A Can of Worms

a)I love them all soo damn much.
b)I have this weird hankering for Amanda/Joe stories, of a mischief-shared-good-buddy kind, possibly with a bit of friendly sex included as a cherry on top:).
c)I still have and probably always will have a massive crush on Amanda. And possibly a teensy-tiny one on Liz Gracen.
...this brought to you by exhaustion after a blue Monday and an endless coming-not-coming-down with something, and a glass of red wine.
Also, I always sporfle at the funny tagline our local channel advertises the Highlander reruns with - translated, it goes roughly like this: "Duncan is the only guy in the world who will see the Bold and the Beautiful from the start to the finish!".
ETA: Amanda and Duncan are also very very nice together.

...because I looked at THIS and thought. "Well, that is about half of the SGA stories out there..." Well, and some other fandoms, too. It is probably also one of my favourite narrative kinks:)

So, for some inexplicable reason it seems recently I might be having a bit more energy left over from essentials than for a long, long time. It might even lead to increased probability of an actual interaction with the world in some areas previously neglected, like posting, and perhaps commenting and...
Yesterday, came home from work, tried to have a nap, and people kept phoning me. Extremely vexing. So, I got up and in protest, went out to listen to a small but enjoyable public reading of a chapter from the Return of the King in a bookstore. Mmm, it made me realize it has been ages since I last re-read Tolkien (*gasp* maybe even longer than a year or two) *eyes bookshelf greedily*. And then I ended up in the cinema and watched ( The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo )
And now I have today off, and it seems actually that spring is slowly arriving - it is sunny outside and the temperatures are keeping above 0 C during the daytime. Of course, here and now 'spring' means that everything is covered with either a)piles of dirty snow, b)mud, water and mixture of both or c)very slippery ice, but still, sun. And the tits have been determinedly optimistic for weeks now, so I guess they should know. (By 'tits' I mean the feathered, bird-y kind, not a random collection of boobs. Though, maybe boobs are optimistic too, it's not as if I can tell with strange ones as they're all covered up as appropriate for the weather, and it's never easy to tell with my own, they're secretive about their moods.)
Mmmm, it's noon and I'm having coffee and need to go nowhere. Except perhaps back to bed. That might even mitigate the knowledge of the nameless horror that lies ahead a.k.a. the monstrous soulkilling farce named ironically 'daylight saving time'. Bah. I shall firmly decline to rant on the topic of that disaster and instead, will have a nice nap. And then read.

Dear Estonia,

I love you. I do.
That said, there are times I am ashamed of how you are and oh so very angry at you. Here, have a dose of common sense: if Estonians as a nation die out, it will be because it will be our time - even nations have their lifespan -, because we leave too much hard work on the shoulders of women we pay too little, because we drink too much, work too much and die too early, because we fail to learn from past mistakes, because we will forget our history or because we will become blinkered and ensnared in it, because we sit too much in the dark of our soul and do not smile outside, because we keep everything inside, because we teach our men that they should pretend to carry the world and expect our women to do it in reality, because we only consider a person worthy as long as that person is young, able and high-wages-earning, because we forget to teach our children that education always pays off, because a big neighbour gobbles us up again and again and again and at last one time there won't be enough life left in what is spat out...
If we as a nation die out (or for that matter, the whole Western civilization declines), it will not, let me repeat, NOT be because some of us are queer. Nor because queer people might gain the right to form a civil partnership or marry and/or adopt children or gain any other rights inherent to marriage institution. So, my dear native land, in that regard, with all respect, screw you.

Lovingly,
Cali, shouldering her part in the decline of the Western civilization.


The above brought to you by the week-long theme in the local media about how a proposed change in marriage/partnership legislation might be about giving the gay people marriage rights, and the bile and acid in the comments and some opinions. Today's radio debate, for example, made me lose all respect towards Martin Helme.
I just try to remind myself that usually, the reasonable and non-belligerent people are the majority, but the silent one. *Sigh*. Though, I totally dig /sarcasm living in a country that prides itself on being European and 'western' and then has a major newspaper running a poll regarding the legislation of the same-sex partnerships where the options are: Leave legislation as is (result 8%), allow same-sex couples register civil partnerships (17%), allow same-sex couples to marry (22%) and (I kid you not) make the legislation regarding the homosexuals more severe - whatever that means - with the result of 53% of responders choosing that option.
Thank you. Some days, I just feel like emigrating and teaching my hypothetical future children Estonian and tolerance in some other country that perhaps has more sense. Though, good coffee and Jim Byrnes singing also helps to normalize the blood pressure, at least.

