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Bread and water seems to be a recurring theme in Israeli music. As a positive thing, mostly-- "If I have a canteen/pitcher of water, and tasty bread, how could anything possibly be missing from my life?" "I always knew that you were as bread and I was as water, blah blah we belong together" etc.

Drove ten hours in the past twenty-four, preparing to spend the next twelve or so in the car, but at least I'll be the passenger and can just kick my feet up, so to speak.

This morning as I was preparing to go to Michigan, I went to check Schuler's website to make sure the Okemos store had Temeraire in stock, and the first thing that came up on the homepage was an announcement for a steampunky costume tea party at the Eastwood Plaza one. It was at one o'clock, so I snuck back into the room and grabbed my steampunky gear and totally made it on time. It turned out to actually be a book launch party for the sequel to a book I'd never heard of, but the authoress seemed cool and I enjoyed the live band's performance and the book sounded... interestingly macabre, so I bought a copy of the first one (on sale for $9, trade paperback) and got it signed. I think I babbled some incomprehensible nonsense at the authoress, but she was gracious and friendly anyway. To tell the truth my expectations for it are not the highest; it's a YA fantasy thing about a girl named Eden in love with a fallen angel named Az, which... well... yeah does not encourage me to have high expectations? But what the heck, for all that it's hard to find good ones, I actually really do like stories in which Some Sort of Evil Monster Falls in Love with a Human Chick and They Have to Try and Make it Work ("Him Having to Defend Her from Other Monsters" trope optional). I mean, the genre had a bad enough rap before Twilight came in and utterly decimated any of the (admittedly dubious) respect it might have gotten, but. You know. Whatever.

I dunno. I read an Aoshi/Misao story recently that has a lot of tropes that are usually my guilty-pleasure romance tropes, but I spent the entire thing being squicked and yelling at the characters that the manner in which they were behaving was not okay and no means no and give Misao back her fricking agency, dammit and stop making her feel bad for wanting some damn CHOICE in regards to her OWN LIFE and step OFF, Aoshi, GOD WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS FIC ACTING LIKE THIS IS OKAY?

In conclusion I have no idea why sometimes skeevy things appeal to me and sometimes repulse me utterly.

I mean, I am going to read that book and then report back on how I found it.

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So Aba brought some new pens into the office. Alas my red pen remains the only red pen in the world and when it gives up the ghost I don't know what I'll do for a father for a husband AW MAN, ROSSSSS. But there are very fine-point black pens that write sharp as you please, and these lovely blue pens that write softly and I love them dearly already. OM NOM NOM INK.

Had one swing dancing lesson. Have another tomorrow, and then cannot have another until I have saved up some money. Sad face, I am broke like a broken thing. Aww yeah, livin' on rice. Still have plenty of rice. And eggs! Rice and eggs. And dish soap. Actually I'm running out of dish soap.

Have started practicing for thrice-cursed auditions. *tfu tfu tfu* Am making Paul help. One or both of us is sure to go mad. I'm betting it's me, because he claims to find the different orchestrations structurally interesting. Whatever, everyone just hates on the violins and gives them weird ledger lines, that is how that works.

So I asked my mother if perhaps I could have the ring that Aba gave her for their anniversary one year, the gold band with the millgrained edges, because to my recollection she's never even worn it, and it would be kind of cool to have an heirloom wedding ring. And she stared at me in utter confusion and assured me with perfect confidence that no such ring had ever existed. And just when I was starting to doubt my entire reality, Aba said that yes, I had gone with him to pick out such a ring, but then he had not actually bought it. Which is too bad, because it was quite pretty and would have nicely taken care of my something old.

Checked out the wedding planning section of the Okemos library. Only found two useful books: one about interfaith ceremonies, and one explaining wedding planning to the groom. It was entertaining and informative, as opposed to the one I checked out for the bride, which turned out to be condescending and useless. *shrugs*

Sent my beloved copy of Hamlet to Mical and Tamar to read before they see it on Saturday. US POSTAL SYSTEM, PLEASE BE TRUE.

I dunno guys, my life is pleasant but uneventful. Paul and I started watching the BBC miniseries of P&P and it was very true to the book but Paul says it lacks the charm, and I don't know how charming I found the book but it is true that I did not much feel like watching five more hours of it.

Love for Boromir Sean Bean continues epic. There's a photograph I saw somewhere of him playing Macbeth, which I would have liked to see. I DON'T KNOW IF ANY VERSION WILL EVER LIVE UP TO THIS ONE THOUGH. OMG OMG OMG COLM FEORE IN POSTCOLONIAL AFRICA, GUYS. IIIIIII KNOW.

Part of me is madly looking forward to ORCHESTRA again, and the other part of me is clinging madly to FREEEEEE TIIIIIIIIME while I have it, although to be honest most of the time I manage to find something to fill up every jot of free time I have. I am going to be so busy for the next year, it's going to be ridiculous. Not, like, y'know, Laura-busy, but busy.

Ok Paul is here bye.

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So today I managed to pull myself out of bed (away from lovely, lovely dreams of Ianto, and Tosh, and Jack, and theatre- you have no idea how hard that was) at about 2:20 PM, which is possibly a new record for me, and I was totally out of the flat and on the road by 2:40, with my umbrella and my purse and the bag of pyjamas that I had to give back to Eema. And then I was nearly to the Burcham intersection when I realized that my violin was still in my flat. (my lack of social life is telling: I keep wanting to slip words in Hebrew into this post- my umbrella and my tik, my kinor was still in my flat. I need to talk to people out loud more often; I'm forgetting English.) Anyway, so I panicked and pulled into the Elementary School driveway, intending to turn around, when I realized that it was one-way, no left turns, and there was a long line of cars blocking me from getting out. Someone kindly let me in and I turned frantically onto Burcham, then realized I had no idea how to get back. There was much of the getting lost and ending up in strange neighborhoods before I found myself back on Saginaw, where I went tearing along back to Haslett, to Hagadorn, and to Hull. Ran upstairs, snatched my violin and drove hell-bent for leather- by which I mean, thirty miles per hour, because speed limits. Arrived in the Music Building just as the Symphony orchestra was tuning, and stopped to get my folder from the bin but the bin WAS GONE. By now I was already late, so I did not run, but I hurried to the Music Library and it was totally closed and dark and locked and empty, despite the sign on the door saying OPEN and 1PM to 4PM and it being only 3:00 PM. And so I knocked and looked desperate and pitiful, and considered just running away, but someone would have seen me approach the orchestra room earlier and I'd passed Beau in the hallway and someone would have reported to Gregorian that I had been there, and disappeared of my own free will. So I gathered up my courage and went in late, ARGH, and then we played Prokofiev's Love of Three Oranges and Beethoven's Eroica. And it had been sprinkling when I'd awoken, and all the way to orchestra, and as rehearsal wore on the rain got heavier and heavier until it was just pouring straight down, and I was really annoyed with myself for leaving my umbrella in my car, because I'd have to walk to work without it. But then an hour and some time in, during the Beethoven, the rain stopped and though the sky was dark and grey somehow the sun was shining magnificently off of the trees with their fall-colors and it was just about the most lovely sight I'd ever seen, and I spent all our measures of rest (like, all three of them) staring over my shoulder out the window, which is bad and unprofessional but COME ON, Beethoven would have understood, LOOK AT THAT SIGHT. Gorgeous. And then the gray just faded away from the top down like God adjusting the brightness of his monitor, and it was just so cool, also, Beethoven is crazy hard and I kind of wish I were first violin because I learned these excerpts for auditions and it throws me the heck off when I hear the cues and start automatically playing along with the firsts because the second part is impossible to sight read anyway and I know that part, I know that's what I'm supposed to be playing, and I can't not play it. But I'll learn, I will. Afterwards I went and had a cup of coffee, which- oh- explains why I have barely paused for breath this entire entry, and then I sang Blue Skies and came to work, after stopping in Barnes and Noble to pine after Doctor Who, which is like a hundred dollars, whut, on Amazon it's only like 53 + shipping. and, granted, shipping is expensive, but not that expensive, guys. Last night I talked to Mical and I suggested that she be a bat for Halloween, which come to think of it is a really good idea, and something I've never been, so maybe I will be too, because Mical is in Boulder and it's not exactly like we move in the same circles. And also Eema dropped off a bag of clothes for me to try on, a black concert shirt and black cordoruoy pants and two pairs of pyjamot, and she said that whichever pair I didn't pick she would take. There was a pink pair with black-and-tan flowers all over that I didn't fancy at all, and a really cute plaid flannel pair that I adored and it was no decision at all. I wonder how influenced I was by the fact that Eema has a pair of plaid flannel pyjamas, and so does Caitlin. *shrugs* Anyway they were quite comfortable and I wore them while making noodles with olive oil and basil and parmesan cheese, which is delicious and I purposely made enough so that I could take the leftovers to work today and not be hungry, but then of course I ran out the house without time and did not take it, so I will have to content myself with the appetite-suppression of caffeine, which is most of the reason that I drank the coffee, was so that I wouldn't die of hunger before I went home tonight. Also I did all my dishes, go me. I was about to complain to Paul that a downside of living alone was that I had to do all my own dishes, but then I realized, no, if I had a roommate or something, I would still have to do my own dishes, and also be yelled for not doing them by someone else's standard of fast enough. So, it is actually a perk of living alone, and I love it, if I do things in my own time I do not have to feel guilty, or be yelled at. I love that, I really, really do. It is something that will take me a long time to get over, and I'm just revelling in it. Basically I revel in my flat. A lot. Look at my window! Covered in sparkly snowflakes, and a snowman suncatcher, and golden stars, and Caitlin's beaded star ornament! Look at my bookshelf, and how it matches my door! Look at my bright lamp, my night-table, my silver clock and my religious icon, my dishcloth hanging on a sticky-hook, my sink! My dishwasher! My coffemaker! My kitchen appliances, my knife rack! My basketchair, my shower curtain, my soap dish, my medicine cabinet! My rugs! My kitchen table, my chairs, my beautiful white kitchen table and brown chairs! My sofas covered in cat hairs! My friggin' WATERBED, my luxurious, luxurious sheets and comforter! My walk-in closet, all full of hangers, my laundry basket! Look at my new balcony, the lovely blonde wood, and my windchime with the golden sound! My clock-radio and my new headphones, my TV stand with television AND a DVD player...! My shoe rack, my white coat with the parva! My very own cat-food closet, with my very own vaccuum cleaners, both large and small! My fuzzy blue blanket and my DVDs and my books, my books and my purple butterfly bookends, my knitted potholders and green placemats and brass candlesticks! My candles! Matches! My green flower dishes! My beautiful, decorated bowls of all shapes and sizes! My art nouveau vase, full of beautifully dead flowers! My carpeted floor! NYAAAAA! *runs around in circles, flailing* LOOK AT ALL MY STUFF. I don't think there is any way to convey how unbelieveably rich I feel. All this stuff! And it's all mine! I feel like Ariel, except without the pining or the pouting! ALL THIS STUFF. IT IS MINE. I HAS IT. You are going to have to pry me out of this flat with a crowbar. I totally, totally get how all the ship captains feel now. MY PLACE. MINEMINEMINE.

