kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
Hello! You are a person! You are probably lovely! I like people!

This journal ends up being a bit of a mix of Srs Business (rants; things I've learned from counselling; &c), fannish & scientific joy, linkspams, poetry, & misc life updates. I tag fairly compulsively, though not always helpfully; I use content notes; I have written up a cast of characters; I aim to maintain this as a safer space, and appreciate (but do not expect!) call-outs when I mess up.

I like it if you introduce yourself when you subscribe, but it's definitely not required. Probably 30% of this journal is access-locked; I give access very readily. Fanworks are always public; AO3 is the canonical place to find my list of works. I'm very happy for you to link to anything that's public, and I'll be even happier if you let me know you're doing it. :-)

Welcome!

permanent wishlist -- care & feeding () -- contact info ()


[archiveofourown.org profile] kaberett -- at the LashBlog -- [ravelry.com profile] kaberett -- BPAL.org -- kabe@rett.org.uk
kaberett: a watercolour painting of an oak leaf floating on calm water (leaf-on-water)
is that it is full of people who think like I do and love like I do and manage interactions like I do and have relationships with ethics like mine; and this reflection doesn't require that I be more human but it does make me feel more okay, more real, less toxic. And that's why I've read getting on for 300k words of MCU fic despite not having any familiarity at all with canon, and it's why I'm working on reading everything she's ever written and why I'll keep reading all the things she writes. Because: these people? They have no ladder and they have no rope; they can't see where the sun is rising; they can offer no hope; but they see me and I'm not alone.
kaberett: a watercolour of a pale gold/salmon honeysuckle blossom against a background of green leaves (honeysuckle)
1. Serge Lutens Daim Blond. I have been curious about this for, like, ever (or at least a while), because it's described as iris, apricots, musk, hawthorne, white suede. I really, really wish I liked it; on my it goes through a brief phase of being beautifully ripe and luscious fresh apricots, and then it goes... confusing. Confusing and cheap bubblebath. Perfumes says of it:
Unlike traditional leathers such as Tabu and Tabac Blond, which have felt rich and warm, Daim Blond (meaning suede, and not, as it sounds, an accursed towhead) feels arid and cool, a hollowed-out osmanthus-like idea of peach and leather but no soapy center; it unfolds a spare, long-fingered form whose intentions seem to mark a departure from the more straightforward orientalist scents of the Lutens range so far.
... and seems to be ever the case with Perfumes, whatever the hell their skin chemistry is doing to scents is not the same as mine. Because this? This is bubblebath and digestive biscuit crumbs.

+more )
kaberett: a patch of sunlight on the carpet, shaped like a slightly wonky heart (light hearted)
There is, floating around, the excellent summary along the lines of Jupiter Ascending is my favourite action movie about estate law (with a bureaucracy montage), and it's completely true; and it's also true that there is scathing critique of capitalism and of treating people as though they are things; but also it is fundamentally A Great Big Fuck You To Biological Essentialism; it is the idea that Your Biology Is Not Your Goddamn Destiny and Genetics Isn't Fucking Truth, and I adore it.

Slightly more spoilery. )

... THIS FILM. MY HEART. (Never mind my heart having moments all over all of the glorious worldbuilding meta about how of COURSE it couldn't all be fixed magically instantly because THAT'S NOT HOW BROKEN SYSTEMS WORK.)
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
The chambers of my heart are lined with mirrors
that repeat and multiply beyond perception
each and every scrap of poison gifted me.
Fuck self-reflection. If I were an oyster
I could coat this grit with self-recrimination,
employ it as a scaffold to support some greater truth,
some greater beauty, smooth the lines
of pain, the whispering self-loathing.
Even stone will, with sufficient patience, wear away.
And in the darkness of the empty cavern
drips echo as they filter in through cracks
beyond perception. Nonetheless they leave their trace:
these grim uncompromising monuments,
these fragile archaeologies of guilt and hate.
Or, from some lofty self-assured perspective,
an entirely different metaphor's presented:
cruelty exposed--diminished in its endless repetition, neutralised
through being bathed in light; and stalagmites
are evidence that love, like water, can create
not just destroy, in furious flood;
can fertilise; can bring new shape and life.
Nevertheless. From here it seems
that stalagmites and pearls and hearts alike
are simply evidence of our belligerent last-gasp defence--
the hopeless scars left by our dying dreams.
kaberett: a watercolour of a pale gold/salmon honeysuckle blossom against a background of green leaves (honeysuckle)
The Pioneer Woman's chocolate brownie cookies went down very well with my useless ex, and want baking for ~7 minutes for optimum [personal profile] sebastienne-bait.

