torsdag 22. juni 2017

Sharing this since a member of the community made me aware of the clip in question. Personally, I’m at 5/7 – one rather obvious, the other not so much. Care to guess?

Also, MaevarisTilani is a new favorite. Go figure, right? Powerful magic user,
Now, if you’re reading this and wondering why I’m silent on other forums, arenas and various forms of communication – the answer is simple: My own computer remains net less. Therefore, further sharing of thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams in the shape of words and voice is not only improbable, but also impossible, for the time being. But hey, at least she’s got the look.

And we go na na na na na na na na.

onsdag 21. juni 2017

Permission to come aboard, Captain?

The shuttle was approaching the USS Pier. Having been spending quite some time getting upgraded – not all system were operational, despite her status as cleared – the list of minor tweaks must have been long as a year’s worth of bad reports.

The Commander couldn’t help but smile. A familiar sight, alt last. Home again.
Browsing through the crew list, she noticed certain changes. Junior-Lieutenant Knuma had applied for reassignment, while the ships’ chief medical officer, doctor Flebb, had left for other reasons. Chief of security, Mar’k’kek, was gone as well, and the cute Andorian, Fri’gda, had moved on shortly after her own departure. Then there was the owner of Amor. That caused more than a sting.

Upon stepping on the bridge for the very first time made a certain silence sweep across the room. The Commander looked around, keeping herself balanced and appearing at ease, despite the withdrawn and neutral face. Then the Captain rose.

-          Permission to come aboard, ma’am?
-          Permission granted. Welcome back, Nomi.

The Commander finally dared a smile and the Captain beamed right back at her. Crossing the distance, she opened her arms in a warm welcome. The embrace was longer than usual. Probably not up to Starfleet protocol, but – three years and a whole lot of long distance missions made up for it. Not like any of the officers would file a complaint. Instead, more than one acknowledged the Commander with pleasant smiles, nodding gently at her before carrying on with their tasks.
It took a few days to settle in and get to know some of the new additions a bit better, as well as reconnect with old friends. The Commander knew it was not really what you would call those you served alongside with. However, on the USS Pier rank and regulation played less a part than trust and genuine co-operation.

Though not all the changes where of the bad kind: Lieutenant Cami seemed to be up for promotion soon, and Lieutenant-Commander Tabakk remained just as active as before, even with his additional duties off-ship. Lieutenant-Commander Cezzelizze was due some shore leave – well earned, as usual – and her smile rivaled only that of Captain Jek. Commandant Ratve was absent due to her family, but Admiral Teima poked her head up an early morning and wished the Commander a happy return before heading back to what must have been an endlessness list of inspections.
Lieutenant-Commander Anc’sche, another former officer, had requested her old post back, and like the Commander been accepted. It only took a chance meeting during a course for the two of them set the tone, followed by a shared shift, and the Commander knew that the Lieutenant-Commander was going to be a friend on the same level as the rest of the bridge crew.

A similar story went for Lieutenant Vibast – also an old hand. While they had only met once while the Commander was on duty and the Lieutenant on furlough, they had never actually served together – circumstances had made them bypass each other. The Lieutenant was therefore an unknown to the Commander in an otherwise flawless familiar bridge crew.
Despite all the upgrades, the ship itself remained the same. So too, had the crew. The sensors and the engines, the weaponry and the interior – all new, shiny and up to proper Starfleet standard. Only the outside hull, the name and designation number remained of the USS Pier. However, the crew had asked to avoid reassignment, and had even aided in the work on getting her up to shape. The Commander had mixed feelings regarding that – she should have been a part of it, not only coming back as the ship was ready to head out to active duty once more. Still, she was back, and just in time for the next big adventure.

Commander Nomi had barely time to recall some of the science team, Rohordra and Hayhay, before they too offered their own unique “welcome home” bit, making her secretly vowing to do that department justice in her logs.

Re:rewriting.


-       There must be some kind of way outta here,

said the joker to the thief.

-       There are many here among us, who feel that life is but a joke. There's too much confusion.

-       Hey, no reason to get excited,

the thief kindly spoke.

