seraphcelene: (Default)
Favorite new artist right now ... say hello to Banks:



And who's your favorite right now?

Bugger All

Mar. 23rd, 2015 04:09 pm
seraphcelene: (beautifully devestated)
I'm tired. Exhausted even.

CA is in the worse drought in years, a brush fire broke out today in Valencia and its supposed to hi the 90's by Thursday. WtF!

And I'm just generally tired. Trying to find corners of the day to write has proved fruitless. I can't become a better writer if I don't produce. Production requires a functioning brain cell of which i do not seem to currently have. Mostly, I think, on account of me not getting enough sleep. This is a sad state of affairs.

I am, however, reading when I can. Audiobooks have been a life saver and I am currently slogging through the apparently never-ending Outlander. It's entertaining, but there's a lot about it that I don't care for, structure-wise. Today, I leap-frogged over four discs because I'm just trying to get to the end and the story is DRAGGING! Note: when almost everything happens off-screen and gets related as an anecdote of past events, it gets bloody boring. I will, undoubtedly, leap-frog over more of the story. There are three discs to go and I only have one more hours ride to get to work tomorrow. I really can't be arsed.

Because I'm tired. And I have other things occupying my brain. Like the Sleeping Beauty-esque short that needs to be written this week if I'm to have ANY hope of submitting it for the NaNo anthology. The likelihood that it will be selected to slim, but I really just want to make the attempt at submission.
gods ...

I'm taking a nap.
seraphcelene: (beautifully devestated)
I was asked what felt like a combo question: 1 - why did Emma Watson need to make this speech, and 2 - what was the purpose of her making the speech? In answer: it's not about redefining the word feminism or reclaiming the word from negative stereotypes. In fact, she admits to having no real solution to the growing disdain (and it's kind of news to me) for the word feminist. Instead, Watson's speech is about incorporating the idea of gender equality (perhaps simplistically focused on integrating social/emotional equality for men) into a discussion that has been primarily about the social, political, and economic equality of women. I still disagree that the speech is a recalibration of the meaning or image of what feminism is. Rather, she seeks to offer an alternate, explicitly inclusive entry point for men into the discussion of women's rights by encouraging them to consider and eradicate biases that exist for BOTH genders. The idea is that improve one situation and the other will, by natural extension, also improve. Shifting the focus from feminism, which is just about women, to gender equality, which is about BOTH genders, is an act meant to reduce the us versus them stereotype that some people have about feminism. The 'it's not my problem' syndrome. It also sidesteps what she initially presents as the PR image that feminists are facing. Which, again, surprises me to some degree. But then again, at more then 10 years younger than me, she was also surprised so I'm wondering what that demographic of naysayers looks like.


Emma Watson HeForShe Speech at the United Nations | UN Women 2014
seraphcelene: (beautifully devestated)
I'm stuck on my EPIK application, waiting for letters of recommendation. I really should be writing in the meantime. I finally cracked my laptop open and I have all of these unfinished pieces that I don't even remember starting:

An inter-steller Sleeping Beauty story that I just barely recall. There's a circus and a witch, and sleeping beauty has become a sideshow attraction.
She had dreamt the world into near ruin, once upon a time. That is why the man has come.

Impossibly, the start or what I remember was going to be a romance novel:
Counting stars and mistakes from last year and the year before that, and five years past makes Kat want to cry. Her eyes burn, but she hates crying. She's not a pretty crier. She is queen of the ugly face cry, so she steals herself, buries her nose into the fuzzy warmth of a heavy blanket and breathes deeply. In and out and in again. Controlled, deep, and she shakes her head to clear her eyes and the melancholy fog in her brain. Leaning her head back against the chair she goes back to counting stars, the streak of the Quarantid meteor shower, determined to enjoy it because she called out Friday just for the opportunity. And now she's sitting here, the reluctant and sleeping Lilla at her side, staring at the sky.

