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 Finally took the plunge and deleted my livejournal after 15 years. Onward and upward, right?
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So "grant access" is one tickybox, and "subscribe" is another. I think I may have missed one of those tickboxes along the way, which might explain why my reading page is so relatively boring over here. Oops. Crap.
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Anyone with a gmail account willing to have a read over of something? I started with a plan going in one direction and ended up with a major unexpected revelation. (I blame the fact that I wrote parts of it on a plane.) Might be too expository, or too confusing, or it might be happening too soon or too fast. (Can't really be accused of doing anything too fast, though: 10 parts and 25K words into what is ostensibly a Sherlock/John fic, we have no Sherlock/John.)  Will only make any sense if you've read the first 10 parts of The Progress of Sherlock Holmes.


Anyone available to chat it out on a lovely Saturday afternoon?


Jan. 26th, 2011 10:56 pm
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I seem to be routinely under the impression that I can do 1500 things at the same time. I had hoped to a) hang out with friends at a pub, b) start and finish a bit of writing, and c) pack for my trip to North Carolina tomorrow. (I have to be at the airport by 7:30am. I will consider living dangerously and getting there at 8am.) Reality: stumble home drunk (oops), throw some clothes in a bag and hope it makes sense when I put them on on friday (I have underpants and my drugs! what more do I need!), and drink some water.

How on earth did I think I would have time for writing? Cripes.

Must remember to charge my ipod.
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I know if I post right now minus a beta or a britpick I will have to fix it in a dozen places after the fact, which is both annoying and embarrassing, but I FEEL COMPELLED.

It's a sickness.

Edited to add: #1 beta is at the doctor's right now. I suppose I can be patient, she's absent for a good reason.

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I reached the point with this writing thing where I threw out everything i had planned to do, restructured it so that I would protect my favourite character from doing anything at all unsavoury and thus being seen as less than as awesome as I think he is, and went to bed. Then I woke up and realized that that meant I had a fairly emotionally unsatifying ending (for myself, at least).

This always happens.

I have returned from the brink now.

Plotty slash stories are so awesome. They create so much work and anguish for me as I try to make them come out the way I want them too. Fortunately that's what I consider to be fandom fun.

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May I just point out: Mary Morstan is not an Original Female Character created by me. She is Dr. Watson's canonical first wife.
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I'm at work, and don't have time to do this properly right now, but I just posted part 8 in my Sherlock series at AO3. It's called The Conductor. Will post it here properly at some point in the near future.

My friend Em suggested I rename the series to "The Progress of Sherlock Holmes", which I quite like. I will get to that when I'm back home too.


Jan. 20th, 2011 10:03 pm
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Any fandom people on the twitter? I just set up a fandom twitter for myself (@ivyblos). Don't really know why. It just seemed like a good idea at the time.
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Wait for a beta. Wait for a beta. Wait for a beta.


I have no idea if the thing I finished last night is alright or LAUGHABLY RIDICULOUS and yet I still want to publish it just for the satisfaction of calling it finished.



In other news: I have just received an email from my boss thanking me for my "breathless enthusiasm". These things, they go hand in hand, don't they. BREATHLESS ENTHUSIASM IS ANOTHER TERM FOR CRAZY IMPATIENT.
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I don't have many opportunities to wear my (beloved) red fall coat in January, but today was one of those days. It's currently raining, and if I'd known it was going to do that I probably wouldn't have worn my favourite red boots, which are really not designed for rain.

When I was offline in December, off at a cult-like retreat, one of my mentors suggested that my obvious flexibility indicated I would enjoy yoga. I had no idea what he was talking about until he mentioned my apparently unwillingness to stand like a normal person. And that is the entire story of the below photo, taken tonight just before I got on the bus to come home.

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This is the meme:

Record yourself saying the following:

* Your name and/or username
* Where you’re from (My two places: Guelph, Ontario, Canada; and Mississauga, Ontario, Canada)
* The following words: Aunt, Roof, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting Image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught, Orange, Coffee, Direction, Naturally, Aluminium and Herbs

I added a few: Out, about (not aboot!), stout, sorry.

Answer the following questions:

* What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
* What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
* What do you call gym shoes?
* What do you say to address a group of people?
* What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
* What do you call your grandparents?
* What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
* What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
* What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

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Just got the official news from my endocrinologist (the one who largely has no bedside manner, but who I have to admit is really growing on me with her impeachable competence, absolute non-judgmental attitude, and understanding that my quality of life depends upon her generosity with dosages) that my Tg is undetectable, which is the surest sign possible that I remain cancer-free. I told her about the boondoggle with my GP, and she is sending him a primer and explanation of her actions.

