Sep. 23rd, 2014 05:21 am
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trying to read three different pages of text in three different fonts, persons, and tenses is really disorienting.
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22634 / 50000 (45.27%)

The way I'm doing this is trying to add another 50k words to my fic by the end of November. On October 31st I had ~111,400 words total, 42k of them continuous from the beginning. So I'm basically trying to reach 161,400 words. Which is, btw, longer than The Hobbit, The Two Towers, or The Return of the King. It's not longer than Fellowship, Fellowship is like 177k. It's also not as long as Half-Blood Prince, and OotP is like twice as long, whut.

Right, I should be writing right now instead of typing this up. Back to work, shibi.

134034 / 161400 (83.04%)

eta: part II is 86,194 words long
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Y'know, ever since the internet happened, back in, like, fifth or sixth grade, I've always hated the transient nature of anything on it. Because there was this beautiful Temeraire-esque story told from the perspective of the dragon Keska the Silver, who had just been assigned a new captain after the death of her beloved General Ashryn. The characters- Keska, Ashryn, and the new captain, whose name I've forgotten- were all so wonderfully fleshed out and had virtues and flaws and dude, for a piece of original fiction on someone's personal webpage on the internet that I found when I was, like, nine or ten, it was insanely awesome. Seriously, it was all very very Temeraire. I have my suspicions as to its author.

Anyway, it's obvs. long gone. Long gone. Wow, is it ever gone. I don't think I ever even knew the url, I always just followed a trail of links from Vivian Chang's webpage...

I wish I'd saved it. It was honestly very good.

I would save bits and pieces of discussion from the PPC boards, filk and fill-the-plothole and clever remarks and the entirety of The Great Sex Debate. I saved each and every AIM chat I ever had- there are over 200 with Paul alone (the one where he asks me out is number 14, IIRC). I save icons I like, drawings and pieces of art that I like, I missed downloading mistful's fanfic before she took it down, e-mailed her requesting it to no avail, and mourned for months before some charitable soul e-mailed it to me in response to my shameless begging in her journal. When Tanarian announced that she planned to take down her fic, I spent a panicked few hours saving all of it. I printed off S&A fanfiction, unfortunately missing out on a few of my favorites before they disappeared, and all of seperis' analyzation of ST:reboot with the accompanying discussion. I printed off The Dead Isle, before it gets edited, because I *like* it like this. I saved a poem or two from Ayano's site rainrain. I saved every scene with hints of Bart/Carry for fear that Sam didn't ship them and would later cut them out. I saved rallalon's In Human Hands. I saved Turning Point and Full Circle. I saved every production photograph of last summer's Macbeth. I saved various R&G fanfics. More recently, I save vids I like, though I was too late to catch many that I had loved dearly- the Defiant one set to King Nothing, Kirk/Spock set to Take Me or Leave Me, and the very first fanvid I ever saw and what remains one of the best I have ever seen, the Viktory set to Once Upon a December.

Man, every time I remember something having been awesome, and go to look for it again, only to find it gone- I hate that. I hate most when the *creator themselves* takes it down for whatever reason. I know I'm supposed to just respect their wishes in those situations, but I can't help but resent it. I can never be sincerly understanding when they're all like "oh, I hated that fic, I didn't want anyone reading it." Because, well- dammit, I didn't hate that fic and I would like it back plzkthx.

I ought to work as an archivist, or in a museum or something. I like to preserve things.

(where does today meet yesterday?)

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
(Blue skies
Smiling at me
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see

Singing a song
Nothing but bluebirds
All day long

Never saw the sun
Shining so bright
Never saw things
Going so right

Noticing the days
Hurrying by
When you're in love
My, how they fly

Oh, blue days
All of them gone
Nothing but blue skies
From now on)

They are pretty much an exercise in frustration. Of the one that's been plagueing me for the past week or so, I have metaphorically crossed out "Meijers," because Meijers, bless them, are open 24/7. I have bought some workout clothing and also, a new saucepan. (saucepan! I love my new saucepan! I keep going over just to stare at it, all "look, look, that saucepan, it is mine!" because I'm kind of the weirdest dork you'd ever hope to meet. Saucepan! I cannot wait to use it on something! Perhaps I shall make sauce! Or hot chocolate!) And, of course, groceries. I must now avoid spending money for a while. No more pizza deliveries/coffee. I will justify the expense of a ticket to Avatar if I can manage to find the time to go again, or possibly Sherlock Holmes, because from the trailer it didn't look like it would be to my taste but I've been hearing some good things.

