MOOP!

So there was a post on Tumblr, "Things you will see on a road trip across America"⁰. It spoke to me, far more than the Regional Gothic trend did, and I was quick to respond with my own listing. You may read my additions ( under the cut )

---

Of course, then I started writing more about it all. Have some blather about road trips. It's not under a cut, because I do not love you enough.

According to my quick count, I have visited (or at least driven through) 36 states. Let's look at some highlights...

-From very young to age 11, the family drove to Peoria IL every year to visit Great-Grandma Deemy. She died in 2000, which was the year of...

-The Big Trip! Mom, her best friend Neva, and me and the sibs spent 2-3 straight weeks on the road. We drove from Maryland to Colorado, took a turn north up through both Dakotas, cut east back to Minnesota, just missed Michigan, and swooped back to MD. It was an absolute fucking delight. Kansas is terrible, we somehow skipped Nebraska entirely, and mom spit-swore she'd take me to the Mall of America to ride the roller coasters before I turned eighteen. This is why I don't trust my mother. ;)¹

-From very young until college, we drove to Winsted CT for Thanksgiving, and also usually for a visit in the summer. Dad's parents (St G'ma, G'pa Gus) live up there, on a wonderful horse farm with rock-walls to climb on and a pond and art and books strewn everywhere. I haven't been to the farm in several years --Thanksgiving started moving around my sophomore year of college-- and I miss it terribly. I should organize a visit some weekend!

-Starting in about, oh, 2002 or 3, us kids (Shan, then Al, then me) attended Stayaway Camp in Maine. Have you seen the Parent Trap? That is the camp we stayed at. No literally, they wanted to film at Wyo, but they were told to piss off, there was a camp to run. Anyways, there would be 2-3 trips up a summer (dropping off, changeover day, picking up) with some subset of siblings and parents, and staying the night in either Winsted or Boston.

-For two of those years, when the sibs were at camp and I was not, me and the rents drove down to South Carolina for a conference at Myrtle Beach. This is relevant because it means I've visited both South of the Border and Wall Drug.

(The second year, when it was just me and them, mom started to have some really funky vision problems and dad had to do all the driving home. Turns out she had MS. Anyways, that was 2002, which means Shan started camp in 2001, which works out since I did 2003 and 2004. Good talk.)

-Moving on to adulthood, I went to college in Boston (well, Cambridge). The family did many runs to pick me up or drop me off with my stuff, several of which did not involve my mother (see also, Dragon*Con.)

-Didn't roadtrip much in college, but right after I graduated, I got to do 14 straight hours in a car with one other driver (mom --although Shan did drive a couple hours), two siblings, and two cats. We moved to Chicago! Cats do not like it when the car goes 80 mph. They are fine when it is up to 85. No officer, I had to speed, I was doing science!

(Two days later, I did half that again, doubling back to Hiram, Ohio with Alys in tow. Dad was out of town, mom had to wait for the movers, I was her Official Adult for her college orientation. This was a profoundly uncomfortable experience for us both, I suspect, plus we had a serious argument about whether World/Inferno Friendship Society was a hipster band in the first thirty minutes of driving and were both super tense and stressed for like an hour. That bit I mentioned about the Lion's Den? I think it was figuring that out which calmed us the fuck down and brought us back to giggling like loons.)

-Sparr and I have made the Boston-Atlanta(ish) drive a few times. One of these times, I drove 17 of 20 hours (I did not make that up above for humour value). One of those times, our rental car was totaled and we had to frantically scramble to get home. The last time went quite without problem, except for the entertaining logistics of picking people up or dropping them off in at least five different locations.

-In early fall 2012, I was unemployed. My favourite ex-partner decided to move to Seattle. Their rich friend offered a plane ticket home. Mel and I packed up a uhaul (technically a Penske), drove to Cleveland (where we spent a day with their mother and raided a storage unit), drove to Chicago (where we spent about an hour and a half with my mother before she left for some vacation and we hung out in the house and watched movies --maybe George of the Jungle?), and drove and drove and drove and drove to Seattle. The Milky Way is every bit as stunning as I implied, Buttes will never not be hilarious, and having a governor keeping you from going over 75mph when you're on a 70mph speed limit road going DOWN THE ROCKIES is the shittiest thing.

I think that's the most of 'em. There's some small ones with strangers (from Indy to Chicago a couple times after GenCon, and I'm about to do Boston to Syracuseish) but most of the long trips have been with friends or family. States I have been to without driving there: Florida, Texas, California, and Arizona. And I suppose technically Tennesee in that I *have* driven to Georgia before, but the trip we went to TN, I flew to GA and then we drove up there. Dunno if that counts or not.

