Slushing the Bed

My cold has graduated to a soul-sucking Kleenex-depleting Darwinian superpredator abomination. Maybe it is the piggy pox after all. It got bad last night. My teeth literally started chattering because I was shaking so hard, even buried under the blankets without an inch of exposed flesh. I had always thought that was a cartoonish exaggeration, but it turns out people really do that. I was considering posting last night to scrape up a little sympathy from the internet, or at least distract myself, but the computer was all the way across the room. Then I iced the bed. Not on purpose. It started off as a cold sweat, but more than humanly possible, and then it crystallized into ice. It wasn't a fever dream or anything, because I'm perfectly lucid (except for the part about the walls throbbing just barely out of sync with my heartbeat). It took me forever to break loose, slide out of bed, and I kind of wrapped myself in the towel and dozed on the floor instead of really drying myself off. I eventually dragged a dry-ish fuzzy blanket out of the laundry hamper (hot chocolate casualty) and camped out on the couch all night. I woke up covered with Dani's quilt.
I think that was the worst of it, because I can mostly stand on my own today. But really, screw class. Today I worked on damage control. I spent half an hour dragging my sheets and blanket to the laundry room down the hall, and I had to stick them through the dryer three times before all the ice was gone. I am officially out of quarters. Dani helped me make the bed, flipping the mattress over, no questions asked. I couldn't come up with a plausible excuse for the wet patch, short of confessing that I wet the bed, and even I have limits as to how far I'll go to protect my secrets. I'm back in my toasty-warm bed, with the computer, water bottle, and even a bowl of canned chicken soup that Dani bought for me and microwaved. And saltine crackers. I think Dani feels guilty for making me sick.
Now that I've written down all the easy parts, I have to actually think about the hard stuff. I'm terrified that I'm losing control of my powers. Has my time run out? Was there a use-by date on my powers? I haven't slipped up again, but every time I try to just drop the temperature a little bit, I get so dizzy I can't stand. So I've stopped trying. I don't want this to be over before it's begun.

Winter Wonderland

The moment one dumb superhero misuses her powers, pundits like Angela Slater start clamoring about how dangerous we are, and how we shouldn't be sharing air with honest-to-goodness Real Americans because we are walking doomsday devices who could lose control at any moment, endangering kittens, apple pie and blue-eyed babies. Geez, no wonder the woman has to live in a virtual fortress. Does she not understand that she is insulting SUPERVILLAINS while simultaneously alienating the people who can protect her from supervillains? Wait, nevermind, I retract the question. She clearly thinks we're ALL supervillains.
The problem isn't one that can be solved by declaring superhumans too dangerous to live, and imprisoning us all for the Greater Good. That would just result in ALL superhumans either going stealth, or going supervillain, and amplifying the problem. The way to fix this sort of crap is to offer better training for superheroes. Granted, a villain or two will attend the seminars and pick up some tricks, but for the most part, better information about superpowers will make life safer for both the people with the powers, and the people within range of said powers. Less kids discovering the hard way what triggers their heat ray vision, and less massive screwups on the part of the heroes. Windigo's not bad at using her powers. In fact, she can control impressive amounts of wind. She is, however, stupid at using her powers. Her ineptness really undermines her natural strength and her skill. Someone really should sit her down for Aerodynamics 101.
It's not enough to be able to control my powers. I have to understand what makes them tick. It will be very useful for me to know about stuff like freezing points of common materials, and Celsius-Fahrenheit conversions, no matter what I choose to do with my powers. And also I need to know what's out there in the world of ice-themed stuff before I pick my name. So about once a week I intend to post some trivia about ice. And perhaps to maintain appropriate alliteration, I should post this on Wednesdays.
On that note... Behold! Pentagonal ice chains!
http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2009-04/uol-sdp040709.php
Mmm, sciency! I have no idea what this means. But it might result in five-sided stars coming into fashion for cryogenetics, which would be a refreshing break. It looks like scientists are trying to control the weather again. Less hail in the winter, more rain in the summer, it all sounds good. Until they accidentally spawn another Elemental and it results in billions of dollars of property damage. Or someone like Weather Witch gets hold of it and starts a drought. Again.
The part about studying water-condensation on the nano-scale sounded intriguing, so I iced up a windowpane (after moving my laptop far, far away) and looked at it through my little jeweler's loupe. That's not as irresponsible as it sounds - my door was locked, and that particular window faces into an empty field, and is mostly screened off by several palm trees. Frost patterns are absolutely gorgeous and fractal-ish, but I couldn't get them to go pentagonal. And though I was generating ice on the inside of the window, the outside started sweating too, so that got annoying. I think I'm running a fever, because I couldn't stop shivering. How long has it been since I shivered? I still went to class, though. Might as well share the misery.

