pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Happy Back to the Future day to people who are living in the past, relative to my position near the international date line! In the second film, October 21, 2015 is the date Marty and Doc arrived in the future - a future of flying cars, hoverboards, the nostalgic Cafe '80s... and keyless entry, mobile eftpos terminals, and Skype business calls.

I hadn't thought I was in the mood to watch the movie last night; I was stressed out after work and felt like anything intended to cheer me up would just make me crankier. But if I missed watching the movie on The Day, I'd regret it forever, wouldn't I - so I did, and before twenty minutes in I was in a greatly improved mood and actually having fun.

You know what though, they missed a big opportunity. The first film ends with Marty and Jennifer getting into the DeLorean with Doc Brown and flying away; then they decided to make a sequel and had to figure out what they could do with that scenario as the starting point. What did they do? They knocked Jennifer out within the first five minutes, and then she got a couple of minutes to overhear conversations from a cupboard before being knocked unconscious again; she spent most of the first half being carried around by Marty and Doc, limp as a sack of spuds, and then disappeared for the rest of the story. We only have the Doc's assurance that the timeline will re-form around her after she was abandoned on the porch in the hellish alternate 1985!

We've found out that Marty and Jennifer are still together, married with two children, thirty years in the future. That drives the whole start of the plot. Wouldn't it be so much better if we could see what it is that makes them work so well together? I think it would be more convincing if we're shown that these teenage sweethearts have what it takes to form a lasting relationship - not just told that, well, that's what they did. Imagine if Marty and Jennifer could have had an adventure in 2015 together, possibly involving both their son, who looks just like his father, AND their daughter, who could in this envisioning look like her mother instead of like Michael J. Fox in a wig. And they're in trouble which only their parents can solve, by impersonating them in a scene perhaps involving hoverboards!

And if anything needed explaining, but Marty shouldn't need to ask because he's an old hand at time travel, Jennifer could ask the Doc what the heck is going on. And when they go to 1955 again, Marty needs to avoid crossing over with himself from the first movie, and Jennifer also needs not to run into past-Marty because he doesn't know she's a time-traveller too, so seeing her would freak him right out unless she was heavily disguised, WHAT ARE GOOD DISGUISES FOR A TEEN GIRL IN 1955? And Jennifer could have a run-in with teenage Biff Tannen and maybe as a liberated 1980s girl she's done karate and she has ways of dealing with his harassment which weren't available to poor Lorraine. And it all gets ever more confusing and they need another walkie-talkie.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I didn't think I was in the mood to watch Back to the Future II last night, but that was because I'd forgotten what an enjoyable movie it is.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Things I have managed to forget in the past week:

-my keys
-my sunglasses
-my drink bottle (both of these before bike rides on sunny days, but not the same day)
-a prescription
-to change from my fluffy slipper-socks into normal socks before putting my shoes on and going to work
-that my grandmother was hosting a family lunch
-that my niece was coming to visit
-to bring a snack for a long day out
-that I'd told that exact same bit of news to my boyfriend not two minutes ago
-to bring a fork as well as the plate of food when I sat down to dinner just now
-the other thing I was going to write in this list

I would blame Daylight Savings but that only started halfway through the list.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I bit the dentist whoops. I didn't know he was putting his finger in my mouth just then. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood or even leave dents, but I did bite him harder than it's polite to bite someone you don't know very well. Still, I expect dentists are used to it.

My feet are in new socks which are nice and thick and comfy. I like the sort of socks with thick terry stuff in the foot, but sports socks made of that stuff usually don't come up your ankles at all, leaving a cold gap, and socks that do are all thin. These are polypropylene hiking socks. It's been freezing lately so it's a good time to have warm new socks.

The nursery had a sale so I went and bought many trees and I don't know where to put them. I bought a fig tree and a plum tree and several native trees for the bit where I'm trying to get a nice shady bit of bush growing, and I'm going to have to water them and keep them alive until I've worked out where to dig their holes. Apparently fig trees grow quite big.

I haven't been doing any art. I was doing well at art until I had a couple of big days of work, and now I'm not creative at all. Being tired drains it all out of me. I recovered from being tired after work days ago and I still haven't done any art whatsoever. Maybe I'll have a go tomorrow.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I've been entirely disproportionately exhausted by working for two days this week and my ability to contribute to NaArMaMo has fallen through the floor. So instead of art, I'm doing a cat post. Here's a proper introduction to Monty, with pictures!