I don't think I've ever had less money to my name. I'm subsisting off of rice and pasta and calculating every day whether I can afford to buy a cup of hot chocolate on my way to work (answer is: I really shouldn't, I should just buy a thermos so that I can make my own and bring it with me). I'm not managing to save anything; between keeping myself in internet and violin lessons I must be careful to let my third-of-a-tank of gas last me the next two weeks at least. I've never really not had spending-money before; even when I was little, if I wanted something, I could ask for it. I might have received "no" for an answer, or else had to wait for a holiday, but still. (It's so easy to see how someone can get stuck like this, and have to choose between an eye exam and a bow rehair, and I'm so very, very fortunate that my parents can help me with things like that.)

I've never felt richer in my life, ever. I cannot get over how lucky I am, and as in Israel, every nerve in my body is screaming at me to make the most of now, because I am well aware, so very very aware, of the limited duration of this state of affairs. I am in the prime of youth, the cusp of adulthood, if you will; I have what is (for me) a perfect balance of independence and a firm support structure, a place of my own- a place of my own that feels like home- a cat that keeps me from ever being actually lonely, a cat whose character just takes up all the space in the room, like a cat trained in musical theater. Two orchestras and a part-time job arranged to fit my personal sleep schedule, no responsibilities that I cannot handle for the first time in, like, EVER, no one to please but myself, and plenty of time and resources with which to do as I please. Do not get me wrong, having other people in my life will be great too, but I value this time so much, and, as in Israel, I do not look up in surprise and wonder where the last few months have gone: I am conscious of every day that passes, I can feel the time flying, the way people say you can't. That is me; I may not have a sense of time- of past, of future, but I am so aware of the now. Always conscious of the present. ...'M not sure what I'm trying to say, here, anymore. But the last section of the first paragraph sort of reminded me of Jack talking to Nicholas in Polari (Nicholas! I would give anything for Nicholas to be canon. I'm so madly in love with Nicholas). Tosheroon worth of savvy to spare and dull ogles and dolly eeks.

I should actually work on the roster now, you know. *shrugs* It will get done. So it goes.


Jun. 15th, 2008 05:37 am
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So so big long craZybook is finished and everything is CLIFFHANGER and DEATH and DISMAY,


also I totally knew from like the very first moment I met him that he was so utterly utterly doomed but it did not help one bit, I still fell desperately in love with the poor idiot and noooooooo.

And it is only 6 AM, what, bookstores aren't open this erly, that are a million kinds of Not Cool. I think a 24-hour bookshop, with reading nooks, is pretty much what this world needs.

But the WORLD and the CULTURE and zOMGLOVE, and I totally get so eated by it, I think it all day long and I dream it all night and when I wake up it took me until after I was dressed and contacted and toothbrushed to realize, oh wait, it's not actually real, and Paul is probably very confused and offended right now, oops.

Jorj George R R Martin fans, I feel for y'all so hard right now. Giant epic fantasy that spans many great and terrible books that are this big are like drugs. Drugs of evil. Evil drugs. Because everyone is getting heartbroken and hurt and dead, and you're all RAAARRR NEEEEEEED FIIIXXXXXX, and it is totally totally not fair, it is epic suckage.

also, deeeeeaaaaad, nooooooooo.

Oh, and i signed my lease yesterday.

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Who would have thought? All you have to do is replace Horatio Hornblower's penis with a six-legged telepathic cat, and he becomes awesome. I certainly never saw that coming.

Also I apparently showed a boy God's work, or miracles, or something. That was what he was exclaiming in utter disbelief to his friend, anyway. So, bow before me, all, for I am She Who Talks to Squirrels.

Leora: Philip Glass, my mother. Eema, Philip Glass.
Eema: Are you sure your record doesn't just have a crack in it somewhere?

Bob Christiansen: This is 90.5 WKAR fm East Lansing, npr and classical music...
Eema: Hey Leora, your boyfriend's on the radio.

Beau: So, this is like an out of body experience. Imagine that you're in a fog. Or at a party, only nobody can see you or hear you. Like, you're not participating, but you're there. And disembodied. And misty, and mysterious.
Wind Player: So... do you want it louder or softer...?

A fuzzy-haired violinist walks into a bar the Music Practice Building, and hears someone practicing the Shostakovich. "Ah! It is Anton!" Thinks the fuzzy violinist. "We must be playing the Shostakovich today!" Then the fuzzy violinist remembered that some people actually practice, and not just on the very day that you have to play for an audience. But that is surely nonsense, and to prove it, we played the Shostakovich today.

Anton: *plays apassionatosisisisisimo*
Anton's Bow: WHEEEEEE!
Violin Sections: *totally lost, because they're all watching the bow fly across the room*
Anton's Bow: *BOOM TRACH CLATTER, somewhere behind the firsts*
Verdehr: You're supposed to catch it, guys.

Leora: *refresh*
All Twelve Members of the R&G Fandom: ...


Clock: 11:00 PM
Eema: Let's pretend we don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: What phone?
Eema: The phone that's ringing.
Leora: I don't hear anything.
Eema: The phone is ringing. But I'm pretending I don't hear it.
Leora: Hear what?
Eema: The phone.
Leora: Eema. Eema. Hear what?
Eema: Ohhh! Hahahaha!
Leora: Yes. Let's go home.

Leora: *strides awesomely out the front door in a gray, light T-shirt, long jeans, black boots, and her Israeli Army Coat*
Eema: Oh, no, Leora, you look so nice in your clothes, why are you wearing that coat?
Leora: Because the coat is AWESOME. *strides to the car*
Eema: It doesn't match. Go put on your blue sweater.
Leora: No! You're just jealous you don't have one like it!
Eema: I'd have to find someone to wear it to war before it looked like that. Honestly, are there bullet holes in it?
Leora: I don't think so. But Eli has a coat from Chicago that does.
Eema: Eli has a coat like that?
Leora: Well, the one from Chicago is different. But yes. He has one like this too.
Eema: Ahhhhh! It all makes sense now. It's because you want to be coatfriends with Eeeeliiiii.
Leora: ...if you start singing that we are in a tree I will jump out of this moving car right now.

Leora: Okay. Do you by any chance have access to the internet?
Girl: YEAH.
Leora: Well, you can make reservations online, actually.
Leora: *gives up on being able to save some time* Yes. *takes information, goes to billing* Do you need an e-mail confirmation?
Leora: *grits teeth, because that takes ten times as long* Of course. etc etc etc And your billing address?
Leora: And your e-mail?
Leora: You're all set, thank you. *hangs up* *stares in dismay at the pile of reservations to process*
Eema: Did she make you take it over the phone?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Did she want confirmation?
Leora: Yes.
Eema: Was she a little old lady without a computer?
Leora: She's a UNC student.
Eema: Eize idiotit.
Leora: Yes.
Eema: And a mefageret.
Leora: YES.
Eema: Steal her money.
Leora: Nah, I'll just send Sara to take out her Laurel!rage on her.

I like the Women's Lounge in the Union. Paul says it's sexist and is against it on principle, and I have to admit he's probably right, but I still like it. It feels like a place where you can let your guard down, and the atmosphere is friendly and relaxed but hushed and private. Girls take nooks and tables and sofas, and they read and study and work and nap. There's always a surpising number of couches occupied by napping girls, and I'm often among them. I sat on the windowmost of the horseshoe of sofas in the near corner, and across from me there was an Asian girl asleep. Her rainboots were sitting in a neat pair, and they looked like the rainboots we all had as kids, right down to the umbrellas printed on them. She had her plaid jacket draped over herself as a blanket, and she slept in her stocking feet. I drank my hot chocolate and read my book for about half an hour, and at some point I thought to myself that me sitting there thinking how adorable she looked was probably what the Women's Lounge was built to avoid. Oops.

Curious Book Shop's Shakespeare section seems to have vanished. They do have, however, a section of Nautical Fiction, which meant that I spent a long period of time standing on a stool. (I actually went there to see if they had a cheap copy of His Majesty's Dragon, but the only one they have is Empire of Ivory.) Also Roger Lancellyn Green wrote about Arthur, and for two dollars I'm likely to buy it, because I don't actually know the original Arthurian legends.

I've been trying to think of ways to introduce Mr. Midshipman Hornblower, and one of the ones I came up with went something like this: And you won't even meet Bush until the next book, which is too bad, because he's lovely, and if Hornblower weren't so damn introverted and repressed and depressed and if they weren't both such silly britons, there would simply be lots of buggery, and none of this nonsense about Maria, or Barbara for that matter.

I was also really bitter that Honor's Pavel is evil, but then she steals his former XO who is a Paul, so I suppose I'll forgive her.

The USS Defiant remains my favorite ship of all time though.

Eema's going to kill me if I don't go try on sixteen pairs of stupidpants RIGHT NOW, so rar.

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So TODAY I went to Schuler's and asked them about Napoleon, Nelson, and the Battle of the Nile, which is one of the few nonfiction books that I am enamoured of, but they could not find its existance. Must bug librarians about this. Later on I ended up in B&N and looked for Horatio Hornblower, whom I miss, but couldn't remember the author and found myself looking at Patrick C O'Brian. And I stood and looked, and stood and looked some more, and asked a random girl with dangly earrings if she knew who wrote Horatio Hornblower but she didn't, so I picked up Master and Commander. I'm on chapter three; I'm not sure if I like it yet. Jack Aubrey so far looks like our student conductor in my head, except with B&N's Friendly Ninja Employee's hair. (kore wa dare no kasa desu ka? dare no kasa desu ka... uh...) And I cannot shake the idea, don't ask me where it came from, that Maturin has a tail. An alligator's tail. I DON'T KNOW WHY.

