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delirium happy

Just keep on trying till you run out of cake

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dreams, chemistry, roleplaying and freedom fries
delirium happy
I napped for a little while earlier, and had a fairly odd dream. I'm fairly sure that at least part of it was recurring, but this is definitely the first time I've ever remembered it in nearly this much detail. I was back at school, in my upper sixth year, and I was failing everything. I mean really, totally failing everything. I didn't have a clue what was going on in chemistry, wasn't much better at physics, and my maths was a joke. I was in a chemistry lesson, and we were doing some sort of practical. The goal, as near as I can remember it, was to pour vinegar into some particularly noxious combination of chemicals in such a way as to render them entirely harmless and safe to poor over the wooden floor without it damagaing the varnish in any way

(aside: my subconscious clearly has a sense of humour. When we were at school, the chemistry labs got refitted (or at least half of them did. One of the ones that we worked in had about half the taps/sinks/gas taps broken, which resulted in one particularly memorable experiment, where we were effectively making tear gas where we had massive lengths of (mostly perished) rubber tubing running all over the lab to connect up the various instances that did actually work, and take some of the unwanted byproducts out of the window (the fume cupboard was bust too). I'm sure you can guess the results of this). But anyway, this refitting included expensive new wooden floors, and also allegedly indestructible, unmarkable desks. This happened while we were in the sixth form, and hence one of a relatively small number of classes to use the lab and be allowed to use any chemicals more dangerous than tap water. The end result of this was that by the end of the year I could actually recognise about half the stains and blisters on the floor, and tell exactly what chemical had caused it ("ah yes, that one over there was from conc sulphuric from an esterification...."). That, along with constant arguing with my chemistry teacher over whether physics or chemistry was the superior science, really made chemistry wirth taking. I had a sort of love/hate relationship with Dr. Chambers. Hardly a lesson would go by when I wouldn't answer him back, or disagree with him, or point out a mistake thet he made or whatever. Fortunately, he was the sort of teacher who thrived on that, and welcomed it. And I'd like to think that our little cabaret shows provided some much needed light entertainment for my classmates, and at times, when I pointed out an alternate way of looking at something, perhaps even helped them. For my part, I respected him, and I think, looking back now, that I enjoyed his lessons. He was a very intelligent man, and he really knew his stuff (he was chief examiner for the CH05 A-level module with the NEAB at the time) but he didn't hide behind that. When he was teaching us, I always had the feeling that he treated us as equals where he could, and that suited me down to the ground. I actually had a motivation to think in his lessons, because I ahd the chance of getting one over on him, whereas in every other lesson, I would happily coast. I was absolutely awesome at chemistry at school (the sylabus we did had 6 modules, examined separately. I did well enough in the first 5, that I already had a B overall, and wasn't far from an A before I even took the 6th) and it's only just occurred to me that he was quite possibly the reason why. He wanted me to take chemistry at Oxbridge, I think. With hindsight, I think that I'd have been better off doing a Cambridge natsci degree than an Oxfrod physics one. I quite possibly owuld have crashed and burned anyway, but still. I think I probably ought to see if I can get an address for him, and send him a thank you letter. And blimey, that was a long aside)

Well, I said that we were doing an experiment, but strictly speaking that isn't true. The other people in the class were doing it, while I was sitting there, looking bewildered. I also remember that ratkrycek was also in the class, and doing an equally small ammount of work as I was. Instead, she wrote my name onto her file, and I got in trouble for it, which I was most put out about. How can I help what other people do? The odd thing was, she didn't use my current name, she used my name at birth -- which I have since legally changed. Now, that was my name when I was at school, but it wasn't my name in the dream. I'm also 99% sure that EMily doesn't actually know that name. Very odd. But anyway, I'm sitting there like a complete turnip, not having a clue what to do, so I start contemplating. I figure out that since I did so well in my lower 6th, I could actually manage to salvage some sort of results. I could drop further maths entirely, as I already had an A in maths, and I could use the extra time that gave me to try to catch up with chemistry and physics. Basicly, I would start the year from scratch working off my own back. It was a good plan. It would work. I'd have to be comitted, but I was determined, and i was going to pull it off. All I needed was to talk things through with my teachers, get their approval and devise a plan of action. So, when the lesson was over, I decided to ask Dr Rogers (my other A level chemistry teacher, not the one I talked about in the aside) if I could speak to him at some point. His response to me was that he couldn't see me that day because he was busy and that, in fact, he was busy every day and would never be able to see me. At which point, he walked off.

