Ummmm....

On Tuesday, I read a New York Times article discussing a study that had shown that people who drank three or more cups of coffee a day were less likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease later in life. My grandpa has Alzheimer’s, so I was very interested. On Wednesday, I attempted to put this new information into practice. By noon, the world seemed to be vibrating and I had passed through “sharply focused” on my way to “so wired I might as well be drunk”. On Thursday I cut back to two cups of coffee and decided that the shaking of my hands was all in my imagination.

Not that any of this has much to do with anything. The ridiculous, wired sensation was at least a novel way to experience my job, which usually gives me the feeling I’m being slowly wrapped in grey cotton wool while white noise plays on the radio. It didn’t make my job more interesting, but it did elevate my illicit web-browsing guilt to a new level of paranoia. Think The Fugitive, except that instead of murdering his wife, he’s accused of browsing the Gold Box deals on Amazon.com. Oh, and poor Dr. Kimble was innocent. Never mind, bad example.

But at least I can use the ill-advised coffee buzz as an excuse for my complete lack of creativity lately. For the last thirty-six hours, anyway. Before that… well, I’m sure my brain was doing something very important. Like playing Lego Star Wars. Or driving.

Irregardless. Oops, tangent. A friend (and reader) of mine rails against this word, but I like the sound of it. Also, it escapes my main grammar-in-writing rule, because it’s near-impossible to misunderstand. Only the pickiest of readers will actually stop to consider whether I mean “without regard to” or “without without regard to” (as the etymology of the word suggests), and those who decide on the latter have made a decision to willfully misunderstand. Nevertheless, ten minutes’ worth of internet research has convinced me it falls into the same category as words like “ain’t” and “conversate”, so I will endeavor to stop using it in writing. Although not in conversation. Only idiots, foreigners, blowhards write exactly like they talk, and it’s never a good idea.

Regardless of caffeine adventures and video games, then, I’ve got to kick-start the creative juices into flowing. (Note: I made no promises regarding mixed metaphors.) While summer sees the fruition of many geek-related activities, preparation and planning must begin much earlier. And this spring sees a number of geek-fests of its own, including my local Renaissance Faire, the Paley Center Television Festival, and the series finale of Battlestar Galactica.

Which means it’s time to break out the sewing machine, the recipe books, the reams of scrap paper, and (sadly) the credit cards. I’ve already got a selection of Renaissance wear, and at this point I’m more likely to buy than try to create things from that period, at least for a while. And I don’t think anyone wears costumes to the PaleyFest. Wait, no – I just remembered. One girl did come as Buffy from the Prophecy Girl episode at last year’s Buffy reunion panel. The dress was perfect, but she was a brunette, which seemed puzzlingly half-assed. You’re willing to wander around the Arclight in costume when 95% of the die-hard fans – I’m talking people who spent the night on Sunset Blvd. to be first in line kind of fans, here – show up in street clothes, but you can’t commit to a wig? What’s the point, then?

But that still leaves the series finale of BSG. I’m throwing a party, and costumes will be mandatory. Anyone not wearing a costume will be forced to wear a sign labeling them a Cylon, and then tortured in other ways I haven’t settled upon yet. I’m willing to be somewhat lenient – guests can show up in drab, dirty clothes and claim to be colonists from New Caprica, or slutty, hippie-esque outfits and quote Baltar – but if they can’t even make that effort, they deserve ridicule. And of course I will be willing to help anyone who asks nicely.

So far, though, my efforts to outfit everyone I know as a member of the Colonial Fleet have hit several major snags. The first: undershirts. Anyone who watches the show will recognize the distinctively shaped, black-over-grey double undershirt that the characters seem to wear under every variation of the uniform. (Some people claim that the top shirt is actually a very dark olive-drab, but I've studied good pictures and I still think it's black. But color is less important than shape, in this case, since the shape is what you'll recognize from across a room.) Not only can I not find anything close to the black over-tank - which I understand, since it was obviously custom - but I can't even find sleeveless grey undershirts in the right shape. I may end up removing the sleeves from normal t-shirts and re-hemming the edges, but that seems like an obscene amount of work for the most basic piece of the whole outfit.

But considering my entire BSG costuming effort consists, at this moment, of a pile of undershirts, sports bras, and workout wear on my bedroom floor, and a little bag of patches bought much too dearly on eBay, I'm sure my trials have just begun. Stay tuned for seams and seething, accessories and aggravation, and the despair of dyeing!

Pictures to follow, but only in the event of success.

SemiGeekGirl congratulates everyone on surviving the first full month of 2009!