Good moments in the book:
He broke the ship! Jack Aubrey, you broke the ship!
He can't stop himself from conducting! So cute.
They sit down and discuss Boccherini. Who was the whitest white boy ever.
"What is Catalan?" long have you been here?
"Not Liutenant! Capitan! Capitano! HA HA HA!"
The ship's crew slashes their captain with the ship's master. And don't think it's a bad thing. And they call him Goldilocks.

Also I bought R&GrDead teh Movie, from Schuler's, and I can't wait to watch it again. Lovelovelove. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are love, and I need that on a colorbar.

When I was going to orchestra I saw two boys walking down Grand River holding hands. and when I was coming to work I saw two girls kissing in the alley between the parking structure and B&N. I generally don't see demonstrative gay couples in East Lansing, and then I saw two within a few hours of each other. I don't have a point in mentioning; it was just something that happened today.

Today in orchestra (hooray! I love orchestra!) we played all three of the double concertos.

#1, Bach- oboe & violin concerto. Violinist's name is Tigrin, which makes me think of Fiery Figrin D'an. Cannot tell where he is from. Stick-skinny; such a good violinist. I love listening to him.

Student Conductor: You must play lightly! Think Tigrin's waistline, not mine!

#2, Vivaldi- two trumpets- they're not really trumpets, they're trumpety looking things, but small and cute, with four valves instead of three. It's cool.

#3, Vivaldi - CONCERTO FOR TWO CELLOS, YAYAYAYAYAY. I love this concerto, always always have, and also the soloists are not only very good cellists but very pretty. One is Asian with glasses that keep sliding down because he wrinkles his nose when he plays, and the other is Russian (with an accent!) who actually reminds me a lot of Jake the Linguist from the Ulpan, if Jake looked a bit older, and like a cellist. They sound awesome and we got to sit and listen to the second movement even though we're tacit.

Dan plays the harpsichord on all three, which is interesting, and Alex who sits next to me was being really annoying but whatever, I love orchestra. And my conductor. YAY.

Must go practice now. Have finished the filing and there's not much else to do here, so I get to go get paid for practicing, how nice. I kind of want my job to have a name. I mean, what am I, a secretary of some form? That implies that I am doing the secretarial work to free up the other people to do the actual work, but secretarial stuff, it seems, is all we actually do. *shrugs* *shrugger* I like that better.

I find myself wanting to write modernization!Hamletfic. Also The Road To El Dorado fic. Also I miss Hebrew; does anyone know where I can find Disney movies and the like dubbed in Hebrew? Or maybe Japanese, since that's really why I should be studying. Oh! On Naomi Novik's website there was a sample of the first chapter of His Majesty's Dragon in Japanese, and now I really want to learn enough to read that book in Japanese. That, I think, is an even worse reason than wanting to be able to watch anime without subtitles. Whatever.

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So B&N, though it does have a friendly employee with a ponytail who recognized my hoodie for being Junpei's, still lacks, you know, books. And until I can get to Schuler's to read the next book of the Bloody Jack series, I must read other things. There is finally a sequel to I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You, and yes, I am perfectly aware that it's just about the worst title for a book I have ever seen in my entire life, and the cover features a girl in a british schoolgirl's uniform, yes, it's in the teen section and yes, I know, I know, I know. It's... good. Really. I know. No one was more shocked than I, let me tell you that. Anyways, sequal, Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy, which is only a better title because the first one is worse. But it was still enjoyable. Quick reads, the both of them, and the protagonist is capable, likeable and, despite obsessing a little over her boys, never actually needs one to be happy, and recognizes this.

I kind of wish that Jacky of the Bloody Jack books would stop being in love with Jaimy; he's a dork and an idiot, and she's a lot more fun when she is resolved to live single, which actually means that she runs around with every pretty boy she comes across, and she runs across many many pretty boys. So far my favorite has been Joseph Jared. Aware of his own charms though he may be, his charms are indeed abundant, and he seems to be the one whose respect for her is the most genuine. And he's the prettiest. No, I don't want them to swear deep abiding love, I just want Jacky to forget Jaimy, and just run around having more adventures, and if more pretty boys show up, it's not like she doesn't mess around a bit anyway, Jaimy or no Jaimy. *shrugs* (Could see her actually ending up happily with Mairaed, maybe, but that's neither here nor there.)
She's in the British Navy during the early 1800s. It's a fun thing. Because hey, that's pretty much my favorite...
(Although as much as I like Jacky Faber, and I like her, I really do, I would so gladly murder her for her violin, which she DOES NOT deserve. I heartily approve of her learning the violin, I do, but seriously- NOT DESERVING OF A STRAD. They'll find her with a knife slipped between her ribs some night, the Lady Lenore having disappeared with the Lady Leora.)

Anyway, but the fourth book is only at Schuler's, so last time I read CMH&HTS, which I didn't like quite as much as ITYILYBTIHTKY but was still nice, and this time I found Piratica. I've been wanting to read Piratica for a number of years now, and before I left for Israel I finally got around to reading Pirates!, but not Piratica, until now. Anyway, it was pretty and lovely and wonderful. Pirate Queens! Actors! Muck, the cleanest dog in England! Duels! Random escaping/migrating geese! Pretty pretty blond boys! Leopards! Gay pirate couples! Coffee!

It happied me. It was different, and it was certainly not what I expected it to be, at all; sort of a history AU, and written with this really interesting surreal style, and while some points were very predictable and some points were a little too convenient, it was highly unique and creative and I liked it very much.

Anyway I am being yelled at to go file, but I'm just still proud of myself for my GINORMOUS MOUNTAIN of charges that I ran, so there.



Feb. 24th, 2006 12:34 am
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Well, we all know my Bitterness towards Barnes and Noble, but nevertheless it is there, right across from the Union, so I ended up there today.

I feel a little guilty heading straight for the scifi/fantasy or the mystery section. I'll usually come in the front door and walk around through the cafe on the left side (the checkout and information counters are both on the right, and I feel it is rather prudent that I not become a familiar sight to the staff). I'll give a cursory glance over to the stuff for sale on the tables as I walk. There is NEVER anything good. (This is Barnes and Noble we are talking about, after all.) Perhaps some shiny wrapping paper will catch my eye long enough for me to brush it with my fingers. Then I'll go down the escalator and STAND STILL the whole time. It invariably gives me such a thrill when I have the opportunity to stand still on escalators or moving sidewalks. (Yes, I know it's slightly pathetic.) Upon stepping off the escalator, I will promptly get lost.


I SWEAR. I know my lack of a sense of direction is somewhat infamous, and now you all know just how far it goes: I GET LOST IN A LARGE RECTANGULAR ROOM.

Anyway. I'll walk in circles for a while until I figure out which way is up, and then I usually find myself approaching the manga section. I try not to linger. I will glance to see if there is a new Kenshin. (There never is, because this is BARNES AND NOBLE.) I always worry that someone will see me standing for too long by the manga section. I am always terrified to pick up manga that I don't know in bookstores and see what it is about, for fear that it is something terrible or possibly mildly pornographic and someone else who knows what the series actually is like will see me. And be shocked and scandalized.


So then I'll walk past all the study guides and the books about picking a major over to the learning foriegn language section. I'll toy with the idea of learning Russian, or Mandarin Chinese, or Hindi or Greek or whatever. (There is never anything between Arabic and Chinese. If you want to learn Bulgarian in the hope of someday falling into Harry Potter and getting a chance to meet Viktor Krum and convincing him to immediately apparate to England and win back Hermione because he is obviously SO much better for her than Ron, long sail the good ship Viktory, then you are just screwed because this is BARNES AND NOBLE. Not that I'm bitter, or that I would ever actually devote the time and work of actually learning a language so that I can hold conversations with a fictional character. Um. *cough*)

Moving on.

Then I'll weave in and out of the fiction/literature section, more out of a sense of duty and shame than actual interest. I'll wend my way through the sci-fi and fantasy sections. I know what my eventual target is. It's the next Stephanie Plum book. But Stephanie Plum books are my guilty pleasure. And so I wander around and around the more sophisticated sections of the bookstore.

It's like I'm one of those rather strange pseudo-religious types that, every time they want to do something bad, they look up at the sky and say something like "Okay, God, I'm going to throw this rock at my neighbor's window now! If I shouldn't do this, God, if you don't want me to do this, then send me a sign!" And then they will stand there and tap their foot and count to ten, and if they're not struck by lighting after that they go "Right! Guess it's okay with you then, since I gave you a chance to stop me, and you didn't!" and throw the rock.

That is exactly what I am like. I wander around the languages, the fiction/literature, the sci-fi and fantasy, calling out to the God of Bookstores. "Okay, God, I'm going to go read a Stephanie Plum book! If you don't want me to do that, you know, if you think it's a bad thing, than send me a sign!" And then if I wander all through and nothing happens, I go "Right! I gave all you other more sophisticated books a chance to get my attention, and you didn't! Mystery/Romance/Humor novels, here I come!" And I hide in the poetry section to read.

Sometimes I get my sign. I re-read To Kill a Mockingbird about a month or two ago, simply because the new cover caught my eye and so I stopped to poke at the annoyingly uncut edges and find my favorite passage, and then that beautiful passage made me so nostalgic that I had to drop everything and read it. I actually cried. It's not often that I cry in a bookstore, but I really did. I was surprised, really surprised, to find myself in tears over Mrs. Dubose. That part of the story had never really had much effect on me at all, when I read it in ninth grade. (Tenth grade? When did we read TKAM? Ohhh Eru, my essay for that book was so bad.) I was so glad I re-read it when I did. I understood so much more. I don't know what I must have thought, back when I read it, because now I see that I had missed about half of that book. Completely.

Today I got my sign again, much in the same way. Passing by between the fiction/literature and the scifi/fantasy shelves, my eye was caught by Farenheit 451, and its new weird-looking cover. (I disapprove of the cover. It's a man dressed in plate armor made of newspapers that all say "FIRE," and he is bald, and holding a pirate hat also made of newspaper. WTF.) I ran my hands over the front, remarking to myself, "I remember this book." And then I opened it and Guy Montag was being sickened by the "handyman" doctor talking so casually about the poison in Mildred's blood killing her brain. I didn't recognize the part. I only read a line or two and thought that he might have been on the subway when he's saying Lilies of the field, or possibly yelling at the women in his parlor that come to visit Mildred. Anyway, the print looked large and it seemed shorter than I remembered, so I went over to my little nook in the poetry section, where few ever venture, and where, WHOOPEE, there was a chair, for once. I re-read Farenheit 451. It took me about two hours.