A million and one bits and pieces, starts and finishes to the Briar story ...
Briar dreams of Mary Angel with cellophane wings, her skeletal beetle arms and bent, too long fingers reaching and gathering. Curled beneath her wings, crouched low and hunched over, she spins silk from the regurgitated blood and viscera scooped from the body stretched at her feet.

Something about werewolves. Clay's story; it started with a birth.
He would swear, later, after the shock wore off, that she growled. A low animal sound deep in her throat right before she lunged up off the ground, her mouth wide, and snapped at his face. Her teeth clacked together hard as he jerked back. All he recalls is an impression of teeth, elongated canine, and something shifting beneath her skin, something wrong in the bones of her face.

The boy jumped back hard, slamming into the shelves behind him, a rain of bows and ribbons falling around him in a flurry of color. The woman was heavy and slow with her pregnancy and just like that she was back on floor.



*sigh* What to do?! OMG ... what to do ...
seraphcelene: (geum jan di by espirit_serein)
OK.

Is this thing on?! Anybody still out there?!

I am ALIVE! Yes, sad sometimes, but here.

Things are going well in this new life model of mine, at least I think it is. Car is dying, the extra boarder is on the crazy side, but there's a lock on my door and I'm easing back into the gym. That is all fine! I also drive an hour to work and an hour home. That is less than fine.

Now, among the really important things to know:

I'm applying to teach abroad come August. Yeah, I know, teaching English abroad is for the young kids! Well, you know what?! I am young-ish. Also, I am single and childless. My career options are terrible and I LOVE being in the classroom, so why the hell not?! I am also not going to drop another couple of thousands to get a teaching credential. And I LOVE to travel and live in the World. Now, it may turn out that I hate it, but I've got to give it a go. I'm signing up for TEFL classes next month. The actual class-class start in July. I scared and excited, too.

ALSO!!!!

Eva Green has never been an actress that I thought much about. However, she is possibly the best reason to be watching Penny Dreadful. She's absolutely delicious!!

Oh, and have you read my book yet?! I need some reviews! I'm willing to send free copies. Let me know, will ya?! Help a sistah out!
seraphcelene: (no miracles_)
Totally put off signing up for the Affordable Care Act because I knew that I wouldn't be able to afford the affordable plans. Entered the information in today and, of course, can't actually afford it even with "Premium Assistance." I'm all for universal health care. I believe in it wholeheartedly, but if you're going to force people to carry health insurance, then you have to pay for it. It can't be something that individuals are forced to pay for because for various reasons they may not be able to do so. It's been my major caveat with the ACA. With the plans in place as is (with deductions dully noted), I would be left with $84.00 for food and expenses for the month.

I mean, I didn't sign up for my company health insurance because, even though it falls within "affordable" limits, it would have meant an extra $54 out of each check. Stressing out right now. Totally stressing out. I guess I'll be taking the penalty this year.
seraphcelene: (no miracles_)
So, I wanna write. Totes feel like writing, but the job hunt and the move have me in this weird place of inactivity. TOO MUCH STUFF in my head. I did get some little fanfics pooped out, but they're kinda meh.

The project list keeps expanding, though nothing gets accomplished:

- Dawn/Buffy Xmas fic (that I started years ago)
- Daryl/Beth (TWD) 5 Things That Aren't True
- Original fiction. The Briar novel (Yay)
- Another novel premise
- And I started notes on a third potential novel.

What am I thinking?! Who do I think I am?! Cause you know that feeling when you right something, but you don't really like it? Yeah. Right there. All This and Love all over the place.

Anyway... yeah.

I need to pack. And look for a job.

This grown-up shit is exhausting.

In other news ... The Walking Dead has officially ripped out my frelling heart. Two more episodes this season and I don't know if I will be able to survive it. The Grove does not bode well for our heroes.
seraphcelene: (curse you villains)
Caffeine detox is a son-of-a-bitch.
seraphcelene: (no miracles_)
Feeling sorry for myself ... it'll pass, it always does. But at the moment I am wallowing.

Apparently, I am over educated and have no job skills.

