Deviant Dispatches

Last night, I met one of my favorite authors, and by the time I'd left for the night, I was convinced he hated me. This is likely just what my weird brain has conjured up. At most, I probably induced mild panic in someone who had already signed his name a lot that day. But here's the story. John Scalzi spoke at A Room of One's Own in Madison last night, thanks to my friend Gretchen's amazing author-getting skills. He was as funny in person as he is on the Internet, read from his new book The Human Division , and was terribly gracious when someone commented (not unkindly) that "You look much better than the last time I saw you." ("It's the slimming yellow," he responded.) So slimming, that Gamma Rabbit .   After his reading, he took questions, and I was lucky enough to be selected. So I asked him what part of the writing process makes him bang his head on the desk repeatedly. ("Starting," he said, "which is why ...

Apparently the cats are big fans of modern art. And installation pieces. It's not like I was unaware of this; they've made smaller installation pieces before, but always with yarn that wasn't attached to a project. Whoever made the sock yarn piece was much less imaginative about it. Luckily, neither of my projects were damaged, and the yarn isn't too terribly tangled. Unfortunately, I was apparently very inspired by their work, and decided to make some installation art of my own. There's a lot more to this piece, but it's hard to photograph against the white linoleum.

Sometimes I think it would be safest for everyone in my life if I just introduced myself by saying, "Hello, my name is Allison. I am a socially inept human being. I shall now commence with the word vomit." Even more helpful would be a t-shirt that just says "Socially Inept," a kind of do-not-feed-the-animals preventive sign to keep others from engaging me too closely in conversation. Especially on a weekend like this, when I'll be thrown into close proximity with more people than usual as the bookstore moves a block down, resulting in lots of weird moments when I run into the same people over and over again as I walk down the sidewalk. And then back again. You can only say "Nice weather today" so many times to the same person before it becomes a weird and painfully obvious filler. Actually, you can only say it once. Which means I have to try really hard to remember everyone's faces. This should be fun. Now comes the awkward moment in this ...

Yesterday, I was planning on cutting myself some slack and not posting a full blog. I still wanted to put something up, though, so I construed a wee paragraph or two and added a picture. Then the internet crapped out for the rest of the day. Not even a blip of signal. On top of that, my day was pretty similar to the above image. I got little sleep, forgot to eat for eight hours, bawled in a shrink's office, and learned that skim milk does not a custard make. (The latter one was, in fact, pretty gross.) Needless to say, I'm glad it's today now, and not yesterday again. Worst Groundhog's Day ever, if that were to happen. It was obnoxious and disheartening to miss my first blog post since I started this thing, but today I take heart. Today, I will have had more than 10,000 page views since I started this lovely thing a year and a half ago. My sincere thanks to those who have followed me on this bizarre and exciting journey. Here's hoping it takes even les...

I've more or less finished a shawl I started a couple of weeks ago. Up until my grand idea to make this project something more than average, the shawl was a breeze. I crocheted this with a size K hook and two yarns: Universal Yarn's Uptown DK and Patons Lace acrylic/mohair/wool blend. I ran out of the greenish blue Uptown DK (which they call "sea") before finishing, and as it was yarn I'd bought while friend-visiting on the other side of the state, I didn't have easy access to more - none of the local yarn shops have any Universal Yarn products. But luckily, I found an almost exact match in my stash - the only difference is in shine, which is almost impossible to see if you don't know it's there. I used this pattern for another shawl when I was first learning to crochet, and I wanted to add something to make this a more complex project. I wanted a little bit of sparkle, and a reason to use these beads I rediscovered in my craft cabinet. So, I...