I hold no respect for America the Corporate Identity but I do fucking love America the road-trip liminal space of folklore and legend. Given a world without capitalism and a Tesla Roadster², I wouldn't even bother with a house in exchange for a rotating selection of friends riding shotgun as we roam around this world.

~Sor
MOOP!

0: Although I appreciate the thing someone pointed out, which is that they mean "USA", not America.

1: In case the smiley is not obvious, my mother is THE BEST MOTHER and I trust her very much and have forgiven her, but it's fun to tease.

2: I am adding this footnote seven years later to acknowledge that this reference did *not* age well.

On December 27th, 2003, I wrote the first entry in this strange little "online journaling experience" I have since undertaken. It is not anywhere nearly as awful and cringe-inducing as it could be --indeed, one of my longtime online friends (mek? Tho?) once complimented me by pointing out that I never really had a flailing period as I tried to understand how exactly livejournal worked.

(That being said, I also took something like four months and fifty entries to actually learn how to "thread comments". Oops.)

Ten years later and...I'm still here. Not only am I still here, but in the one hundred and ten months since I started, there have only been two months where I did not publish a single word¹. This wasn't my first home on the internet, but it's the one that has _lasted_, the one that has _mattered_.

And over the last (many) years, I have watched it crumble, with an unbearable sadness in my heart. Things change, and I recognize that not all the people I care about are designed for the long-form storytelling --and livejournal is not designed for the quick and clever single thought. I don't fault a single one of you for going elsewhere, it is truly exciting to watch the history of social media flash past my eyes, and know someday I will be able to say I was there, and I helped shape it. The world is so cool, and the internet is such a beautiful thing, with all its different aspects and shapes.

But it still hurts a little, as posts on my friends page dwindle², and the comment counts in my e-mail fade to almost nothing. Because livejournal is the one that makes sense to my writer's brain. I like doing longform writing for a triple handful of you. I like it a lot more than shouting into the overwhelming cacophony that is my mass of Facebook friends. I like it a lot more than the blinky-not-thinky balance of image and text and sound that comprises Tumblr. I like it a lot more than the snappy one-liners of Twitter, and more than the single minded focus of Fetlife.

And I like, and miss, having all my friends in one place. There are people who post here and there and there, and I catch up with some of it...but not all. Some people I've lost track of just softly as our lives twine out of each others, but some people I realize I've not talked to in years and I wouldn't even know where to look for them anymore. I'd love a service that collates all the friends' lists and feeds for me, one site where I can see livejournal posts and Facebook statuses and Twitter updates and Tumblr reblogs stacked on top of each other and mixed together and just one stop for my friends, not a dozen tiny universes.

I'm not leaving. I have really enjoyed posting lovely inane things this week, and want to keep doing more of that, just tiny snippets of my life for the rest of you to see. But maybe I need to put more work into crossposting entries across websites. We'll see.

I don't really think this entry went where I wanted it to. But that's okay --I have always worked things out through writing. Happy New Year, all. Happy ten years. (Happy ten more.)

~Sorcyress
MOOP!

1: March and April 2005. It was a very tiny spiteful protest in regards to my computer being moved from my bedroom to the living room as punishment for my getting shitty grades in school. AND THAT'S IT! I have checked in at least once a month (and realistically, I don't think I saw any months with fewer than four or five) for 105 straight months.

2: Here is where I started to list my hellos, and there are too many to be a reasonable list of names. But still too damned few --a dozen of you or so still posting, another dozen in the comments.

I just biked home in what might've been hail, or sleet, or snow, but was certainly a lot more solid than just plain "rain". I was not properly dressed for it, and was rather miserable along the way, but now I am safe and warm and eating toast so this is pretty okay.

I get the next week off because Spring Break. My goal is to either Accomplish All The Things or Do All The Resting. Maybe both.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go play some Plants vs Zombies. Vitally important you understand.

~Sor
MOOP!

Online, I am starting the New Year by having an argument with one of my currently closest friends who, in my defense, is doing some seriously stupid shit at the moment. Like, I'm sorry, but it is not actually hard to not put my professional/legal name alongside my handle, thanks.

(He is properly chagrined and all, but still! Not an auspicious beginning.)

Offline, I started the New Year by singing, by holding hands with old friends and new friends. Then, for the first time in my life, I started the New Year with a waltz. I've never waltzed so soon before. It remains the thing that feels most necessary of my dancing --I could live without the rest of it, if I had to.