Life fail, right here.
seraphcelene: (curse you villains)
Today at Ye Olde Work Place I came damn near close to delivering a karate chop to my Boss's (and I use that term very loosely) throat. I won't go into the dirty details, but the end result was that he talked over me after demanding an explanation and then hung up in my face. I am so over that place and the idiotic people who work there. Over. It.

Please, new job. Please hurry and get here!

As I sat there trying desperately to control my temper and not call him back and cuss him out or call him back and hang up IN HIS face, an errant thought slid across my brain: what could I possibly take to calm my nerves and help me to deal with this idiot and all the people like him who both work here and call in. And BANG! There it was. I was a sane thought away from self-medicating myself so that I can make it through my work day. WTF. That is really low.

To be very clear, I'm pissed the hell off. Grow the fuck up, mr. Learn to listen. So, I, acting as the adult in this situation, opted to send him an email instead. I expressed my sorrow that I had used my brain to think a little too much. Instead of accepting the fact that his instructions made no sense, and instead of repeating my request for clarification since his response to my initial inquiry for clarification still made no sense, I used my brain and made a decision. I let him know that it wouldn't happen again. Cause you know what?! They don't pay me enough and to avoid any further conflict, and to help me manage *my* stress, it's just as well that I learn to just do what I'm told in this situation. I'm REALLY good at documenting and being VERY precise with language. So, blame will always be appropriately assigned where it is due. The short explanation will be, well, "he told me to." With diagrams and quotes. At work, that is a-ok. At least in "my line of work."

Voila! Problem solved.

Now. Off to do other, infinitely more interesting things. Like job hunting, maybe a spot of blog reading!
seraphcelene: (Default)
So, my FB Looking Back video isn't my favorite ever. Why? Because I'm not always the center of my favorite moments. Life happens off FB and they can't capture that. SO! I made one of my own. When I look back at the past five or so years. Here are a *very few* of the highlights.

seraphcelene: (Default)
I've never been super aware of colorism. It's a concept that I've only *really* become consciously interested in this past year after seeing the documentary Dark Girls (I highly recommend it). My family contains a spectrum of skin colors from very light to dark, and with the exception of those middle school years when adolescence hits and we all learn to hate ourselves and yearn for something different, I've never been uncomfortable with my skin color. I am the color that I am, and I am black. It is probably the least interesting, least informative, yet most readily identifiable bit of information that you could possibly gather about me. Me being the me that I am, I'm always curious to hear alternate perspectives. I think that difference is amazing and fantastically important. Many voices.

This video was super interesting simply because of the terminology used by the speakers themselves. It really touches on the differences between race and culture and the way the two are conflated in America and shoe-horned into existing in the same place. From the outside looking in, these people look black and are boxed as black; however, from the inside looking out, they are Latino. Understanding that to be so also means that they can be black, as well. But the difference is that from where they sit culture trumps skin color.

seraphcelene: (curse you villains)
Working Customer Care in a Call Center is the worse job that I have ever had. I get the feeling that digging ditches would be better. At least then I could sing and laugh, chew bubble gum, and be outdoors. Of course, then, there would be callouses and back aches and rain and trench foot and that would totally suck. So, perspective I suppose.

Still, Customer Care is a terrible, terrible job and everyone should have to work it for at least a year. Maybe then they would realize how much of an asshat they are and maybe then people would be kinder to each other. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself. It's been known to happen.

Read more... )
seraphcelene: (shit be crazy)
Hello?

Hello?

Is this thing on?

[yelling into the ether] ...my life sucks without you...

Do you believe me?

Ok, so maybe sucks is a bit of an exaggeration. My life doesn't suck, exactly. It is a little rough around the edges, but we're working on that. Working on that means re-connecting with the things that make me happy. Things like the participatory culture on LJ and DW. I miss all the writing and the conversations, the deep-thinky thoughts, the not-so-deep, not-so-thinky thoughts, the art, the creativity, the exuberance. I miss all of it. My fannish activity was always rooted in the Whedonverse and Farscape (to lesser degree) and my participation in LJ has been waning with the absence of a strong show that just got me "like that." Agents of Shield held my attention for two whole seconds. There's plenty that I'm still watching (The Walking Dead, American Horror Story, Sleepy Hollow), but nothing has quite made me dive into fandom the way that BtVS did.

