I guess there are fans

All right, so I guess there are fans I'm not falling in love with after all. Bet you want info about the rally, uh? Well, I don't know, I don't have any. Barbie isn't into delegation. A good scaper is whatever she says it is. (Apparently, sleep is a bad thing. I should be more dedicated. Four hours. What was I thinking?)

All I can suggest, then, is to hit the one reliable URL.

She didn't mind so much dying. Someday, John would go up there, and he couldn't take her along. She had to hitch her own ride. Maxime can be one depressing puppy.

 

What does it say that the re-opening of the newly furbished Sainsbury was the highlight of my day? (Or yesterday, or the day before. I am losing track. I am losing my perspective.)

But, no, no. That was not the highlight. That would have been the hour I spent on his grave howling at the moon. No, not sacrificing chickens to the gods of Positivism. That's not how these things happen. Blood sugar bottomed out late in the afternoon, food an afterthought, my stomach lining was contemplating cannibalism as I scolded the ground into staying put. Full moon, and as always I was restless. Not don't-talk-to-me-or-I'll-bite-your-head-off restless, more along the lines of a if-I-come-across-a-halfway-good-looking-male-there's-going-to-be-some-damage kind of energy that makes me vibrate and grin.

If we fight for you

You don't mind if we fight for you, do you?

I went to bed at 5 am to the words of two people I admire very much, and slept deeply until my father called, four hours later. At this rate, my mother will soon be short one husband. I cleaned up my inbox, stopped by then, checked on the chatroom and the various boards. I don't have time to blog-hop anymore.

I really needed to unwind. My back is so cramped from hours spent on the computer, my muscles have begun to seize. I went over to Neil's for (decaffeinated) coffee, and he insisted that I take a nap, but I couldn't seem to turn off. Back massage (Neil is very well trained), warm drink, hot bath, nothing would do it. In the end, I lied down on the couch in front of the Hallmark channel, and was out like a light in under a minute. I should have thought of that straight away. I got three full hours, and I feel ready to tackle tonight's strategy session.

I told R that I missed writing; I just want to go back to writing. And I told Max that writing was like sinking to the bottom of a lake, and discovering that you can breathe. I haven't been breathing too well all week. John is patient, lingering on the side-lines, supportive. I haven't lost the feel of him, despite the tiredness, the stress and the distraction. I worried about that. Still, at times I just want to say 'The Hell with all this, I'm just a writer,' grab John, and take the level risers to the very bottom of Tesaris to curl up in the dark. Wait out the storm. Be selfish.

Then I receive thanks, and I don't deserve them. It's not about thanks. I was given John, and this universe; I give this little bit in return.

My sleep has been dreamless

My sleep has been dreamless. I go to bed as the sun rises, tumbling past the event horizon of a black hole -- as soon as I close my eyes, reality collapses, all light cones tip inward, and there is nothing. My worldline ends. An impossible escape comes with high noon.

Today, I woke to John smiling in my face. I smiled back.

In the week before the dren hit the atmospheric scrubbers, John was on strike, sleeping all the time, like a dark cloud hanging over me. I missed him, even in his presence. He's back, though. A little older, a little wiser. Streaks of gray in his hair. Not everything has gone according to plan, but he has been loved, and he remembers. He was watching his daughter's prowler light up the atmosphere of a simple planet. Then someone came, and the last burden was lifted. He can go home--it is safe now--but he has decided to stay. He is happy here.

I'll write John any way he wants to be written. Smiling, or dead, or with a dead smile.

It's easy to converge with John, sometimes. We have things in common. Obsessive tendencies. Dreamers, stranded in a strange place, nowhere is truly home anymore.

Other traits, though, I don't share at all. I don't draw people to me the way John does; I don't make friends quickly, and I'm not as attentive to the ones I have as John would be. I have his empathy, but not always his compassion. I don't have his hope, or more accurately, I don't want to have it. If you understand that S4 John has been converging with me, rather than the other way around, you will grasp my meaning.

Nevertheless, someone's outlook on life might be rubbing off a little, because I'm beginning to see the good in the bad. I have learned to smile on the phone to reporters. I have learned more about the TV industry, about marketing and PR, about Nielsen ratings and advertising than I ever wanted to know. Learning is always a good thing.

I got the opportunity to talk to two people I respect and admire, and that probably wouldn't have happened otherwise. I stand back and watch strangers come together. I've learned a lot about fellow scapers, met a few I wouldn't have met if for not for this campaign, and grown closer to others.

I found out that I get along well with Max. We didn't have much opportunity to chat before, and we are also, in some ways, very much alike. We perceive reality sideways. (Hopefully, she will not be insulted by that statement.) It could have gone either way.

There are friends to be found here.

I'm nowhere near happy with the situation. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I am enjoying myself. I still wish this could have been avoided, for the sake of a great many people. I can't keep up with my mail, and that's annoying. My boss is going to mount my head as a mantel piece when he gets back from San Francisco. But things being what they are, we are doing well.

That's hope, right?

