May 30th, 2003

children of dune - leto 1

svfic: looking-glass, 4

T-ball, second practice yesterday. On Sunday, first one, recognized one of the coaches as a guy I went to school with, two years my senior.

He's married. With three daughters.

What. The. Hell.

I'm telling you, it's the normal things that screw around with my head the most. I can deal with growing up myself, because I'm in complete denial about the fact and like it muchly. But someone who used to SCARE me in high school? Not so much. Grrr. My sister couldn't help but remark on his tan and his ass. I'm thinking, is he going to make fun of my hair?

Yep, that's me, all kinds of piles of strangeness.

In more interesting news, child is definitely a lefty. This despite the fact that he writes with his right hand at school (I suspect he's been trained that direction, since his handwriting is still pretty bad even for his age, while his left hand is still better but he acts confused using it). As an aside, it IS funny--since Child learned to draw, he's tended to use both, changing hands as one of them tires. Practical kid. But he's almost always shown a decided preference for physical activity on the left side--throwing, catching, etc.

Anyway, my sister's fiance, who DOES play baseball, was the first to note that while Child threw with his left hand best, he tended to bat from either side, but backwards--using a leftie position on the right side, and a rightie on the left. Sort of. SisterFiance thinks that part of that is observation--everyone he knows and has met and played with is right handed, so he's trying to model. It's cute. I understand this could slow him down should he pursue a professional career, but well. Cute.

Teeth hurt. Want dentist. Seriously overworked, as one of us is on vacation and another is in training. Scary numbers of people with smart questions, but several with really, really, really stupid ones. Want my mommy and a pony. Would settle for someone who loves me to write me porn.

The Yard is progressing. Unlike before, I'm plotting first because my margin of error is very, very small, and well. I'm not good at plot. It's not my natural forte. Romance, sex, love, death, that sort of thing, yay! But worldbuilding? Huh. Anyway, my apologies for being weird. I'll direct you to cool people who are not weird and who are brilliant to entertain you.

box_of_serial by Livia, where lives Altville, updated regularly. Oh yummy.

rageprufrock with numerous WiP's she updates nicely.

selling_out where Jessica and co are creating a fabulous universe.

I want a pony now.

Another State of Jenn in Fandom--this is basically how I keep progress on current activities.

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Anyway, as I don't have The Yard tonight, since I want to finish this particular curve and make sure it works before I start posting again....

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bored

child graduates in purple; also, bad hair day

Long day. Long, long, endless, long, and did I mention LONG day?

See, took off work for Child's Kindergarten graduation. Got jeans on (this is officially a Big Deal for me. Work is dress, and God, do I miss my jeans and t-shirts), brushed hair with fingers, water, and comb, went, extended family went as well (nothing quite like sharing a Special Moment with your son and five of your closest relatives when you want a. breakfast b. to have found your hairbrush this morning and c. that you could stop yawning. But I digress.)

For those who have been to these? Would have liked some warning. I was thinking, oh, cute little kids, everyone casual, but no. Everyone was dressed to the nines. Me, my t-shirt, my comfy flannel, and let's not discuss my shoes, stood out quite well among business and dress attire. Go me. Hair in pony tail (did I mention the brush issue?). Child and class were in LITTLE PURPLE GRADUATION ROBES. And these pictures will be posted, as soon as I get them uploaded. Adorable, yes. But surreal.

Awards presented, which kind of irked me--I was a desperately intellectually competitive child from, oh, the first time I realized being smart got you neat certificates, attention, pizza parties, and awards, not to mention going to competitions, but that wasn't until second-third grade. I'm uncomfortable with kindergarten being a competitive sport now. I had issues enough when Child was graded on coloring--on COLORING, for Pete's sake. *sighs* But I chalked that up to weirdness and enjoyed child's impressionistic art without worrying about the entire lines issue.

Stil, though. Do five year olds really need to be competitive in reading, conduct, computer literacy, and COLORING?

Anyway, despite that, Child was adorable and also very self-possessed for someone wearing a purple satin robe. He'd asked me very seriously not to yell, whistle, or make loud noises when he was up there--methinks he remembers his mommy's reaction to him being a train bearer in the Harvest Festival in October.