Read more... )
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Followed a link today to an article on the ubiquitous tastelessness of the Red Delicious apple. My Nana used to buy three Red Delicious apples every week to put in her fruit bowl, then throw away and replace them. She didn't eat them and I had to be pretty desperate for an apple to chew through the bitter skin of an apple at her house.

But fandom-relevantly, from the article: the Red Delicious was brought to prominence by the Stark Brothers' Nursery, and they called it the Stark Delicious. But before it got famous, it was called the Hawkeye.

Oh, also, the Stark Delicious was striped red and gold. The solid deep red was selected for later on.

There is a surprising amount of Avengers fanfic involving bananas (and not even in a dirty way). Iron Man and Hawkeye having their own apple varieties calls for fic too, don't you think?
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)


but there was a party at which there was somewhat of an overestimation in the provision of desserts

and we brought home so much cake that was going to be thrown out if nobody took it away

and it's going to go stale if I don't make my best effort at it

I am all chocolatey and sticky to the gills, it is really nice cake

but I could really go for some lettuce leaves or something tomorrow


send help
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
There's a bit about Black Widow in the new Avengers movie that seemed to come out of nowhere, and a lot of people had misgivings about it. I LOVED it.

Read more... )
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I watched Captain America: The First Avenger and Captain America: The Winter Soldier back to back tonight, as part of my Marvel movie binge. Two main thoughts sticking:

Bucky needs a hug. The Winter Soldier problem would have been mostly solved with more Steve/Bucky hugs.

The Black Widow's hair goes wavy when wet. After showering at The Falcon's house, how did she get hold of a hair straightener? He has a military haircut and appears to live alone; I don't think he had one to lend her.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I've had a few image hosts over the years. Ones that decided to no longer allow hotlinking, or that changed their domain name slightly so I had to go back and edit multiply-illustrated posts to point to the new location before the site vanished a while later, or that still allow access to my old pictures but don't allow uploading new ones. And I've seen image hosts that other people use and haven't liked them, such as Photobucket which has an interface I just can't cope with, or Imageshack which puts up porn ads next to your picture which rather sucks for people who click on it without an adblocker, or Dreamwidth's unfinished image hosting service which I can't figure out. Or ones you have to pay for, or which are intended for specific purposes - game screenshots or screencaps from TV shows don't go on Deviantart.

Anyway, rather than keep signing up for new sites and finding they don't work, I'm trying something I already have, which is the public Dropbox folder. Picture under cut!
Read more... )
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Twitter was full of Discworld quotes this evening. But I didn't think anything of it because Twitter is always full of Discworld quotes.

RIP Terry Pratchett :(
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I was sitting with my sister and niece and the topic of Disney movies came up, and it appears that The Princess & The Frog is a big favourite for all ages. It's not one I'm all that familiar with, so I asked my sister to confirm whether Prince Naveen was, in fact, pretty hot.

She said, "Well, yeah, I suppose, but Aladdin is still by far the hottest guy out of all the Disney movies."

"This is an insane conversation," I said, and being the top-notch sister that she is, she got the reference within seconds:

Then in butts the niece, she of the great wit and charm: "Auntie, you really like princes a lot, don't you? 'Cause you like Prince Naveen, and Prince Zuko..."

I blushed red to the ears, I can tell you, and it wasn't just my fannishness (which is also her fannishness) about Avatar: The Last Airbender causing the embarrassment. The niece doesn't know what romance path I'm going for in Dragon Age: Origins, and my only defence is that the fellow didn't tell me he was a prince until I was already hooked.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Having finally got around to storing away my winter woollies, I realised my cedarwood mothballs needed perking up with a bottle of cedarwood essential oil I bought for the purpose months ago. There's a little plastic bag of mothballs sitting on my desk so I can rub them around now and then until the oil soaks in. I keep seeing the bag out of the corner of my eye and thinking it's something to snack on, like crystallised ginger or brazil nuts or something yummy. Have not absently dipped my hand in as yet.

I'm getting new glasses soon. I got my glasses when I was 16 in order to pass the eyesight test when learning to drive; the original owlish lenses were cut down to fit more stylish little rectangular frames when the old frames fell apart, and those frames have lasted for years until too many bits came off them too. Occasional eye tests in the last 17 years have shown that my eyesight is not really changing enough to make a difference; yesterday's test showed a slight worsening in one eye and a change in the angle of the other's astigmatism. I feel completely justified in not getting my glasses replaced every two years as the opticians would prefer. My new frames are going to be PURPLE and I think they look good with my current wavy bob hairstyle - no guarantees if they'll work with long hair or if I cut it all short again. Another good thing is that I can patch up the old pair again and use them as spares; I think I'll keep them by the TV so I can watch without having to go hunting in my bag every time.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I wanted to post about my best Christmas songs list because today I'm listening to all the Christmas songs thanks to [personal profile] jekesta's post, and also because it's warm and muggy and raining very hard, which is always what happens shortly before Christmas. The rain and the waterlogged garden and the washing not getting dry are very characteristic of this time of year.

