timepiececlock: (Live long and suck it! - Spock)
Dear homeowner of days past who paid the tiler of days past to refit the downstairs bathroom:

Wherever you are, I hope toilet paper clings to your shoe. I hope birds poop on your hat. I hope grass gets into your carpet!

I hope you have hangnails.

I will never forgive you for putting tile grout instead of maleable caulk at the base of our downstairs toilet bowl.

Never forgive! Never forget!
timepiececlock: (How Many Stars - Young Spock/Uhura)
If you move past the fact that the only female character with speaking lines disappears 15 minutes into a 97 minute movie (and that includes the short that opened it) and that it creates a world entirely devoid of women or girls except as backdrops or objects of loss (not even the frelling dogs)--and I'm sure we'll all move past that because it's a familiar hurdle with Pixar--then I can report that this is a beautiful, moving film.

It's a little darker than WALL-E, and a little sadder. I cried at two separate points; not a lot, but my eyes were significantly wet and I had to wipe them. It's still an uplifting film, still full of wonder and adventure and grace, but there's no denying that the emotion of loss permeates this story.

There's something reminiscent of Hayao Miyazaki's work when you watch it: gorgeous vistas, brilliant colors, and sky. So much sky! Balloons, dirigibles, airplanes! And old person and a young person on an adventure together, experiencing the wonder of flight. It's not quite as funny or cute as WALL-E, but I'm not sure it's supposed to be.

There's no doubt that the Pixar studio has some of the finest writers and storytellers in the film industry today. Now they only need to live up to that potential, and open their magical world to the rest of us. It looks, as always, like a beautiful place to play.

timepiececlock: (Live long and suck it! - Spock)
The lame thing about liking ST is that it's emphasizing the lack of direction in my current life and making me feel a distinct absence of career. All these characters are so talented! I hate it.
timepiececlock: (Barney&Robin - Maybe I Even Love You)
(And I immediately spent two hours making ATLA icons, then downloading HIMYM icons. From 6 to 37 is quite the jump!)

So here's the sitch: The universe is lame--that's lame I say. After two weekends my 'rents are now canceling on me for the Star Trek viewing tomorrow. This makes the third time that people I know have either gone without me or flaked on going. I COULD HAVE SEEN IT BY MYSELF TWO WEEKS AGO WHEN IT FRELLING CAME OUT, IF I KNEW THE UNIVERSE WOULD SUCK SO MUCH.

So. I won't get to see it on Friday, but my couple-friends might be able to go on Saturday. If the universe doesn't continue to suck and I don't get a phone call telling me they went last night without me, or their kid has the flu, or something.

On a completely separate note, there's a cute 23-year-old on the Okcupid.com dating site that I've been talking to briefly for the last week. We exchanged phone numbers but haven't called one another yet.

[Poll #1403844]


May. 17th, 2009 06:36 pm
timepiececlock: (Bite me. -Toph)

  • am back from Santa Cruz and San Jose

  • visited family I haven't seen in 3 years

  • found out that I'm still the "cool older cousin" whose coolness has only increased with absence instead of the kid cousins forgetting about me like I secretly feared

  • ate good food

  • saw an old friend

  • utterly failed to see Star Trek (still!)

  • already miss Northern California again something crazy.

timepiececlock: (Origin of Love)
In a moment of serendipity and extreme boredom this afternoon I began thinking up names for a DWth account, so I wouldn't be blank-minded when April 30th rolled around. I basically decided to try a new name, though I intend to still associate the name Rashaka with that journal, and to keep posting here. But I've had Rashaka since 2001...it's time to try something new.
Much to my delight, when I got home, I'd gotten an invite from the DWth staff! It's probably because I joined the mailing lists. If I get extra ones, I'll be sure to pass them on. After long deliberation, I went with this name:

It's a single word, it's nautical, it has the word 'star' in it, it's easy to remember, and it's not too complicated. I am still torn about some of my other names... 'coolbeans' would have been a truly fantastic fandom name. But, alas and alack, the sailor in me wins.

Rejected DWth names! Pockets, Petrichor, Trundle, and Almond were close back-ups. )

If we know each other here on livejournal, you have a DWth account, or an openID, I'd love to subscribe to you over on DWth as well! I've already added some of you through my OpenID account, but unfortunately there doesn't look to be a way to combine my OpenID with my actual account yet.

Note: if you add me and your name is different than on LJ, please send me a comment or a message so I know where I know you from. =)
timepiececlock: (Origin of Love)
[livejournal.com profile] wisteria_ pointed her flist to this video of street theater and this Salon article about it, which just brightened my heart. I can't wait to show my mom tomorrow.

from Salon.com, on why people love watching it:

"What they are presenting to the people in that station (and the rest of us, of course) is the ideal of human co-operation. They're showing us the possibility that a bunch of unrelated, unconnected people could spontaneously burst into a song and dance routine in a train station because that's what they all wanted to do and that's what we could do too, if we set our minds to it."