-       None were level on the mind, nobody up at his word. Business men, they drink the wine while plowman dig the earth.

-       I can't get any relief.

-       Women come and go; barefoot servants, too.

-       Well, we've been through that, and this is not our fate.

Outside in the cold distance, two riders were approaching while the wind began to howl.
It was getting late.

søndag 11. juni 2017

Nomi and the night.

Throwing up is always an experience. Throwing up on an empty stomach leaves much more acid, or a higher concentration of acid, in your mouth.

I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. Now I’m sipping water with wet lips. Would have liked to nibble on a dry cracker, though my gut tells me it's too soon to try.

You can add the full moon and lack of nourishment from yesterday, too.

Been some sailing last days with the guns pointed at the deck, going up and down.

In a few more hours, I’ll be walking with a dog and a once again coworker who bought me Smiles/smiles and brought hugs to our reunion.

Do you recall the Simon and Garfunkel son that ends with “the morning is just a few hours away”? Technically, it became morning at 04:00 (AM, not PM – duh).

My connection, or lack of it, only allows for a single page refresh before it stops all together. Takes ages logging on to anything. Nevertheless, that’s what I have to do in order to post and share this.

By now I’ve given up trying to disconnect and reconnect as the process takes even longer and there is no guarantee that I’ll be able to get back on during the first try.

As an MMO player, it’s not optimal.

About an hour, took it.

I’ve learned to keep Skype on the bottom tab of the screen, and move forward when it’s not showing the update sign. Unfortunately, there is no logic or time-frame, and I can easily skip some of it because it’s not 100% accurate and the signal for web access doesn’t cooperate with it at all.

And then, all of a sudden, the net decides to play ball and work with me, allowing me access, but not so much to actually post my writings.

By saving everything I wrote down, I assured myself that it would not get lost in the "progress, working, sorry - not working".

Just plain luck I was able to get this out at all.

Homeward bound. Or, well, home is where your heart is, so your real home's in your chest.

fredag 2. juni 2017

Sense8

Cancelled. Time to do the same with my Netflix account.

The Paris agreement remains strong, though.

torsdag 1. juni 2017

Goodbye, hillbilly land. Hello and welcome, Friar’s Fireplace.

That’s right. I’ve departed the backwater and forsaken hypocrisy of the religious south, only to return to the soft urbanization of the small city life of happiness and feeling of home.

Why? Why do this quote come to mind?

“This is to remind people that free societies are stronger societies. Open, multicultural societies are the places that the world’s best and brightest had wanted to go to, while mono-cultural, repressive societies are the places they’ve wanted to escape from.”

Because it is true.

By coming back to the Tolkien and viking rich environment, I'm coming home. I am home.

And in case you didn't get the title, the Friar's Fireplace is the name I have given my new living quarters. While I probably won't refer to the place before other than hillbilly land, the one before that was Meresti.If you can't figure out why, then you can dig around, or remain in the dark - I'm sitting by the warmth and watching the flickering source of burning and shadow casting.

lørdag 8. april 2017

Becoming the fisherwoman’s wife.

A set of truths, as it may be. Long distance, out at sea, whisked away by strangers on the tides.

My heart burns there, too.

Too long shadows of doubt casts glances on the walls. Too long since the dawn has passed. Now a new dawn rises. Born in red, gold and silver – do we still have hope?
I do.

onsdag 5. april 2017

First Contact Day.

A fitting day to renew oneself and celebrate with hope.
Live long and prosper.

lørdag 1. april 2017

Cthulhu is not your big, stupid jellyfish.

A fact, that, should be obvious.

Meers and Peers, Frost and Mudd.
Too many to mention, Many.

tirsdag 28. mars 2017

Everything looks different in sunlight

R. and Snow walked into the tightly sealed room of what they were sure to be a very efficiently kept and shiny space station. It was a place of science research and, amongst all the beeping monitors of the other rooms, there was also the sad emptiness of the one they had just stepped in. Within was nothing but metal walls and, half-asleep, in the very core of those boundaries, the Entity.

Some might had named it a Slightly Fat and Somewhat Lazy Siberian Cat, for that was the shape it took. Yet beneath that shape was something far more terrible; the true extent of its powers was unknown, yet the fact that it could control time, space and dimensions was scary enough to justify its containment.