Interesting dream, and one that any dream analyst would have a complete field day with, I'm sure.

In other news, the first actual gaming session of the supportpg was last night. I think it's fair to say that that was the first actual role playing I've ever done. I do have vague previous experience related to roleplaying, but nothing where I actually played a role, I don't think. I once played a single session of kobolds ate my babies, which was a whole lot of fun, but in more of a hack and slash, comedy sort of way. The average kobold doesn't have all that much inteligence. I also briefly took part in a game that chess ran on rondak's portal, but I managed to always forget about it, and didn't actually get far enough into it to ever really be role-playing to any real extent.

It was a whole heap of fun though. My character is a witch called Gerda. Think Granny Weatherwax but less so, and with a short temper, and you're pretty much there. I was really getting into the headspace quite nicely, and have already managed to piss off one member of the party (mortaine's character, Cass), which is quite right too. If everyone liked me for much longer than a session then clearly I was going to be doing something wrong. Much fun though, and I'm looking forward to next Tuesday's session. I'll probably hang around and watch Friday's session too.

And finally, on a lighter note, I've been considering the idea of freedom fries. Now, I think that every right thinking individual on the planet can agree that this is without doubt one of the most mind numbingly pathetic names for anything ever. However, I'm not unsympathetic, and I can understand why people wouldn't want to associate with the French. Their tourists have a horrible habit of standing in the middle of High Street, blocking it up for people who are just out shopping, for example, which is clearly annoying enough for indiscriminate mass ostricism. If we're going to stop using the name "french fries" we do need to com up with a better alternative though. So I stopped to think. Clearly, that name is used, to give the fries an air of mystery. To make them seem distant, foreign and unusual. This is the only possible explanation, because they really don't have a great deal to do with France. The obvious solution was just to change the country. My first thoughts were that we could just call them korean fries, or syrian fries, but apparently those countries aren't actually flavour of the month right now either. I don't know why, mind -- I've never had any problem with Syrian tourists. But if they're out, then I'm sure there must be some country that's inoffensive, while still being slightly exotic. And I pondered this for a moment, when inspiration struck me. Scottish fries! Where is more exotic than Sotland? And when has a Scotsman ever offended anyone? Perfect! Except it somehow doesn't have the right ring to it. It's a bit too much of a mouthful. And so, instead of using the full name "scottish fries" I'd also like to propose an abreviated version, which captures the spirit of Scotland, while being more pleasant on the tongue. I considered options such as "kilt fries", "sporran fries" and "glaswegian skinhead fries", but in the end, I decided that the perfect name, which should henceforth be used for what has hitherto been known as "French fries" is "McFries". I have a crack team of ad people trying to figure out how to market this idea.

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yeah. sotland's so exotic i've not even heard of it.

i can't figure out if this is better or worse than liberty cabbage for sauerkraut in wwii. i think it's just the oxymoronic notion of equating any kind of fried food with freedom that gets me.

I am laughing on the inside, really. McFries!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAH!

I was really getting into the headspace quite nicely, and have already managed to piss off one member of the party (mortaine's character, Cass), which is quite right too.

Whose journal is cassassin, in case you didn't find it already. And, yes-- it seemed "quite right" to me, too-- glad you weren't too offended (I know I wasn't offended by the "simple" remark).

I am finding the Tuesday night games to be wonderfully amusing, by the way. Gerda is very disturbing, to Cass anyway (he's getting worried that she can read minds or something.....!)

...and whose journal is also friends only. Any chance of adding me (at this username -- I don't have an srpg journal)?

And I wasn't remotely offended, an I'm glad that you weren't either, because I'm anicipating getting even more unpleasant, should it become necessary :)

I'm also very glad that Cass is finding Gerda disurbing, because that's exactly what she wants. Always nice to keep everyone else living in fear of you, unsure of exactly how much you can do.

They're actually called French fries for a pretty good reason. In cooking terminology, to French something is to cut it into thin strips.

I am not calling them freedom fries. And I am ashamed of my government.

On a lighter note, I found your character quite interesting. :)

Hmmm. I've never encountered that term, and even though I can't cook at all, I've watched more than my fair share of mindless cookery shows on the TV, so I'm wondering if this may be an American term, possibly equivalent to "julienne"?

Quite right, aren't they 'french fried potatoes' in reality?

"glaswegian skinhead fries"

I like it! Let's lobby for it.

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