BAH
Today it occurred to me that all of my latest endeavors are mired in sinkholes of futility. This isn't precisely true, but I have nothing that seems appreciably near completion;
sgabigbang is slogging its way through the major revision and will be picked at, in the manner of a zebra carcass, over the next month; my art has been hexed by a Photoshop that has taken to crashing on a whim; I despair of ever finishing, much less comprehending, even the most basic of the philosophy my dissertation wants; the articles are in various stages of being dismantled and reassembled into something that might, eventually, be presentable.
I'm sort of at the point where my brain has decided that, if I'm never actually going to finish anything, then I might as well find as many things to not finish as I possibly can. I had two ideas for some cover art today: both need to wait until I can get my sweaty mitts on a drawing tablet, but this hasn't stopped me from looking for stock and preliminary stuff and sketching things out. Of course, things will be finished and I know I'll be thrilled/relieved when they are, and the sooner I concentrate the sooner they will be done, but there's so much and it all seems hopelessly far away from even the hope of being completed.
So I'm writing this instead. And, as a reward for listening to my plaint, or, you know, being smart and ignoring the cut, have some John Sheppard. Hello, John.

In other news: To add to the futility, I drove down to Wolfeboro in the searing heat today, only to be bitterly disappointed by the degeneration of the town bookstore. It used to be awesome for travel and nonfiction, but now the selection is about half the size of what it was, and nowhere near the quality. What happened?!?!?
.eta: On the bright side, I have been watching Serenity and Firefly, and Jewel Staite is the most adorable thing. Also, I love Wash and for this reason am deeply resentful of Joss Whedon because I had to overcome my somewhat irrational dislike of him to watch Serenity and look what he went and did, omgwtF.
.eta2: For some reason, I was browsing around the Lewis & Short Latin Dictionary at Perseus, and looked up hiatus. In classical Latin it could mean "longing" or "desire," and I think it's sad we don't really have that usage anymore.
I have a very great hiatus for John Sheppard. Sigh.
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I'm sort of at the point where my brain has decided that, if I'm never actually going to finish anything, then I might as well find as many things to not finish as I possibly can. I had two ideas for some cover art today: both need to wait until I can get my sweaty mitts on a drawing tablet, but this hasn't stopped me from looking for stock and preliminary stuff and sketching things out. Of course, things will be finished and I know I'll be thrilled/relieved when they are, and the sooner I concentrate the sooner they will be done, but there's so much and it all seems hopelessly far away from even the hope of being completed.
So I'm writing this instead. And, as a reward for listening to my plaint, or, you know, being smart and ignoring the cut, have some John Sheppard. Hello, John.

In other news: To add to the futility, I drove down to Wolfeboro in the searing heat today, only to be bitterly disappointed by the degeneration of the town bookstore. It used to be awesome for travel and nonfiction, but now the selection is about half the size of what it was, and nowhere near the quality. What happened?!?!?
.eta: On the bright side, I have been watching Serenity and Firefly, and Jewel Staite is the most adorable thing. Also, I love Wash and for this reason am deeply resentful of Joss Whedon because I had to overcome my somewhat irrational dislike of him to watch Serenity and look what he went and did, omgwtF.
.eta2: For some reason, I was browsing around the Lewis & Short Latin Dictionary at Perseus, and looked up hiatus. In classical Latin it could mean "longing" or "desire," and I think it's sad we don't really have that usage anymore.
I have a very great hiatus for John Sheppard. Sigh.
no subject
That is a wonderful definition. I approve greatly <3
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no subject
"hiatus"
There have been days--countless moments, counted hours, days, and then into a week--when they haven't been able to touch. There's a new order now, and what may have once been possible--a touch, a smile, a kiss just outside of view--is now taboo, forbidden, the rules and the threat of discovery hanging over their heads.
Rodney has counted the seconds, the hours when the moons were high in the nighttime sky, where before there may have been safety in the shadows, a carefree attitude (not like they'd ever truly been carefree) when the door slid shut with a final soft shhhh and they'd been free to peel away the layers, to lay one another bare. With the changing of the guard, the touches have lessened ("He'll be looking at everything. Noticing everything.") and have been replaced by the looks they'd perfected years before, before they'd known...
The door slides open, a sound that sends a shiver of anticipation along every centimeter of Rodney's skin. John steps into the room and the weight of their time apart leaves Rodney breathless. He is skin hungry and as the door closes, they waste no time shedding their clothes, touching, indulging in the need that has been waiting, growing, pushing at their skin, muscle and bone.
"This is stupid," John whispers, marking the skin along Rodney's jaw and chest with teeth and touch. "I don't care about the rules, or Woolsey. I need you."
Rodney answers with his mouth, his touch, the words that hide underneath every repeated "John" and "yes."