(Well, maybe. All dance is a thing I need when you come right down to it. Waltzing is just the one that grabs me by the heart and reaffirms my sense of need. Waltzing is the dance I am good at, not just pretending and flailing and faking my way through the movements. Dancing can be any level of frivolity, performed for any dozens of reasons. Not waltzing. Waltzing is always done because it matters.)

And this morning I had waffles amongst good company, making that twice in a row now for New Years Day. I flirted with a tall boy in a cravat who told me he was the Mayor of Philadelphia and was there to personally welcome me to the city. I snuggled with a girl I do not see very often at all. I was granted a new inspiration for decorating my walls, and a new recipe for gluten free waffles.

I think 2013 will be okay.

~Sor
MOOP!

When I last did that meme, Tucker gave me other things too. He also gave me:

( Clocks, Glasses, Your Favourite Tree, and Dance )

***

No, you cannot comment on both that post and this and get twice as many things to write about, especially when I am still behind on giving out sets of things, aiee!

~Sor
MOOP!

I wonder if there is some sort of inverse relationship between the number of posts I make today, and the number of comments I receive on all those posts. I suspect I will quickly become annoying and awful and you will all hate me. I look forward to it!

Anyways, the Yuletide stories have finally revealed authors, and that means I can link you to my two (both of which I assure you are horrible, just so you don't get to thinking that they're well written or anything.)

The first is my actual assignment. The prompt read "Ford and Arthur are stranded on a planet where it gets very cold at night and they have to huddle together for warmth." Now, I've been shipping weird ass-Hitchhikers crack for years. So, I present to you The Cold Sands of Anatidae. Spoiler: Ford and Arthur huddle together for warmth.

The second was my first ever random gift. I was browsing through the requests list, and had this moment of flail that there was someone out there who loved both Middleman and Black Books. It's Christmas Eve, I don't have anything better going on, "what can I write that combines these two".

Apparently I could write The Seven Stolen Books of Westminster Abbey which, uh, might turn into a series of stories, all crossing the Middlefolk with various other fandoms. (New headcanon: Roxy and Anya (from Buffy) totally hang out and are friends.)

I figure my journal might have a slightly higher than usual percentage of people who've seen both Black Books and Middleman, because I do evangelize both so thoroughly. And if you've somehow missed them, go and watch all the source material.

YAY YULETIDE. YAY STORIES. YAY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

~Sor
MOOP!

Happy New Years.

It's seven AM, new year's day. Twelve hours ago, I was at work, closing the shop. An hour later, I was at a party that was...not right, but close enough. There were many people I am fond of, and I spent a New Years playing games, which is a thing that never happened before --usually the number of people I want to spend time with far exceeds the amount of time I have. But with six people around a table, I felt rather that was perfect. And I lost at everything.

(But I was a smart-ass in Innovation, and I lost better than Pi did at the bumper cars game. *My* car had no points AND crashed into the wall. He merely had a score of zero.)

We counted down to midnight, all slammed together into the basement. I kissed many people fewer this year than I usually do, and none on the lips. That was the first thing that felt very strange about this year, and will most likely not be the last.

I had a need to pull away, just after, and I trailed upstairs where I could take photos in the mirror (including one for my mother that I will send her). Then I went outside to get another drink, and the mission was very simple and very clear. I would find a star and wish on it, the first wish of a new year.

Of course I won't tell you what I wished for.

It's not what I wanted to wish for, because that want was(is) frivolous, and this wish was(is) important. But I made my wish, and stood for a moment, and whispered happy new year to the blackness. And then there were tears on my cheeks and I knew, very hard, that I should distract myself before I started sobbing.

So I went back inside, and spent an hour or two talking to interesting people. I left concurrent with one of them, and he invited me back to his place (a few blocks away) for hot chocolate. Being as it's a proven fact you can lure the Sorcyress with hot drinks, I followed him home, and we spent several hours chatting and drinking rather well-made chocolate. I approve.

I biked home just a few minutes ago --downhill most of the way, and the only tricky bit was going through Powderhouse circle. And now I am home, and theoretically I should sleep, but in all honesty...I'm not ready to. I feel really quite awake, be it adrenaline or enthusiasm. Were I a truly organized sort, I'd be finding some high place to watch the sunrise, but let's face it, that's a difficult attempt in this city.

And just now, sitting here, it has occurred to me the solution to my problems. I am hurt that I will not spend the night of New Years sleeping between two people who love me, who I love. Fine. There's an easy way to fix that.

I will not sleep.