Again, how did I miss half that book when I first read it? Honestly. I kept finding quotes that I'd used in my essay. I have no idea what that essay was even about, but I could tell which quotes I'd used, and even how I'd altered them, and perhaps the sentence in which they appeared. But don't ask me what the heck my thesis was, because I'm sure I don't know.

But now that Verzwyvelt (it was tenth grade, right? Maybe it was earlier. Maybe it was seventh grade, with Mrs. Cesar? No, I think it was eighth grade, with Mrs. Sullivan. All of my blonde teachers have run together in my mind, how terrible!) isn't forcing me to read it, I actually liked it. And I think that if I were to make a movie, I would cast Paul Bettany as Captain Beatty, and not just because they both have double t's in their names. At first I thought Clarisse would be Kaylee Jewel Staite, but I don't think Kaylee is delicate enough to play the Clarisse in my mind. The person is niggling at my mind but I do not know who they are, and it drives me a little bit crazy, like the picture of Ginny that I *know* I have seen of someone else who is not Ginny.

Like in orchestra today I was wandering through a daydream and opening closet doors in an imaginary hallway and then this ghoul-woman waving a sword leapt out of one as I opened the door and chased me for a while, and it took my ten minutes before I realized she was actually from Fruits Basket- the ill woman who runs the onsen that Yuki, Kyo, and Momiji take Tohru to for White Day.

(I heart Momiji! Heart heart heart! Especially when he wears the girls' uniform simply because he knows that he looks irrisistably adorable in it.)

OT much?

Yeah, so anyway, for a couple of hours afterwards my mind was still thinking in short, strange Bradbury-sentences. I felt a lot more disposed to like, or at least sympathise with, Montag this time around. Also, heart Faber, also because I was like, "hey, his name is Faber! Like Faber-Castell pencils!" and then in the A/N at the end Ray Bradbury was like "yeah, dude, I named Montag after the paper company and Faber after the pencil company and I didn't even NOTICE, how weird is that?" and I felt smart. I also felt smart for being able to place so many more of the allusions to random literature, like Macbeth. I found that this time, I had a much easier time visualizing what was going on the whole time, and what the settings were like. The first time I read it I was in a constant state of confusion of WHERE ARE THEY WHAT IS GOING ON, but now I get it.

I have also discovered my bitter hatred for the movie. I had not realized just how badly they slaughtered the book until now. I realize that they were still all "Germans are the only scary people that can ever be," but dude, no, they're obviously American, yet Clarisse is in her twenties and British? And all the firemen are German? And Mildred is Linda, because it was a more popular American name at the time? And lots of other much worse things, but I'm not going to turn this into movie!rant.

It was supposed to really be talking a lot more about the book, but just in case it has escaped your notice, I am extremely easily distracted.

Ooo! Chewy hairclip!

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"She looks like she's wearing one of those flimsy, gauzy, hippy-ish blouses that is typically worn with either jeans, or one of those long, wrinkly bohemian skirts. In solid colors sometimes, though usually in paisely or some other mind-bending array of patterns.

Elite Owl's eBay link looks like a pretty faithful representation. I couldn't give a name to what I am describing if my life depended on it.

My ex had one in tan that was so see-through you could... that her... it was a great top.

I'll be in my bunk."

Shoujo manga and Firefly... who ever thought those two would mix?

Also, I was looking at manga at Schuler's the other day and was very bitter at a Shinsengumi shoujo manga thinger. I mean, I don't claim to know anything about Japanese history at all, but this sort of historical fan-wank is just downright disrespectful. These people were soldiers, and considered (according to the few sources I've read) to be among the greatest group of swordsmen Japan had ever seen. Yes, they were human, but they weren't clowns. If I were the ghost of a Shinsengumi member I would haunt the manga-ka. Haunt haunt haunt.

Mmm, I'd like to be a snake. I think that would be nice.

There was a snake in my dream though. It bit me and my mother and six other people and I had to call 911 and talk on speakerphone because I couldn't control my arms anymore. It was really scary. Also I got a puppy. (in my dream.) And I was a son of the Stark house and we lived in a house made of Duplo blocks stacked up really high to make a really precarious bridge above this huge chasm. And then I was that girl from Oklahoma and Curly or whatever his name is was bidding against Jed (can't forget his name, ever, because it was given to him to rhyme with "dead") for my picnic basket, and then I was Hermione at the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum, and I was trying to avoid Jesse Shields. Mr. Fountain said hello and asked the name of my puppy, and I walked in circles around my garage until I rememberd "Jared." And then the Skeksies from the Dark Crystal walked in and yowled at me but I yowled back.

A much more entertaining dream than I've been having lately. I thoroughly enjoyed it, except for the poisonous wooden snake in the MSU agricultural center.

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While the plot and the OCs in movie!Bebop were rather stupid, the music was still good, if different, and the visuals were very, very very nice. Full of "greeblies," little background details that make scenes so much more real. I loved the montages where people were just walking around, and showing the life going on in these cities. Also, Arabic quarter. And just people in the background, leading lives, each the hero of their own story. I like it when movies have background characters like that.

Cut for spoilerish stuff )

I'm tired. I'm supposed to be writing thank-you cards to the Sherrills and the Foxes. I don't want to. *whines* I hate writing thank-you cards.

Oh today I was at Schuler's and I was looking through a book on knitting. There was some pretty cool stuff in it. I should learn some more complicated knitting techniques so that I can make something other than straight-simple scarves.

Nobody was home for most of today, so I turned off all the lights when it got dark outside and made my way around with a candle. I like doing things by candlelight, even though I know the smoke is bad for me.

I got in a bit of trouble though for not visiting Safta. It's terrible how little I care for my own grandmother. Sometimes I chastise myself my telling myself that someday not to far away she will die and then I will regret not spending time with her, and the worst thing of all is that I know I won't. My own grandmother will die and I will not be particularly sad. I'll be sad the way I am when some relative in Israel that I've never met dies. Gah, I really am a horrible person and I don't even feel guilty about it.

How morbid.

I'm tired but I don't want to write thank-you letters, and I have to write thank-you letters before I go to bed or Eema will yell at me. I found my CD of Inigo Montoya singing Yiddish songs though, and that is a happy thing.

Okay, so can Laura please give me a nice list of all the first and second person pronouns in Japanese, and their connotations? If it's not too much trouble.

College is supremely boring. I hate it with a fierce passion. Actually no I don't. There is no fierce, passionate hatred. Merely a dark dread, a whining reluctance to return, each time I escape.

I don't want to go back, to the endless monotony of class and bad food and sitting around in my dorm room doing anything but studying. Orchestra is all that breaks it up, and with my shoulder muscle pulled when I was moving back in, orchestra is two hours of sharp back pain. It's going away now, but for the past week I couldn't concentrate on the music, I was in too much pain. I'm not particularly fond of the music we're doing- it's all Spanish, which means the rhythms are screwy and it's full of hemiolas. I have a little solo which I keep messing up royally, but it'll be okay. Oh did I mention I'm first chair? And my stand partner is Jonars, who I like. He knows Anything But Ordinary as well as any Okemos kid.

I'm just in a bad mood tonight. Complaining and complaining. But hey, that's what a livejournal is for, right?



Nov. 27th, 2005 11:22 pm
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Two updates in one day? DNFTD! It's like Leora never went to college!

I have a tendency not to update here, because in order to update my livejournal from college I have to open the drawer and take out the keyboard, signifying an intent to take some time out of my day to write in my lj when I should be doing homework. It's not really a very interesting phenomenon.

In any case, I wanted to write about my evening. My day was uneventful; I worked on my project. All day long I sat at the computer staring blankly at a blank screen, or a screen covered in scientific gibberish, and read nothing of what was in front of me and wrote even less. (Yes indeed, I have mastered the art of negative writing. I'm just that cool.) But my evening was worth recounting.

I got back to the dorms around five o'clock, expecting to go to the meeting with my chem group. I was nervous; I had gotten nothing done, didn't have much faith in my ability to BS, and felt guilty that I wasn't doing my share of the work. But it turned out that, for who knows what reason, nobody was there. Meeting postponed or cancelled or whatever, and nobody had bothered to tell me. I went up to my dorm room, put my laundry back on my shelf, and meandered around. I wanted to go see Pride and Prejudice, but it wasn't playing at AMC, and the buses don't run to NCG on Sundays, and there are no buses to Celebrations. So I looked at what was playing at AMC, and decided that I'd like to see Harry Potter. It was playing at seven thirty. I got out my bus schedule and realized that the last bus on Sundays arrived at the mall at seven. So I'd get there in plenty of time, but at ten o'clock I'd be stranded at the mall with no way back. I called everyone I could think of to see if I could go with someone and they could drive, but nobody could. Jackie was busy, Laura was busy, the Peters were busy, and all my other friends had left. Turns out it was good I didn't go, though, because then Melissa knocked and said that the meeting was rescheduled for seven.

Seven o'clock found me down in the study lounge, wearing my lovely new gloves and having fun with my group. Nice girls. We actually got some stuff done, then divided up the remaining work and ajourned. Before we left, we noticed that one of the boys that had been studying near us (we'd joked with him a bit, said that he could be in our commercial or perhaps be the person who got water poured on them when we announced the weather) had left behind his black backpack. I went over and picked it up. There was a name tag tied to the top.

"Mazurek, Scott Arthur"


"Oh, I think he's on my floor," said one of my group. "I've seen him around a lot." So I followed her to the fourth floor, and she went to the east-east wing and I went to the west-east wing, which I assumed was the boys' hallway. It was, and I went along, reading the names on the doors until I saw "Dustin" on one and then "Scott" on the next. The door was covered in Star Wars posters, or comic strips about Star Wars. I knocked.


He was short, barely taller than me, and stocky. His hair was dark and he had a small goatee. All in all, rather cute, if I may say. I held up the backpack.