Damn You, Typhoid Mary

That rotten plaguebearer gave me her cold. What a way to start the week. As if Mondays don't suck enough to begin with. This is totally unfair. I've been washing my hands like Lady Macbeth, and I'm still sick! I feel like I have a broken gyroscope in my head, so I have to hold it perfectly still and upright or chaos ensues. I hacked and snuffled my way through my one class of the day, then retreated to the warm, fuzzy sancutary of my bed. Where I have stayed all day, with intermittent expeditions to the mini-fridge or bathroom. I am NOT using my powers today. The only thing worse than being sick as a dog right now is being sick as a cold, wet dog.
I don't think I have the dreaded swine flu. I know it's going around, but it's not in Florida yet, and anyway Dani's a couple days ahead of me, and she's not dead or spectacularly sick. I'm keeping a weather eye on her.
On the bright side, at least my pajamas are dry. They're the ones I bought a couple months back, with the penguins on them. It was a little in-joke present to myself for figuring out how to make ice chips. Dani's insistence on ridiculously Arctic air conditioning settings don't bother me anymore, so I don't technically need to wear polar fleece pajamas, but they are adorably snuggly. I am also fond of heavy quilts and ski hats. Maybe it's snow envy, since I live in Florida and only get to use that sort of stuff for three days out of every year. I suppose I would fall on the parka end of the cryogenetic costume spectrum, though honestly wearing a fur-trimmed hood and gloves would get really horrible with my powers. Imagine a wet sloth. Then imagine a frozen wet sloth dripping with hairy little icicles. Yeah, not so cute.

Sunny and in the High 70s

Really, wunderground.com? Really? Because from where I'm sitting, it's been raining all day. I'm running out of dry clothing because every time I go outside I get soaked to the skin. And admittedly, I'm used to being drenched by cold water, but my entire room is festooned with damp clothing and I'm going to have to dig the ripped pants out of my laundry bag and wear them to class tomorrow because NOTHING IS DRYING. Granted, I wouldn't be up this creek if I hadn't been practicing the ice-up in front of the mirror last night, but then again, I wouldn't been up this creek if Windigo had actually stopped the Living Whirlwind in Texas instead of strengthening it by spinning the WRONG WAY, so I don't see why I should blame MY superpowers instead of hers. The weathermen at wunderground are running around like decapitated chickens, trying to rework their little colorful maps to account for our brand-new cold front. They look fairly sheepish about it too. Their accuracy's been crap ever since Foresight graduated to the big leagues. I understand that precogs are almost prohibitively expensive to keep around full-time these days, especially once they go over a certain power threshold, but seriously, it's nearly hurricane season. There has to be at least one precog working at the weather stations. They can't ALL have gotten shut down by The Paradox last year.
How accurate are those weather predictions anyway? Has anyone ever done the math and measured actual meteorological conditions versus predicted ones? That could be a great math project for one of those human calculator types. Granted, the superhuman community does have a significant atmospheric effect, but you'd think they'd factor that in. They have to have a list of the big wind-and-weather types somewhere, don't they?
In local news, Dani has taken to shuffling around with a box of tissues and a tragic expression until she guilts me into doing stuff for her. I've done a dining hall run (in the rain, of course) to fetch her some delicious, nutritious box of institutional slop. The soup was ice-cold by the time I got it to her, naturally. Even through the Styrofoam cup.

Move Along, Citizen. Nothing To See Here.