Last night I got the sourdough onto its second rising and this afternoon it will do its third and then baking. I also made another vat of chilli (that recipe doesn't note and ought that I also stick in most of a lime at the end), breadmaker-bread, and 3kg of ill-advised experimental carrot cake. (I started making pound cake on autopilot, and then found myself with 500g of butter creamed with 500g of sugar plus 800g of grated peeled carrot, and kind of felt I was at that point committed. A culinary note for them of you as have not met it: carrot cake is generally oil-based not butter-based. Anyway, there is cake, and it contains additionally misc currants/sultanas and some chopped dates and some Grand Marnier and some allspice, though not enough of the latter given quantities, but o well it is cake.)

(Also also I washed my hair and went to book group and unfucked my current knitting and got another fragment of the currently-trying-to-happen-poem and did all the washing up in addition to tweaking my presentation, so I felt comfortably accomplished and was reminded once again that Making Things Feels Good.)

\o/

Mar. 16th, 2015 05:15 pm
kaberett: Grinning emoticon. (:D)
Gave presentation to supervisor (which, because I am an incompetent, was in fact my first run-through verbally as opposed to just sitting and staring at it). She liked it and thinks I am going to be fine. I get on Really Well with people whose attitude to praise is that a dismissive "you'll be fine" means "I am impressed and pleased", heh. I'm bang on the permitted time, and I was talking a little fast but we've rejigged flow so that I'll need to repeat myself less, and aaaaaaaaaaahhh she liked it. She thinks it flows! She thinks I am clear and talk at my audience sufficiently! She has suggested a joke I can tell! (It is a relevant joke.)

(what I am actually doing in person is going "ssssssss" very quietly; it is a small victory hiss)
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
  • 500ml tomato passata (seems to be the cheapest way to get tomato product in general)
  • 1stp stock powder of some description
  • some lovage (... no idea where you get it in this country that isn't "my mum's back garden")
  • a bit of water (let it out as much as you like)

Dump everything in saucepan and bring to boil (~5min). Eat with carbohydrate. FOOD.
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
The Disc is a world and mirror of worlds, so naturally stories about the Disc are in fact stories about stories. This is, I think, what my mother fails to understand when she complains that Pratchett never wrote a single original thing; he takes stories and puts them together differently, shows you the parallels and the differences and the power to define the world depending on the story that you tell about it. They are stories about stories that reflect us back to ourselves, and tell us there's no such thing as fair or easy; or at least that they're rare and we don't get to expect them but fair, at least, we have to believe in in order to be human. That we will make hard choices and we will choose wrong and we will screw up but, also, we can muddle through; that if there isn't space for us we can tell stories that create it. Mirror and lens both: to bring into focus and to cast light and to show what is hidden, to show us that we are real, to show us an unfamiliar view of the everyday that permits that we see it anew in all its detail and its brightness. And, perhaps most importantly for me - at least right now - that being a monster does not mean you are constrained to re/act within the shape of others' belief of what your kind of monster is.
kaberett: Lin Beifong crying (lin-tear)
WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?
kaberett: Reflections of a bare tree in river ice in Stockholm somehow end up clad in light. (tree-of-light)
It was Discworld, I think, that taught me it was okay for me to be a monster, and that being a monster didn't mean I had to be what other people thought that meant. It was Discworld that first managed to communicate to me that we work so hard to believe the little lies because it makes it possible for us to believe in the big ones. It was my first real fandom and it gave me somewhere to exist and it talked about worlds that had space for me in them. Pterry told me I could be a witch of the land and a teacher and that I could endure and make hard choices. He made and makes me kinder.

