The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors

LJ Idol Season 9: Introduction

Step Right Up
LJ Idol S9 | week 0 | 943 words


Are you here for the tour? Yes, we have tours—there's one starting in a few minutes. Just stand here for a moment or two, and we'll get started.

Hello, and welcome to the inner workings of HalfshellVenus! We hope you will enjoy this exploration of the strange, the unexpected, and the occasionally sentimental.

HalfshellVenus began life as a fanfiction writer on Live Journal nine years ago. She is a pseudo-citizen, spawned from an older entity whose lifetime now spans fifty years.

Follow me into the dark recesses of her mind. I apologize for the dust—some of these corners don't get much use. Here, for instance, we have a stack of books on higher math. HalfshellVenus' host entity studied several years of it in college, but all that remains is a familiarity with the technical terminology and the knowledge that Riemann Integrals are a lie. (Don't try this at home).

To the left, we have a lovely little closet with a treble-clef symbol on the door. Years of violin playing and a mental library of classical music are locked up in there. There's a key around here somewhere, but no one has seen it for a while. Let's move on…

Ah, I see you've spotted the den. You're probably wondering what that contraption over there is, aren't you? It's an Exersaucer, one of those bouncing playsets you put babies in. Yes, HalfshellVenus' children are older now—teenagers, both of them—but there are a lot of good memories and stories from when they were younger. You might be reading some of them in the months to come.

This is the kitchen. A lot of the television and movie characters hang out here, drinking free coffee and kicking ideas around—when they're not saving the world or sexing up the bedroom. Speaking of bedrooms, take a look at this one here. The lights have never worked very well, so it's always dark. We leave the door closed most of the time. That's to keep things in. Otherwise, the denizens under the bed get loose and start creeping into Halfshell's fiction. It doesn't happen often, but the janitor hates cleaning up the mess afterward. Would you mind shutting that on your way out? Just like that, yes. Thank you.

These stairs lead up to the attic. I rarely show this area, but you seem like a special crowd. Would you help me with this hatch here? I'm afraid the hinges are quite rusty. There we are! Please, come on up, take a look around. I know it doesn't seem very impressive, but these boxes contain HalfshellVenus' childhood. They rarely get opened, but a few trinkets and reminiscences have made it out for a couple of LJ Idol stories. Please excuse the cobwebs, and—Sir! That chair is not for sitting in! All right, back downstairs everyone. Watch your step. Young man, put that down this instant! There are no souvenirs on this tour.

Now, as we move down the hallway, you'll notice a bicycle on the left. HalfshellVenus does a fair amount of cycling. I suppose you're wondering why both the little-used and heavily-used things look a bit grimy. It's true, but then again, the bicycle goes out on the road and that's not exactly clean, is it?

There are piles of logic and binary code running all through here. They're everywhere, scattered around in clumps, though they don't get mentioned often. HalfshellVenus' day job is in a technical field, and it's obscure enough for most people that discussing it is just too abstract and dry. ASIC register specifications, task logic, and single-vs. multi-threaded processing just become so much word-blather after a while. Who wants to hear that?

For this next part, I must speak very softly. Please monitor your own noise level as we creep past the unpredictable beast known as Satire. He receives entirely too much attention, and has become rather spoiled. Still, we all have our weaknesses. This fellow has been putting on weight for the past several years, so we keep him behind this curtain and hope he doesn't draw too much interest. He has his own agenda, though, and pushes his way into all sorts of writing. His disreputable cousin, Crack, is in a bottom desk drawer in the guest room, under a pile of scrap paper, and he still gets out and wreaks havoc from time to time. It's a strange family, a bad combination of sneaky and persistent. We've had to learn to live with them.

Around this corner, we have collections of photo albums, and birthday and anniversary cards. These are mementos of vacations taken with HalfshellVenus' husband, and of all the wonderful years they've had. Their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary is this May!

On this stand, we have the blender. It's much more than an ordinary household appliance. Prompts and ideas go in here, and then voila—a story comes out! It isn't all quite as random as that makes it sound, but what other explanation could there be for things like the Quarketerium side-by-side with police procedural dramas?

The rest of the place is pretty mundane, I'm afraid. There's an entire room full of home repairs and reorganization that doesn't see much action, and bank statements and other documents that only an accountant would enjoy. Don't even ask about the sewing pile or the laundry.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed today's tour. Please come back again! Sometimes the exhibits even change, or at least, that's what we like to tell people. We're always happy to have visitors, so why not put us on your calendar? And if you would, please—tell your friends. Thank you.

Tags: my_fic, original_non_fiction, real lj idol
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