"Ah, sh---" he said. He actually cut off his curse. "Thanks, thanks a lot."
"No problem." I stepped back. "You know, I was supposed to room with you, I don't know if you remember. I'm Leora."
"Oh. Well, pleased to meet you."
"You too."
"See you around."

So, I think things would have turned out okay. Nice guy. Nice looking, too. Friendly, even to strange girls making too much noise in the study lounge and blasting classical music. Likes Star Wars. Mild geek boy. Polite- wouldn't swear in front of a guest.

Not that I'm complaining about the way things turned out, not at all. But nice to know, anyway, for no logical reason that I can come up with.

Anyway, I was absolutely starving and dinner was closed, so I dropped my books off at my room and put on my quilted blue winter coat and went outside. On my way out the door I passed Dustin James, who would have been my suitemate. I said hello, mentioned that I'd just met Scott, and stood out in the rain while I waited for the bus, feeling stupid that I hadn't taken an umbrella or worn a hoodie.

Speaking of hoodies, I'm getting worried that I may have left my NINJ4 hoodie somewhere. That would really really suck; you all know how much I love that hoodie.

I took the bus to the Union and walked to Noodles and Company. I wasn't sure what time it was- I think they were supposed to close at nine on Sundays and it seemed to be nine-fifteen, but the door was open and there were people eating inside. I bought tomato marinara and ate it a little too quickly to enjoy it fully because I was worried about being kicked out, but it was still really good. I burned my tongue a little, though.

After I was done, I left. I always feel guilty about leaving my dishes on the table, both there and at Schuler's. More so here than at Schuler's, because I've more or less gotten used to it in Schuler's.

I was thinking of Schuler's as I walked down the sidewalk in the rain. I wanted more than anything to call up a friend and go to Schuler's and split a peanut butter bar, or maybe one of those new chocolate friazos (how good? Soo good!) and maybe use my full hot chocolate punch card. Hot chocolate sounded really good too. So I walked down to Barnes and Noble to see if I could get hot chocolate- they make sucky hot chocolate but I could add enough honey that it wouldn't matter- and a pastry, if I was lucky. But Barnes and Noble was closed. I wasn't too bitter, since their hot chocolate is not good and they don't really have good pastries. I walked back to the bus stop, a little dejectedly, then at the last minute I doubled back and went into Cosi, a restaurant I'd never been to before. I'm not sure why I decided to go then, but they said "breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert" on a sign above the door, so maybe there'd be some nice brownies or something. There didn't seem to be, and they were starting to close up already, so I got some hot chocolate to go. I ate the whipped cream with a spoon as I crossed the road, then sat at the bus stop in front of the Union and drank the hot chocolate. It was excellent. Much better than Barnes and Noble would have been. I quickly drank the last of it as the bus pulled up, again burning my tongue slightly, but I didn't mind much. Drinking good hot chocolate on a chilly, rainy autumn night is something every girl should do at least once in her life.

I called Paul on the bus ride back, simply because I wanted to hear his voice, and he answered and talked for a little bit about nothing in particular. Then I went back to my dorm room and reread some of those editorials that Laura posted a while back, the ones by an exchange teacher in Japan. I laughed.

It was a good evening. I still have to work though. Mrrrrr.

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Yay for getting up at four in the morning. By which I mean BOO.

Anyway, I have to go pack like a maniac now if I want to be able to run to Barnes & Noble before it closes.

Had a meeting with a new psychologist today. She wants me to keep a journal of my feelings during my week in Mexico and during my week at home between now and when I see her again. Apparently I am not in tune with my feelings enough, and I over-intellectualize everything. Also I am too stoic. Probably because I am Jewish.


Her: So apparently you've had a boyfriend for a couple years now.
Me: *smile, blush* Yes.
Her: HAhahhahahahah sorry. Um, what's his name?
Me: *blush deeper* Paul.
Her: Hahahahaha I'm sorry I'm not laughing at you, I just like the way you smiled when I said that.
Me: *I am past red by now. I am far red. I am stimulating growth and germination in all nearby plants.*

Then I walked to Schuler's and read Wyrd Sisters while sitting by three boys who were immersed in Wicked by Gregory Maguire, Shadow of the Giant by Orson Scott Card, and a third book that I did not see. So that was kinda cool; I didn't look odd sitting there reading a novel, because I was surrounded by random reading boys all sprawled on the floor around me.

And I drank hot chocolate yay.

I'm having fun dressing up in all my summery clothes, deciding what to take with me. It sucks that Paul is not coming, because now it's like, uh, who am I dressing up for, anyway?

Psychologist: Well, it's good that your appearance is not a high priority for you, and I'm not saying it should be. But as a woman, you enjoy dressing up and looking nice, don't you?
Me: Well, yeah. Sure.
Her: And you know how it is when you dress up all fancy and Paul looks at you in that special way, that feels good, right?
Me: *Oh look! Leora just turned infrared!*

Also last night I dreamt that I broke both of Andrew Armstrong's legs and blinded his left eye. Then I woke up and felt really really really guilty.

Mexico mexico mexico

I really hope it's fun this year.

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Of course, I also got a 98 sophomore year, but last year I got a 97, so I still win. I did awesome on scales and much awesomer that I expected at sight-reading, and the Carmen went well and had no major mistakes. The chords near the beginning were not clean, but I came down on the octaves well, so there. It wasn't the most impressive performance, or anything near what I'm hoping it'll eventually be, but it was good enough for today and so I am happy.

Now I will tell you about my day. It has been a long one.

Eight-ish: wake up from dreams about Mr. Coty (my seventh grade math teacher) and Peter Liu and Kabuki theater at Interlochen. Fall back asleep.

Eight-thirty-ish: finally get yanked out of bed and sent to take a shower. I shower and dress in my lovely wine-purple shirt and the black pants with fake pockets. I wear the bracelet Caitlin made for me and the necklace Eyal made. Eema braided my hair, I ate two waffles, a hard-boiled egg, and an osenhaman.

Nine-twenty-ish: Eema dropped me off at Okemos Travel where I practiced. I actually managed to maintain my concentration pretty well this time. I also photocopied my music, in case I flipped out and forgot how to play at the last minute.

Ten o'clock: Eema and Aba pick me up. Eema goes to Beaners and gets coffee and cacao, Aba takes me to Arby's for a milkshake. I number over three hundred measures on the way. We stopped next to Caitlin's car at a red light, and waved to her.

Twelve-ish: arrival at Solo-Ensemble. Who was our student teacher sophomore year? Mr. McMillan? Well, he was in charge of my warm-up room. I met Melody there, and we went to opposite ends of the room and played our Sarasates. Paul arrived and left.

One-twenty-ish: Melody leaves to play the Ziggy. I practice and Mrs. Smith gives me some last-minute lecturing.

One-forty-ish: I play my solo. See above for the performance information. A ton of people came in to listen; I appreciated that. The judge had some good comments, I think.

Two-ten-ish: Caitlin time! She played the Meditations from Thais. Her mother made me work the camera, for some reason, even though she knew how/was sitting next to me. Caitlin sounded really nice. I was saying in my head "if the judge doesn't tell her she has lovely vibrato I'm going to get really mad." I had to leave in the middle of the scales though, to see Paul.

Two-thirty-ish: Paul time. He seemed nervous before he went in, but he played well. I like the Saint-Saens. It's not my favorite piece, but it's nice. I was very impressed. His scales went badly but his sight-reading seemed to go well. He got a 97.

Quarter-to-three-ish: quartet. We warm up *very* briefly in the practice room, then Miss Kesler comes in and gets us. They cut us off just before the awesome major section, which I was bitter about, but whatever. Melody felt really guilty about coming in wrong, and I played kinda out of tune, but overall it went pretty well. We got a one. The judge seemed to know what she was talking about too.

Three-ish: we wait around for Miss Kesler to give us our score sheet so we can get our medals. And wait and wait. Melody gives me a beautiful pink-and-purple necklace that matches my shirt. Paul goes off to watch Mark play in about half an hour, and Peter and Melody and I sit and Peter teaches us some Japanese words while Melody and I fold tiny paper cranes with this really pretty paper she brought. Eventually I go in and get the sheet from Miss Kesler, then Melody and I get our blue medals and drop two off with Peter for him and Paul.

Three-thirty-ish: Melody gets a ride home with me. Much of the car ride is spent in my calling people still at Solo-Ensemble to try and find someone to get my knitting, which I'd forgotten in my warm up room. I even call Mr. Fox to get the cell numbers of Mr. and Mrs. Sherrill. I finally get ahold of Evan, who loses reception before he can tell me if he finds my knitting or not. Peter Liu calls to brag about his 100. Melody and I fold some more paper cranes.

Four-thirty-ish: Melody and I arrive at my house. I show her my silver box and my senior pictures, then change into my light pink sweater that otherwise looks exactly like the shirt I was just wearing. It still matches the necklace. I put my orchestra dress in a bag and Melody drives Mixie to Pizza Hut.

Five-ish: the boys are already there. We order a Full House pizza and ten breadsticks, and eat and eat. It was incredibly fun. I adore my quartet. I never get tired of hanging out with them; they are all so funny. Also the food was wonderful because I was totally starving.

Six-ish: Melody and I go back to her house and change into orchestra dresses. Since we still have an hour of time to kill, we decide to go to Meijer. We found giant, bright red straw hats with purple ribbons and flowers and put them on and wandered around the store. We looked at guinea pigs and miniature hamsters flipping out and toys and dolls and stuffed animals, and we rode the penny horses. I took the carousel horse and Melody took the dinosaur.

Seven-ish: waiting around in the orchestra room for the Collage to start. Talked some to Caitlin and Chris and Katie, and Paul brought me my knitting that Evan had given him (hooray!). Tried to tune while Abishek and Peter Liu sang b-flat. I tried to strangle them both, and Paul knocked Peter Liu off his chair (hooray again!).

Eight-ish: Collage begins. We play well, I suppose. I was out of tune on the finale of the Brahms. Caitlin saved us four searts. I was very bitter that the bagpiper didn't come, also that we had to listen to that girl read Maya Angelou again. I disliked her reading the first time and I disliked it again. Also, what was up with that video presentation for Hymn to the Fallen? Seriously. Just let us enjoy the music; please don't try to make some big patriotic production of it. Also... Bush. *cough cough cough* Right. No. Beauty and the Beast, though, is going to be so much fun, I can tell. I <3 Andrew and Dolan and Rachel.