How to get a loan with bad credit

It's not easy to get a loan if you have a bad credit. That's why I wondered for hours how do I get a loan with bad credit and I'm still not sure. Here are some questions and answers regarding the topic of getting a loan when you have a bad credit.

How much can I borrow?

You can borrow different amounts dependent on what type of facility you choose. In most cases we offer between 1000 - 10,000. If you have a request that is outside this range we may still be able to help on a referral basis. 

How much will it cost? How to get a bad credit loan?

The interest rate you pay will reflect your personal circumstances.

How long does it take?

When you apply for a secured homeowner bad credit loan you can expect to receive the cheque within 21 days of completing. If you are applying for an Urgent Loan then this can be payable within 24 hours pending your circumstances.

Can I repay my bad credit loan early?

Yes you can repay your loan early. The method of calculating the repayment will be stated on the loan agreement. If you require any more information simply email us

Where to get loan with bad credit ?

Can I cancel my bad credit Loan?

Yes you are under no obligation whatsoever. You can cancel your loan application at any time up to completion without cost nor penalty.

Do I have to use my property as security for my bad credit loan?

Not necessarily. But when you do have a property that can be used to secure your loan, we can offer you more flexible borrowing arrangements, there are no survey fees, legal fees or other upfront charges.

What can I use loan with bad credit for?

You can use your loan for any reasonable purpose. You may want to pay off any existing debts or credit cards, or to make some home improvements, buy a car or take a holiday. Your loan is for you to spend how you see fit.

Can I fix my monthly repayments?

Many people want the certainty that comes with knowing exactly what their monthly commitment will be during the repayment period. Whether you prefer a loan where the rate changes in line with the general level of interest rates or one where you can fix your monthly payments for an initial period of the loan.

How long does it take to get a decision?

If you call us right now, we will give you an immediate 'in principle' decision and send out your loan documentation today. You'll be under no obligation, and no salesman will call. The final approval of your loan rests with your lender. We are confident that as long as the information you provide is accurate, the loan will be completed on the original terms discussed. However, until the loan is finally approved you should not enter into any agreements on the assumption that the loan will be completed.

From approval, how long does it take to get the cash?

This depends on what type of bad credit loan you take out, but you can usually expect to receive your cheque within 21 days. However, if your loan requirement is urgent you can expect to receive a cheque even sooner.

What if I am ill or if I'm made redundant?

You can insure your payments so that you won't have to worry if you lose your job or are off work through accident or sickness. We strongly recommend that you take out this optional payment protection because your home may be repossessed if you do not keep up repayments on a mortgage or any other debt secured on it. Our payment protection gives you and your family extra comfort and peace of mind.

What if I die before my loan is paid off?

The loan will still need to be repaid by your estate, but you could choose to insure yourself and your partner so that the loan is immediately paid off were either of you to die during the period of the loan. Optional life cover is highly recommended.

How confidential is my application and my loan with bad credit?

100% confidential. We treat all applications in the strictest confidence and at no time will we contact your employer or bank except with your permission.

How do I get a loan with bad credit? What types of finance are available?

You can take out a loan that's secured against your existing property (a secured loan) or an Equity Release Loan. You can also choose whether you want to have a fixed rate of interest (the amount you pay back every month stays the same for the initial period of the loan) or a loan with a variable rate of interest (your monthly repayments will change, moving up or down in line with general interest rates).

Unrest is mounting in the ranks

I hear that unrest is mounting in the ranks, following promo shots, more interviews of David Kemper, and episode spoilers. Having been through all of it with Buffy, Angel, and on the sidelines of many other fandoms, I am quite comfortably ensconced in my unspoiled status [although I have seen some of the promo pics, and know a tiny little bit about 401]. I like my entertainment, if not rational, or even completely sane, then at least-- reasonable. Yes. That's a good word. I want to be able to reason with my fandom.

I can only imagine what Kemper has been saying to provoke the fury of fans predictably protective of their characters, their relationships and their universe. I'd guess something along the lines of, "We're going to throw you into the deep end of the pool from the start without a buoy, we're not going to give you any of what you want, and you're going to damn well like it, even if John screws what's-her-name and Commandant Cleavage by episode two. It'll be like nothing you've seen before, you won't know what's happening, but it's going to rock, So Be Grateful." How do I love that man's ego -- let me count the ways.

I've had four months of anticipation going in fifty thousand directions, and I want it to coalesce, now, into something new, although not something definitive. I can see Farscape stretching cliffhangers for a long, long time, distributing answers sparsely and at great cost. Unpractical for casual viewers, but it so happens that I -- being me -- don't care about them. It'll be loud, wide, painful as hell, colorful and messy, because cast and crew, like most creative people, should be growing restless right about now. After three years, it's around the right time for that, yes. These things have cycles and rules.

I have this idea about time-travel and Earth - Anyway.

All this to say that I am going to be bad, again, and get my hands on the uncut episodes. Online, probably. Tapes would be good, but I don't know how practical that is. Both would be ideal.

Close your eyes

Close your eyes.

    Wait, no, don't close your eyes. Read first, then close your eyes.

