This is a short entry about Powercoders, but it's also a test post to see if crossposting to my DreamWidth journal works. I apologise greatly if you see it multiple times, or in oddly distorted forms.
Ramblings on 'it' pronouns, written by a person who doesn't use them—which means this might come off as uninformed or tactless, though hopefully it won't.
March 2017? I hear you ask. Oh, that Rae, skipping over February entirely and thinking we wouldn't notice. Well, I have news for you! I have in fact written a post about February, but a chunk of it is currently held hostage on a different computer from the one I'm writing on right now. Also, it was such a hard post to write that the emotional cramp from it kind of put me off finishing it, or writing anything else, for an embarrassingly long time. February sucked, dear imaginary reader. March was better, though! Let's bang this one out and come back to February later.
My first blog was active from 2003-2013 and, while most of it was memes about which style of coffee I was or apologies for not posting often enough, some of what I wrote there was actually, I still think, pretty good. Some of it was ridiculous tosh, but that's what I like; in that spirit, here's a repost from January 2011.
One of my favourite, most expressive German words is Muskelkater.
Cross-posted from my tumblr, because it seemed substantive enough to live here as well.
I just reblogged cassolotl‘s beautiful post about gendered behaviour, feminism, and gender as emotion, because it encapsulated many things I’ve felt for ages and I would like it to be as widely read as possible. Now I will muse about some other gender-related things that I didn’t necessarily want to attach to that post, which is so whole in itself.
This entry is part of a loose series of posts about (mostly) software tools I use to make my life better. Quantified Self is a slightly odd fit in that regard: a lot of the data I collect on myself is not currently analysed in any useful way, and I'm not certain that some of it even can be. Content note: exercise, weight, eating habits.
David and I have been together for nine years this summer. It seems to be going pretty well so far! A lot of that is basic compatibility, but there are other parts of our day-to-day relationship that we've put serious thought into. I think there are some transferable lessons that might be helpful for other people, too.
This is the banana bread recipe I've been making lately, based on the one in Kelsey's copy of The Joy of Cooking. David doesn't like it, which just leaves more for us. It is unfortunately not vegan.
There exists in Switzerland a wonderful organisation, the Institute of Incoherent Cinematography, which arranges showings of silent movies with live accompaniment. I've been dragging friends to these for quite some time, and last week they finally showed one of the films I've most wanted, for the longest time, to see: Pandora's Box.
My friend Hayley writes monthly summary posts at her blog, which has always seemed like a good idea to me, so I'm copying it. What did I get up to in January?
As I mentioned in my 2015 wrap-up post, one of the very last things I did last year was to get tattooed with my best friend Fox. This is the story of what we did and why.
As is probably to be expected, my schedule on this daily posting thing is slipping a bit because of the Christmas holidays. I accounted for that in the (imaginary) fine print when I started, however, so I'm in the odd position of wanting to beat myself up about it, because I am neurotic, but technically not being able to, because I am also quite keen on following rules. Good job, past me.
In which I cheat — a meaningless word in this context — and do not actually follow the post prompt for today.
Today's writing prompt asks how I behave when I'm sick: do I let others take care of me or try to soldier on alone? My plan is to write this post and then ask David whether I got the answer right, since he's the one who takes care of me when it's needed.
John Everett Millais's painting, The Bridesmaid, has been one of my favourites for years. Since I used to live in Cambridge, I was lucky enough to see it hanging in the Fitzwilliam Museum several times (always somehow forgetting it was there until I turned a corner and saw it on the wall). It's a lot smaller than you might imagine. I find it magnetic.
My parents gave me my first pet for my sixth birthday: a golden hamster with a white belly and big black eyes. I named him Hammy, because it seemed to be what one should call one's first hamster. He was the most exciting part of the best present I'd ever received — it might still hold that rank, actually — a bedroom all to myself, with fresh paint on the walls, a bedside lamp and a proper desk for writing at.