Ten-ish: Collage ends. I spend some time talking to Chris and Salama, then Eema finds me. I pack up and say hi to Micali, then we go home. I give Safta a program and go to sleep soon after.

Sunday, twelve-thirty-ish: I meet Tanner at Schuler's with my "post-modernist" writing. I also show her Mike's Reality's Modality and a snippet of the chat where Paul attempted to explain post-modernism to me, the part where we decide that A Profound Imperious Whump would make an awesome name for a band. I also talk to Rosalind and her parents for a while. I was a little bitter about that, because I wanted to wander around Schulers, but whatever. Then Melody picked me up and we went to dance.

Three-ish: wheeeee, swing-dancing is so much fun. We learned this strange pivot-y step that Melody and I could both do at the barre but completely fail to do with each other. We also learned the "basket-case" step. Freudian slip, Michael? My stomach hurt at the end, both from twisting and from laughing. We also watched the Mormon dancers on video. "So, does this make you want to go back to college and try out?" "Yes... BACK to college."

Five-ish: class being over, I asked Melody if she wanted to go to Finding Neverland with me, so we called Aba and found out that it was at six. We got directions to Celebrations and off we went.

Five-thirty-ish: we totally did not get lost this time! We were really hungry though, so we went into the Meijers there and bought a loaf of french bread and some Lorraine cheese. We made sandwiches and at them during the movie. We polished off the entire loaf of bread.

Six-ish: since it was the second showing, tickets were only 2.50, which was nice. Also, JOHNNY DEPP HAD A SCOTTISH ACCENT. Sexiest thing evar. The movie was wonderful and touching. We were both crying by the end. I *loved* it and am incredibly glad I went.

Eight-ish: Melody drops me off at home and Paul came over. We angsted for quite some time over not being able to think of anything to do, then worked a little on Soshte.

Twelve-ish: Paul goes home. I go to sleep, and dream about being a Viking with batwings.

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Oh man Caitlin is awesome. So I was reading in Schuler's and looked out the skylight and thought "I need to be outside." So I called Caitlin and asked her to go to Kinawa woods with me, and she called me back when she finished her homework, then off we went.

Woot. I found sticks and we flung snow into the river and learned that it can be rather spongelike, and we made footprints and met some dogs and ownzored the river. (stream.) With boots. Then we stopped at Beaner's for cacao and came home for dinner and Numa Numa, and planned a bit of our Formal Pirate Dinner, and just fun stuff. But it was just great because I really haven't spent much time with Caitlin lately, so this was nice.

So when they tried to light stages with foot candles it didn't work too well because they would blow out whenever someone walked by, and didn't give a very bright light anyway. So they lit slabs of lime on fire, and that burned much brighter and didn't go out as easily. Thus, the origin of the phrase "in the limelight." But these limelights would hurt the actors' eyes. They found it was soothing to be in a room with walls painted dark green. So every good stage had a "green room" where the actors could go and rest their eyes between scenes. Thus the origin of the name "green room." Two phrases for the price of one. Good deal.

Phrases half off this week?

I bought a nice summer outfit today at Charlotte Russe. It has an olive green skirt in layers, kind of- each lower circle has more cloth in it. It goes with a white shirt of the same light material. The shirt has slit short sleeves and a square neck, and wooden beads are sewn all over it in interesting patterns. It has strings to tie on the back, but Eema doesn't like them so she's going to cut them off.

I think I'm going to start posting some of the better pieces that I write for Tanner, just so you all in AP Death can be jealous of the fun prompts I get. So, without further ado:

Prompt: Write a poem including the following lines, in any order:
“I tie the ribbon in a foolish way”
“the delicious fragility of this travesty”
“where we still laugh and wish”

Response: )

Prompt: Read and copy a horoscope for today, not necessarily yours. Then write about a person who’s experiencing that horoscope. (It might be interesting to include that it is Valentine’s Day, but that’s not a requirement.) Approach this seriously, humorously, poignantly, any way that strikes you.

Response: )

Prompt: Select a book from a random shelf in your home library. Copy down the last sentence, and use this line to begin a short story.

Response: )

Prompt: Write a story in second person—meaning you may use only the pronoun you.

Response: )

Also, anyone who has read Waiting for Godot, check this link out:

Yep. Have a good evening everyone, I'll see you all tomorrow. Laura, could you perhaps post directions to the ice skating rink? If you don't read this in time, I'm sure I can just mapquest it, but whatever.

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So I just got back from rehearsing with Mr. Ascheri. Man, I heart the Vivaldi Sonata. It's so simple, and yet fun. The piano part is really hard, so I'm lucky to have someone as good as Mr. Ascheri. The rehearsal went well, even though I was thrown off at the beginning by the addition of the piano part and he was having a hard time with some of the weirder passages. We rehearse again on Thursday, after my lesson.

So this weekend was a very good one. I met with Tanner, for once with most of what she had asked for finished- two short stories and Gertrude and Claudius read. I don't really like the book. It's a nice idea, but I just didn't really like John Updike's writing so much. It was okay. His preoccupation with sex got really annoying. Anyway, after that I wandered around Schuler's for a little bit, ate lunch, bought Megatokyo Volume Three, and then went home. I took a nap until around ten o'clock, when Tamari woke me up. I changed into a black tank top and jacket, Paul picked me up, and we went to his house for about an hour. We watched the beginning of the Shishio fight. I am once more struck by the differences in the pacing of Japanese and American storytelling- not as dramatic as in The Twilight Samurai, but still quite different. No American movie/TV series would DARE to spend the entire episode just before the big climactic fight with the main character CLIMBING STAIRS. I really liked it, but if I were watching it on TV as it was being aired and had been waiting all week with bated breath for the Shishio fight and didn't have the option of seeing the next episode until it came out, I would be going absolutely INSANE. No, I'm not going to see the next episode until at least this weekend, but I could, and that's what matters. If it were impossible, I'd be a raving lunatic. In this case, it merely heightens the anticipation and gives me a lovely warm feeling. Or maybe that's just all the fire. In any case, I enjoyed it.

Then we left for ZAPZONE! Six awesome hours of Soshte, DDR, and laser tag. There were really good people there, and I learned stuff like
- Omega is the best vest
- Jester is the worst
- Blitz fires rapidly and noisily
- Hammer fires one-handed (and also cackles evilly when you're done playing)
- Wildstar has an easy trigger
Also, there was actually some action on the first floor, which I really liked. You may not get as many points, but it's fun. Bases are a lot harder to hit when there are so many people who know what they're doing. Silent Stealth Mode is very different, but also quite fun, and Paul got me more than anybody else. It was just an awesome experience. Oh man I LOVE laser tag. Also I beat Paul at DDR this time, w00t!

On Soshte: It's now mora-timed, with stress accent, and the alphabet is complete (like Inuyasha). And verb conjugation is based on animacy. As far as the culture goes, there are seven houses who don't really like each other much. There is trade between them, but the aristocracy sort of looks the other way. Er... yes. For specifics, slash actual grammar information, you must ask Paul.

You know, I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with the script. It's not very... pretty, really. Perhaps I will make some revisions later on.

Anyway, today was a pretty good day so far. Nothing too eventful, but I drew a good doodle of Fangirl with an umbrella in bio, and pretty much finished my Fine Arts Festival program cover in Art, unless she wants me to do a "final copy." In Spanish we played with whiteboards, which is a rather mindless activity but whatever, in calc I slept (oops), in Study Hall we just sat and talked, or rather Eyal and Sara tried to do homework while I bothered them. In orchestra Miss Kesler told us that the R-K actually wasn't on the required list (Eru curse it all!) and so she gave us a new, simple piece. It's not very fun. Too slow. Too easy. I would much rather play the Glinka. w00t, Glinka! Oh, and in Bio Sara and I decided that we all need to make buttons that say NO! and not specify what we are saying no to. At lunchtime, John was hyper and Paul was tired. I sent Caitlin an awesome e-card for Valentine's Day. Ask her about it. What am I forgetting? I think that's school.

After school, I practiced, of course. It wasn't for very long, or particularly productive, but I practiced. Mostly the Vivaldi, but I tried to run through the last few pages of the Carmen. Unfortunately my fingers started aching so I just went home. After I got home... hm. I went online and read some fic, as well as some webcomics. The new Megatokyo freaked me out. A) DUDE it's Masamichi's wife! And B) AUGH what the heck why on earth did she just draw an enormous kitchen knife please don't kill me Ninja-sama...

I found a Spirited Away fanfic that looked promising, but it's only two chapters long, so darn. Spirited Away totally deserves more goodfic than it has.

I have to go do my homework now. I've got quite a bit- some new stuff in calc, read & take notes on muscles in bio, study for a test on the subjunctive in Spanish, and if I have extra time I can start writing for Tanner. Here are this weeks prompts:

1. Take an invention the world could do without and write a satire showing the exaggerated importance of that invention.

2. Read and copy a horoscope for today, not necessarily yours. Then write about a person who’s experiencing that horoscope. (It might be interesting to include that it is Valentine’s Day, but that’s not a requirement.) Approach this seriously, humorously, poignantly, any way that strikes you.

3. Write about your pet peeve as though it is really a pet. How will you train it? What are its needs? What behaviors does it have that need to be encouraged, discouraged? What does it feed on? Have fun with this!

I don't like them as much as I did last week's. Those were fun. The horoscope one is okay, I suppose, but the others sound boring. I'll probably do the Pet Peeve thinger. Number one is just asking to be stupid. Also I dislike being told "have fun with this!" O.o

So I'm a National Merit Finalist. I guess they must've liked my essay-that-wasn't-an-essay-and-was-totally-too-long or something. Now I just have to write a letter to U of M, telling them about this.

I also got a letter from MSU saying "Look, we put cool stamps on our envelope! You can keep your envelope and start a collection!" No, I'm serious. That was the entire point of sending me a letter. WHAT A HORRIBLE WASTE OF PAPER. I am sorry. Stop sending me mail! My decision is already made! If U of M lets me in, I go there, if not, I go to MSU, either way, it's out of your hands, so leave me alone already!! *pants* I'm okay.

Heh, I just got Caitlin's letter. You're very welcome Caitlin!

Mm, Yehoram Gaon singing Rosa. I like this song.

Homework time... blech.