Dani sounds like an elephant with tuberculosis. Who is being drowned by the Goorilla. It's a delightful symphony of coughs, gurgles and honks, and the walls are paper thin. She's wringing every last ounce of drama out of being sick. But I've checked her symptoms against the government questionnaire for the Z virus, and she doesn't have the bloodshot eyes, foul stench or distinctive 'death rattle' cough. However, 'excessive self-pity' is definitely on her list of symptoms. I kind of see why she's so put out, since it's not even a schoolday, and she's spending a perfectly good weekend draped over our couch snuffling morosely. I wish there were a vegetarian alternative to chicken soup. You know, besides eating those creepy green beanbirds that Dryad used to take over Kansas last June. Apparently they're still on the loose, since there was a recall of soy products that got cross-pollinated with the beanbirds. So I don't think beanbird soup would be very comforting to Dani, and it might even finish her off in this weakened state. I'm not sure that actual chicken soup has any curative powers, but it's a definite morale boost, especially when someone else makes it for you. Why haven't scientists cured the common cold yet?

Common Cold or Zombie Retrovirus?

Dani came back from that museum science exposition sick. I am watching her carefully in case it's some kind of horrible zombie plague. There was another outbreak of that stuff in France pretty recently. Dani assures me that the exhibits were mostly robotics. A couple of the robots danced, which is always awesome. There were a few chemistry displays, but most of those were in the form of posters and PowerPoints. It's hard to make chemistry sexy, and even harder to truck around all that glassware. I mean, most of the robotics exhibits can walk themselves into the building. I never got any robotics classes in high school (damn you, block schedule!), but I remember being bored stiff by AP Chemistry. Even when we had acids and bases to play with, they were inevitably watered down, and the most you could do with them was produce a white precipitate. We didn't even get to make that chemical that smells like pineapples. To be fair, I totally would have sprayed lockers with it. I remember once I held a glass stirring rod over the Bunsen burner until the flame turned green. It was really cool, but the lab was nearly over and I didn't want to leave a scorching hot glass wand lying around to set things on fire and spark off a doomsday reaction, so I tried to cool it off by running some cold water over it. Thermodynamics 101: sudden temperature changes render brittle solids structurally unstable. So then I had to smuggle the shattered glass wand out of the lab. The only other memorable thing that happened in that class was the godawful cabbage experiment, which I don't actually want to remember.
I fully expect our local tech institute to churn out a few villains. I mean, everyone KNOWS they're making zombies over there. FIR-Tech doesn't have the kind of funding you need for quantum-reactor gene-splicer nanobot-builder equipment, but I expect they'll produce a rampaging robot or two around finals week. Most metatech villains are the ones who lose their funding, get expelled or commit grave breaches of lab protocol that get somebody killed/mutated/infected by alien parasites, but I think FIR-Tech is going to produce more than the odd evil dropout. I kinda see why the government is so interested in keeping tabs on advanced science dropouts. I'm worried that it's a magnet for a lot of the South Florida metatechs, and I'd kind of like them to fight on the side of good.
Some people say metatechs don't count as real supers, but in my books a raygun and a pair of rocket boots gets you entry to the subculture, if not the technical definition. I kind of think of them like cyborgs: not superhumans per se, but very similar, and there is some definite overlap between the categories. Some metatechs are actually supers. WonderSmith had superstrength, even though nobody seems to remember it. Some people are supers, cyborgs and metatechs at the same time, like Pygmalion back in the day. And quite a few metatechs wind up going cyborg in the end. Besides, a lot of metatechs have some form of superpower that they use the gadgets to boost. Chiro's got to have some basic levitation ability, since those wings don't look like they could support her weight. I think they're mostly for changing direction. The metatechs that really annoy me are the ones who wear exoskeletons that mimic the exact same powers that they sneer at when superhumans have them. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Vector. You don't have some sort of moral high ground just because Velocity was born with her powers and you had the resources to build yours. And don't even get me started on The Kelvinator.