The two girls had walked within with a professional approach, waiting to do something of remarkable relevance and, at some point, the Entity looked upwards with lazy eyes; it blinked, noticed something.

- So this is it? Asked Snow.
- It is, very much so, nodded R.
- It doesn't look that scary, probably what makes it more terrible, commented Snow; the cat yawned.
- Probably so, yes... Idly smiled R. looking at her Snow, while Snow smiled looking at her R.

As the two girl both smiled at each other, their gaze couldn't focus on the Entity. As they turned towards it once again, the cat wasn't there any longer. Panic. How could it? What could have happened? Where could the thing be?

They looked left and right and noticed, at some point, the culprit conundrum: the tightly sealed chamber was not that tightly sealed, for the forgot to close the door when they walked in ! Possibly a stratagem of the freedom-aching entity...

Snow and R. looked outside, and even though just a couple of seconds had passed, they could see how the base had been wrecked to almost ruin; the many computers in the adjacent chamber were filled with flames and sparks, tables were turned upside down, papers were left and right, flying all around. Snow swiftly approached the alert button on the wall and pressed it, soon awakening the loud sound in the whole base. The Slightly Fat and Somewhat Lazy Siberian Cat was free.

They ascended the stairs to the upper levels of the scientific base, and during said ascension, they met some of the people who were themselves escaping. Scientists and young secretaries they had quickly noticed and met while they descended. Most of them were panicking as the stairs, with their dark red hue due to the red alert, had so many people on them.

- Stay close to me! Commanded R. sweetly.
- Always! Commented with fear and affection Snow.

Yet as that was spoken, a sudden rumble filled the air and ground. They both heard a smothered, distant and deep laugh, evil perhaps, as they noticed the red lights going off, one at the time, from the very bottom of the stairs. People ran, they were afraid of the dark, as everybody is; yet most of them were clumsy and scared, and not fast enough.

Snow saw her R. enveloped in dark, and so did R. with her Snow. She (R.) moved her hand to find that of the other girl, to squeeze it and at least have some form of contact to then proceed up the stairs... but there was no Snow to found.


Snow shook her head and blinked several times, in the dark. She felt strangely warm, and felt the presence of something soft and pleasant on her lap; she was sitting, most likely on the floor and instinctively brought her hands onto the thing in her lap to touch it. It was furry and warm, and purred while she caressed. She retracted her hands and yelled.

- R., R. it's here! It's so very here! Snow yelled in fear.
- Oh, shush... The cat spoke, for indeed, it could speak, being an entity out of time and space.
- And keep petting. The cat lay his head onto Snow's lap and, knowing the whimsical and jealous nature of cats, she complied.
- Where are we? She asked.
- In a warm and dark and comfortable place. You should like it, idly commented the Entity.
- Why should I? Snow was frowning and, though cat petting felt relaxing, she knew she couldn't lower her attention, for that Entity could still just wish her out of existence with a snap of its claws.
- Because we're very close to R., the cat commented and, to that comment, Snow answered by suddenly standing up. The cat rolled off her lap and landed on its legs with ease, licking its paw while Snow searched left and right in complete darkness. She hit a chair at some point, yet she didn't remember to have seen any chairs on the stairs; and it was a nice chair, to the touch. Wooden, not plastic and metal like they usually were in the scientific base.
- We are, actually, inside R., added the Entity and, at those words, a light turned on.

Snow was in a nice wooden living room, like one of those old and beautiful living rooms one finds in modernized mountain houses. The wood was light toned and smooth, with lovely windows overlooking the outside (whatever outside was, given the dark she saw past the glass); a table was in the center, surrounded by four chairs. On the table itself was a lovely crystal pot filled with lilies and coltfoots, and a wooden boat full of sushi that invited her to nom on said goodness. A nice fire was cracking in the chimney.

