Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.

My Morning, by Anna S.

Originally this was called, "Pimping, and other stuff," and I was going to pimp a lot of stories and rec pages and archives, more or less for my friend A. when she reads this, but then I got lazy, and I've decided I'll do that some other time.

anniesj has a post this morning in which she quotes a B/A shipper on "the Spike cult." I was going to comment there, but in the hour between first reading it (ca 25 comments) and now, the comment count has gone to 83. Jesus! So, I'll just say here that I've read and reread that B/A quote and I just have no words. Well, "no words." I mean, I have *these* words, yes, but when I read it and try to compose an actual thought, it's like when your mouth moves and no sound comes and your mouth keeps trying and keeps aborting mid-word. The first time I read it, I did make some bibbling, choked-off noises, and a few vowel sounds of incredulity, but that's still about as far as I've gotten.

Note: cold Olive Garden pasta for breakfast. Tasty! I had that capellini-pomodoro thingy.

It's all about my morning this morning, and, more generally, about the mundanity of me. On the way to work I glanced at the two major Seattle newspaper headlines, as I always do, and today they were split between breaking news stories on: Local theater. And Starbucks. Man, I'm glad the war's over! I didn't even notice when it ended! Yay, America!

I get on the bus. Up in the front, two women--strangers--strike up a conversation about Tab cola, which eventually becomes about mashed potatoes, though I missed the segue somehow. It was one of those conversations where the people are talking at a carrying, living-room level rather than a discreet public murmur, and they're very engaged in their inane way--laughing and having those little "Yeah! yeah!" moments of spontaneously discovered affinity, and everyone around them is forced to listen. And I think: boy, that's kind of sad--how grudging have I become that I can't smile at the heartwarming sight of strangers bonding? And then it strikes me that it *could* just be the fact that it's fucking annoying. Shut up about the cola already! Please let the comatose among you ease sullenly to work like normal sheep! Jesus.

On an unrelated note, something this morning reminded me of a recent meme I'd semi-planned to do, but it didn't really seem to catch on, and I don't remember it well. It started with, "List three quirks about yourself." And I'd been thinking about this, realizing that I listed pretty much *everything* about myself in tedious detail when I did the 100 things meme. Two and a half times. But here are a few quirks: one, I don't run for busses. I can be walking toward the tail end of a bus, and the last person up ahead has gotten on, and I know we're about two seconds away from the driver closing the door and pulling off, and I always let it. Because it's just not worth it. Another one always comes along. Of course, it helps that I have flex time at work and I'm rarely "late for work" in the strictest sense.

Quirk two: I constantly revise text to justify lines as closely as possible. In Word, I don't use the full justification setting, I use left-justification, but then I'll revise a paragraph over and over again if there's one particular line that runs too short, say, or if I just don't like how the right margin looks--you know, too ragged. It influences the final draft of stories and my word choices rather more than you'd expect. I do it elsewhere too, like here in LJ. A lot of the time I take it for granted, but when it starts to get intrusive it annoys and then unnerves me, because it's so clearly an indicator of my potential for full-blown obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Okay. That's all I got. I did end up writing last night. Stayed up until almost two, actually, because I am what they call--shit, what's that word--oh yeah: stupid. So I might post that later, if I decide it's presentable. I've been writing those s/x things pretty fast, but I do tend to edit out little things that strike me as annoying, in the manner of trimming stray threads or picking lint off a sweater.

Damn. That reminds me I had one more thing to say and I can't remember what it was. Something about the s/x. This is going to bug me....

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