Superpowers I Don't Have

Well, I definitely don't have the ability to create a crackling green lightshow. I tried, just in case I was overlooking the most obvious explanation for the incident a couple nights ago. I'm not sure how to describe using superpowers. For me, it's kind of like rolling my tongue. I kind of take it for granted. I'm not sure exactly what muscles are in my tongue, or what exactly I have to flex to make it work, and I definitely can't offer instructions beyond 'roll your tongue' to people who don't know how, but all I know is that when I intend to roll my tongue, I can do it. It doesn't take any particular teeth-gritting comic-book-style mental strain to generate ice. It's a very distinct feeling, and it takes some effort to do exactly what I intend to, but it doesn't damage me when I'm pushing at the boundaries of what I can do. My powers aren't an outside force, or a limited supply of energy, any more than my arm muscles are. Focusing on how I want to use my cryogenesis is like trying to aim a tennis ball at the appropriate part of the court- it's a matter of aim, control and effort, and I'm much better at cryogenesis than I am at tennis. Sometimes I slip, and wind up frosting my entire carpet, for example, but I think that's more due to clumsiness than anything else. And I really hope that evaporates soon, or I'll have to use the hairdryer on the wet patch. Again. And I'm going to have to take a shower to explain why I'm using the hairdryer at all, and maybe grow longer hair to account for how long I have to use the damn hairdryer, and actually use the hairdryer on my hair occasionally, and ... it just snowballs into a big secret identity problem. I seriously just need to get some tarp or something to put down before I start trying to make snowmen.
I wish I had telekinesis. Sometimes when I'm sitting down and I want a water bottle or pencil across the room, I'll yell 'telekinesis!' and reach my arms towards it while concentrating really hard. I figure, even if I don't have any mentally activated powers, it can't hurt to check occasionally. Also, I'm lazy as hell. Maybe one of these days the water bottle will come flying towards me of its own accord. As it is, Dani usually grabs the item in question and tosses it at my head. I suppose that's some form of success. Maybe it's mind control.
I've also been testing whether I can walk through walls. This has gained me a reputation as a klutz on campus, but really it is deliberate. Most of the time. I'm a bit more cautious when testing for flight capabilities, but so far I haven't found any.
It's not that I'm unhappy with what I can do, and am shopping for a newer, cooler set of powers. I'm not exposing myself to mutagens or secret serums or whatever. I'm just trying to figure out my limits. After all, I didn't know I could actually produce ice when I first got my powers. I just thought I was going to be 'Slightly-Cooler-Than-A-Normal-Person Girl'. I've already gone so far beyond what I thought was possible that it's not much of a stretch to assume I have more hidden potential. I suppose I'm fairly gullible these days, since I have a much more flexible definition of 'impossible' than I used to. I'm not saying that I believe in the weird conspiracy theories of secret societies of Elvis-stealing wizards with the power to grant immortality (seriously people, he's dead. Get over it) but considering that yetis have been accepted as a species since 1982, it's hard to be a skeptic sometimes.
And I have to admit, it would be awesome to fly. So I keep trying.

Big Brother is Watching YouTube

Since someone may or may not be monitoring my every action on this computer, I have been having fun with the Internet. I spent some time reading an online copy of the Communist Manifesto, browsed a couple of celebrity-stalker sites, learned how to build a tiny robot, researched the giant squid exhibit at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, and watched all the Japanese pop music in my YouTube favorites list. Might as well keep Big Brother off balance. Or drive him insane.
I briefly considered using another computer to write and post my blog entries, but really there's no point. It's like buying a reinforced steel door for the barn when the rampaging robot already stomped the entire building flat. Besides, if someone HASN'T figured out all my secrets, I don't want to inadvertently reveal everything by posting from a library computer where anyone can look over my shoulder. Paranoia is so much fun!

Freaking Out

Something's going on. My laptop started doing creepy stuff last night. I can't attribute this to its usual malevolence, since this is way beyond 'endearing quirks' like losing internet connection with two minutes left on the hour-long download, or pretending that it can't feel me using the touchpad. I was in the middle of typing a post when it LIT UP WITH GREEN FIRE. There was an unearthly crackling aura around the thing, and there was green light coming from the screen. With my usual flawless grace, I scrambled away from it, knocking over my chair, tripping on the ethernet cord, and nearly pulling the laptop off the desk because I was still wearing my headphones. I'm not sure if I was just imagining things because I was scared, but my fingertips tingled where I had been touching the keyboard.
It wasn't just the laptop, either. My window frame kind of shimmered with the stuff, and so did my charging phone. I stood with my back pressed to the wall until it went away on its own in a few minutes. Yeah, I know. Real heroic. Go me, fearless defender of the innocent. But what the hell was I supposed to do about it? Freeze the creepy green light with my wonderful electricity-conducting powers? I don't think so. I'm not even sure what it was. I don't think it was electricity, because my computer is fine and not melted at all. No scorchmarks on the desk, no smoke. The O key is sticking a little bit, but I'm not really sure what that means, or if it's even relevant. I stayed up an hour afterwards, but nothing more happened.
I have no idea what this means. If this was somebody's idea of a practical joke, then they have a great poker face, because I didn't catch anyone smirking today, and I didn't see anyone through the window. If someone just downloaded information off my computer and phone, I hope they enjoy their new music library (among other things...). I'm not too keen on putting my phone anywhere near my ear ever again, but it didn't shock me when I picked it up or try to whisper subliminal kill-everyone-and-eat-them messages in my ear (or if it did, it's not working). I spent a long time thinking before I turned on my computer. All my files are still there, my browsing history looks normal, and I have no idea how to tell if something else went wrong. The computer is still a malevolent piece of crap, but it has neither attained sentience nor melted down, so I think I'm safe. I sincerely hope this was just a weird atmospheric phenomenon or whatever, because I do not want to be spied on, and I do NOT want the tentacle monster apocalypse to start in my room.