The holiday was very different, and there were things unspoken I wish could have found voice. I miss my mother. I miss all I love. I miss you, whoever you are, reading this tonight.

But I am happy, and I think that maybe if 2011 was a wonderful year than 2012 will be as well. And maybe if 2011 was horrible, 2012 will just be better.

Happy New Years, cats and kotchkas. Be well and know I love you.

~Sor Kyress
MOOP!

I reread "Alvin's Secret Code" the other night, my favourite of the many excellent Alvin Fernald books.

That makes this link from Ria particularly apropos -- What your favourite childhood book says about you as an adult.

Of them, mine would have to be:

The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill
You are – or wish you were – an amateur guerrilla graffiti artist. Damn the man, man!

I pretty regularly shake my fist at trucks, _especially_ now that I'm riding my bike all over the place. Man do I ever love that book.

The above link also points at A collection of 50 books every child should read. I've read, urk, ten of them --nine, really, since they have the Moomin series twice (but I've read at least three, so it's okay).

I don't know what I'd put on such a list were I to rewrite it. The Number Devil, certainly. The whole series of Alvin Fernald --especially Alvin's Secret Code, despite how damn misogynistic the main character (though not particularly the author) is. The Great Brain. From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and for slightly older (high school) audiences, Silent to the Bone¹. Oh, Boy Meets Boy, for anyone who likes romance of any sort.

(The Pirate's Mixed Up Voyage, although there's a little part of me that wants to keep that mine.)

Basically everything Tamora Pierce has ever written, but probably Keladry's books most of all --First Test, Page, Squire, and Lady Knight. (Which is to say, not my favourite quartet (that would be Daine, iirc) but the one I think should most be read by all children.)

The Magic Moscow, and Atilla the Pun, and Wuggie Norple (you are the size of a small razorback hog) and THE BIG ORANGE SPLOT and man is Daniel Pinkwater fantastic. Oh! Ohgods, I could not honestly write this list without alotting half a dozen spots to Roald Dahl --The BFG was my favourite, but The Witches, and Matilda, and The Twits, and Esio Trot, and both Charlie books, and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More, and _yes_.

I kinda want to work on writing such a list. I'll keep you posting if I come up with anything.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I can't say that Silent to the Bone is a better book than Mixed-Up Files, but I can certainly say that I've read it more. It's absolutely haunting. E.L.Konigsburg is a wonderful author.

Original tags: books, children

It was brought to my attention that I do not especially know how to budget¹.

That's mostly okay, in that I've been a dumb privileged white kid for the last bunch of years, and one of the infinite advantages of having parents willing to pay for college is that they pay for room and board too. Budgeting for me has exclusively thus far been "do I have enough money for that event I want to go to" and I can more or less afford that on babysitting.

But I'm going to join the real world somewhere in the next 3-6 months, and not only do I not have a great grasp on how much the world is going to cost, I don't think I have a particularly good grasp on what I'm going to be spending that money on. A friend mentioned that he was paying about a thousand a month, for everything except rent and utilities, and I certainly *think* I can keep my expenses under that number², but I don't know if I'm managing to account for everything I'll need to spend money on.

So that's what I'm really asking for: What things am I going to be spending money on that I don't necessarily realize I'll spend money on?

Sitting down and thinking about it, I know there's:

*Rent and utilities
*Groceries/eating out (which is a huge "I have no idea" since I've been living off my meal plan for three and a half years --I imagine I should be able to keep myself fed grocery-wise for a hundred a week, I think that's about what I've spent on the (very few) times when I've had to fend for myself.)
*Dance, which is non-negotiable. If I can afford it in September, I should _absolutely_ get a season pass for SCD, which changes the shape of how much dance costs per month.

(as an aside, that's one of the things I'm finding complicated about trying to write a budget for myself, in that "monthly expenses" is easier than dividing "expenses per semester" by three, or trying to work out how much a year-pass would cost and when I would need that money and such.)

*Transit, which I imagine is hugely variable. If I only ever took the T places, it would be a straight 60/month, but I also have a bike to repair and a future zipcar membership, and taxis and stuff. But on the flip side, if the bike is in good shape, and the weather is nice, I can spend maybe like fifteen dollars on the T and spend the rest of my necessary transit time riding my bike.
*Laundry, which becomes more important as I have to wear more professional clothing, since I don't have enough of said clothing, and therefore have to do laundry more often.
*Also, buying more clothing of the professional sort. I mean, I rock the thrift-store chic so hard, so I'd like to hope I wouldn't be spending too terribly much on this, but it's still a thing.
*Meds
*Other hospitaly/medical things, knock on wood. I don't think this counts as a monthly budget thing, so much as a "I should try to set aside a couple hundred(thousand?) dollars as soon as possible to be my "oh shit oh shit I just broke my leg" fund³.

