Mech Anime Diva Extraordinaire!

I don't feel like having a bio, but I can post some nifty stuff that I think typifies me. Content may be updated/changed at my whims.

My "Mostly Books" Amazon.com wishlist, for those who want to get me birthday presents.

My "Mostly Not Books" Amazon.com wishlist, also for those who want to get me birthday presents, but don't want to get me books.

My newest list, Happy Housewarming which is all stuff I think I need for my new apartment that I'm moving into right around the holidays.

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Things Guys Do That Make Them Considerably Less Attractive To The Opposite Sex
Compiled by apocalypsos

Cat-calling from moving vehicles
Telling a girl she looks like she 'likes to party'
Trying to get access to a girl by harrassing her friends and family
Kissing a girl's ass to embarrassing extremes at every turn
Trying to force a sense of humor when you have none
Behaving like an asshat
Behaving like a stalker
Bothering a girl when she's obviously trying to do something else
Treating a girl like she's an idiot
Always having to be right about everything
Referencing porn with no fair warning
Buying a girl stuff and thinking that entitles you to something

Dead Wood
aka: The Obligatory De-Listing Post
By scarletdemon

I'm going to cut down my Friends list,
There are too many of you to read,
You can beg to be spared in my Comments,
If you're desperate enough to plead.

There was a time when I added you,
(Or more likely added you BACK),
In those days I noticed your good points,
Now I'm noticing things that you lack.

I'm happy imparting MY wisdom,
For that is what wise people do,
But though you're all interested in ME,
I'm bored witless by some of YOU.

Perhaps we have nothing in common,
Or you only Commented a bit,
Or perhaps you're too intellectual,
Or perhaps your Journal is shit.

Some of you are using filters,
To spare the people you'd bar,
I'd rather cut out the "dead wood",
That way they'll know who they are.

If you think I'm going to drop you,
You mustn't get too forlorn,
You could change my mind by flattery,
Or by sending me amateur porn.

And if I eventually dump you,
You mustn't feel hurt at all,
It just means that if I was Queen,
You'd be first up against the Wall.

An Ode to my FriendsList
written by W.H. Auden
mangled by sevenall

I really love my friends list
It's full of recs and polls
And art and fics and travelogues
And sometimes, flamed by trolls
There's nasty, stupid people
Wherever you may be
And some will say they hate the gay
But you're MY cup of tea.

The 'Stop F^(@ing Him' Post
By cmpriest
[Editorial Note: Every female of childbearing age must read this before friending me. There are no exceptions.]

A Haiku for Me, About Me
by cathybites

drunk faces and they
all love her, all love her song
karaoke queen

The Feminist Principle FAQ by karenhealey: While I don't think I'm the same kind of feminist she is, I think this is a good point of reference towards figuring out what kind I am.

"Get yourself in that intense state of being next to madness. Keep yourself in, not necessarily a frenzied state, but in a state of great intensity. The kind of state you would be in before going to bed with your partner. That heightened state when you're in a carnal embrace: time stops and nothing else matters. You should always write with an erection. Even if you're a woman."
-- Tom Robbins

An Hollydaye Treatyze
by chaosvizier

A is for Advent, a calendar of sweet
B is for Blitzen, a venison treat
C is for Christmas, the birthday of Jesus
D is for Drinking, which goes great with cheeses
E is for Eggnog, which makes me roly-poly
F is for Fa La La, and other carols holy
G is for Goose, upon which the chefs toil
H is for Hannukah, and eight days of oil
I is for Irritable, Irrational, Irate
J is for Jingle Bells, on my nerves they grate
K is for Kwanzaa, because it's PC
L is for Lines At Stores, that cause misery
M is for Mistletoe- give me a smoochie
N is for Nutmeg, which tastes sweet on hoochie
O is for Orange, an unseasonal colour
P is for Presents, that's what we're all here for
Q is for Quality, sacrificed for money
R is for Rudolph, with nose red and runny
S is for Santa, an anagram of Satan
T is for Times Square, and New Year's Celebratin'
U is for Unlucky, if your birthday's on Christmas
V is for Valentine's, not quite yet upon us
W is for Winter, with cold, snow, and ice
X is for XMas Tree, all decorated and nice
Y is for Yulelog, which burns hot and pleasin'
Z is for Zoloft, the cure for the season!