- Where are we in R.? Asked Snow.
- We are in her stomach; isn't it pretty? Answered the cat-Entity.
- It is, it's pretty pretty, added Snow; she wasn't very focused, impressed by what she saw.
- Do you like it here? Asked the cat with a smirk on its catlike face.
- It's pretty... for a stomach. Wouldn't all this wood hurt her? She frowned and looked at the cat.
- Not at all; makes her stomach very resilient. I think it's a nice place for petting, the cat added.
- It... Definitely is a nice place for petting, Snow said while looking at the cat and considering that, perhaps, it could have done with some more petting.
- Could I tap on the windows?
- That would give R. a stomachache. The cat throttled closer to Snow's legs and rubbed its side on them.
- Well, I can't live in R.’s stomach forever. Snow looked at the cat with strict eyes.
- Well no, there is a nice bed in the liver; you could sleep there and eat here. It made much sense, after all.
- But I would like to hug R., can't do it in her stomach. Also, there are plenty other stuff I would like to do in my life before retirement into R.'s stomach.
The cat looked slightly offended.
- Meh, it simply said, almost meowing. Snow meanwhile patted with her foot onto the wooden floor.
- Don't do that, it'll make her stomach feel funny. Snow sighed and sat on one of the chair.

- Well, I'll eat some sushi and then be off. For she seemingly knew the way out, yet wished not to say the cat that she did.

tirsdag 14. mars 2017

To indulge is self-centered sentiment, sentimentality, science and sentience…

It is very much like placing your warm (and full) teacup at your knee.
Magnolia flowers in the morning.

Skin cells bereft of DNA.

mandag 13. mars 2017

This was written last night.

There comes a time, a moment, where you no longer care - where you no longer want to care. These moments can come suddenly and out of the blue, or brew for a time, inevitably advancing without mercy. To me, such a moment came when Snow signed off from being the one and only.
So I'm doing the same.

This is Nomi, signing off.

søndag 12. mars 2017

“You are infrequently vile – you mostly put others before yourself, though you may find occasions in which your dark side shines.”


Charming, although rather accurate, too.

Scoring below medium on Machiavellianism, narcissism and psychopathy (in even ever decreasingly score by the mentioned order), I dare you to take the test and let your results be known to me.


An obvious gay man have taken delight in my services as a professional, and I am pleased to note that he is quickly becoming my favorite person to process in the line of duty.

I find that utterly delightful and pleasurable.

And if you by my description of the situation find it utterly in misconception, then who’s to blame – the writer or the reader? We all try to find meanings, some hidden, some blue, some clear, some pink, and some sugar coated, with our lives. Click on what you find to your liking.

Many of the concepts we adhere to are not easily debunked, deconstructed or otherwise demolished. We are, after all, products of our time, upbringing, and personal evolution and realization. However, freedom and respect should be core values. What happens when our enemies don’t play fair? Do we stoop to their level, or stand our high cultural ground of justice, unassailable and immortal? Ideas can die. Some ideas deserve to die. This isn’t one of those ideas.


tirsdag 7. februar 2017

Shall I shave my head?

Stayed at the (most?) famous Borg designation. Unlike Annika, I did not fight the Rock.

I did not go to the meeting. Not this time. Will be easier with a secondary location.

Eat what is yours. Become a meal.
Happy?

Green eyes, blue eyes, red eyes. Spock. By blood, by ears, by heart.

Past, present. Presents. I give to you - Erin Ptah.

You might ask yourself whom this is. I can tell you that this is a political active creator of cartons. Not only a giver of humor and understanding, but an inspiration to follow and aspire to. Links to the right of me, smiles to the left - stuck in the middle with you.

Broken does not always require fixing, repair or adaptation. Sometimes breaking the norm is a good thing. Evolving.

Feel-good is the extreme make over team all coming to hug the newly lucky ones who'll stay in the new/old house. Jon Snow knows nothing. Jane Snow knows all.

One of my first actions in the big city? Buying a coffee and buns for one of those less lucky - in addition to 200,- NOK. Why? Humanity. Compassion. Doing what is right without any thought of reward than common decencies.

At the party, I met Vampire. I did not kiss Vampire (but for on the neck), and Vampire did not kiss me.

The lack of collar understanding is lacking outside the scene of Marten's mom. Proves one is not to assume.

Connections. Bounds. Respect.

Safe. Secure. Consensual.

