Passing For Normal

I am One Broke Puppy just now. It's been a big year for medical expenses, and my optional income... largely isn't.

Before the extent of the budget crunch became clear, however, I managed to get my hands on a Kindle, and now I can't imagine how I ever lived without it. AWESOMENESS.

I would like to acquire certain long-beloved and oft-reread books in electronic format. Problem is, I can't afford to buy the ebook versions, and I no longer have physical copies of them because of my longtime practice of gifting favorite books.

Back when I had money, I loved the idea of giving away my own copies of beloved books that I had read, and that my friend would then read in turn. When I wanted to reread a book or a series of books, I'd buy them again and start the whole chain back in motion. I got to thank the author with my wallet by making multiple purchases of their work, and also share my joys with my friends.

Point being, I've paid royalties on each of the books I'm seeking at least once and usually two or three or even four times over.

Is that enough? Can I, then, ethically justify *cough* acquiring electronic, Kindle-compatible copies of them without paying yet again, now that my finances are so constrained?

Opinions sought. Discussion welcomed. I've been chewing this over for a few months, and I could really use some input.

In response to that recent meme featuring an NPR list of 100 ostensibly best SF/F books, some fannish folks talked about coming up with our own, improved list. Toward that end, eruthros invited anyone interested to nominate their favorite speculative fiction works -- but this time it was open to any and all media, including fanworks of all kinds as well as manga, anime, television, movies, comics, webseries, you name it.

All of the hundreds (!) of nominated works have been collected into one monstrous huge-ass poll, and now everyone is invited to help narrow down the list.

Vote for the top 100 speculative fiction works

Hard choices are hard, yo. It's a fascinating exercise.

I will take the opportunity to shake my metaphorical pompoms for the collaborative podfic version of Speranza's "Written By the Victors" (which is also nominated) -- although I'll admit that the competition in that section of the poll is particularly stiff.

Go. Ponder. Vote.

I just listened to Robert Krulwich's latest "On Science" podcast Cuddling With 9, Smooching With 8, Winking At 7 (only about 5 minutes long; you can stream it), and it tickled me enormously.

Alex Bellos is an English writer and "math enthusiast" who was surprised to discover that many people have favorite numbers, and more than that, they have reasons for choosing one number over all the others. Some are remarkably passionate about the subject.

So he put up a website where he's gathering data from people all over the world. If you want to contribute, here's your chance:

What's Your Favourite Number and Why?

He asks for a bit of simple demographic data (optional), but nothing invasive.

Signal boost it, too, if you care to.

I've long been in the habit of posting on LJ and only reading/commenting here on DW, so this may be out of context for some of you. But I still can't post to LJ at present, and I have an urgent need to shout this to the universe, so:

I DO NOT HAVE CANCER. \o/

*happydances all over the universe and back*

Wow. I can breathe again. Feels good. :-)

Pardon me for shouting in the subject line, but this is one of those capslock events.

At the moment I am too exhausted to go into any detail, but this is something so huge that it requires an immediate post, you know? You are the people in my life who'll best understand what this means to me and who'll celebrate it with and for me.

It's still plastered over with goo and bandages at the moment, but in a couple of days when the inflammation has eased I'll get agentotter to take a pic and will post it for you guys to see.

And actually, I should qualify: it's the first -- and longest and by far the most painful -- phase of my tattoo: all the line work and the first layer of shading and contouring. It will be finished three weeks from today.

It's the Headstones logo -- my sobriety talisman -- framed by branches/leaves of a coast live oak tree, which represents my love for nature and especially for plants, through which I found my spiritual connection to whatever is greater than I can understand, what I might call God if my beliefs were inclined in that direction. I now have my commitment to sobriety inked permanently into my skin, into my self.

It is an awesomely powerful experience, deeper than thrilling. Also, yes, exhausting.

So. More later. But for now: I HAVE A TATTOO. \o/

Also: I still owe e-mails and comment replies to, wow, way too many of you wonderful people. Apparently my internal reserves were even more deeply drained than I'd realized by the last couple of months, which have been full of good and right and joyous things, just without sufficient opportunities to retreat from everything and recharge my internal batteries.

I'm trying. I'll get back to you as quickly as I can manage. In the mean time, very special thanks to those of you who've e-mailed me to ask how I'm doing. Even though I still owe answers to most of those, and apologies for the delay, I appreciate so very much that you're thinking of me and haven't written me off for going silent too long. Like I said, I have issues, and that's one of my biggest ones. Working on it... working on it.

In other news (of which more later): Otter and I have taken in a foster dog, a very sweet middle-aged flat-coated retriever who's been dubbed Raven for her inquisitive nature and creative exploration of her environment. She's very dear, and loves snuggles and kisses. So do we. It's a good match. We can't keep her forever, but she's a joyous, if occasionally complicated, addition to our household while she's with us.

Okay, endorphins have worn off; energy all gone -- amazing what 2-1/2 hours of sustained pain will do -- and caffeine is having absolutely no effect. Sleep time. :-)

I'm so very grateful that all of you are in my life. ♥

The lovely and talented houses7177, she of many awesome fannish and real life powers (only a few of which are scary), posted the following today:

There is a formula written on a sticky note, stuck to my computer monitor. It's been here for over four months, and I have no idea what it means.