(For those interested in child's antics at this very proper production, the memories of which continue to entertain me whenever I think about it, go here. Child believed, apparently, that train bearing is also a contact sport. Somewhere, we have bits of this on tape. It makes me happy.)

Right.

Anyway, afterward, the day got suddenly--long. Errands. Everywhere. And really dumb ones, but ones that have to be done when I don't have work, which gah. Blah. Sleep, dammit. One hour ago I got to sit down for the first time today without having to actually THINK, and dear God, does this make me happy.

What makes me less happy is mandatory work day tomorrow. Oh shoot me now. No, really.

More Surreal Moments, taking off from T-Ball shockiness: Boy who made fun of me enough to make me quit band in sixth grade now father of a child in my son's class. Had no idea. It's got to say something unhealthy that seeing people from high school freaks me out more than the concept of dental surgery that's coming up Real Soon Now. Oddly, not only have I not gotten over my issues with my high school classmates, I actually seem to be dragging them along like a weird, weird, weird antisecurity blanket.

*sighs* And it had to be a bad hair day, didn't it? Couldn't, just once, I be in heels, dressed spectacularly, hair like something out of Cosmo, and making all men fall drooling at my feet begging for forgiveness?

*waits*

*grins* Didn't think so. I really have to stop taking myself so seriously.

Though I am comforted by the fact that I still fit into my junior high cheerleading uniform. No, I didn't check when I got home, silly people. Of course not. Not THAT insecure. Not at all.
  • Current Mood
    tired tired
  • Tags
clex reverence

Backdated: recs, wip collective, other

Original Entry Date: 5/30/2003, 23:11
Backdated Entry Date: created 8/20/2007, 15:37, partial copy of privatized entry.

T-ball, second practice yesterday. On Sunday, first one, recognized one of the coaches as a guy I went to school with, two years my senior.

He's married. With three daughters.

What. The. Hell.

I'm telling you, it's the normal things that screw around with my head the most. I can deal with growing up myself, because I'm in complete denial about the fact and like it muchly. But someone who used to SCARE me in high school? Not so much. Grrr. My sister couldn't help but remark on his tan and his ass. I'm thinking, is he going to make fun of my hair?

Yep, that's me, all kinds of piles of strangeness.

In more interesting news, child is definitely a lefty. This despite the fact that he writes with his right hand at school (I suspect he's been trained that direction, since his handwriting is still pretty bad even for his age, while his left hand is still better but he acts confused using it). As an aside, it IS funny--since Child learned to draw, he's tended to use both, changing hands as one of them tires. Practical kid. But he's almost always shown a decided preference for physical activity on the left side--throwing, catching, etc.

Anyway, my sister's fiance, who DOES play baseball, was the first to note that while Child threw with his left hand best, he tended to bat from either side, but backwards--using a leftie position on the right side, and a rightie on the left. Sort of. SisterFiance thinks that part of that is observation--everyone he knows and has met and played with is right handed, so he's trying to model. It's cute. I understand this could slow him down should he pursue a professional career, but well. Cute.

Teeth hurt. Want dentist. Seriously overworked, as one of us is on vacation and another is in training. Scary numbers of people with smart questions, but several with really, really, really stupid ones. Want my mommy and a pony. Would settle for someone who loves me to write me porn.

The Yard is progressing. Unlike before, I'm plotting first because my margin of error is very, very small, and well. I'm not good at plot. It's not my natural forte. Romance, sex, love, death, that sort of thing, yay! But worldbuilding? Huh. Anyway, my apologies for being weird. I'll direct you to cool people who are not weird and who are brilliant to entertain you.

box_of_serial by Livia, where lives Altville, updated regularly. Oh yummy.

rageprufrock with numerous WiP's she updates nicely.

selling_out where Jessica and co are creating a fabulous universe.

I want a pony now.

Another State of Jenn in Fandom--this is basically how I keep progress on current activities.

Collapse )

Anyway, as I don't have The Yard tonight, since I want to finish this particular curve and make sure it works before I start posting again....

(original entry privatized, story can be found on my webpage under the title Looking Glass