( The How Old do You Act meme )
YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE: 27


Well, I'm a tad curious why this meme seems to imply there is no life after 35, or at least no-one is capable of acting older than 35. Though I'm sure that can be true in so many cases...
And I can act for all I'm worth *grins*, but in RL, taking 6 years off my age is ... generous. In a backwards way. See, back when I was 16 or 18, I could get away with being thought 6 years younger. It has only gotten worse from there on... Seriously, let me give you a few recent examples.
A couple of weeks back an old lady who'd brought her dog to the clinic gave me a long disapproving once-over and asked whether I was the doctor. I affirmed that I was indeed the veterinarian. "No," she claimed with iron certainty. "You cannot be. You're too young." *sigh* This being neither by far the first nor likely the last time such stuff happens, I did not point out to her that it'd be rather far-fetched to assume that a random teenager would steal into the clinic, don a practice uniform complete with the name-and-title identification and then sneak into the exam room for the express purpose of pulling her leg. After I'd patiently explained that despite looking 'too young' (whatever that means), yes, I am the vet, I am not as young as she thinks, yes, I have been in practice for 10 years etc, she grudgingly admitted I might not be lying. "You still look too young," was her final condemning verdict.
And yes, I get that a lot of people think I should be jumping up and down with joy because hey, I'm a female who looks younger than she is, what the heck is Cali whining about? But in the professional field, it can be incredibly tiring sometimes.
A few days after that I was idly staring into space at my local supermarket's checkout, waiting to pay, when the cashier suddenly asked for my ID. I had a moment of wondering why are they asking customers for ID now - and then I realised that I had a four-pack of beer among the other stuff. Last time I was asked to prove that I'm over 18 was about a year and a half ago, and I kind of thought that I'm leaving that particular amusement behind. Apparently, no. I flipped my wallet to show her the ID card and she squinted at it. "What year is this ... 19...?" "...Seventy six." I deadpanned. She did a rather comical double-take and hastened to assure me that it should be definitely taken as a compliment. Definitely. I sighed and smiled obligingly and wondered whether this is how Methos feels sometimes.
Later, at home, while on the phone with dad blaming his genetic contribution and making toast I went to the fridge to get the butter I had just bought. The butter that most emphatically was not in the fridge. This was when I wondered whether I should sue myself for the false advertising, because the outside sure does not warn for the deterioration of the mental capabilities. Then I wondered again whether that is how Methos feels sometimes. Yes, I know, immortal memory, blah-di-blah. I bet he still forgets his butter in the shop sometimes.


Oh, and in unrelated news, I've gotten a few more Dreamwidth invites, so at the moment I have four three to give out. If anyone would like an invite, give me a holler in the comments, 'kay?
ETA: screening comments for possible email-related-info, will unscreen comments without email addresses.

This is just to announce that as I got lucky (read: my openID account got an invite in the draw) I am now also calime on Dreamwidth. I do plan to purchase a paid account there come April 30th and open beta launch, and then I'll likely let my LJ paid status lapse for good. I'll see whwther I'll keep crossposting my few posts to IJ, LJ and Dw, or maybe just post links to DW posts, but DW interface makes crossposting even easier than Semagic, so..
I don't expect there will be a tremendous exodus from LJ to DW, though maybe more people will move than did to IJ, but I don't really see the problem of having three (or four, counting JF) reading lists to check daily - I'll probably divide stuff into 'read on IJ' and 'read on DW' etc. I read several different sites daily anyway, and I'm very glad of the Firefox Morning Coffee addon *grin*.
In general, so far I do like the DW interface best, though.

calime33 is blacked out: Stand up against "Guilt Upon Accusation" for New Zealand

Also, sleepy.
Work these last days has been all 'hurry up and wait', well, or the other way round. Yesterday and this morning was sloooooow, which coupled with the grey wet slushy weather made me zombie-like and vague, and then, afternoon suddenly erupted into what is in Estonian lovingly known as 'hullumaja puhvet' (word-to-word translation - mental hospital's cafe), or in English, simply 'a madhouse'. The cherry on top, so to speak, was an emergency of two dogs who very likely have ingested a poison of some kind, probably organophosphate based. Or pyrethrins/pyrethroids. Managed first aid and packed them off to the UNI clinic ... tomorrow will tell if they've made it or no. Am home at last, watching SGA 1st season finale and drinking alcohol-free glögg (because I am sleepy enough without adding alcohol to the mix, yet I need something warm and weirdly enough, caffeine-less).
I did put a new challenge up at highlander100, so if anyone's drabble-wisely inclined, please amble over and ... drabble. Or something.
*yawns*
So, I see this meme going around again, and as I'm incapable of doing anything that requires more than two neurons firing, please to be amusing me and telling me whether you think I'm fish or fowl. Or, um. Something or other.
Pick one word from each pair that you think describes me the best and comment with your choices. Then copy this and post it in your own journal to see how your friends view you. *waves hand* Only if you want to. Now in a handy poll format, courtesy of helens78, here!

Those last days I've been ... grumpy.( Read more... )

There is snow. A lot of snow. There is more snow coming. Is rather nice, takes mind off some pesky RL stuff. Though I wonder how I'm gonna get to work tomorrow morning - it's been snowing since last night and will continue to do so through tonight at least, and there have been storm warnings, houses losing electricity, traffic jams and stuff. Thank the universe that I live in a town and can walk to work.
*contemplates blizzard through the window while cuddled in bed with two dogs and three cats and watches Stargate*