World's Cutest Tragedy

CNN is shocked and horrified that Linda Farrow, a straight-A's Harvard student and president of the Harvard Historical Re-Enactment Society, has gone crazy. Me, not so much. I know how much academic pressure there is at Ivy League schools, and really, everyone lost the right to be shocked at supervillains coming out of Harvard back in the 70's when the Anarchy Society graduated. I am, however, impressed by Ms. Farrow's creativity. I know it's a devastating blow to the Stone Zoo captive breeding program, but you have to admit that it's great for tourism. I bet ticket sales have quadrupled, and maintenance costs are much lower. Imagine what they'll save in habitat alone. I would love to see a herd of pony-sized elephants, and I'm contemplating flying to Massachusetts just to see the tiny tiger. I have no idea how (or what) they're going to feed the anteaters now, though. I guess they could borrow the shrink ray from the evidence lockup and use it on some anthills, though I doubt the ants would still be visible to the naked eye.
I feel really sorry for Farrow's unfortunately-named (ex?)boyfriend Richard Biggers. It's going to be rough going through life at four and a half inches tall. He's too small to even use Barbie furniture. I hope they find a way to reverse that.

The Utility of Belts

Utility belts are one of the most visible markers of powers status. It's almost without exception the small-time urban supers who use them. The big-time supers (you know, the ones who go to space and stop forest fires and crap like that) rarely bother wearing them. I guess there's just not much you can fit in a pocket that would be capable of stopping a meteor, or at all useful on a stopping-a-meteor mission. The big-timers usually wind up wearing those minimalist sleek outfits or high tech armor, and I guess when you're breaking the sound barrier it helps to have as little friction as possible. So they generally don't have pockets. But then again, they often have support teams, so I guess it evens out.
I would definitely fall on the side of utility belt users. Here is a list of what I carry in my purse for a typical trip to some place like Butterfly World or Goodwill or the mall:
Lip chap, Swiss Army knife, 2-3 band-aids, bubble gum, spare hairband, water bottle, pack of tissues, keyring (with flashlight and compass), camera, sunscreen, cell phone, wallet, small notebook, pencil, hand sanitizer, snack bar, floss, bandanna, pad and sunglasses. Ever since I've developed my powers, I've also carried around a couple little chemical handwarmer packs, in case I need to melt something really quickly. Lighters are just more trouble than they're worth.
I've never understood how boys can just walk out of the house carrying nothing. I don't think I'm a particularly high maintenance girl, either. I don't have makeup, mirrors, safety pins, jewelry or tiny hairbrushes in my purse (though I have to admit, a tiny hairbrush would be cool to have). But at the same time I can't really go out of my room without a purse and trust to fate to provide me with all my necessities. Maybe it's a girl thing, or maybe it's a control freak thing, but I like to be prepared for (minor) disasters, no matter how mundane an occasion seems at the outset. So imagine all of the stuff on that list, minus all the ID in the wallet, and of couse wiped clean of fingerprints, and add stuff like lockpicks, rubber gloves and shark repellant. Seriously, being a super involves some pretty weird emergencies, no matter what side you're on. How would I even fit all that stuff on something that is also supposed to be holding my pants up?