Plus, look how much fun they had preparing for it.

Outside of city parades--which are planned--I've only ever been part of one moment of spontaneous public dancing. Read more... )
timepiececlock: (Origin of Love)
Facebook friend's status update: Does a writer have to be a storyteller?

Rashaka's comment: Even technical writers feel the pull to fill those lonely spaces between the curl of a letter and the nipple of a punctuation mark with sordid whispers of drunken regrets, patriotic dreams, and wind blowing through the hair of a paperback cover supermodel. That's why your car stereo operating manual is often so long and so depressing.
timepiececlock: (Rashaka is my name)
Brother: "I'm gonna start watching Dexter's Lab."

Rashaka: "Um...are you sure you mean Dexter's Lab? I only ask because Dexter's Laboratory is a cartoon on the Cartoon Network."

Brother: "Whatever. It's about a serial killer."

Rashaka: "That'd be just Dexter. Because Dexter's Laboratory is about a wacky kid scientist...Admittedly they're both sociopaths."

Brother: "What?"

Rashaka: "Nothing, have fun with Dexter! Good show. So I hear. Um."
timepiececlock: (Rashaka is my name)
I had a dream last night and this morning that was pretty weird. I went to a night club and in one of the back rooms there was less music and more people, and my best friend's husband was there (for some reason, the proud new owner of a 10" tall pet mermaid), and he was the only person I knew. But as I was floating around the room, I started talking to this guy who, it turns out, was Keith Olbermann of MSNBC News! And there were all other news and tv production people there, though I don't remember other names or faces

A group of us watched a commercial (or read the script for a commercial, I'm not sure) that Keith Olbermann was producing. Some generic product. For some reason my friend, who IRL is an engineer for a water management company, was fed the commercial job by Olbermann and was in charge of it as head of Art Direction. This is funny because he's an engineer. But when I saw the commercial there was a bit in it that was sexist and insulting to women. I was naturally upset about this, so I started telling my woes to the guy standing next to me--who mid-way into my rant told me he was Keith Olbermann and was producing the commercial. Mind you, he only sort of looked like Olbermann. He looked more like Olbermann at age 30, and I wasn't entirely convinced it was him. I actually pulled over my friend and point-blank asked "Can you identify the person standing beside me?"

My friend said, "Yeah, that's Keith Olbermann," and I was convinced enough for the dream. So I rambled on to him about my problems with his still-in-production commercial, and he wanted me to list them (he was very sincere), but we didn't have any paper. So he handed me his phone: a sort of hybrid that looked like an iPhone but had a keyboard like a Blackberry. He told me to type my review/thoughts onto that. I was having trouble concentrating, almost like I was drunk except I wasn't, so he left the phone with me at the table and went back to wandering around the room socializing.

I spent a while typing my opinion of the exact errors structurally and in terms of script and why the whole thing offended me, which took a while because, as I said, my head was pretty fuzzy. But eventually I was done, and I realized I had lost Keith Olbermann.

Then I realized, aloud, "I have Keith Olbermann's phone."

I had Keith Olbermann's phone! He trusted me with his actual cellphone, the sweet man. And he wanted my opinion on his commercial so it wouldn't alienate female viewers.

I didn't know what to do with the thing. I felt like I was the poor couple in The Pearl who didn't know how to profit from the treasure they had, because it was too big for them to deal with. I knew that a more exciting person, like Veronica Mars, would be snooping around in it, looking up phone numbers of famous people and matching call dates to deduce secret information. Not being a teen sleuth or espionage master, I just stood in the room full of people, in a full body freeze panic, while a voice in my head screamed, I have Keith Olbermann's phone! I HAVE KEITH OLBERMANN'S PHONE!

Such power at my fingertips! But my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be able to find him and give it back; I suppose this means my parents raised me to have better morals than Veronica Mars. Eventually I located him in the crowd and handed him the iPhone. He thanked me graciously, promised to read my comments, and went back to his conversation, while I tried to find my friend so we could go home.

I wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with overly-trusting famous people. I don't remember what happened after that.
timepiececlock: (Origin of Love)
As part of my overarching grand plan for 2009, in addition to practicing my penmanship, sit ups, and someday getting a dog, I am going to attempt to blog about at least one thing every day that is pulled directly from my life and not at all from fandom. Since this is primarily a fandom journal, that's going to be tricky, but I am sure even my boring life will provide a few distractions.

To my main point of this entry: I am saddled with a psychologically crippling inability to put toilet paper on the toilet paper roll tube. Right now my TP is sitting vertically on top of the roll tube thingamajig, instead set of horizontally over it.

It's been two whole rolls, at least, since the last TP was placed properly in the holder. The cardboard tube that lingers as a remnant of TP past is, by rough guess, of December 2008 origins. If I had to live with me, I'd hate me.


timepiececlock: (Default)

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