I think it would be easy to fall into the trap of thinking that "no cancer" is our default state, the state we deserve, and "cancer" is exceptional and the alarm state, and therefore feel that I am merely basking in the status quo, enjoying normal, just like everyone else. But I know the reality, which is that questions of deserving don't enter into it at all. So I maintain my sense of deep and abiding gratitude that I've been passed over for another year. There but for the grace of blind chance go I. A moment of zen.

My endocrinologist adjusted my meds, but only very slightly. She showed me the numbers and explained why my GP freaked out. She says I need to be kept at what would normally be considered "high normal" where thyroid hormone is considered, which on paper falls between 20-22. Currently mine is 24. A GP, apparently, would see this as a dangerous number and want to slash my dosage by half. But the goal is to keep me at 22, so I'm only a bit too high. Interesting! (Well, to me, at least!)

So instead of just dropping my dose, she's giving me two doses; one to take 3 days a week and one to take the other 4. I'm going to get only of those weekly pill containers old ladies need to keep track of all their drugs.

In sum: life is good. Life is very good. It's short at the best of times, don't forget!

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So, I've been writing these funny little POV scenes in Sherlock fandom and posting them as part of a series, right. So much fun! I like working on small bits that are turning into a series, because it doesn't have the pressure or required work/commitment of a chaptered fic. I could just keep picking away at it, writing scenes for it, concievably for a very long time. Last night I was working on the fourth of these, and then this morning I was thinking about how it would go, and idly let myself imagine some of the inevitable dialogue...and I suddenly realized where it was going, or, where it could go,and it kind of broke my little heart. That's what fandom does, doesn't it. It's all fun and games until you find the hidden cookie jar of angst.
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I wish I had something to write just now. I mean, something I feel like writing, aside from the podcast I have due and the article I need to hand off to the office of advancement at work. I wish I had some half-finished fic to work on, that's what.

I should start a new one.

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GP flagged my apparently very high free T4, and thought I was on a crazy high dose of thyroxine, but he doesn't see a lot of people with no thyroid, does he. Yes, I figured my free T4 would be high; I've lost a lot of weight lately. Inevitable. He says, "You must feel like you're on cocaine all the time!" Hmm.

Then he looked at my thyroglobulin, and said, "that seems really low." And I said, well, yeah, that's good, it should be, it's produced by thyroid tissue. "No no, I think it's made in the liver."

Hahaha he looked it up. (On wikipedia.) "Damn, I hate it when patients are right!" LOL

I really do love this guy, he's very funny and supportive and willing to drop everything if I need help, but there reaches a point where you just know more about your own condition than a GP would. He said, "Let's leave it in you endocrinologist's lap!" I don't know whether to slap him for getting involved in specialist-ordered tests or just laugh.

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I have my regular yearly check in with my endocrinologist next week, so last week I picked up my requisition and got some blood drawn. (Still have the bruise.) This is something I will do every year for the rest of my life. This morning I got a call from my GP's office. He wants to see me "ASAP" about my latest blood test. I explained that the test was ordered by my endocrinologist and I am seeing her next week, but he wants to see me tomorrow.


I have no idea. Of course they won't give me any clues over the phone, except to say that it's about the one blood test I do every year to monitor whether my thyroid cancer has returned. I kind of hate them for not telling me. I presume that this isn't about the cancer and is in fact about my meds and the fact they the dose is probably too high (I've lost weight). Presumably. My GP is a really nice guy and I appreciate that he wants to do right by me, but this has kind of freaked me out.

I wonder if you ever get good at living with anxiety. Something tells me I'm going to get a chance to test that theory.

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See last post: this is the most bizarre thing I've ever tried to write. It's a gift for a friend who is going into radioative isolation, so I gave Sherlock the same cancer she is being treated for. (The same cancer I have also had, so the details are many and they are accurate.) Generally I don't condone this kind of thing, but it actually turned out a zillion times better than I expected. Also with more sex0rs than expected. Well, discreet sex0rs, but still. I had no idea this experience hit on so many of my favourite fandom tropes. But it does! It's truly bizarre.

My problem now is that I don't know how to make it end. So I wouldn't mind some feedback on it. But I can't think of anyone besides the person its written for who would be up for reading it. She absolutely cannot see it until Wednesday, when she really needs it. Mostly I just need someone to help me work out how to end it. At this point I'm not sure if it should be public or not, even, so you don't have to slave over it, or anything. Which is a good thing, since it's 11K words long. (Two days of work. 11K words. I may be slightly mad myself.) And it still needs an ending of some kind.

Do I know anyone who would be willing to do a gentle read over, understanding how totally sensitive (and probably triggery) this topic is?


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