Who's Who in Boringville

Unsurprisingly, there aren't an awful lot of superpeople in our sleepy little college town. Grim avengers don't exactly have to work overtime to clean up the dirty streets of Coral Pines, and the weather is more often sunny than broodingly overcast. M'lar juveniles only graffiti-ed the golf course the one time, and nobody really cared about the crop circles in the grass except for the golfaholics. I think those circles are still there, and they qualify as a hazard or something.
We're not a big enough town to merit our own guardian hero, since not only is the crime rate pretty low, but the town is so small that it would be REALLY OBVIOUS who's spending their nights gallivanting around the rooftops with a grappling hook in hopes of catching a mugging-in-progress. Yet another reason why I don't do it. College gossip is a killer on a tiny campus like mine.
Of course, there are a couple I-wanna-live-a-normal-life superpeople (I guess I kinda count at the moment, since I'm still under the radar). There's that stay-at-home dad who lives in the apartment block across the street. I think at least one of his kids is bulletproof too, but nobody really wants to find out the hard way. There was one guy who graduated the year before I got here who could make energy flares. He wasn't allowed to live on campus, though. This was before the Hadley-White Act. I guess he was popular enough, but he was always 'the guy with superpowers.' I'm not going to tell anybody what I can do. It's not that I'm worried about getting hate-crimed. Its just that I don't know if I'll want to turn pro, and I don't want everyone in the world to connect my real name with my powers just yet. Call me vain, but I'd prefer to have my act together before I out myself as a super. I'd rather get "OMG that mysterious masked avenger was our classmate all along!" than "did you hear? That girl from my lit class thinks she's a superhero." Also, I don't want people bugging me to cool their drinks.
As for the rest of the superhumans around here, FIR-Tech is just a rat's nest of supervillains-in-training, and I'm certain they've got at least one classical elementalist on the faculty, but the only out super at our school is Dr. Zhang. Nobody's ever given her grief for it, but I guess it helps that she had tenure before her powers manifested. The students either love her or hate her. I've never taken her classes, but I hear she levitates textbooks and slams them down hard on the desks of sleeping students. It helps keep the freshies in line. I suppose she'd get different reactions if she could read minds or something. I know I wouldn't admit to being a telepath - you can't get a job anywhere (except in certain shady government agencies). And even if you are allowed to teach or attend public school, the neural inhibitors you have to wear pretty much ruin any chance of a social life. Seriously, could they make those things any uglier? Why don't they just issue tinfoil hats already?
It's been a long time since 9th grade civics class, so I don't remember which amendment it was that guarantees the right to mental privacy. On one hand, I'm glad that nobody's reading my mind without my permission. I want to be judged on my actions and words, not the stuff I'm too polite to say out loud. On the other hand, imagine how many criminals would be brought to justice if telepathic evidence were considered evidence in court. But then again, I would hate for that to be my job, poking through the thoughts of felons. No wonder so many telepaths burn out. I've actually seen a series written from the perspective of a telepath; Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse murder mysteries. Granted, it's an alternate-world thing without any superhumans, yet full of vampires who seem to have plenty of superpowers. But it deals with the ethical problems and daily life of a B-class telepath pretty realistically.

No SUPER for you!

I'm sure you've all read the hullabaloo about Angela Slater's latest stroke of genius, but in case you're not tired of hearing about it, here's my $0.02.
I have to agree that the term 'superhuman' has some funny connotations. But using it doesn't mean we think we're innately better than baseline humans. It's not an endorsement of eugenics, world-conquering, George Bernard Shaw or Nietzsche. It just means we are something different, but still human. How do I say this without sounding cliche? Many (dare I say most?) of us have lived as baseline humans at some point. We were raised by baseline humans. We will marry baseline humans and raise baseline human kids. You can't just throw us off the 'human' boat. We're not a different species. We're a minority, a normal variation of humanity, no matter how we got our powers or what we do with them. We don't somehow forfeit our humanity (along with some very important civil rights) just because we can do a few things that you can't. You need to recognize and respect that.
We've been 'superhumans' since the 1940s. It's what we call ourselves, and how we think of ourselves, and how we include ALL of us- the planet-movers, the telepaths, the cryogenetics, the people with the little weird powers that nobody has a name for yet. It's part of our identity, our subculture. And if you're not part of that culture, you don't get to name it. Seriously, human privilege much?
If Ms. Slater would like to call herself an 'original human', she can go right ahead. She can start her own little 'original human' parade, for all I care. I will support a person's right to call herself whatever she wants. If the rest of you supers out there want to be called metahumans, parahumans, post-humans, uberhumans, pinksnorglyhuffalump humans, then go fly your freak flag. But don't tell anyone else they can't fly theirs.