Counting stars as R.
Counting stars with R.

Gentleman in her heart.

fredag 27. januar 2017

Pubic hair snot.

THIS is why we have a long, long way to go. But we’ll get there. Little by little, we’ll get there.

A man once said that we should strive to do better – to become better, and excel. Granted, these are not the exact words, yet I find them comforting. Like an old dog, barking in the night. Or having your MMO server down for an unspecified time on a Friday evening.

A pondering pox for Penny and the Pax left littering boxes of seaweed and surplus shoe slime for no other reason than laughing at the pandemic.

I am writing this because I have little room to fabricate letters elsewhere.

søndag 22. januar 2017

I did not march.

There are, of course, reasons as to why I didn’t. Most of them I share with a friend of mine.

Work.
Unlike others, I have a job that incudes shift for every day of the week, every week of the year. Having shifts on both Friday and Saturday severely hampered my option to be part of the march – not to mention that I work nights and as such the timing of the march would be around when I was sound asleep.

Travel.
I live in a large geographical country with a low population. Translation: distance matters. A lot. From my present location, a trip to the capital would take about three to four hours one way. Double it and the time spent on such a journey would not only deprive me of most of my sleep schedule, but also drain me of energy.

Butterfly transformation.
As I am undergoing a radical change, both physically and mentally, I do not particular enjoy being seen in the public eye. While there are matters worthy of fighting for and sacrificing your own privacy of, I marched in spirit instead of body.

lørdag 21. januar 2017

Tonight I celebrated life with chocolate and coffee.

Neither of which I enjoy very much these days. Oh, good coffee and dark chocolate, that is an entirely different thing in small moderation. These, however, were not that kind.
Someone once said that every day, you should give yourself a gift. While I don’t presume you have heard this quote before now, it is none the less a sound advice.
Tonight, my gift is hope.
Hope for myself, my family and my friends, my country and my continent, my future and my world.

Not evil, simply prioritize differently in questions involving moral and ethical matters. Alas, those points of view do not coexist very well with my own.

fredag 20. januar 2017

Queer Poetics: How to Make Love to A Trans Person

By Gabe Moses

Forget the images you’ve learned to attach
To words like cock and clit,
Chest and breasts.
Break those words open
Like a paramedic cracking ribs
To pump blood through a failing heart.
Push your hands inside.
Get them messy.
Scratch new definitions on the bones.
Get rid of the old words altogether.
Make up new words.
Call it a click or a ditto.
Call it the sound he makes
When you brush your hand against it through his jeans,
When you can hear his heart knocking on the back of his teeth
And every cell in his body is breathing.
Make the arch of her back a language
Name the hollows of each of her vertebrae
When they catch pools of sweat
Like rainwater in a row of paper cups
Align your teeth with this alphabet of her spine
So every word is weighted with the salt of her.
When you peel layers of clothing from his skin
Do not act as though you are changing dressings on a trauma patient
Even though it’s highly likely that you are.
Do not ask if she’s “had the surgery.”
Do not tell him that the needlepoint bruises on his thighs look like they hurt
If you are being offered a body
That has already been laid upon an altar of surgical steel
A sacrifice to whatever gods govern bodies
That come with some assembly required
Whatever you do,
Do not say that the carefully sculpted landscape
Bordered by rocky ridges of scar tissue
Looks almost natural.
If she offers you breastbone
Aching to carve soft fruit from its branches
Though there may be more tissue in the lining of her bra
Than the flesh that rises to meet it
Let her ripen in your hands.
Imagine if she’d lost those swells to cancer,
Diabetes,
A car accident instead of an accident of genetics
Would you think of her as less a woman then?
Then think of her as no less one now.
If he offers you a thumb-sized sprout of muscle
Reaching toward you when you kiss him
Like it wants to go deep enough inside you
To scratch his name on the bottom of your heart
Hold it as if it can-
In your hand, in your mouth
Inside the nest of your pelvic bones.
Though his skin may hardly do more than brush yours,
You will feel him deeper than you think.
Realize that bodies are only a fraction of who we are
They’re just oddly-shaped vessels for hearts
And honestly, they can barely contain us
We strain at their seams with every breath we take
We are all pulse and sweat,
Tissue and nerve ending
We are programmed to grope and fumble until we get it right.
Bodies have been learning each other forever.
It’s what bodies do.
They are grab bags of parts
And half the fun is figuring out
All the different ways we can fit them together;
All the different uses for hipbones and hands,
Tongues and teeth;
All the ways to car-crash our bodies beautiful.
But we could never forget how to use our hearts
Even if we tried.
That’s the important part.
Don’t worry about the bodies.
They’ve got this.

fredag 13. januar 2017

Hiding myself in water.