Other things ... other non-fannish, meatspace things also threw a monkey wrench in the works. 2012 and 2013 were difficult. My world fell apart a little bit in 2012 and 2013 was all about recovery. Bloody, sweaty, tearful, 15 extra pounds worth of recovery. Part of that recovery included a self-published collection of short stories titled All This and Love. I worked from October 2012 to September 2013 to get that thing completed and out in the world. It consumed all of my time. I even put the job search on the backburner to get that thing done. It's success is...really, anybody's guess. I have all of 2 reviews and although they are good, there's only two of them. The book has sold maybe 16 e-copies (at least 2 for sure not to anyone that I know personally) and still...2 lonely little reviews on Goodreads. One of the key things for me to focus on and remember is the types of communities that I am moving from with LJ and fandom and into with the free-for-all of masses at large. This is not directed at anyone in particular or even, really, in general. It's a brief vent and it's something that's largely resolved within myself.

I am thrilled to have actually sold copies and I am thrilled to have the reviews that I do have. I do not want anyone to think that I'm complaining too heavily here because there's no real reason that I should have sold anything or that anyone would have anything to say about what I had written. I was thrilled with the first sale. Which just so happened to be from a complete and total stranger!! I do struggle with the lack of feedback but then so do all authors in all mediums. But what I am learning is that they are hard to come by in general. And it's okay. It's not necessarily a commentary on the manuscript or the author. I'm learning. I'm growing accustomed and the process has been a fascinating one. I'm still glad that I did it. And you know what? I'm planning on doing it again! Huzzah!

Read more... )
seraphcelene: (pic#523339)
Seriously .... someone should ...

OBG Adventures is hosting a giveaway. Free flight and transfers from San Francisco International to Charles DeGaulle, and back again. Once you're in Paris, you get an adorable, teeny tiny apartment to stay in. OMG, how awesome is that?!

For more details click on the linky-link:

Why Not Drop Everthing & Come to Paris

Enter, you guys, enter!! Got to Paris! Why the Hell not?!?!?
seraphcelene: (curse you villains)
37 seconds with Photoshop and you can be a catwalk model.

seraphcelene: (curse you villains)
Okay, this multiple online identity thing is annoying. There's me, for my real life; there's LJ, for fandom life; and there's the pen name. Why didn't I just fold the pen name into the LJ profile? It would have been easier. I am not good a this building a brand thing. Annoying ... meanwhile, who's on Tumblr? Anyone? Trying to figure it out. Not brave enough for Twitter.

This is taking way too much of my life and isn't half as fun as writing.
seraphcelene: (kickass zoe)
Is it important WHY I want to go home? Why can't it be enough

that I just do? But I'm trying not to be difficult, practicing

that resolution from two years ago, attempting to be a kinder,

gentler me. So, I say, I'm cold and I just want to sleep in my

bed. I tell you, I just want to go home. But you push and no, I

don't want another drink or to hang out or to sleep at Brat the

Rat's place or to continue the party. ZuzuQ is driving and she

wants to stay, I can see it in her eyes and suddenly it dawns on

me that this little trip down to the shore has less to do with

hanging out with Bacardi Girl then it's some desperate attempt

to get in time with Brat the Rat. Because all of the sudden, the

"I'm sick, I want an early night, I'm on antibiotics and can't

drink" thing goes right out the window.


I should have stayed with Sin, she was celebrating her husband's

birthday in Beverly Hills and I was perfectly happy, but you wanted to leave.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "I'll take a cab. Not a big

deal." Cause really I'm tired and cold and bored and starting to

get cranky. I want my bed and my pj's, my lamp and the

Flintstones playing in the background on my TV.

"No, no," ZuZuQ insists, ultimately, after she realizes that I'm

not bending. "Are you mad at me?" she asks.