Summer Starts in April

Interesting fact: pigs do not have sweat glands. So it is incorrect to say, "I'm sweating like a pig." It is more correct to say, "I am contemplating going back to actually sweating instead of exuding an aura of cold water because I am getting awfully damp here and my hair has seen many, many better days." I look like I got caught out in the rain, which would be okay except it's not raining, so people are going to assume that I really sweat this much, which would be unimaginably gross. I know I've got it better than most of the baseline humans (someone on my campus collapsed from heatstroke today) but I still loathe this weather. The little frost aura thing doesn't do crap in the direct sunlight, and I can't up its effects without soaking a five-foot radius, which I've done by accident several times already. At least I can't do the frost-skin thing by accident; that takes finesse. I've tried making cold without water, which drops the temperature about ten degrees but usually results in nosebleeds. Not telepath-style brain leaks, but the kind caused by cold, dry air. Which is doubly weird considering how humid Florida is. However it works, giving myself nosebleeds and chapped lips is definitely not a superpower I want to pursue. I wound up compromising by sneakily making little ice chips and sticking them in a ziplock bag.

Low Tech Cyborgs

There was an awesome article in the news recently about a Finnish guy who lost a finger and replaced it with a prosthetic containing a USB drive. Living proof that not all cyborgs are packing flamethrowers and crap. And also that they are generally computer geeks. If I were a cyborg, I'd probably wind up breaking myself within the first few days. I don't have a very good track record with complex electronics. I might be able to get away with being one of those old-school steampunk cyborgs, though. That would be all sorts of awesome, especially if I looked anything like Pygmalion, with all the clockwork and neo-classical motifs.
I'm going to have to call bullshit on 'first cyborg', even in the context of 'non-weaponized-or-neuromechanically-integrated cyborg' (hello, pacemakers? cochlear implants?) but it's good to see an everyday cyborg getting press.

Icy Pop Culture

You've undoubtedly seen those ubiquitous breathmint/chewing gum commercials that advertise their ultimate subzero mint flavor. The usual script runs like this: Woman pops a mint, and leans in to kiss some guy. There's a crackling sound, and suddenly he's covered in frost, all white-rimed with icicles on his ears and nose. In true cartoon fashion, his eyes still move. So I checked in the mirror to see if I can do that. Yes, I can. Since I have nothing better to do this evening, I've been like that for an hour now, but it keeps melting where my butt and back touch the chair. Also, my chair is soggy now. Ew. That's the hard part about this; I can't get rid of the ice when I'm done playing with it.
Anyway, the point of this all is that the best place to look for great ice effects in the media is in our commericals. God knows Killer Frost and The Kelvinator don't do much for our rep. But I watch beer and gum commercials religiously. I could say it's because I'm researching the effects of my powers, or because I like good PR for cryogenetics, but really it's because I like seeing people spew cold blasts like dragonfire with a true Saturday-cartoons lack of consequences. There's even a commercial where a squirrel eats a breathmint and its icy fart subdues a raging forest fire. No, I do not have that superpower. Yes, I'm certain. Don't judge me.

Countdown

I'm in the library, pretending to study, and wondering which of the people here could be superheroes or supervillains. Nadine might be. She's got that mysterious silence and classical profile. It's funny; the 'strong, silent' stoic character is fascinating in literature, but pretty boring in person. I feel like she's kind of cheating in the class we have together - when the professor asks her questions, she's always got a succinct, snappy answer. But it's like pulling teeth to get her to participate, and it feels like she's not pulling her weight in class, just coasting and doing the bare minimum. That's not a typical flying-below-the-radar hero tactic, more like a distracted-by-nefarious-plots attitude. Meh, maybe I'm just paranoid. She sits next to me, and I'm kinda hoping she hasn't noticed my temperature problems. I've more or less solved the issue by wearing more clothing. If someone notices the long-sleeves-in-blistering-heat thing, I'll just say I'm anemic or something (and it might even be true). I can warm my hands up to a normal temperature by wearing gloves or putting them between my knees or under my arms for a while, like I used to do on cold days. So I'm guessing (yay pseudoscience!) that I've got some sort of atmospheric effect around me, since my internal body temperature is perfectly normal. There's no freeze machine in my guts, so I've been visualizing it as a kind of minty fresh aura.
None of the others in my classes strike me as the super type. I know there's no 'type' to have powers, but there is certainly a type that uses them, and I doubt my classmates would ever go active in the super community. Even if Amie has world-ending godlike powers, I'm not sure exactly what she could accomplish with them. Especially if they rely on willpower. She only ever speaks in questions, and only uses about half her voice, so it's always soft and kittenish. She can't answer a single question decisively. I almost wish I had x-ray vision, just so I could stare through her skull and see it is, in fact, packed with cotton candy. I'm betting it's pink.

