Why is it, when initiators of various fic/art/whatever challenges at this time of year try so very hard to be all-inclusive of culture and religion (and non-religion) by using the term "winter holidays" (instead of Christmas, Hanukkah, etc.), that they then exclude the entire southern hemisphere?

Granted, the current daily temperatures here might indicate otherwise, but it's summer in some parts of the world, folks!

Not worth ranting about, maybe, but it's kind of... annoying and puts me off participating.

</whine>

WARNING: Arachnophobics, look away. Look away now!

Imagine, if you will, it's around 2am, you're lying in bed caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness - that place where you're not really awake, but you're peripherally aware of some external stimuli... like the fact it feels like your hair is moving. That's strange, your sleepy brain thinks... and then dismisses, 'cause you're asleep, right? The moving hair persists a little longer. You decide to move your head to see if it will go away. It does. Right across your pillow and down onto your sheets.

You are more than a little alarmed.

You throw the covers off and switch the light on. You and The Spider stare each other down until you decide you aren't willing to share your bedspace with a total stranger (one with far too many limbs for your liking). You swat madly at The Spider until you're fairly sure it's GONE.

Somewhat less sleepy now, you turn out the light, yank the covers back up and try to pretend you and The Spider didn't just meet. You turn over, find a nice comfy position on you side and slowly close your eyes. The almost-conscious part of your brain wonders what that dark spot was...

You think it's time for a colourful metaphor. You decide on one and express it. Colourfully.

Lights on; covers off. Again. So this is Round 2 with The Spider. Or Round 1 with The Spider's BFF. You start with the swatting. Again. By the time you're convinced it's GONE (again) you're completely, totally, incontrovertibly awake. Again.

Guess who doesn't want to go to bed tonight.

On a totally unrelated note: Leonard Nimoy is on Twitter? Almost makes me want to start using my never-used account.

Just so you know...

is now
.

For reasons I can't be bothered trying to explain at 1:15am.

Do not attempt to adjust your television set.

So, we're 58 minutes into 2008 already. I've spent several of those minutes thinking about pointy ears... and the rest not thinking at all. Someone down the road is letting off fireworks. I'm still thoroughly annoyed at TV3 for playing dumb Christmas movies on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve instead of Heroes. Give a girl a break, guys; the next episode has this in it. The person down the road has finally run out of fireworks... oooorrrr maybe they haven't. I should go to bed... but I want to wish everyone a wonderful start to 2008... oh, and to thank all the people who sent cards, both virtual and physical - arrietty, autismmom, adianavy, illariy, trekwriter and watergal (OMGLegoTrek!!!) are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. If I've missed you off the list, thank you (and sorry!). Good night morning.

This stream of unconsciousness was brought to you by No Sleep Co. and it's affiliate, No Brain Org.

( ETA: One dumb Christmas crackfilk, Trek-style )

This is definitely the quietest Christmas Day ever. I've got the whole house to myself and I've got all the way through to 12:30pm without seeing another human being. jeanlucbev (and most of the rest of my family) is nearly 400km away - probably organising the Super Huge Christmas Family Lunch™ by now. I won't be a total loner, though; unfortunately my brother's coming over here in about half an hour to keep me company for a while. Normally, I'd be away on holiday for a couple of weeks with the others, but having a job in tourism means I have to work through... so the family's doing the usual Christmas/holiday thing without me, and I'm going to drive up tomorrow and see them for the couple of days I managed to get off from work.

So, anyway, Merry Holiday-of-Choice to everyone! I think I might go out and enjoy some of our lovely Summer sunshine. :-)

I have a new job. I'm tired. The weather is terrible (I think autismmom nicked our summer). I made icons. They are artistic sacrilege. But everyone knows that da Vinci was a Trek fan.

I should be in bed, but it always takes me ages to wind down after evening orchestra rehearsals. I'm clean out of amusing Nimoy and Shatner video links, so I guess I'll just have to post about... myself. Or something.

It was an interesting week, though. Last Friday, was broadband day (yay!) and lemonrocket's flist was forever doomed to be spammed with video links - although, technical problems meant that MY computer didn't get it until Saturday.

On Saturday, I woke up with a rather sore wrist. I pull muscles - everyone does. I thought nothing more about it. More on that later. Dun-da-dun-dun-DAAAA!
Later on Saturday, the day the orchestra I play with played Happy Birthday (somewhat prematurely) to me while I turned a mild shade of crimson.

On Sunday, I officially stopped being able to tick any survey box that says Age: 20-29. I played a concert in the afternoon and was very glad they played Happy Birthday the day before, because at the concert, with an audience, would've been worse. Much worse. Afterwards, I had to attend a function in honour of two older players who were retiring after 40 years (yikes!) with the orchestra. The general manager caught my eye, gave me a mischievous look, and before honouring the two retiring players, announced to everyone that I was old senile doddering celebrating a milestone. I hate that.
And my wrist was still sore...

On Monday, my wrist was really sore. Repetitive. Strain. Injury. And not from the violining 'cause I never practise that, anyway. It's the mousing. The clicking and double-clicking and scrolling. I have a fabulous new computer, a nice speedy broadband connection... and the mouse kills my right hand. I've had to revert to left-handed mousing and typing - and I really suck at it.

And while I'm learning how to be left-handed, jeanlucbev's done something to her leg - possibly to the knee, tendons or something. They're not sure exactly what yet. But it's rather reminiscent of the time I broke my foot (my first break ever) and she broke her ankle 2 weeks later (her first break ever) and we were like some kind of wounded double act. Anyway, there's plenty of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory cream being used by this family right now.

Well, it's bed time, I think. Before I star developing RSI in the left hand (typing things like non-steroidal anti-inflammatory doesn't help). *grumble*

Is this what it's like to be... old? *ponders*

I haven't made/posted any icons since May. I've got to do something about this RL nonsense before it totally ruins the important things!

In other news, I travelled down to Invercargill at the weekend to play a concert with the awesome bass-baritone Jonathan Lemalu and his Croatian fiancée. It even made the national news (and my head even had a brief cameo... yay). Anyway, there was a choir there made up, in part, from pupils from a local high school. One of them was Harry Potter.

I kid you not. This wasn't one of those times when you say, "Hey, doesn't that guy look like so-and-so?", and your friend says, "Eh... sort of... if you squint." No, everyone agreed this kid was Daniel Radcliffe's clone - he had the same hair, the same eyes, the same expressions, the same damned glasses. Freaky.

And if you ever find yourself in Invercargill, you should definitely go and see the tuataras. They're a kind of reptile that has survived from the age of the dinosaurs, and they're nearly extinct. There's one called Henry, who was born around 1880, and he sits there for hours, not moving at all, until someone throws a huhu grub at him. Mmm... dinner. Here's a pic of him I found in the travel blog of one of the choir members. Kewl.

It's such a pity that we're eliminating the 5 cent coins from our currency. Gonna miss those tuataras.

Oh, and back on the subject of Harry Potter: I just finished reading HBP, which I would have enjoyed a lot more if The-Horrible-Trek-Fanficcer-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named hadn't said to me beforehand, "I won't spoil it for you, but you'll enjoy the bit on page ___ where __________ happens." *grits teeth*