Today is a slow writing day. My thoughts are all gummed up with nightmares, and work starts very early. Even the black tea I'm resolutely chugging isn't helping me think. Some days are like that: you try to be creative and amazing and brand-new, but all you feel is reworked and typical and blah. But you try again the next day. So for today, a plethora of thought-provoking images. I'll do my best to come up with a great post later this week, to make it up to y'all. Dr. Seuss always hits the nail right on the head, but it's fun to see it spelled out. (Click to enlarge!) Gandalf may be a wizard, but Obi-Wan has the Force. I love Iggy Pop forever for doing this. I think everyone here is perfectly cast. It also makes me rethink the original characters: Jayne saying, "Wokka, wokka!" is almost natural. And Beaker as Simon really emphasizes his nervousness. If Firefrog was a real show, I would watch it. Maybe even more than Firefly .

I took some pretty nasty spills as a kid. I haven’t yet had a broken bone, so far as I know (though my little toes are mangled enough to suggest it), but I had my fair share of rollerblading wipeouts and slow-motion trips down the stairs. But the worst was probably the time I ran into barbed wire. At about age 9 or so, I had my first horseback ride (a real one – not one on the chained-up circle-ponies at the circus). We visited some distant cousins, who had a farm and a huge white horse named Marshmallow. I got to trot around in front of the barn for a while. Magical, though I wasn’t allowed to go faster. Running was faster than the pace I was riding. At that age, I ran everywhere I could. I loved running. I ran at school. I ran home from the bus stop, kids shouting, “Run, Forrest, run!” at my retreating back. (Having not seen that movie, I didn’t get it and didn’t care if they were making fun of me. Just another day in the life.) Running was fun to me, and so I ran at every...

*Written throughout my freshman year, 2003-2004. Most of these lessons were, of course, learned the hard way.* 1. Cream of mushroom soup turns fuzzy green and red after four weeks in the fridge. 2. The secret ingredient in gummi fruit snacks is crack . 3. You can get bruised when someone bites you. (I don't think this was the situation most of my friends know about... I think that was sophomore year.) 4. Pants with lyrics written on them make a good conversation piece. 5. Gravity works. 6. If you need to hand-write six pages of essay quiestions for a mid-term and have tendonitis, wear the brace. 7. If your class is 1/4 mile from your room, make sure you have everything you need before you leave. 8. Don't eat cafeteria cottage cheese. 9. It is a bad idea to pour boiling ramen water on your fingers the week before a concert. Or, you know, ever. 10. Oatmeal is a good, cheap breakfast food. Also lunch, dinner, or snack food. 11. Wear flip-flops in the shower, not slippers. 12. Gett...

When I was in first grade, I got my ears pierced. It was kind of a disaster. All of my friends had, of course, gotten their ears pierced. (In reality, I think only one or two of them had.) I begged my mom over and over again to please, please, please let strangers use odd-looking implements to shove pointy metal through my flesh. Over and over again the answer was, "No, you're not old enough yet." I recall the same thing happening, years later, when I begged my mom to buy me sharp metal attached to a stick, so I could drag it across my legs and forcibly remove the hair on them. What's up with us as kids? We get so excited to do these things that will be obnoxious chores for the rest of our adult lives. Anywho, after telling me over and over how much it would hurt, my mom caved in and took me to get my ears stabbed. We went to a hair/piercing salon in the mall. To look at the same place now would possibly conjure images of Hep C and other deadly infections, but at the...

As I write this, on Sunday night, I am excited, nervous, and eye-poppingly shocked. As in, my eyes are popping out just a little because I've waited months for this day to come. The day before my new job starts. The hours of searching, the replies in my inbox that want a credit check for a secretarial job, the days wondering if I'd be able to afford food again have finally reached fruition. Small fruit is better than no fruit, and I will eventually get a second job. But on Monday (that's today for you peeps), I start work as... a studio photographer. Yes, I have no studio photography experience. But regardless of the part-time hours, it's a paying job that will cover my current bills, and I think I will enjoy what I'll be doing. There's a certain amount of creativity involved (even if it's just in posing people awkwardly and making them laugh at my monkey dance). It should be clear by now to all y'all that I like taking pictures. And it will get me into...