You know, I've been doodling a lot lately. I'll take some pictures and share them with you all, because you are all so interested. I wish I had a scanner though; taking pictures of paper with a digital camera is just wrong.

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So I woke up around two o'clock and did my math homework and biolab and was about to start on Spanish when I heard that it was a snow day, so I promptly went back to sleep.

I dreamt... that I was one of Saito's daughters, except that he and Tokio were my Eema and Aba, and then someone tried to elect Eema president so people were chasing her with cameras and I ran away through the Markham's backyard to get away. And then there was a war, and I fought in a battle with a big pointy stick with a magic scarf (gold, red, and black, Saito colors, for some reason). And I saw a soldier named... Hogi? I dunno, it sounded vaguely Jewish- die, and I had to get out, but I was in the water caught on the ship that was about to blow up, so I took the batteries out and used the little water-jet-pack type thing to get away, but the other soldier's ships kept chasing me, so I disabled the homing devices on their ships, and they went past me. Then the battle was over, and it was night, and I had to run, and I found his friend from the other regiment standing by a cliff, waiting for him, and I told him that Hogi was dead, and that this soldier had to come with me if he wanted to escape. He had sort of scraggly black hair that reached just past his shoulders, and a long face with slightly hooded eyes, and he wore a tunic and leggings. We ran through the dark and I showed him the narrow, worn, winding stone stairs down the mountain, and we leapt down them as our pursuers searched the cliffs above. Down and down and down we climbed, and then we reached the road at the bottom that lead uphill again, and it was sort of like the streets of Playa del Carmen, but colder, and the people were Aisan instead of Mexican. I waved my stick with the scarf at them, and they recognized me as one of Saito's daughters (and fighters), and called out to me. The soldier talked to one of the shopkeepers, and she gave him a violin, and he played on it for us and then gave it back. I talked to my friend Misao, who worked in the shop at the end of the street, the one with the beautiful windchimes outside- with dolphins and angels. Then I was at the mall, except that there were two levels to it. I was on the first level, in Schuler's, with Caitlin. Then we saw Chris and Paul, and Caitlin ran away and hid in the Winnie the Pooh section so that Chris wouldn't find her. Paul and Chris caught up with me, and then we all went up the escalator, except then Paul left. Chris informed me that he was going to start flirting with girls to make Caitlin jealous. We got to the second floor. There was a fountain there, in the middle. It was a pretty fountain. Two girls were standing by it. And then Chris walked over to them and attempted to flirt. Apparently his version of flirting is talking really fast. They spent a lot of time blinking at him, then their mother came and they left. Chris, dejected, went home, and I was getting hungry, but I didn't feel like going downstairs to the food court, so I found a pizza place on the second level. It was very small and out of the way, but it had *really* good pizza, and for only four dollars, which was cheaper than the Little Caesars on the first floor. I ate my pizza. It was very good. Then I was suddenly back in that Rossini Opera House where we played two years ago, and I was getting ready to perform, but I couldn't tune my instrument, because nobody would give me an A. So I just tuned by ear as best I could and played. It didn't go too badly, I suppose, considering. Then I was in our old van, with the Rothfelds and a lot of boxes, and Talya brought her turtle, which was named Sandwich, or "Sendveetch," in Hebrew. That turtle was INSANE. It was really big, first of all, and it poked its head through one of my boxes and pulled out my German hat, looking pleased with itself. I picked it up and held it upside down in my arms, and he started wriggling like a puppy, trying to look cute. I put him down, but then the car started flooding, so I sat on top of a box with him on my lap, but he just kept poking me with his nose and being all "aaaaeee" even though he never made a noise. Then I woke up again. It was around one-thirty.

Eema made me pick the pictures I wanted to get wallets/big versions of, and then she left, and I made myself lunch and Chris called. He and John wanted to go sledding. So I said great, and they said they'd call Paul so I took a shower and then found my snow gear and proceeded to lock myself out of my house.

I got bored waiting for Paul to come give me a ride to Hiawatha hill, so I went across the street and asked the neighbor kids if they wanted a snowball fight. They did, and it raged for quite a while. They are absolutely merciless- I was trying to go easy on them, you know, not hit them in their faces or whatever, but believe me, they had no such reservations. Also their dog kept trying to knock me down. Then Paul came, after picking up John, and we put the sleds in the trunk and went to Hiawatha hill. But there were a ton of people there, so we went back to my house and met Chris there, and we had an awesome snowball fight. I stole Chris's shovel and used it to throw snow at other people, and it was really good. Then we went to the sledding hill and scared away lots of people and sledded a lot and fought a lot and stuff, and it was so totally cool you have no idea. It has been a long time- a little less than two years- since I had the opportunity to act like "one of the guys," so this was really fun. I pulled John back on the sled while he sang Troika. We all tried to sing Russlan and Ludmilla, which did not work. Oh, and John thanked me, he said he'd never tackled a girl before. I laughed at him.

I got the key from the backyard and let us in. I made everyone leave their snowstuff on the porch. My hair was absolutely filled with ice. I let it down and shook it out, which made John compare me to a character in James Bond after they come in from the snow- I haven't seen any of those movies, so somebody please explain whether or not that's an insult. Then I started making hot chocolate, but then John and Chris had to go. Paul stayed, though, for another hour, and I showed him what I've got so far of my art project. It is bad. I was ashamed. But he liked my sketches of Battousai fighting a killer whale. Apparently, the killer whales were the most feared defenders of the Tokugawa Shogunate during the Bakumatsu. Whatever. Then I did some more sketching after he left, and now my parents have gone to pick up Omer, because his flight is very late. Now I have to go learn Spanish. Darn.

Anyway, it's been a good day- thanks everyone.

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Those of you who know me even vaguely know how protective I am of anything that is MINE. At five o'clock this morning, my mother threatened to break everything on my shelves if I didn't get out of bed. She threw my blanket at it, knocking down two birthday girls, the fisherman I bought at Suzuki Workshop when I was six or seven, and the first cat I painted in Mexico, when we went to Cozumel. These things mean a lot to me, especially the cat. Fortunately none were injured in the fall, but it still really scared me that Eema would lose her temper like that. I was furious but of course couldn't show it, because that would only make the situation worse. So I think I'm going to go to Schuler's today and not come home.

Also yesterday I had the hiccups. In an attempt to startle me out of them, Paul threw his watch at me. He certainly didn't mean to hurt me, but it hit me in the mouth, and quite hard. It wasn't that it was so painful. You could have hit me ten times harder in the shoulder and I would have barely blinked. But whenever I'm hit in the face, I instinctively and completely involuntarily start to cry. So I did. He and Evan thought I was just laughing at first, so they were laughing along, except suddenly they realized there were tears in my eyes. That made Paul feel really bad. I tried to make light of it but I don't think it worked.

So at 9:30 I need to be at church to rehearse the Messiah. Have I mentioned yet how SICK I am of churches and Christianity? If anything, Credo has made me far less open-minded. I am sick and tired of Christmas. I hate Christmas. I hate having to sit in a church and listen to people preach Christianity. If I had my way I would never set foot in a church again. But I'm playing in one in three hours, so I have until then to write about Hamlet before my mother disowns me.

I thought this was vacation. I'm supposed to be enjoying myself. I have been perfectly miserable as soon as I stepped into my house. Everyone seems to be constantly angry with me. Everyone seems to get even angrier as soon as I give the slightest hint that I am not incredibly cheerful.

Well, guess what? I am not cheerful. I'm really upset and I want to be left alone. If I had a car I would totally run away right now. I don't know where I would go. Far away. Maybe north.

Eru, I'm so tired.

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Er, it's from a song that I learned in some riding lesson or other. Janine would always play country music. Not my fault. And when I say "boys" I mean "girl," and when I say "girl" I mean me. But whatever.

I'M HOME!!!!!

I'm very happy about this fact. So happy that I baked a loaf of bread. But I fell asleep just as I was about to put it in the oven, and so Eema baked it for me when she woke up, and the crust is a bit overdone. Also, it didn't rise as much as it should have. But it's still good! Then this morning afternoon I went to Schulers and read part of Beast by Donna Jo Napoli, as well as the first book of Love Hina. A lot of people have compared Megatokyo to it, and so since I like Megatokyo, I thought I'd check out Love Hina as well. I'm not seeing similarity. I'm seeing contrived plot. Seriously. More plot devices and D.E.M.s than you can shake a stick at. But whatever, it's (shoujo?) manga, that's expected. Oh, and I also read the first book of CLAMP. Kinda random, plot's a bit slow, but it'll probably pick up later on. I saw the most beautiful copy of LotR in the Barnes and Noble on the way home! *squeal* Too bad it was kinda seventy-five dollars. He makes the company jump when he plays reville; he's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of company B...

Someone let me know when/where frisbee is. I just bought a new Nathan frisbee and am eager to play. I was doing pretty well at Credo. They called me D-girl (short for Defense-girl), but two nights ago they said I was "beastly," "malicious, and "ferocious." Also, maybe a week before that, "this girl's got sport!" I am most proud of this, especially of being called "beastly" twice in one game.

w00t. Ph33r teh sp0rt.

Anyways, call me, 'cause I'm home. Hooray.

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That's a line from some song or other, but I can't place it. Anyway, I love summer so very much. So much time to spend with my friends and my boyfriend, reading or writing or drawing or just sitting around and putzing, but thinking mostly. And practicing, Carmen Fantasy and guitar. Listening to pretty music right now, a terribly funny song but it's such a lovely melody. A new shinyshiny cell phone, DC, Cedar Point, and now home. *happy sigh* Schuler's today. Met Ayano there, consequently got no reading done because we spent the whole time talking. Man, I've missed Ayano. I haven't gotten the chance to talk to her in forever, and she is so darn cool. I'm glad she's sticking around a bit longer.

Anyway, so I bought The Poisonwood Bible for AP English and volumes 1 and 2 of Megatokyo, which made me very happy. YAY MEGATOKYO. As Ayano commented, Fred "Piro" Gallagher is "such a fanboy," but whatever, that's just what his character is like, and it doesn't matter really because he is balanced by the wonderful insanity that is Largo. I printed off a picture of Pirogoeth or Piroko, one of my favorite characters, and I'm going to color it. Purty. I realized earlier that the relationship between the two main characters in a story I came up with in DC bears some resemblance to the one between Piroko and Largo. Actually, now that I think about it, they're not really all that similar. Meh, whatever.