...

Mar. 10th, 2015 09:27 am
kaberett: (sokka-facepalm)
... on reflection -- I'd say "sober", but, as you will shortly discover, that would be horribly misleading -- I did not perhaps make the best possible choice when I decided to breakfast on the blackberry-and-apple crumble my housemate made earlier in the week.

With the blackberries she'd decanted from the gin.

I'M THEORETICALLY TEACHING PARTIAL DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS AND PYTHON WISH ME LUCK
kaberett: A green origami stegosaurus (origami stegosaurus)
[personal profile] shanaqui MADE ME BEDLINEN. IT IS A SUPERKING SIZE DUVET COVER WITH DINOSAURS AND VOLCANOES ON LOOK AT IT


Also, I did some knitting.
Read more... )
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
1. Yesterday's sudden ramp-up in crazy did have a specific trigger, when I went looking for it, and was my brain shouting at me that something specific was wrong and I needed to pay attention to it. Hurrah that the escalation-wossname still works.

2. I worked out why it escalated that rapidly, too, from a fairly innocuous starting-point.

3. It is still the case that when I work out What The Problem Is the screaming crazy deescalates pretty rapidly.

4. In point of fact I had spent several days beforehand feeling mildly uncomfortable about tangentially-related-thing, which is probably a sign that I need to pay more attention to mild discomfort rather than assuming it'll go away (or arises because of Me Being Unreasonable as opposed to Me Pattern-Matching Subconsciously).

5. I've still got the baseline mads going on, but they're much more tractable baseline mads.

6. It wasn't sulking about not-a-PTSD-diagnosis; it didn't feel right, it didn't fit right, and it wasn't right. Which suggests that the baseline mads are also not about that.

7. I have mitigated the worst of the cause of the Screaming Crazy and am thinking about how to address the outstanding bits of it.

<3 Sorry for worrying you!
kaberett: Sketch of a "colourless, hamsterish"  animal having a paddy. (anxiety creature)
Smoke exposure on my way into work again. It hurts to breathe again. It has been the case, two days running, that the people I've asked to kindly consider not smoking at the top of the ramp into the building, within 5m of the building entrance, have looked baffled and disgusted at me and not even bothered to make a verbal response, so that was a load of exposing myself further for precisely 0 gain.

Which means I am getting around to typing up this rant.

If you smoke in public, you are the reason I can't leave the house safely, where by "safely" I mean "without ending up coughing and wincing with every single breath for a week".

Here is a partial list of things that prompt me to alter my breathing patterns in public, just in case, because I can't really afford to be incautious:
  • people standing at bus stops
  • people standing outside tube stations
  • people standing near building entrances
  • people sitting at tables outside cafes
  • people waiting at pedestrian crossings
  • wind (because it means I need to be further away from any smokers to be safe)
  • absence of wind (because it means that smoke doesn't disperse as rapidly)
  • people getting their phones out of their pocket
  • people getting anything out of their pocket
  • people using their phones while walking
  • people gesturing while talking to friends
  • people walking abreast across a pavement
  • et fucking cetera