CJ = s6 + ASbft

Naturally, I immediately concluded that this needs to be a fic prompt.

THEREFORE: You are hereby challenged to write a story explaining or otherwise interpreting this formula: CJ = s6 + ASbft

RULES: Any fandom or crossover; RPF is welcome. Minimum 500 words.

DEADLINE: This coming Friday, August 14th at midnight EDT.

PRIZES: Everyone who posts a qualifying story by the deadline will receive a personalized icon made by houses7177, related to the fandom and the challenge. Additionally, I will record a podfic of one of the qualifying stories, selected at random.

GO THOU AND WRITE!

By the numbers:

1) It's been a whole week and I have yet to thank all you lovely people for the birthday greetings. It was a very quiet and very happy sort of event, spanning several days, and I'm anticipating yet another good year. I plan to make it a habit. Y'all get considerable credit for my successes along those lines. So: THANK YOU! ♥

2) In a similar vein: I'm still not getting laid, but I seem to have entered a stage of life where I sit staring into space with a huge, goofy smile on my face because I have such incredibly awesome friends and I love them so much. Gotta say, this is waaaaaay less of an emotional roller coaster than the romantic equivalent. Much happiness and glowyness in the heart region. And once again, more than a few of y'all are in this lineup. *hugs you until you squeak*

3) At the moment I can't imagine a happier, more fulfilling, or more satisfying way to give back to the universe than doing massage. It is a hugely joyous thing. raqs and literalman, you have no idea what an enormous blessing your gift was. I don't have words big enough. ♥ to you both.

4) Less than 12 hours from now (eep) I'll be leaving for a week or more in the SF Bay Area. If you are there and would like to see if we could hook up and say hi in person, drop me a line at my gmail address (lcbergstrom at). I'll also be available for massage services; rates are highly negotiable.

5) It's best not to put off starting laundry until 13 hours before departure when you're leaving in the morning and you have five loads to do and there really ought to be a little of that sleep thing in there somewhere. Perhaps before I die this will sink in. Perhaps not.

Happiest birthday wishes to my natal day sisters.

It's a good day to be born.

May this day usher in a year of health, happiness, creative fulfillment, and friendship. :-)

I managed to score a Seed account.

A certain amount of gloating is allowed, right?

*happydance*

Okay, time to vent. You are forewarned.

Several months ago I signed up with Match.com and OKCupid to see what this online dating thing was like. I wasn't getting laid without it, so... no harm done giving it a try, right?

Originally I put up a straightforward "this is who I am" profile that some of you saw -- and some of you suggested was a bit too unvarnished for this purpose. A few weeks ago, after nothing but resounding silence from either site, I tweaked my profile so that it's still honest, but considerably less blunt. Still nothing.

Know why? I think I do.

From what I can see, admitting to being "heavyset" or "overweight" is DEATH on these sites. I've browsed several hundred men's profiles and looked at who they are and what they're seeking in a woman, and this was the one thing in common. Guys who specified NO other criteria -- seriously, no restrictions on age or height or religion or interests or kids/no kids or whether they even spoke a common language, nothing -- these guys still ruled out this one thing: NO FAT CHICKS.

I figured I'd at least hear from some guys who hadn't gotten any in years, right? I'm no beauty, but I'm not ugly and I was very clear that I don't care what a guy looks like -- and I'm not even looking for serious romance or marriage. I just want some nice, friendly sex.

Nope. Not so much as a nibble.

Am I the only one who's baffled by this?

I wasn't always old and I haven't always been fat. In fact, thirty years ago -- even twenty -- I was an attractive young woman with a nice body, and even back then I never decided who to have sex with (or who to love, for that matter) based on looks or weight or pretty much any other superficial criteria.

I've had grand romps in bed with guys anywhere from late teens to seventy years old, guys who were significantly shorter than me, nearly a foot taller, scrawny little guys I outweighed even at my thinnest, big-bellied guys all the way up to the forever beloved fellow who was a bit over 400 lbs, not to mention the guy I married, who would have liked to drop 100 lbs or so (not that I cared). Some were jaw-droppingly gorgeous; others had faces that even the most loving mother would be hard pressed to call anything but homely.

They were all lovely men who made my body sing and enriched my life, whether for an afternoon or for a decade. I could look at any one of them, dressed or stark naked, and list three dozen things I liked about his body and the way he looked.

And you know what? The subject of this post is absolutely true: Fat does feel good in bed. Fat is soft and warm and cuddly. It's so easy and so cozy to wrap yourself around a nice round belly, or to pillow your head on a well-padded shoulder. Fat guys won't leave painful, purple bruises on your inner thighs like you can get from skinny guys; those sharp hipbones of theirs are dangerous, yo.

How is it that men -- at least some of them -- haven't come to the same realization about women?

I do not get that. I am one baffled fat chick. Not to mention horny. That, too.