Wizzard yay! Straight off [personal profile] jekesta's list because it's lovely. No slight intended on Slade, of course.

Boney M's Mary's Boy Child is one of the most memorable off the Christmas songs tape we had when I was small. It also had Snoopy's Christmas, Anne Murray's Silent Night and a truly atrocious cheesy Rudolph.

Chris Rea, whose name I didn't know before looking up the video. I'm not sure what the line "top to toe in tailbacks" means but it might be to do with snapping the ends off beans for Christmas dinner.

Cliff Richard who is sort of like tinsel and the Virgin Mary in Christmassy relevance; couldn't have Christmas without him and that's why I couldn't choose which song to put in.


Bing Crosby and David Bowie ... how is it that their voices sound so good together? Especially since one is in a grandpa cardy and the other is from another planet.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I'm trying to write a story containing a heterosexual romance which subverts all the stuff I can't stand about heterosexual romances, and I have just come to the realisation that turning something on its head too many times can result in the damn thing being up the same way it started.

In attempting to correct for "the man always makes the moves" AND "lol, what's consent" in mainstream romances, I've ended up in a situation where although the woman has expressed her interest, it's now entirely up to the man whether this goes anywhere and if so at what pace, and the woman's desires are not really relevant to the situation. While this is an improvement over bodice-rippers, it is not the story I intended to tell.

Maybe I shouldn't also have tried to subvert "the man always has more sexual experience" in the same story. This is why same-sex couples often seem the simpler option...
pebblerocker: A twenty-sided die carved from stone. (d20)
Ginger Geoffrey stares at me in fascination when I sweep the floor. Such curiosity and puzzlement on his little cat face. I can't help feeling that he's making a point about how infrequently I enact this strange ritual, and if I did housework more often he'd not be so baffled to see it.

I'm playing Dragon Age: Origins! It's a lot of fun! (This is possibly something that takes up time I could be spending on something more constructive!) I decided to make a dwarf character. The top of her head comes up not quite as far as her companion Alistair's shoulder; I'm guessing he's meant to be on the tall side but not exceptionally so, six feet plus or minus a little, which puts my character at around four foot ten. Which is not much smaller than me in real life. So when NPCs meet me and say, "Ah! You're a dwarf!" they are making quite an assumption - she could just as well be a human at the lower range of normal height. I'm quite used to coming up to people's shoulders, or their armpits if they're unusually tall. Playing as a character who's short like me and also incredibly physically capable and skilled with an enormous two-handed sword is... rather satisfying.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Every time I think I might post something here, I realise that a lot of it wouldn't make much sense without context, and I never get around to posting the "where I'm at" post.

I moved house. I moved from a smallish and cheap house in a noisy street to a beautiful roomy new house on the edge of town. This has been cause for some happiness and some distress. I love living in a really nice house, where the walls are a colour I chose and there are no neighbours zooming up and down the driveway past my window twenty times a day and it's wonderfully quiet and dark at night. I am distressed that not everybody gets this sort of thing. Life isn't fair and that bothers me even when the unfairness in my favour.

I am filled with shame when a person in my life says that I must have been doing a lot of positive thinking to attract such wealth from the Universe. According to her beliefs I wouldn't have received this if I didn't deserve it, and therefore I must be better than her and she'll have to do more affirmations until she deserves it too. This thinking is horrifying to me; being praised for winning at capitalism is not the sort of approval I want.

I'm trying to invent a system of town planning in which everyone can have a bedroom window looking out over trees and croplands instead of streetlights and roads. My ideal town needs to have fractal edges so everyone can live at the edge. Although perhaps there are outgoing types of people who wouldn't mind living in the middle with people all around them. I love being at home and not having to see or hear any people at all.