If you smoke near building entrances, you're the reason I can't safely walk down the street or get into work. If you smoke near bus stops or stations, you're the reason I can't safely use public transport. If you smoke in public parks or while walking between destinations, you are the reason I can't safely use or occupy those spaces. If you smoke in public but only when you're not around me you are still the goddamn problem, and I shouldn't have to spell out why for you. If you smoke in public, you are the fucking reason I can't leave the house or even open windows safely, and I hope you feel fucking awful about it.
kaberett: a watercolour painting of an oak leaf floating on calm water (leaf-on-water)
It's all too easy to dismiss, diminish
your sharp-edged individual brilliance
as untidiness, as more work than
you're worth. Try this:
Needs direct sun with good support,
for preference, south-facing walls;
and well-drained soil and fleece in frosts
and water when the weather's hot.
Slow to flower, rarely fruits;
give the thing at least five years.
Mind the thorns, the strangling vines;
mind the poison the sap bears.
Grant me leave instead to make this promise:
yes, you're brash and loud and take up space;
perhaps you're snide, opinionated, lacking grace;
but darling, what you don't quite seem to grasp
is that your weaponry can be defence
and ornament at once; can, in point of fact,
be precisely why it is that you're beloved.
kaberett: Euphorbia cf. serrata, green crown of leaves/flowers central to image. (spurge)
It is a delight to me that I had a conversation on Sunday night in which I pointed out to facesfriend that I do not, in point of fact, know them very well -- I started paying any consistent attention to their existence about 6 months ago and we started dating about 4 months ago (which is weird for me; I am really not used to getting to know people by dating them); he looked gently baffled and said he thought that, in fact, I knew him pretty well. I paused. "Okay," I said, "my predictive model for your behaviour is based on a relatively small sample size, and what data I do have isn't necessarily representative." "Right," he said, "that makes sense." Hurrah for human interactions wherein I get to express myself like that and it's just okay; this is, of course, some of why Hel bemoans that there's no way they can ever write dialogue that is an accurate representation of conversations they have with friends, because nobody would believe people talk that way in real life.

(Tangentially relatedly, but only sort of sideways rather than directly: I am having a pretty bad case of the I-am-not-allowed-to-want-things/I-am-not-allowed-to-be-wanteds this week. Not entirely sure why, but it's a thing; sorry if I go a bit spiky and weird on you.)

...

Mar. 2nd, 2015 12:20 pm
kaberett: (sokka-facepalm)
Right, so scent is an important thing for me, right? Using familiar scented products (shower gels, moisturisers, perfume, etc) is very grounding and helps me remember where and what my body is, and so on. Consequently I tend to keep shower gel of my own at partners' houses.

Currently, the shower gel I have on the go at facesfriend's is Original Source Raspberry & Cocoa.

It turns out that Original Source only use a limited range of dyes in their shower gels; Raspberry & Cocoa is the exact same colour as the Black Pepper & Chilli MANLY MAN MAN MAN shower gel. It is genuinely quite difficult to tell the difference between the two if you're half-asleep and wholly-myopic.

... guess what facesfriend has acquired a bottle of. GUESS.
kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
Verdict: the dessert was amazing; we were offered tap water; my mother was correctly invited to taste the wine; the vegetarian main was a particular brand of incoherent charming only because I wasn't paying for it, in that it was very clearly the case that every vegetable accompaniment to every other dish on the menu had been piled up artistically. The result was very pretty and sort of fascinatingly confused, flavour-wise; I'd be willing to go back if someone else were paying (the same is emphatically not true of Alimentum, who served me the most insipid £25 risotto it's ever been my misfortune to consume; four-or-so years on I'm still resentful).

Dessert was, as I say, sublime; I had an intensely vanilla-y almond tart in which was sat a whole poached pear, done not in red wine but something else altogether; served with rosemary & manuka honey ice-cream, which was enclosed in a beautiful pink spun-sugar sphere. Excellent, would dessert again.

The meat-eaters seemed happy?

... right okay so it's my dad's 60th today, basically, and I wanted to come and visit my mum because approximately every human being I know in the south of England is at a particular club night in London tonight (club nights are fundamentally incompatible with my sensory issues alas), and so I accidentally ended up being taken out to a fancy dinner.

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kaberett: Overlaid Mars & Venus symbols, with Swiss Army knife tools at other positions around the central circle. (Default)
Alex

March 2015

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