had such a run of clear tarot references before. Maybe it's just the Underworld.
El'izreth is of course Elizabeth, but in the Ennoran language it means "the heart." Which could be pun on "hart" and refer to her history with the Ennoran hunt, but it's also a reference to religious iconographies of flaming hearts (since Fiore is a corruption of the Italian fiori meaning flowers and the English word fiery) and carries strong connotations of martyr or sacrifice -- which is the original meaning of fiore in Ennoran). Hence, El'izreth Fiore. And if anyone wants to turn to the Three of Swords, you can see that her past is full of conflict and her future is stormy.
The symbols of fire, love, and sacrifice come out again and again in Fiore titles. Marcone is related to the French marque for "sign," and thus related to marquis or nobleman. With the Fiore obsession with fire and idealism, the title ends up translating as "beacon" -- a signal fire in the darkness, both guide and target. (The fact that Kia keeps calling him "Lighthouse" makes me happy.) It's a title bestowed on a person of charisma and enthusiasm with enough sense to serve as an example for others. I'm tempted to assign him the Hermit because of the lamp, but the intimation of fiore is of a much less restrained fire than the light of wisdom. Much more likely the Page of Wands.
El'andreth is Alexander ("defender of mankind") -- and in Ennoran, it means "protector" rather than "soldier" or "guard." El'andreth Fiore literally translates as "protector of the flame," with connotations that they are as much the protectors of the ideals of the Fiore as they are the protectors of the people. I always see the El'andreth as The Chariot, with its focus on the balance between creation and destruction, stability and dynamic motion.
All the "El" titles have religious overtones as well, since El for me also references the Elohim. El'amarys may mean "the healer," but it is also a refence to Mary, and amaryllis -- and again, we are back to flowers -- and a balance between the elements of water (from mare, "ocean") and fire (fiore, again). "El" also implies a relationship or place in society: one must be the heart of something; one must be the protector of something.
(I was about to get sidetracked on Fiore philosophy, but I'm trying to focus on names. Ask me about it later.)
Temperance runs the eponymous Temperance Station, one of the most stable spots in the Madlands and one of the most accommodating of the Outer Realm towns for outsiders. And yes, there is a relationship with the tarot card, and yes, there is probably some significance that the Fiore hold Temperance hostage to their war preparations.
Monday, May 5, 2003
2:26PM - Last night's dream
I was strangely unsurprised when the first angel came to join our side of the war. The others wanted to know what it meant, why he was here, if it was a sign. I just put him to work. You got used to it after a while, the way that the edges of your vision saw him as something huge and oddly folded into the shape of a human being.
We found out what it meant the next night: The north star was gone. Over the next weeks, the angels came down. The stars went out.
We had gathered on the plains east of the mountains when the sun came down to the field. The sky shimmered with northern lights, then went dark. Looking up, I could see the last stars descending, transforming, joining one side or another, until the sky was completely empty. Flat.
Watching that empty sky, I was finally afraid of what we were doing.
// I blame the Cowboy Bebop movie for the butterfly lights and the sense of impending worldwide devastation. The angelic iconography is all mine. //
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
1:22PM - Computer games of my life
Kip recently reminded me about the Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. No, not the books; the Infocom text game that I played on the old C-64 that was my family's first computer. It got me thinking about computer games, and how much of my life has been spent playing them.
Especially puzzle games. Logic and puzzle games have the dubious honor of availability; many good ones are shareware or freeware. I suppose that means fewer people like them, but I can't imagine a world without them.
At first, there were the arcade-style games that my brother and his friends cracked and traded for fun. The best part of having a hacker in the house was the constant supply of fresh games. On second thought, the best part (for me) was the constant supply of games without their manuals, so we'd have to figure out how to play them. Did I mention that I love puzzles?( my favorite games )
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
11:38AM - Okay, this is the serious entry
Heron was very frustrated with the last session of my game. 90% of his screen time consisted of the long negotiations with Guard and Zoxone (an NPC) about what Venice could safely do in the investigation.
Most of the problem seems to be (and please correct me if I am wrong), that he was stuck in this argument for most of the session. Then the session ended before Venice was able to do very much else, which increased his frustration.
To be honest, I think much of this was my fault. I knew that the negotiation was going to be difficult, and that Heron wasn't really looking forward to it -- then I got caught up in it. I didn't have the clearest plan for Venice in the session, and what plan I had was scrapped pretty early in the negotiation.
So, let's see if we can find ways to keep this from happening again in the future.( Read more... )
12:23AM - So today sucked
Today was a total waste of a day. I was up until three in the morning arguing with Heron about the game, then spent the day with the same thought circles going around and around.
