Aug. 31st, 2005

liralen: Finch Painting (blue_angel)
Brain's groggy from lack of sleep and half dreaming as I write slides about resource metrics and about process basics for developers, and the backbrain dreams of the oddity of curling next to a warmish (not quite warm enough) body without pulse or breath... of muscles sleek with effort and work and stitched with sacrifice... of the feelings of a cybergirl parting the curtain of air with her long nails as she dances by the too-slow steps of other people's time. Statues to her. Invincibility bought by a quick mortality, the singularity beyond her reach, passing her by as it passes by the poor, the weak, the murderously unenlightened... of the flood of a hormonal mind grasping the crisp silicon fields of data deciding without even looking at all the billions of bits of intricately crystalized exactitude... the shivering warmth of an indrawn breath... gold buddhas alongside Catholic dispensations alongside Coyote and the thousands of gods of Hinduism with Shiva cleaning up behind...

ahem. It's just kicking at all the calm logical bits going "LET ME OUT, DAMNIT."

I think I need to play more.

And, yes, backbrain is still chewing on both Queen of the Damned and the detailed feelings and thought processes in McKinely's Sunshine.
liralen: Finch Painting (blue_angel)
Brain's groggy from lack of sleep and half dreaming as I write slides about resource metrics and about process basics for developers, and the backbrain dreams of the oddity of curling next to a warmish (not quite warm enough) body without pulse or breath... of muscles sleek with effort and work and stitched with sacrifice... of the feelings of a cybergirl parting the curtain of air with her long nails as she dances by the too-slow steps of other people's time. Statues to her. Invincibility bought by a quick mortality, the singularity beyond her reach, passing her by as it passes by the poor, the weak, the murderously unenlightened... of the flood of a hormonal mind grasping the crisp silicon fields of data deciding without even looking at all the billions of bits of intricately crystalized exactitude... the shivering warmth of an indrawn breath... gold buddhas alongside Catholic dispensations alongside Coyote and the thousands of gods of Hinduism with Shiva cleaning up behind...

ahem. It's just kicking at all the calm logical bits going "LET ME OUT, DAMNIT."

I think I need to play more.

And, yes, backbrain is still chewing on both Queen of the Damned and the detailed feelings and thought processes in McKinely's Sunshine.
liralen: Finch Painting (jetandi)
Last week Jet moved from Preschool (2-4 year olds) to pre-K (only 4-year-olds) on Wednesday, which is the first day of school for most of the school districts around here.

First thing *I* knew about it was going to his usual classroom to pick him up and peering around and not finding him. "Uhm... where is Jet?"

"He's now in pre-K! Didn't you see the board?"

And there's this board by the new room. It's as big as one entire wall of one of the rooms. On it are all the names of all the kids moving into or newly joining the Pre-K classes. Jet's name is prominently on the Main Room Group. Ah.

Clueless Mom. Ah well. I pick up Jet and he's like, "I'm in Pre-K now!" Proud as a peacock.

There is still some "I don't want to go to school." stuff in the morning, but it's more of a resistance to any kind of change. He has some of that up and down the line, doesn't want to go out much, wants mostly to stay home and play with is friends and go to the pool or Rec. Center now and then.

This morning he was up at 2 and up at 5, and I got up both times as John had had a really hard time getting to sleep last night. So both of us were zombies and Jet's cheerfully telling us, "No! It's NOT Game School day. I don't have to go to school." Grrr... Argh...
liralen: Finch Painting (jetandi)
Last week Jet moved from Preschool (2-4 year olds) to pre-K (only 4-year-olds) on Wednesday, which is the first day of school for most of the school districts around here.

First thing *I* knew about it was going to his usual classroom to pick him up and peering around and not finding him. "Uhm... where is Jet?"

"He's now in pre-K! Didn't you see the board?"

And there's this board by the new room. It's as big as one entire wall of one of the rooms. On it are all the names of all the kids moving into or newly joining the Pre-K classes. Jet's name is prominently on the Main Room Group. Ah.

Clueless Mom. Ah well. I pick up Jet and he's like, "I'm in Pre-K now!" Proud as a peacock.

There is still some "I don't want to go to school." stuff in the morning, but it's more of a resistance to any kind of change. He has some of that up and down the line, doesn't want to go out much, wants mostly to stay home and play with is friends and go to the pool or Rec. Center now and then.

This morning he was up at 2 and up at 5, and I got up both times as John had had a really hard time getting to sleep last night. So both of us were zombies and Jet's cheerfully telling us, "No! It's NOT Game School day. I don't have to go to school." Grrr... Argh...

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