Orchestra was kind of long because I was drop-dead exhausted, the kind where I try to focus on the music and the page shivers before my eyes and I spend all my will trying not to drop off. It's not a fun feeling. Neither is sticking one's face in the drinking fountain in an attempt to make it go away. It's all... "great, now I can't keep my eyes open AND ALSO I HAVE BRAINFREEZE."

Mmmm, reading K/S and it is my favourite kind of guilty-pleasure romance, because I adore those stories about the churning hopelessness of love long unrequited, the endless silent utterly helpless wanting, the aching useless knowledge that everything you are and all the world beside would still be entirely unworthy and nothing will ever change that, where even if contrary to all sense of reason you are one day granted their love in return, it will still be a long lightheaded deliriousness of fearful uncertainly, of too long spent convincing yourself not to hope to override it all at once, the persistance of but surely this cannot be allowed. One of the hardest lessons to learn in this world, I always think, is that loving something doesn't make it yours; in more specifically human terms, that you can love someone enough to be willing to die in agony if it will guarantee them a pleasant day, and still they will owe you nothing. And I love- love, love, love- stories about that kind of relationship, with the caveat that IT HAS TO END HAPPILY, OKAY. There can be pain and pining and angst piling up forever and I do love it but only if they end up together and happy. There needs to be comfort to balance the hurt, otherwise I just sit there bitching out the authoress for hours and am forever bitter and traumatized. I'm looking at you, damn modern!AU Kenshin/Kaoru fic where they get caught trying to escape to their new lives and she has to steal his memories to save his life, and also you, Viktory fic I read my freshman year in college, AUGH that was such a bad idea to read when I was already so very deeply lonely. But then I find a fic like Time Enough where there's that scene where Jack is pleading with Ianto not to distance himself and Ianto's just like "dude, why do you think I gave you that key in the first place, HINT: IT IS NOT BECAUSE I DO NOT LOVE YOU" and I have read it like a billion times now, and In Human Hands is still a WIP and I can forsee no possible ending that ends well and I'm terrified but I'm still hoping, and this K/S fic is a WIP too so-

here's hoping.

Also I have groceries now! I love groceries! I just made spaghetti with my new spaghetti and my new DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI SAUCE that has DELICIOUS GLUTEN, because I couldn't justify buying actual tasty spaghetti sauce until the jar I had inherited from Tamar had run out, so FINALLY. I have new delicious spaghetti sauce and it has mushrooms (mushrooms!) and it's delicious, also, parmesahn cheese and spaghetti cooked to delicious and I LOVE FOOD.

Also milk and honey! And orange juice, and tortillas and cheese and new salsa because they still have not restocked lime salsa, so we will see how this green stuff works out.

Aaaaaand another sleep-deprived day. Gorramit.

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Saw Enchanted. Knew it was fairly bad, but I figured: James Marsden, right? There is a lot I will put up with for James Marsden. Also Idina Menzel. And it wasn't as bad as I was expecting, actually, well, no, it was, but mostly I was just distracted the whole time by CYCLOPS WITH EYES, ALSO, A SWORD.

Just came back from my second concert in three days. went well, good pieces, if they all had to grow on me, that's okay. Bernstein has gone up in my estimation of him, again, and Ralph Votapek is amazing. A surprising (for me, anyway) number of the Symphony orchestra are married- they mostly don't wear rings, for ease of playing instruments, but you hear people refer to "my husband" or "my wife" casually when they talk. It's the first time I've really been among a group of people I almost consider peers that that's happened to me. (they're still nearly all older, and they are all much much better than me. Except my stand partner, and for all that I really like him- he's so nice, and friendly, he really is- he's got something against mutes. Which, I won't lie, bugs the heck out of me.

I'm at my house right now. Eema's setting things on fire lighting all of our halloween decorations. My parents are going to Mexico for halloween. I'm kind of doubtful that I'll be doing anything. In fact I'll likely be working. But I'll look into getting out of work on the seventh, and maybe orchestra too if I can wrangle it.

Goodbye Ravel's Alborada del Grazioso, goodbye De Falla's Nights in the Gardens of Spain, goodbye Bernstein's Age of Anxiety. (I had lots of anxiety about that title. What a pretentious title. There was even a movement titled "the seven stages," argh.)

Goodbye Bartok's Romanian Dances, goodbye Beethoven's Emperor Concerto, goodbye Copland's Rodeo.

GOODBYE CARLOS BOTERO. I think I may cry. No more Prince. I am really quite awfully saddened by this.