Because the world is going to end tomorrow , I don't have to worry about what I'm going to write next week. But because the world still exists today, I'll write about what would happen if the world was actually going to end. I'm not a prophet. I'm just a humble 20-something with a keyboard. But you're welcome. I have a feeling "the end of the world as we know it" won't just happen one day. It won't have a specific start and end date. More likely, it will be a gradual decline. The fact that Donald Trump is no longer in the presidential race is a good sign that the world will not end anytime soon. At this rate, it's most likely this will happen . Another possibility (one that I like much better) is that Star Trek: First Contact will come to life. Wars and general disrespect will make our planet suck, and we'll develop warp drive to get the hell out. Aliens will happen to pass by at the moment we test it. They'll come down to Earth to ...

This is from my last semester of college at Ripon, when I was training for a half marathon through a psych class called "Topics in Motivation." I will admit, I am very prone to bouts of stupidity. Often, I accidentally do the wrong homework assignment, interpret clear things incorrectly, and say ridiculous things. But this time, I went too far. Literally. I went too far. Today was supposed to be my first five-mile run in training for the half-marathon. Considering that last week's four-mile run ended up being not quite four miles, I was a bit apprehensive, but excited to break another of my running records. So I measured the mileage with my car last night, in the dark. I decided to run my usual two-mile loop and then go on a nice three-mile excursion, just outside of Ripon. Mind you, I've never seen this intersection in the daylight. There's a delightfully intimidating hill before this intersection as well. Intelligent as I am at times, I decided to run my new r...

Part I I began anew, looking over my shoulder after each stitch, lest The Universe should sneak up on me and thwart my sweater attempts yet again. This pattern was the easiest I could find while still seeming moderately attractive: a single piece of garment, not requiring separately made sleeves, or a separate front and back. Bliss! No universe would be able to destroy this sweater, let alone The Universe. I was a bit too confident in that regard. Days passed. The sweater grew beneath my hands. Gauge was more or less followed - along with The Universe, Gauge is a mortal enemy of mine, and, I believe, The Universe's personal henchman. It is very ignorant of the garments I make and always throws them off course. I follow the requirements and measure, as I must, but then Gauge will jump out from behind a trash can in a dark alley (wearing a dark cape of indeterminate size) and shout, "Ha HA! You have been thwarted once again, sad little knitter! Thusly must you rip apart yo...

Once upon a time, I was broke. (Yes, that's also now upon a time, but let's look at the former.) I barely managed to make it back to school at the beginning of junior year. I signed my first born over to Susie May for a loan (a.k.a. Vampires R Us) to make it back. I found a job at the lovely Picky Slave to start my fourth year working in grocery, this time a minor peon once again. I was willing to do anything to stay in college. Anything. The first few weeks made it clear that this job was going to be the seventh circle of hell (right between being stuck in a burning tomb and sinking in human excrement). It was going to be a revolting year. I knew all the produce codes as well as I knew the garbage compactor number from Star Wars: A New Hope (3263827), but still had to watch The Training Video of Torturous Doom (you know which one - it's the same everywhere you go). They made me pay $15 I didn't have for a work shirt barely one step above sackcloth and ashes. I had to w...

Dear Cthulhu, I'm a big fan of your work. It's most pleasant to know that someday, all the horrible things and people of this world will meet their demise at your horrific tentacles and will disturb me no longer. Even if I also succumb to your madness, it shall be with great pleasure if I can watch my enemies crumble before I go. However, I'd like to call in one teensy little favor: Will you please devour all of my maintenance records and bills at Teh Big Yellow Repair Shop of Doom and Teh Evil Credit Card Companies? See, I owe $2,000 for the work recently completed on my new-to-me car's suspension system, wheels, and transmission. And as I already have no job, no place to live, and hardly any money, I'd rather not have to pay that too. The Great New Mexican Trial of Pain and Fury is only just beginning. I know you've got a pretty bad headache right now, but if it is within your mighty doom-filled tentacles to grant me amnesty from this terrible evil, I would de...

It's not just for dicks anymore. And yes, that is a Kokopelli patch, just to make it even more phallic.