I'm not, although everyone likes to believe, always angry. I

just don't want to stay out any longer and it's already nearing

last call and I've been up since 7.30 a.m. I've shampooed my

carpets and spent an hour and a half at the gym. I've been to

birthday dinner and been dragged to two other bars before this

last one. I've consumed two cocktails, two beers and a shot, all without dinner. I'm weary and PMS'ing, hanging out with people that I've never really liked and fast approaching the end of my rope.

"I'm not mad," I tell her as gently as possible. "But if you

want to stay, that's fine. I'll take a cab."

She says she'll take me home. That was the plan, the agreement

and I won't say it, but I don't think its fair that she wants to

ditch me for a guy who's been playing her for months (and the

worse part is that she knows it and complains about it, and then

sets herself up for more).

ZuzuQ wants pizza and I cuddle up with Brat the Rat's spare

friend outside the pizzeria. He sat down beside me and put his

arm around my shoulder. Maybe it's not fair, but he's easy to

lean against and I'm tired and really cold. We chit chat and I'm

amazed at how much body heat he doesn't give off. I sit there

with my eyes slowly blinking at the unfortunate shenanigans of

girls looking for attention and try to talk him into going

inside and eating, too. I'm really not hungry and I definitely

don't need a babysitter. So, if he wants to eat, he keeps claiming that he's hungry, I can sit by myself very easily. But I feel like he's staking a claim, marking territory for the unattached guys looking for a last minute date to help fill up the leftover hours of the night. I'm not interested. Not in anyone or anything.

Dropping the guys off is when I start to get pissy because I'm

tired of repeating myself. Tired of the questions, the why's.

I've made my statement and I should have just walked out of the

bar and gone to get a cab. It would have been easier.

After we drop off a slightly annoyed Spare, Brat the Rat makes

an unfortunate comment.

"See, that's why we think you don't like guys," he says. As if

I'm supposed to be flattered by a last minute pick-up. As if

that's supposed to be enough and I'm supposed to be thankful

that some guy I don't know wants to pass the time. Like he's

doing ME the favor. And that's what tips the scale, but I'm

still trying to reel in my temper.

"I'm tired, I'm cold and I'm on my fucking period," I say.

His stupid, typical guy response is: "I've made out with girls

on their period before."

It's quiet and I think he might have realized the line he just

crossed. I take a deep breath and try not to yell and not to be

angry because I don't care about this guy and I hate expending

energy on stupid people and I really, really, really hate

loosing my temper.

But I took a deep breath and proceeded to do just that.

"I'll be fucking bleeding for the next four days," I say. "Just in case you didn't know what that means and I don't want to be touched by anybody." And that's the truth. Probably more truth than he was expecting. Definitely more than he bargained for because then I peeled off on a tangent about how good ZuZuQ was at wasting her time on guys and how he was the biggest waste of her time.

I went off well and truly and I regret it in a teeny, bitty

portion of my soul because I was being bitter and a little

foolish. But I get that way sometimes. I don't care and things

don't bother me until they do. Until someone drops that last

hair on the pile of hay and the camel's back cracks like an egg.

ZuZuQ laughed the whole time and thought that it was awesome

that I did her dirty work for her. That I was the one to tell him off and if I burned a bridge or two, then who cared.

The thing is, I like Brat the Rat. He's a nice guy, but he seems

to be working really hard to be an ass. He's a guy, pretending

to be nice and meanwhile he plays a girl for all that he can

get.
seraphcelene: (books by gloriousbite)
Kids!

I'm really excited, giddy even, to announce that my debut collection of short stories, All This and Love, is now available on Amazon in the Kindle Bookstore! It's published under a pen name, J. Libby. I'm crossing the streams here on LJ, but the RL gets to remain compartmentalized.

The collection will be available at other retailers soon. In the meantime, if you have a Kindle or a Kindle app, go download a free sample and check it out. If you like, buy it, read it, tell you friends about it, and review it!