"Greetings to people with a ringing in their ears; greetings to growers of gourds, to shearers of sheep, and to makers of change in the lonely underground booths! Merry Christmas to old men asleep in libraries! Merry Christmas to people who can’t stay in the same room with a cat! We greet, too, the boarders in boarding houses on 25 December, the duennas in Central Park in fair weather and foul, and young lovers who got nothing in the mail. Merry Christmas to people who plant trees in city streets; merry Christmas to people who save prairie chickens from extinction! Greetings of a purely mechanical sort to machines that think—plus a sprig of artificial holly. Joyous Yule to Cadillac owners whose conduct is unworthy of their car!"
--From a 1952 essay by E.B. White; the entire thing is here.

Tonight, in the wee hours of the morning, children may have their homes invaded by a giant bearded man suspected to be the former bishop of Turkey. He may be accompanied by elves, or possibly a retinue of minor imps, or even Satan himself. He may distribute gifts. However, naughty children can expect to be beaten with a stick and taken to Spain, his rumored current nation of citizenship.

If a family is exceptionally traditional, and has placed their straw-stuffed boots by the musty peat hearth, then this towering figure will park his flying eight-legged horse on the roof of the home. Small gifts will be placed in the boots as payment for the feed.

Modern families can expect a somewhat more rotund visitor dressed in red, white, and black, who will make with the giving of material goods in a surprisingly anarcho-communistic distribution of wealth from his legendary Arctic nation. Keeping the gifts is recommended. However, given current progressive melting of the north polar ice cap, we may all one day be called upon to return the favor.

And if you see a twinkle in his eye, run.
—deepthink, here, complete with awesome crosshatched picture

The single most important commandment in the Christian (and although I don't presume to speak for my Jewish brothers and sisters, I will note that Jesus was quoting Deuteronomy 6:4-5 in his response) faith commands God's followers to love Him with all of their *mind*. All of their mind. To use your intelligence and your thoughtfulness to love Him. Not just to accept Him blindly but to *think* about him, to honestly search your thoughts and your knowledge and to love him with all of your mind.

This is tempered with the understanding that we are finite creatures who cannot begin to know Him fully and must exercise faith by loving Him with all of our hearts and souls as well, even when we don't understand, but that's still pretty powerful stuff.

The Christian faith doesn't ask you not to use your mind. It commands you to.
--anastasiab

Telling is because someone is hurt or breaking the rules. Tattling is if you're trying to get that person in trouble.
--claudia79ad

Writing is a moneymaker, an escape, a drug, and a therapist all rolled into one.
--Dr. Pauly

Looking at the floor, I found I could really start to tell who was who. There were people dancing, nonchalantly going about the floor with their moves and their stylings, and then there were the dancers (some of them not very good, mind) throwing themselves into the fire with abandon and joy. Screwing up and loving it. Back on beat, back on phrase, back with your partner. Clashing energies and thundering feet and people who don't touch the ground. Blues dancers who melt across it, flowing like honey. Tap dancers pounding out rhythms with their feet, goading one another on to better, faster, more beats and riffs. Let those feet free and let those arms go. Go wild and embrace it, because seriously - who's watching?
--daroos

Editors are fragile creatures and should be dealt with accordingly. They are only friendly as long as you help them maintain the illusion that they have real control over any given project. The minute you shatter that illusion (by allowing real life to slow the work) they get frustrated because there really is nothing they can do about it. Without their carefully crafted fantasy, they cease to be friendly.
--arcana_j

DON'T MOVE BACK. A lot of people quit New York less than a year after moving. That's a personal choice, but if you're trying to be in New York, obviously leaving it is not a viable solution. If things get so hard you want to move back, ask for help from family and friends. Evaluate the choices you're making, the things you're buying, and see where you can cut back. Realize you're not going to get that super-star job right off the bat (see: BECOME AWESOME). Stiffen that upper lip. Or cry. Whatever you need to do, just don't move back. Life is hard. Welcome to it.
--Ben Popken, on how to move and live in NYC and not be broke and insane.

The people around me right now are drinking Moosehead and sangria, listening to music and laughing--laughing so very much. They lean into each other, hugging and touching affectionately. They are, at least for the moment, confident and secure in themselves.

This is a world my children have never experienced. They are just beginning to learn security, safety, stability, the feeling that the person next to you will not harm you.

This is what I want them to have. I want them to grow up into friendship and security, fondness and stability, affection and safety. So when I look around this room, I see what I am fighting for.

I do not fight to solely to minimize damage. I do not fight simply for the cessation of trauma, I fight for the beginning of living. I do not fight simply to stop crying, I fight for laughter to start.