A Rose By Any Other Name

Trying to come up with a name. All the good ones are taken. This would be easier if I had a PhD, since you can add spark to any random word by putting 'Doctor' in front of it. Doctor Doom. Doctor Manhattan. Doctor Impossible. Doctor Strange. Doctor Polaris. Doctor Moon. Doctor Octopus. Doctor Midnight.
Granted, all of these examples are fictional, but they just prove the popularity of the title, and the general awesomeness of the people who use it.
I've been brainstorming, but all I can find are names I won't be using. If I go for any of the brand names or Christmas-themed stuff, I'll be laughed out of the city. I need a theme, a consistent image. I don't use toys, so that scratches off the Santa aspect. As for Frosty, as applicable as it may be, I'd rather die than be confused with a snowman who stomps around with a carrot sticking out of his face.
Here's a partial list of rejects:
-Blizzard: Implies some form of wind/weather control, which would be false advertising. I don't think I can even produce decent hail. Besides, the winter precipitation synonyms have been done to death, as have the temperature descriptors. I want something new, not cliche, and definitely not reminiscent of fast food ice cream.
-Sub-Zero: Not sure if the hyphen works. Everybody keeps leaving it out of Spider-Man, and that's been a brand name since the 1960s. And will I get questions about Celsius vs. Fahrenheit? Crap, I need to research that. How awful would that be if I just looked like another superpowered thug, like what's-her-name with the wind powers who knows nothing about aerodynamics? Windigo, that's it.
-Wintergreen: It's a step away from that tired old white-and-blue rule (blue is NOT my color) but it sounds like a breathmint.
-White Witch: Yeah, no.
-Snow Queen: That's just asking for trouble. One, all female fairy tale characters with cold powers are evil (see example above). Two, some superheroes are actually royalty. That would just get awkward if I ran into Adamantina and she was all 'what country do you rule' and I had to admit that I just call myself that because it sounds cool. No pun intended.
-Frostbite: No matter how you interpret this, you wind up with a gross visual. Pass.
-Glacier Girl: Yes. I am a giant mass of dirty ice. Brilliant. I don't need any cracks about my weight, thankyouverymuch.
The hardest part about ice powers is you wind up being known as That Frigid Bitch by all your opponents. Hey, now there's a thought. Just cut to the chase and rob all those scintillating wits of their easiest punchline. It's got more moxie than Ice Princess or Snowflake or all those other sugary winter wonderland names. But do I have the guts to introduce myself by it?

This Looks Like a Job For... Somebody Else!

Someone robbed a Walgreen's today. I called Dani as soon as I heard the news, but she had her phone off. It wasn't the one she works at anyway. Of course, I didn't hear about it until it was over. Where would I even get a police scanner? Even the police got there after everything was over, because crime happens quickly and the police can't teleport. I hear the military's working on it, but so far it seems cost-prohibitive and dangerous. Officially, they're up to teleporting rats. However, since the teleportation booths they've developed can only work in a vacuum, I'm guessing they're just teleporting dead rats. Who probably explode half the time. So yeah, they've got nothing on the natural teleporters.
But back to my problems- if I should go superhero, how would I be able to find out about crimes and get there in time to stop them? Patrol is right out. I'm not one of those wall-crawling, roof-running jocks, and I can't fly. I hate jogging (even though I don't sweat anymore). I don't think surveillance is the answer- questions of ethics aside, it's expensive, impractical and liable to get me caught, not to mention brought up on criminal charges myself. How do the superheroes do it? Enhanced senses? Telepathy? Precog sidekick? Luck?
Yet another obstacle. Sometimes I think being a villain would be easier.