I'm not in the opera orchestra, which I expected, and am not too disappointed by, because EROICA. (Napoleonic symphonies for the win.)

Have been writing epically!

-Five Captains Ianto never served under (e.g. Janeway, Mal, Lawrence, Sharpe, WWI!Jack, etc.)
-Five Constables Torchwood didn't retcon (like Fraser! And of course PC Andy)
-immortal!Ianto fic, or at least in which he doesn't age, though he doesn't know if he can be killed. (I don't know either.)
-Five people who never loved the Defiant and one who did (I love the Defiant. Love, love that little ship. But I don't count.)
-Nine/Rose adventures

etc. etc. etc.

I realized yesterday that I almost never read Harry Potter fic. Oh, once in a while, if I see something recommended, or if I can easily find something Viktor/Hermione, and I read the ones in the femgen ficathon (Madam Rosmerta! Remus' great-grandmother was a gypsy!). But not very often.

Mleh. Just killing time until the pie is warmed up. Going now. Then home, to sleep.


Fic meme!

Sep. 19th, 2008 08:59 am
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Remember the one I did a while back, with one sentence/phrase from each WIP? Here are some more recent ones. Gen unless a pairing is mentioned.

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Title: Five diplomatic missions that Sheppard’s team inadvertently screws up, and one that they don’t
Summary: Sheppard's team inadvertently screws up some diplomatic missions.

“Should we be doing that too?” Sheppard mused.

“I can’t do that,” McKay snapped. “I’d sprain something.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off either,” Ford murmured doubtfully. “Teyla could.”

“It does not seem to be expected,” Teyla answered. “They do not look at us as though we are doing something wrong, nor are they greeting each other in this fashion. It must be a ritual for welcoming strangers.”

Fandom: The Music Man
Working Title: The Rivals of My Watch
Summary: Marcellus' backstory and history with Greg Prof. Hill.

He’d just read Hamlet, all the way through, and he’d stumbled over some words but he’d read it and he’d tried to pronounce words like they were special, the way Greg did, and strode up and down and moped up and down and wept up and down and raged up and down and gone insane up and down and duelled up and down and died dramatically, eight times.

Fandom: xxxholic
Working Title: Sweden
Summary: Watanuki is a cook! Doumeki is the pirate that kidnaps him off the ship! They FIGHT CRIME! work for Yuuko, the Pirate Queen. They fall in love. Or else Watanuki's suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Take your pick.

He was still missing the palace, two days later, when Satoko was still too sick to come out of their room despite the ginger tea he prepared for her, and he was frantically trying to do everything himself. If she had been there she would have scolded him for it, but if she had been there he wouldn’t have been trying to do everything by himself and really by this point she was just being stubborn, he thought uncharitably. She wouldn’t have been seasick if they’d stayed on land like man was meant to do. There was a knock at the door.

“I am terribly terribly busy!” screamed Watanuki without turning around. “So unless you are Satoko and you are feeling better, go away!”

“I am sorry to disturb you,” said Person-Who-Was-Not-A-Recovered-Satoko, opening the door. “Can I help?”

“Can you slice daikon into identical, minuscule pieces?”


Fandom: Hamlet
Title: Fortinbras' sons
Summary: Horatio studies political theory. Shakespearean Drabble, 140 words.

Kings should not be raised princes, Horatio thinks sometimes, though he cannot think of a good alternative. He devotes time to it, in quiet corners of the university library, comparing philosophers’ ideas of what makes a man what he is and what makes a child the man he will grow to be.

Fandom: Hamlet
Working Title: in arms
Summary: Fortinbras/Ophelia. Yes, Ophelia. Yes, after she goes insane. Yes, I know I'm going to hell.

He could feel her heart beating like a trapped bird’s against his chest. She could have broken away without effort, but instead stood perfectly immobile, as though it were she who was trying not to frighten him.

“I am called young Fortinbras,” he whispered.

“I am called far ruder things,” she answered in a clear voice. Fortinbras stepped back slightly, and the girl tilted her face up to his inquisitively.

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Working Title: Insolence
Summary: Norrington as a young midshipman is taken under the wing of a topman named Joseph Pitts, who teaches him useful things, like cursing.

He didn’t speak to the lieutenant, didn’t even stand in the man’s line of sight, just waited a few yards away and radiated idleness. It was something Joseph was very good at, and something the lieutenant was especially good at detecting.