Down by the watership, a town stands without an abbey. Furnace and stove, oven and grilled, smoke rises on the horizon. Nine lives for the feline, none for unmentionable objects. The tune turns thunder inside my head.

Choosing to live and let live, become life and reborn, half and whole, hole without edges or land line markers. Time progresses above your eyebrows.
The silence of the mind keeps churning.

You grind the flour into corn, you grind the teeth to dust and the agony of a dentist, you grind reputation for yet another useless faction that fractures the fraction you’ll forget come the next expansion.
Beyond treks past darkness and sunlight, you face mountains and cliffs without your Shepard. Musk and music mix and blend, create artificial light bulbs to intense incense playing with your fingertips. Husk. Husk. Do not be the dried one.
Streams of steam hunkering down the waterfall, cliffing the airfield away and on to purple. Church bells clime and dime with forgotten currencies of the many.

I do not speak for the Empire.
I stand apart.

I stood in rain. I stood in pits. I stood in falls.
Standing, giving gifts.

The gift of giving brings joy to the heart.
Crooked front teeth at the band member fronting the font. Fountain.

Unstimulated intellect.
Concrete mother.

Do you desire the one you cannot have?

mandag 9. januar 2017

The butterfly transformation, part one.

It's official!

You may now address me as R. Why? Because it is my legal name. One application successfully done and approved.

I'm fairly certain that this is still on the caterpillar stage, but I am no longer just a larva. When the future will bring the metamorphosis to physical change.

Butterflies go through four stages in life that are considered to be great mysteries. They are real survivors even with life’s many twists and turns. Butterflies have been able to adapt and make it through unimaginable obstacles. Butterflies are holometabolous, experiencing a complete metamorphosis, or in other words, a complete change in body form. They begin life as a larva and pupate into an immobile state and emerge as a butterfly, looking nothing like their pre-pupated state.

Butterflies go through a really amazing metamorphosis when being transformed from a caterpillar to an adult. The process inside the chrysalis is very intense. The insect’s body basically is liquefied by digestive fluids and the body is restructured using specialized formative cells. This process is called histogenesis, in which undifferentiated cells are used to build different body tissues. This is similar to the building of tissues that can be done with stem cells in other animals.
Regina Cutter Edwards

fredag 6. januar 2017

Mother of Ninkas

If traverse deep within the Nomiverse, you find a heart. This heart is guarded, not by orcs, but of variation.

One day, the Mother of the Ninkas passed by. She did not think much of it, as there are many strange and wonderful things within the Nomiverse, some more social, some more hidden. The heart itself was odd enough, so not a lot knew where to look for it – it had a mind and a will of its own. It also tended to change locations often rather than seldom.

The Mother of the Ninkas payed no attention to the heart. She was out for a stroll in the dark woods of the homeland, sometimes moonlit, sometimes twilight, sometimes dusk and sometimes morning light. The dark woods of the homeland stretched out far and it was quite easy to get lost there.
The Mother of the Ninkas did not become lost.

Past the dark woods of the homeland rises a tower. 

In the other direction mountains make their mark on the horizon.

The Mother of the Ninkas did not seek either of them, so she continued on her own, invisible path.

The Mother of the Ninkas did not appear to be tired from walking so much.

…and at long, long last, the Mother of the Ninka come home to her cave, went inside, and was greeted by the soft yapping of the newborn Ninkas. The Mother of the Ninkas cuddled the newborn Ninkas and assured the newborn Ninkas that the world was big, that the Mother of the Ninkas was here now and that three kings would come in the name of Anton.