    Imagine a cold, damp, dark room. You're sitting on the floor. You've been waiting for hours alone, in the dark, not knowing what comes next. They came for you, they didn't tell you who they were, they didn't even talk to you. They took away everything you wore, everything, threw you into that room, and locked the door. And you've been waiting. Frozen. For hours.

    You wonder if you should yell, attract attention, but in the end you remain silent. You wait. Scrunched up in a corner of the room, so maybe they'll forget about you, or they won't see you when they come in. You're tired but you can't fall asleep. Because it's cold, because you can't tear your eyes away from the door, and you wonder when they're coming back. And because of the screams. Which come from some other room. And you don't understand all the words, but you don't need to. Your heart beats faster than ever before, your tongue is heavy, your throat is so dry you don't think you could scream. And you wait.

    When they come for you, you babble, you can't help it. Who are they, what do they want, what are they going to do with you? They don't tell you. They just drag you out to another room. There are... things, in the room. You babble louder, because you can't think of something worse than the silence. They don't even look at you. You want to cry. You can't help it. It's terror, unadulterated. You're crying. And you're begging. But they don't listen to you. They tie you down. You're exposed, and restrained, and now they stare at you, and you're sobbing, because the fear is like nothing you've ever experienced before, and the flight response is burning a hole through your stomach, around your wrists, and the humiliation... you didn't know what that was until now.

    When the pain comes, you get to see it approaching. And you scream, and beg, and cry, and all three at once, because there is nothing, nothing you wouldn't do to get away, just get away, but instead you get to see it come closer, closer, until it finds you. And from that point on it'll define your world.

    That's reality for you. Starting now. Pain or Absence of Pain.

    It comes and goes with no rhyme or reason, and you have absolutely No. Control. Over. It. When they take you back to your cell, the torture continues because you get to wait. Some more. Shaking, hurt, no comfort to be found anywhere. No one who cares. And you know. You get to understand with a new depth of certitude that they'll come back for you, that the pain will find you again, and that there is not a single thing in your power that can prevent it. Absolutely nothing. You control nothing. You have power over nothing. You are nothing. And your body isn't even yours anymore. You pray that your heart will give out, but it doesn't. They are careful. They're even nice to you, sometimes. But when they talk to you, they don't use your name. They have names for you, but none of them are yours.

    If you're lucky, they let you sleep. But probably not. They tell you that they are doing the same thing to your daughter, right now. After a while, you forget that there was ever a world outside of this one. You even forget your name.

    It doesn't matter if it happened to you in the past. This is not something you will ever be prepared for. And when you make it out, when they let you go, they still haven't let you go. Because the world is not The World anymore. It is just Absence of Pain.

    There are nightmares, most every night. Cold, damp places send you into a panic. You can't breathe and you feel like you're dying. You can't leave the house. Sudden noises startle you, you can't even bear the touch of your own children. Ghost pain, real pain, in your limbs, in your spine. There are scars. They marked you all over, in places that used to be only yours, that only a lover had touched. Your own skin doesn't feel real anymore. The doctor said your heart would never be the same. It's hard to concentrate, and sometimes... sometimes you're back, back in the cell, and no one can follow you there. Not even the people who love you. You're still alone.

    You are altered, and you will never be as you once were. They took that from you, and some day you might recover, but you won't ever regain that which you lost, because you know, for now and forever, that there are people out there who can take everything you have, everything you are away from you. Strip you bare. Make you scream until no more sounds come out of your throat. Make you less than human. At any time. You won't see it coming.

    And you can't stop them.

Might be disturbing

This is not a fun entry and might be disturbing to some. Really.

I've pondered writing this for a while. We all have topics which are closer to us than most, and sometimes we rant, sometimes we preach, sometimes we admonish. I don't want to do any of those things. I don't want to sermon, I don't want to patronize, or condescend, I'd just like to talk. If that's all right with you.

Today, I stumbled across a story where one of the main protagonists was brutally tortured. Nothing new there. Torture could be a subgenre of fanfic in its own right, perhaps somewhere in the vicinity of the hurt/comfort genealogical tree.

I write it. Check next post. Way, way over half of the authors I know have written it at one point or another, for their own reasons. Varied, varied reasons, I imagine. Plot device, psychological exploration, whatever. I have reasons of my own.

Today, I stumbled across a story where one of the main protagonists was brutally tortured -- and remained glib through the whole process, snarking all the way, escaping to shack up with his significant other, living happily ever after. No harm done. This bothers me. Always does. Just like many are bothered by portrayals of rape which do not do justice to the horrifying nature of the act -- as just another example of a personal issue some might have with fiction. When I read such a story, I don't press delete, I don't start raving, I don't throw a tantrum, I just... take notice. Sometimes, I get a little sad. It's my personal issue.

And I wonder. Authors can take so much care in crafting the emotional landscape of their characters in a realistic manner; why should the depiction of torture and its aftermath be so often... not. Realistic. Is it that they just don't care? Is it that that they cannot wrap their mind around what it means? Is it that they cannot imagine it? Cannot understand? Possibly. Torture is not something that is intended to make sense. Quite the contrary.