When the people in my old street heard I was moving out soon, several different people approached me to ask when my moving date was and whether they could move straight in after me. I'm happy to be out of that ticky-tacky box of a house, but it was at least sunny and dry and that makes it a very desirable house on that side of town. I met someone whose landlord had given her the minimum amount of notice right before Christmas and she'd had nowhere to go, so she was sleeping on her daughter's couch while her husband, who has a bad back, had to live in their car. And someone else whose place was mouldy and her children had bad asthma and the landlord wouldn't do anything about the pool of standing water under the house. And all I could do was say what rental agency to apply to. My few near neighbours in the new place are all middle-aged white people.

I do love this new house though. All the peace and quiet, the row of pine trees dividing my place from farmland, the grey warblers and tui and moreporks I hear in the trees. I started a bit of a herb garden and I like gardening better now I'm not being squashed by the weight of people's eyes looking at me whenever I'm outside. Moving house was very stressful but living here is taking away a lot of strain I didn't really know I could escape from.
pebblerocker: A dream ship sails through the sky. (Fool in the Grand Master of the Interest)
My partner was watching a documentary the other evening on sleep and dreams, and there was a section on lucid dreaming. It's fascinating to me that it's potentially possible for brains to do that; I think it would be interesting to experience.

Last night I dreamt I was riding around the streets in the area where I used to live on a small purple bicycle with straight handlebars. I rode around for a bit and then I noticed I was riding a larger red bicycle with swept-back handlebars. I was surprised that the bike had changed while I was riding it; I also had a very strong feeling that there was something very important to remember about why bicycles don't change into different bicycles and what it meant that this had happened. I struggled to work out what it was that I needed to remember, what vital fact this clue was telling me - I wrestled hard with it, but the crowd of children running behind me distracted me and I forgot what I was trying to do.

Every time I'm reminded that lucid dreaming exists I seem to have one of these dreams; this one was the closest I've got so far, with not just the realisation that something odd and impossible had happened, but the knowledge that I could deduce something from the impossibility, even though I didn't quite get to the answer. Odd sights in dreams (day into night, childhood home attached to current garden) don't seem to trigger any realisation, but things that feel wrong do. Both bicycles in my dream are real ones that I'm familiar with riding (though only one is mine) and they feel very different, with different riding positions and gears.
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
Photos of storm damage at the NZ Herald, linked by [personal profile] vilakins - near the end is my absolute favourite, taken in Ponsonby, haunt of rich people who like coffee, showing devastation of a shop-window dummy. Or perhaps a failed Auton invasion.

There wasn't as much wind as that down in the Waikato - no trees down at our place this time - but we had torrential rain and discovered that the drainage at our new house wasn't done properly at all. We were almost flooded out two nights in a row. I was outside at half past ten last night with torch and shovel, trying to divert water from pooling dangerously close to the laundry door and wishing I had sandbags to use. Our driveway turned into a cataract and I drove the cars up to park at the top, where there wasn't so much water, before we started work on digging a drainage channel right across the drive and reinforcing it with a dam made of fenceposts and the gravel we'd reserved to make a path - whatever came to hand.

Some drainage contractors came out (very promptly!) to put a new trench and pipe in yesterday, but the rain that evening bucketed down even harder and the runoff coming down the hill overflowed the new drain and went straight on as if it wasn't there. They will be back next week with a digger and a bigger pipe. I'm hoping we can put across the point that the drainage should have been put in properly at the start (i.e. in the right place - where the water goes) and we won't have to pay for the work ourselves. Though the contractors definitely need their fair pay, because they're doing a great job for us and they're not the same people who couldn't be bothered doing the work properly the first time.

My partner and I are both so short on sleep...
pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)
I discovered an Agatha Christie book I'd never read and I'm enjoying it so much. I'm at the part where the second murder has just happened and the detective has all the information but it's in a jumble of red herrings, and everyone is acting suspiciously but PROBABLY just because they're bartering fresh butter and don't want to talk to the police about their evasion of the post-war rationing, and I haven't a CLUE who did what and why. This is my favourite part of the murder mystery experience and I sort of want to stop here or read just one paragraph a day and stay deliciously tantalised forever.

Puzzling and puzzling all day at work about it: maybe the young distant cousins of the inheritor of the large fortune are *plot details from the middle of A Murder is Announced, but not the end* )

My ebook copy seems to have had a few OCR glitches creep in. Most obviously, the title is down as "A Murder is Announces" even though it's "Announced" on the cover image. There was a bit of misplaced punctuation which made it look as if someone's husband's name was Sonia. The best mistake, repeated twice, was when the masked man entered the drawing room "nourishing a revolver".


pebblerocker: A worried orange dragon, holding an umbrella, gazes at the sky. (Default)

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