Anyway, in DC, I was planning out the story as we were walking along the really long reflecting pool from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial. (I was wearing my red shirt with the collar; Eema seemed to think this was important to the story somehow.) And, very randomly, some guy walking in the opposite direction just holds up a camera (disposable, so I know he wasn't some photographer taking street pictures for a class or something, and besides, if he had been, he'd know that he needed to ask my permission, if not give me money. I know, my sister's taken photography classes, and she always asks people's permission to take street pictures, and then pays them. She took a really lovely picture of these two homeless guys once. Er, tangent much?) and takes a picture of me. Says nothing. Just- *click,* walks on. Was a little bit unnerving.

He was cancelled out, though, by the Frisbee Guy that we met on the Metro. Some guy walked onto the train spinning a Nathan frisbee on the tip of his finger. I said "frisbee!" out of instinct. So what does he do? He throws it at me. We spend the rest of the train ride (and the wait at the station when changing trains) throwing the frisbee back and forth and talking. He was from Pennsylvania, and trying to get into Georgetown Law School (where Jocelyn is). He has a friend who goes to U of M, though.

What else interesting happened? Jason made an astute observation. "Mrs. Sherrill, it has not ceased raining all day." Thank you, we didn't notice. I was a bit annoyed that he kinda GOT US LOST IN DC, but he offered to carry me if I collapsed, so, er, I'm still bitter. I was appointed a Rat Overlord by Mark, since Greg and I invented Rat Music (Squeek chitter squeek mah homie!). We ate twice at a noodle store that I will someday kidnap. Good noodles there, really good noodles. The Museum of Natural History rocked as usual. I love that place. We also saw the space section of the Air and Space Museum, which really doesn't interest me at all, but Mark liked it, and anyway, we didn't spend too much time there. Saw all the monuments twice (and ended up with incredibly sore feet). We went to Union Station at one point, and I got to go to the Au Bon Pain there and remenisce to myself. Also checked out the bookstore across from it, and discovered that Gregory MacGuire has come out with a new book, based off of A Christmas Carol. That was nice. At one point we met up with the Sherrill's old neighbors and Mrs. Sherrill's good friend. Anyway, we were driving past the Japanese-American Memorial and she asked who knew about it. I, of course, could tell her the whole story, and she remarked how nice it was to find a young person who knows her history. I just looked over at the monument and thought "thank you, Blue Iris." Also, we all rode the carousel on the Mall twice. I *heart* that carousel so much. Mrs. Sherrill rode the Suehorse-Seahorse. I have a picture of that, but it came out all blurry. I also have a picture of the Washington Monument, Shuyu asleep on the Metro, the Ghetto Bear, and Ghetto Bear + Sara. At the hotel in Pennsylvania I went swimming. Paul was being a poopyhead (to steal Eyal's word) and wouldn't come along. Actually pretty much everyone was, the only people I managed to convince were Mark and Jason. In other news, Jason cannot swim.

Really though, I spent the majority of my time getting from point A to point B, by car, on foot, or riding the Metro.

I love the Metro so much, have I mentioned? Well, aside from getting abandoned on it last time, of course (so scary!). It's just cool and... yeah. Except for Jason just randomly telling his life's story to random strangers on it. Yeah. That was a fun night, in a way- we were all drunk on comradeship and sleep-deprivation and disorientation from wandering around the huge city with no idea of how to get home. We were just saying the craziest, often stupidest stuff, and laughing hysterically at everything. Doo- doo- doooo!*

*Er, not really drunk, you understand, just crazy enough that we seemed that way. Come on, it's US. We are... yeah. Not the type to get within six feet of alcohol, ever.

Yeah, there were lots of quotes, but they're all written down in Mrs. Sherrill's mapbook... I'll ask her if I can borrow it to transcribe them.

Then Paul took me to Cedar Point. That was lots of fun, and he rode the carousel three times. I rode it lots more, of course. Mark bought an alien hat with poseable antennae, so at one point I stole it and fixed them so that they spelled out "YO". Of course, once he put it on, I realized that it only said "YO" when viewed from the back; from the front it said "OY". Er, oops. I felt like Karen, with her K in the mirror. Dragster was down for repairs, but we went on pretty much everything else, including the Demon Drop. I discovered that that thing gets no less terrifying as you get older. Yaaah. Fun, though. There were these two guys who ended up standing behind us in line twice, which was kinda weird, but whatever. Paul and I discussed ideas for Beowulf Macbeth most of the day. We came up with some really nice stuff, too. Unfortunately, filming the next day kinda didn't happen.

The next day, I ended up biking all over creation, or at least Okemos. By which I mean, nobody was home to take me to my guitar lesson, so I biked to Melody's house, strapped her guitar to my back, and she biked with me to Mark's house in Tacoma Hills. My lesson went pretty well; I learned four chords, four chord progressions, and a scale. It might not seem like a lot, but please keep in mind that I'd never so much as touched a guitar before, so we had to start out with "this is a pick. This is a fret." I'm getting pretty good at it now, I think. I hope. Er. Right. Anyway. Then I biked home at breakneck speed, trying desperately to keep ahead of the rain, because I HAD A BORROWED GUITAR STILL STRAPPED TO MY BACK. I made it, in the end; there were a few drops as I pulled into my driveway, but the actual rain held off until I was inside, just like I'd been yelling at it to do the whole ride. My neighbors looked at me kinda funny. It was really exhausting though.

So basically, what with walking all over DC and Cedar Point and all that biking, my legs are really strong now. Of course, what with not doing anything at all today and yesterday and the day before, that's all negated, but whatever.

Well, I did have a lesson on Thursday. It went... er, I'm not going to say "well," because I'd only had two days to practice. But it wasn't too terrible. Er, actually, I'm going to die. CARMEN FANTASY. YAAAAAAAAA. So much fun, but so much impossibility... argh... *dies*

Then yesterday, Caitlin and I went to see Around the World in 80 Days. I'm not so sure how it got good reviews. It was entertaining, in a way, but left no impression on me. If you actually try to *think* about it, you just end up going "gee, that was incredibly stupid." So you just have to suspend disbelief REALLY WELL. But I liked that Phileas Fogg was a coward, and that even when he was being brave, he was still completely incompetent, and anything he did that was "heroic" was pretty much just accidental or sheer luck. It's nice to have protagonists like that every so often. Also... JOHN CLEESE! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, in conclusion, here is an animation that someone has as their avatar on the Megatokyo forums that I thought was just incredibly cute, because I'm an idiot like that and just go "moving thingy!" and am hypnotized for the next five minutes or so.
Little Green-Haired Dancing Thinger

I guess this is a bad essay, because it didn't come full circle or anything. Whatever.

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I love Prokofiev’s Lt. Kije suite. It’s just really fun. I played an arranged version in ninth grade orchestra and then the real version at Interlochen that summer. Logan played the trumpet solos. Apparently, all the trumpet players that year were really hot. I couldn’t see them from where I sat, though. Just Logan. But he was an idiot. Oh, and that other trumpeter, the one who looked EXACTLY like that kid in my lit class who couldn’t read to save his life. Basically the story is something like this: the Czar reads a military report that says “...the lieutenants, however...” and misreads the word for “however” as the name of a lieutenant, Kije. He asks after this “Kije,” and since nobody wants to tell the CZAR that he made a mistake, they make up a young, brave hero. The Czar takes an almost paternal interest in Kije’s career, and the story grows- Kije falls in love, and er... goes for a sleigh ride? Or something. Anyway, the Czar decides that he really wants to meet this Lieutenant, after hearing so many good things about him. So they quickly invent a heroic death in battle for him. OH well. Good story.

Schuler’s got new seals. I was happy. Now they just need some variety in their sealing wax and everything will be fine. I also read Gregory McGuire’s Mirror Mirror, or at least the first half. Disturbing book. I don’t like it as much as I liked Wicked. I think my main problem is all this political intrigue that goes on. I can never follow it: “He’s evil, right, and so’s she, and he’s probably dead... and now he’s dying over there and nobody knows why... and ODE that’s just wrong. And you? You’re dumb! So he meets this lady, right, and has to physically stop her from killing her own son, and then he charges her to take care of his daughter whom he loves so much... yeah, um, dude, the word for that is STUPID.” That’s much of my reaction. I re-read part of TTT, too, and was all *hearts* at Sam because he glares at Faramir as if he is a young hobbit who’s been “fresh” after being caught in the garden (Faramir is, I mean). Sam is just so darn endearing. But not as much as Sara, because she is bloody endearing.

They say it’s going to snow tomorrow. That would be nice. I like the snow. I like it very much. *yawns* I’m tired, though. I got to eat Hanukkah gelt today. Eema bought only two bags; I was very annoyed. She’s supposed to buy a box. She usually does. This has not been a very good year, in terms of holidays. Oh well, whatever.

I SO do not want to go to school. Ever again. Really, I don’t. And this Macbeth essay sucks. I hate it. I will kill it and jump up and down on its pitiful remains. *hugs Franklin*

Aba has decided that he and I can sing a duet in the Collage concert. Ha. Ha ha. I don’t think he’s heard me try to sing since middle school. We sang “Mical sheli” which is a fun song, but nothing that can be sung in an auditorium. It’s a song for long car trips, like Suku or Tumbala. When you can sing songs that nobody knows the words to and that probably don’t make sense anyway and you can just wail and belt to your heart’s content and call it harmony.

Character sketches for the PPC are not going all that well. One or two are passable, I suppose, but it’s nothing that anybody’s actually going to be impressed with. What the heck, it’s cartooning. You’re not supposed to agonize over this sort of thing in cartooning. You’re supposed to go, “His mouth is bigger in this panel than his whole head was in the last panel? Yay! Now they can tell that he’s speaking!”

Hee hee. Calvin’s discussion on “high” and “low” art with Hobbes. Man, Calvin and Hobbes rocked. What does Bill Watterson do now? That guy had so much humor and stuff. He is making someone laugh until their stomach hurts somewhere, just doodling Calvin and Hobbes on napkins in restaurants or whatever.

My eyeballs feel like they’re made of milk. Grrr. *goes to sleep* I hate this stupid internet ban. I want to post this. It’s not like I can’t procrastinate without distractions. I can be distracted by a blank wall. I was last night, I just sat there and stared at a blank page in my notebook the whole time.



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