And...what else? The last time I did anything like this it was in my seventh grade home ec class, where I think I was "renting" an apartment for 50 dollars a month, so it's not like I was exactly being taught accurate numbers for the real world so much as "here's how to balance your monies!"

The real world is hard, whine whine. But dammit, if I'm going to be an adult⁴, I might as well do it right, and not have to rely on other adults (read: my parents) for taking care of me.

Just rely on them for advice.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: I have gotten as far as "If there is money in my account I can buy things, if there is not, I can't" and seem to do okay with that, but, uh, yeah.

2: More importantly, doing some googling and finding out how much I will make as a teacher implies that (assuming I get a job), I should be making at least 24k a year, which gives me enough for rent/utilities and "everything else". Assuming that my combined rent+utilities is in the thousand dollars or less range, which I think is an okay guess considering the places I've been looking at with Ria and Lauren and Mason.

3: Although, assuming I broke my leg, I could just transfer my dance fund to medical. Gods forbid.

4: I think I've decided that I don't want to be an adult because adults are ridiculously dramatic, often uncommunicative, and generally immature. I'd like to be mature instead. It seems much easier.

Postscript: And yes, I am writing actual numbers for these in another file, in a "trying to inflate everything so I wind up with too much money rather than too little" sort of way. But I figured that would be too gauche even for me to post.

And not in the file yet, because I don't know what the shape of my life will be like yet, is the concept of long-distance travel in order to spend time with faraway friends and SOs. Which could be eighty dollars a month for train tickets, or 500plus for a cross-country plane ride. Plane tickets are definitely my most expensive regular expense.

Also not in the file is the general thought of "here are things I want" and taking steps to buy those things. One of the reasons I want to have some discretionary income is so that I can start scouting sales for expensive things I want/need, so that when they show up for a decent price, I can get them without stressing that I've just wrecked my budget for the month. See also, the fact that I think I want 3 TB of external storage --one for job^a, one for backup, and one for media.

a: If everything stayed the same, I don't think I would _ever_ fill a TB of stuff just of assignments and resources and grades and worksheets and lessons and everything teaching will require. But things keep taking up more and more space, and inevitably I'll be teaching Skype lessons with an uberboard or something, and each lesson will be a gig and a half or something.

For possibly the first year, I made a point to talk to every one of my boys in person, easy with the two in attendance, harder with the three I had to reach only by phone.

It's harder to say whether the unexpected "I love you too" or the unexpected "That is all (except to say I love you)" made me tear up harder. I am _so_ lucky, over and over and over again.

New Years is my holiday for loved ones, it occurs to me, forget Valentines and all the associated frip. This will be the fourth straight year that I fall asleep far too late, curled between two¹ of my boys, and I don't think I'd have it any other way (I've no idea of what happens once I've got a New Years with three of them in attendance!)

And of course, New Years is for friends too, and I spent the night surrounded by those of mine and mom's. There were games, and a post-sunset walk, and much cuddling and scritches and laughing and joking and just...being with people I adore. I lost at Family Business and Guillotine, but I won at least a game or two of Shadow Hunters, and I got to "help" in a lovely round or two of TransAmerica. Lovely games, with lovely people.

Tomorrow of course will be more of that. You're all invited. Even those of you who are going to travel from Boston to make it.

I have some thoughts to better myself over the new year, continue writing, perhaps even focusing my attentions into a new project --I'd like to see if I could have the discipline to maintain it. You'll all hear of it in March, if I seem to be able to do it well, or never, if I seem not.

I'd like to continue bettering my language. Jokingly, I was telling people my resolution was to replace all swears with the word "smurf". I want to get over my demons, I want to know all my demons, so I know what I have to fight. I want to get up each morning with my alarm.

Truly, what I want most is to keep being wonderful, and for each and every one of you to keep being wonderful as well. I am so blessed to know the people I know, and so happy to have them be a part of my life, even the ones who fade or I don't see as often. You are a wonder and you all make me proud to be alive and human and a part of this great creation.

Have a smurfing fantastic 2011.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Okay, 09/10 was one of my boys and one of my wishes the night of, and two of my boys the next couple nights after that, but close enough, shh. And yes, technically 07/08 was none of my boys, just two people who I _very much wanted_ to be my boys. Both of whom were by the end of the month. Fear me, as appropriate.