Little Red (mylittleredgirl) wrote,
Little Red

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randomness in two parts

1) Aussies on my flist: my Star Trek Page-A-Day Calendar (thanks espirk and snarky_freak!) today informs me that it is Eight Hours Day in Australia. What, pray tell, is Eight Hours Day? Is it a holiday only for eight hours? Is there some strange form of calendar down under where the day actually only *is* eight hours long, and this doesn't screw up your entire calendar year somehow?

2) Okay, does anyone actually know anyone who used frienditto? I'm not looking for names, here, but are we all just threatening to defriend each other and fearing for the sanctity of our flocked posts for nothing? Or should I reset my phaser from snark to panic?

In other news, I could have sworn I typed, like, most of a Sheppard/Weir fanfic on my computer last night as I was falling asleep. Only now I can't find it. Or remember anything about it. All signs point to "dream" and/or "insanity," but I'm resisting the obvious explanation and continuing to search.

Edit: I found it (so *that's* what "hide window" does...), but it sucks. ALAS! But for some reason I can't bring myself to hate this bit of terrible poetry:

He never let his guard down completely, ever, but those walls are there less to keep others out than to keep himself in. He finds it easier to be left for something he isn't than for something he is.

But Elizabeth somehow slipped past a chink in his armor to curl up inside his chest, to topple his equilibrium like no one ever has before, and even though he's crazy about her in a way that feels like love, even though she's seen his facade slip completely on bad days or good days, heard him whisper confessions of how shamelessly he adores her and yell horrible things at her when the exposure terrified the hell out of him, she is
still here. He thinks she must love him, too, and he thinks he might need that.

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