This is real. This is living and laughter and a reason to keep going. This is what makes me go back to my job every day and look my children in the eye and tell them honestly: "It gets better."

And then I keep fighting to make that true.
--thatpalebluedot

I plan to make it as easy as possible for you to get a copy of my book, and to give you the tools to easily share it with friends and family, because this whole thing is a very real test of my philosophy on book promotion: publicists don't sell books, readers sell books. If authors make it easy for their readers to share their books with new readers, authors will quickly be able to afford a boat armed with laser beams and an army of killer robots to do whatever you'd do with an army of killer robots.
--Wil Wheaton, on how to best promote your own work.

Everyone should see a movie with trishalynn. I cannot describe it, you just have to experience the Trish-Effect for yourself. It's like Surround Sound, but it's more, Surround-Scream, Surround-GutWrenching-Emotion, Surround-Sobbing.... oh, was wonderful. If I was a filmmaker or an actor, THIS would be the kind of audience I would daydream of, people like Trish.
--cocoajava, on the first day of KielleCon.

I read the entire interview (including part one) yesterday, and observed that Trisha and I talked just like we were a couple of friends, having a beer and playing darts. Everyone isn't going to be as cool as she was, and I have to be careful in future interviews... if Trisha were a jerk (she's not) she could really have taken advantage of my trust and the easy rapport we developed right around "Hello." If I'd stopped to think, "Dude, you're doing an interview. Watch what you say, and be succinct," it wouldn't be nearly as rambling and "conversational" as it is... but it would also be pretty middle of the road, and not true to who I am. So here's a public thank you to Trisha for not being a jerk, and burning me the way Entertainment We(a)kly did so many years ago.
--Wil Wheaton, here.

I've seen [Trisha] reduce grown fic writers to tears with a case change correction. I hear she has George Carlin's animated head in a jar whispering the wisdom of the ages. Gannett tried to bribe her off an APA, and she composed her rejection letter entirely out of wrapped words under six letters long snipped out of USA Today.
--deepthink

I don't have a journal. I sometimes think the reason that this blog has lasted so much longer than I ever expected to be writing it is because it really is useful as a journal. If I need to find out when I was last in Sao Paolo, or something, I just search the website.
-- Neil Gaiman, here

One of the frustrating things about being a writer exclusively is that you can't just knock off a quick short story on your placemat while you're waiting for your food to come. Well, you can, but it's just not the same, y'know?
-- Jeffrey Channing Wells, co-writer for Skin Horse

I don't think you should ever insult people unintentionally: if you're doing it, you ought to mean it.
-- Neil Gaiman, here

On the eve of my 30th birthday I had sunk to the lowest point of my life. It was a rainy day and water seeped through the sidewalk grates and sprayed the entire subway platform. The train was late and I stood in a wet suit after not having slept well in days. The end of the month was nearing and I was nowhere close to filling my quota. With the Enron scandal, consumer confidence was at an all time low and the Europeans pulled all their money out of the American financial markets. We were all struggling and I was caught in a heavy spin. I hated my life. Every ounce of it. I had such an amazing time in my 20s that life in my 30s seemed futile.

What was the point of living if I had nothing to look forward to?

I was working on Wall Street, yet still broke and deep in debt. Most of my friends were out of touch, dead, or joined the rank and file of suburban drudgery. I committed artistic suicide months earlier when I took a desk job and gave up writing. Plus I had just discovered that my lover was pregnant. How could we have been so stupid? I was almost 30, gaining weight, losing my hair, totally broke, and on the edge of hurling myself into the abyss. I wanted to jump in but was too afraid.

I reached a moment of desperation and prayed to God. I asked him to send a deranged homeless man to rescue me by pushing me to my death in front of the next subway. I wanted to die and was too chicken shit to kill myself, so I had to ask God to do it for me. I was a gutless prick and I deserved to be mangled beneath an uptown No. 1 train.

I don't think God was listening to me that day because the train arrived in the station and I got on and went home. Or maybe he was listening and decided that my life was worth sparing. That's for you to debate.

If there is a God, he saved me by not answering my plea for help. If there is no God, then I reached the tipping point where I thought that death was a better alternate to life. That's how serial killers turn to the dark side. That's how suicide bombers think before they strap on the bomb vest. That's what goes through people's minds before they jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.

If I honestly thought death was a better option than life, then I needed to make changes in my life to make it more meaningful.
-- Dr. Pauly, here