( mindless, self-centered venting; not to be confused with the reasonable and intelligent post above )
depressedFriday, April 18, 2003
11:37AM - Some days, I wish I were a better person
Aaron is in town this weekend unexpectedly, which should make me happy -- after all, he's been in California since September, except for visits. But his presence over a weekend means that I won't be able to run my game, and I resent that.
We can't game next week either; but I've known about that for months, and I'm okay with it. Advance notice is a wonderful thing. I don't anticipate gaming that weekend, and I have time to plan something else. I would never have canceled the game in order to play Diplomacy, but since we're not gaming anyway... why not attend the tournament?
And I resent the fact that he doesn't acknowledge that it's a big thing for me to cancel my game. I'm very attached to my game; I work hard on it. I invest a lot of myself in it. Canceling the game disappoints me, it disappoints my players, and it makes it that much harder for me to get everything moving whenever we do have a chance to get back to it.
Aaron needs to be here. Nik died yesterday, and Aaron really needs his friends around him. This weekend, at least, I'd like to put all this aside and just be with him.
Thursday, April 17, 2003
1:44PM
I think of myself as a responsible friend. I'll pick you up at the airport at no notice, feed your cats while you're out of town, and run errands for you when you're sick. I remember birthdays (if you celebrate them), call you when I've heard that you're not feeling well, and let you talk to me about your problems. I'll try to help out any way I can during an emergency.
But I have one significant flaw: I can't handle on-going medical crises. I become the amazing disappearing person. I can help out with practical needs, as long as I don't have to be in your presence. I can even hold your hand for an hour or two a night -- but I'll spend the rest of the night utterly exhausted, and end up with a stress-flu buy the end of four days.
And it doesn't seem to matter if you're getting better or dying, if it's a human or a cat. Makes no difference to me. Significant physical pain? Early stages of grief? I'm gone.
I could blame it on my father's extended illness and subsequent death. But I don't think it matters where it came from, though it may be useful to know the origins. It's also useful to know that I've had more than ten years to get over it.
I don't want to get over it. I feel bad about deserting my friends. I'm ashamed at how obvious I am about it, too -- I hate showing my failures. But there is nothing in the world that can make me want to cope with Nik's dying and Aaron's grief. I'll go over, I'll do my time, I'll handle as many practicalities as I can -- and then I'll run away.
I don't know what I'll do if Heron gets sick before I get over this.
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
1:34PM - Babelfish and poetry
I was regulated to the energy at night
I had been to the external part, underneath rain and later rain
I have wandered beyond another light of the city
I observed more in the surface under possible
Of the direction more than sadder of the city
I have transformed in the relative effect of protection
And request my eyes, little wills, to explain the end
They have arrested me, and arrested the tranquil noises of my feet
If absent apprehensions moved distant shouts of you and him
More houses came from that other way
But I advanced more than the call, and I do not say goodbye
Promote always unearthly with a depth
Only the vivid pulse of the detonation of the skies affirms it not
No error, no exact one, no time
I was regulated to the energy at night.
If you are a Robert Frost fan, you can probably recognize this one. If not, read on for the original text.( Read more... )
Monday, April 14, 2003
5:39PM - Art space
We fill spaces with images intentionally, but sound is usually an afterthought, an accident, or a nuisance. Sound is a form of physical contact; we forget how sound, like touch, can shape our moods.
Today's mellow mood is brought to you by PSU art student Shannon Trent, whose installation in the South Park Blocks left me transfixed for more than thirty minutes.
From half a block away, you hear the rustling, wind moving through tall grass or maybe leaves in the trees above you. But when you look up, you see billowing, gauzy, translucent, white shimmering and rolling shapes hanging against the sky. They fill and roll like waves on the ocean, catch elm seeds and let them slide like beads from a basket. You can find the shapes of the air as it moves, puzzle out the past by the tangles of the sheets in the tree limbs as they wrap and unwrap with different gusts.
And all the while, there is the rustling, snapping, shivering sound filling the space around you.
According to the artist's statement, all of this was made with "quarter-mil plastic sheeting and twine." And a hell of a good imagination.
Sunday, April 13, 2003
7:47PM - Further gaming theory
In my last post, I think I was conflating game style and party style. Feh. I've spent the last hour or so brainstorming, and I'm getting tired of talking to the dry-erase board. But I think I'm getting at some of the issues of game style.
Theorizing about gaming, or The reasons why I'd never play that
( more gaming theory )
4:18PM - ISO group personality quiz
Somewhere in the universe -- and thus, somewhere on the internet -- there must be a personality test for rpg campaigns. How important are game mechanics? How important are NPCs? How do you determine your goals? How do you try to reach them? How do you respond when you fail?