All This and Love:
Summary: Love in many flavors takes center stage in All This and Love. From a wolf hunt in the catacombs beneath an unnamed city to the last kiss shared by a fallen angel and his immortal, human lover, love gets complicated by some of the things that go bump in the night. Explore lust, betrayal and star-crossed romance in five short stories in J. Libby's debut collection.

Check it out!

Connect with me online:

Facebook
Goodreads
Smashwords
You Tube
Pinterest

Happy Reading!

Love,
seraphcelene
seraphcelene: (bitches be crazy)
So, I got it into my head yesterday to make sugaring wax/paste and de-nude my pits. (Sorry if that's a little TMI!)

Well, it was an experience, let me tell you! Messy would be the key word. MESSY! And, I don't know how many candy makers I can count amongst my LJ pees, but I have mad respect for you guys. Sugar burns so fucking easily (and not just the tips of my fingers), like the sugar burns easily.

The recipe was a simple one. Not that I actually noticed that anyone had a particularly complex recipe. It was made up of:

1 cup white granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
1 tsp salt
2 Tbsp white vinegar (most recipes called for lemon, but the consensus was that any acid would do).

Dump all the ingredients into a pot or a skillet, depending on the recipe, and cook it down. There's a sweet spot after the sugar caramelizes, but before it burns that results in a perfect sticky, tacky hair remover. In all other directions there is only disappointment and great heartbreak.

My first batch was a DISASTER! Burned into a black-red mess. And it smelled. What does smelly sugar indicate? Yeah, you guessed it. I burned it! I was optimistic though, and I thought, "hey, maybe it just looks and smells bad, but maybe it'll still work."

It didn't.

It was only sticky in the very brief moment between me prying it out of the pot and trying to mold it into the "hard candy ball" that indicates you've successfully achieved sugar paste. Sugar paste, unlike sugar wax, doesn't require strips. You get to just slap it on and rip your hair out by the roots. Unfortunately, this particular mess didn't adhere to anything. All it did was kinda get onto everything and then harden into glass at the bottom of the pot.

Thankfully, sugar is water soluble (cause it's like food, yay)! I re-heated the pots contents, scrapped out what I could, and then soaked the pot until the sugar dissolved into some pretty questionable looking water.

I was about to throw in the towel and then decided to give it another whirl because I Am NOT a quitter, and I still had hairy pits!

The second batch was ... actually a success. After, of course, I did the one thing that the girl in one of the videos warned me not to. I touched the sugar on the back of the spoon to check the consistency and ended up with a blister on my left index. I know. I know. Kids! The key to the success of this batch turned out to be in just undercooking it. I stopped just short of what I thought the perfect color and consistency should be. And lo! It continued to thicken and darken after I took it off the fire.

There's a couple of methods for cooling it down, but I opted to let it cool in the pot and then I dipped the bottom of the pot into cool water.

The legs of an old pair of jeans were cut down into strips and voila! My pits are hairless!!

The biggest issue? Besides not burning the damn sugar! That successful batch of sugar wax was so sticky which is so obvs, but man, trying to get it from the pot to my pits without it getting everywhere in between was not easy. Again, thank gods it's water soluble because nothing gets damaged that way. It'll dissolve off with a suitable application of water.

It's also not as painful as you may think. If anyone has tried sugaring before (and I used to do it way back when in college, but I only did my legs), sugar wax adheres to hair without sticking to the skin, so it's much less painful than traditional wax. Except for the awkwardness of trying to stretch the skin in my armpits and make a clean yank of it, it was all tolerable. But then, too, I've been getting waxed (brazilians to clean up the good girl. sorry TMI) for years.

So, would I do it again? If you had asked me yesterday, it would have been a resounding no! But today, in light of my smooth, hairless armpits at a fraction of the cost (I usually spend around $20), I am seriously contemplating giving this another whirl in a couple of weeks.

Dude, I am such a crunch beauty girl these days. I make my own hair cream, body butter, bath scrub, face scrub, face masks, and I've made flaxseed gel for my hair. Now I've made sugaring wax! WTH?! A diminished budget can really drag out the creative, yo!

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seraphcelene

August 2016

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