Welcome to Gaia! ::

What formula are you going to be using for the cards themselves?


Start with cardstock. wink

Multivalent = 'many meanings' in this case?

.. all this talk of cards and stuff makes me want to pick up my "Famous Folk Pin-up" Calendar and work on it some more.

I think the last one I worked on was Joan of Arc..

Yes- to the point that when looking at it with western logic it can seem contradictory. I won't say more than that until I get a good enough grasp to actually talk about it with clarity to others, though.



It's been pretty mind-blowing already. eek

heart

I love mental gymnastics.
The mind, like any other portion of a living system, may grow weak from disuse. What a waste. To keep the mind active, strong, and flexible... that is a laudable goal.
Thanks guys. surprised

We hit 100 in queue for most of the day with 20 to 30 minute hold times. UGH. And since I'm one of the people who actually gets the new system, I'm constantly helping others. It's really tiring.

Overtime is almost worth it.

So, in Ireland, before you can sit behind the wheel of a car legally, you have to do a theory test.
I had to sit mine today.
The bus from Dublin city, which is a train ride away, to the test site left without stopping at the stop I was at. The next bus was fifteen minutes later. The people at the end of the number for the company that runs the test (who it took me five minutes to get through to listening to recorded message after recorded message) couldn't tell me what stop to get off at, because they are based in Cork and the test site was in Naas.
Because I missed the bus I was aiming for, I was 30 minutes late (I was aiming for an express).
The woman on the desk was a real b***h about my being late. She told me I'd have to forgo the practice exam and that I'd be rushed for time and that if I wanted to cancel, I'd have to pay the full fee. I bit back the urge to tell her to go ******** herself.
I sat the test and, as always happens, I lost track of time.
I pressed the finish button and left the room. She said that nobody who's left the room that soon had passed before but that the results would take a few minutes to process. Again, I bit back the urge to tell her to go ******** herself and asked where the bathroom was instead. Though, as someone I used to know once said "you can say 'have a nice day' and have the person know that you mean '******** you and die'". I came back from the bathroom convinced that I must have failed only to find I'd set the centre record for a pass.
I, for the third time, bit back the "******** you b***h" response, took my certificate, and left graciously as I could.
There was no return bus for another hour so I went for coffee in the shop across the road.
There were two pretty young ladies speaking in Irish.
The tension and ill-will towards humanity that that one inconsiderate b***h had evoked in me melted away and, as I composed myself, I leant in, and in Irish said that I was sorry for intruding but that it did my heart more well than they could know to hear Irish being spoken by people my own generation at random in a coffee shop.
The warmth with which they thanked and greeted me reminded me that, while often it feels like it, I am not alone. There may yet be hope for my culture.