Or maybe some way to determine their horoscope (with the sun in Leo, you need to give your group obvious goals...)
My friends keep telling me that every game is different, and finding advice that fits your campaign is difficult. But it has to be out there somewhere.
Anyone know a good guide for a INFP travel party?
( Party and PC types )
Tuesday, April 8, 2003
12:47PM - It seemed like a small thing
Too much, too much, too much. Madly tired. I haven't slept well since Friday. Work is impossible, and impossibly busy. Exhaustion brought to me by a seemingly tiny mistake.
I have a series of action-adventure stories in my head that I revisit when I want to relax and take my mind off the world around me. They're the mental equivalent of favorite childhood paperbacks, re-read until the covers have dog-eared and completely worn through. Plots drift and merge, characters accrete more and more complex backgrounds -- and I catch up with whatever scenes suit my fancy, particularly before bed. They fill other dull spots of my days (bus rides, lunch meetings), but I use them most often as a way to lull myself to sleep.
When I needed a faerie queen for my current game, I did not even blink at importing El'izreth and her mix-and-match clan of assorted allies. They have always been amenable to shaving off their serial numbers and going native in various worlds. Besides, the PC group won't even get to them in the near future; knowing the names and personality of the court is only background information for the current scenario.
Ah, but this scenario is hell on the squeaky-new NPCs who make up the embassy from Fiore. Their entire dilemma (and the consequences of possible solutions) come from cultural restrictions that are El'izreth clan classics. So the game world has now breached the barriers into my paperback universe in a long-familiar way -- by attaching entirely new characters to the edges of older groups and seeing what happens.
No familiar scenes, no well-known plots, and no way for me to move the plot forward until the game runs. Bye-bye bedtime stories, hello character anxiety. And it seemed like such a natural thing to do...
tiredMonday, April 7, 2003
6:19PM - Soap bubbles
I was talking with Charles Saturday night about gaming; specifically, how I don't understand why someone who enjoyed running games would stop. Charles just turned to me and said, "Oh, you've never had a game fail," as if that explained everything.
It had never occurred to me that games could simply fail, like a soap bubble bursting in mid-air. That phrase is haunting me this week.
Running a game is an act of confidence. If you wobble, there is no one to fall back on, and no one comes to save you. If you lose your nerve and start to withdraw, the players do the same -- and once everyone has pulled out, the game falls apart.
I've seen refs lose their nerve. I've done it, and I know it's hard to get it back.
But that's part of gaming for me. I like the things that frighten me, or rather, I like to defeat the things that frighten me. And I am completely and thoroughly unwilling to let them defeat me.
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
2:52PM - Silences
For those of my friends who have laughed at me over the years for my political ignorance, for those who wondered why I was so concerned about my mother finding out I was part of the peace movement: You don't know what it's like.
In my house, politics were never discussed. More than sex, politics created a void in the conversation, a no-man's-land between concept and speech. Political views were more private, more intimate than any relationship you could ever have. Nothing breached that silence.
My mom and I spent about four hours yesterday watching the helicopters circle downtown Portland. We watched the riot cops on our way in, and again on our way out. I discussed the protests in intimate detail, the news events of police tactics and protester response, the likelihood of significant violence in mid-day downtown. Heron spoke with her at length as we watched the news footage of yesterday's protests.
I still don't know how my mother feels about the war. She can discuss events without giving any hint of her opinion. She doesn't ask. I don't ask -- somehow, I can't find the words to ask.
In my family, we use words as a smokescreen. We can spend hours, weeks, even years talking without giving anything away. I grew up in a house where secrecy was embedded in a mirage of openness, where the appearance of eccentricity concealed years of paranoia and magic. You wonder why I have such a hard time expressing myself? I'm amazed I can do it at all.
Sunday, March 23, 2003
6:42PM - Parental visits
My mother hasn't visited me for more than two years. She had foot surgery and needed recovery time, then she couldn't afford the trip because of her time off from work.
I found out yesterday that she's arriving tomorrow. I had breezily mentioned that she was welcome to come up this spring, then forgotten about it when I didn't hear from her for three weeks. She's only staying until Friday morning so that she can go back to work on Saturday.
Today, I am cleaning out two years' worth of junk from the back room. We are so lazy that we hadn't even put the spare bed away; we just piled things on top of it. I badly need to vacuum -- somehow, cat hair continues to accumulate even when the cats are locked out of the room.
I'm glad she's coming to visit; I like spending time with my mom. But I'm concerned about her politics -- or rather, about mine. I don't know how my mom feels about the war, or how she'll feel about my anti-war activities, but they're not going to stop just because she's in town.
Thankfully, she leaves before the weekly Friday protest in Pioneer Square. So I don't have to explain about the arrests last week...
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