Fandom: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Title: Because Hamlet has his pirates, and Viola has her Captain, and Sebastian has his Antonio, Ferdinand and his party have Prospero, and they’re on a ship with audible if not onstage sailors, so who’s to say our boys can’t have Convenient Rescuers of their own?
Summary: R&G nearly starve to death in a lifeboat. But they're rescued. Multi-chaptered!

He went to tell the prisoners, himself. The first mate disapproved of the unnecessary risk, he knew, but he walked into their cell to talk to them face-to-face, which he felt a man deserved.

“I do not know your crime,” he said. “It does not make a difference. I will arrange for the chaplain to visit you, so that you may make confession, and then you will be put off in a lifeboat. Your chances of survival are infinitesimal, but it will be enough of a chance to hopefully satisfy the consciences of my men.” They made no reply, simply sat there together and looked at him. He wondered if the ropes had injured their voices. “I realize that it is of no comfort to you, but know that my conscience, at least, will never feel itself clear of this deed. That I kill out of necessity does not ease my mind, as I am certain it cannot ease yours.” He cleared his throat. “I would know your names, at least, and if there is any small request that lies within my power to fulfil...” The prisoners exchanged glances. One of them closed his eyes, as if exhausted, and leaned against the other, who unhesitatingly wrapped his arm around his companion’s shoulders. He looked up at the captain for a moment, his expression bitter and bewildered; then lowered his gaze to the crown of the head resting on him, and then he, too, closed his eyes. The captain left.

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Working Title: Eve
Summary: AU in which Jack finds ickle!Will after he gets off the island, and raises him. Meanwhile in Port Royal, Elizabeth, not having prettypretty blacksmith's apprentices to distract her, spends some more time around the fort and takes a more active role in the defense of Jamaica. Norribeth.

Oh, being on the Dauntless still felt like she was walking on solider ground than ever existed on land, was like walking on stone, if stone could sail, if stone could be beautiful, but standing on Interceptor was like standing on wind, wind that could laugh.

Fandom: Harry Potter
Working Title: Shipfull is totally a word
Summary: Viktor/Hermione, did you really expect anything else? Anyway, their courtship.

“I really am fine,” she said again. “It’s not going to reassure poor Stefan if you act like I’m made of glass.”

“‘Poor Stefan,’ says Herm-own-ninny,” Viktor muttered. “Oh, yes, poor Stefan, all he did is Stun a fifteen-year-old vitch and then run around like a chicken vith no head.” But he gave her a small smile, and backed off slightly as she followed the girl into the hallway.

Fandom: Romeo and Juliet
Working Title: Prince of Tennis
Summary: Tybalt hears that Paris is after Juliet. Tybalt hunts him down and gives him Nice Warning. Haha, dramatic irony.

“Foul creature,” you mutter as your hand comes away from your cheek smeared with blood.

“You shouldn’t stare at her, Tybalt. Cats don’t like to be looked in the eye.” Juliet’s cuddling the monster, which gives you an unmistakable smirk, all smug malevolence. Juliet is handing you her handkerchief. Oh, if Mercutio could see his Prince of Cats now, you think ruefully, and press it to your cheek. “I wanted to ask... do you know the Count Paris?” You don’t think it’s quite fair to have this conversation right now, while your face is still bleeding, but Juliet’s waiting for an answer.

Fandom: The Road to El Dorado
Working Title: Migulio
Summary: Want to guess the pairing? Tulio/Miguel, and their history in Spain. Miguel's a rich man's bastard, Tulio's Jewish, and the Inquisition happens. Also thievery.

The other boy hadn’t stopped talking. “...anyways I didn’t care; it hurt and I cried anyway, I don’t know why you’re not but you’re probably braver than me, I’m not very brave but I will be when I grow up, I’m going to go on adventures and ride a big white horse and discover new lands and it’s going to be great. You can come along if you want, I can ask Tia Manuela to pack me an extra sandwich.” In the face of this, Tulio sat silent, and eventually brought up his own hand to cover the one the boy was holding over his bruised eye.

“It’s a bit better now,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” The handkerchief was removed, slowly. “It still looks all swollen and stuff.”

“And yet, still prettier than your sister,” he answered automatically. The golden-haired boy threw back his head and laughed ringingly. Tulio hadn’t thought he’d been that funny.

“I don’t have a sister,” said his rescuer finally. “I’m an only child.” He sat back on his heels and held out a hand. “I’m Miguel.”

Fandom: Temeraire
Working Title: Transport
Summary: Emily Roland. Just sort of wandering around being an aviator, and having a complicated gender identity.

Martin tells ghost stories, sometimes, after dinner. All the young boys sneak out to listen– it’s not forbidden in the least, but tradition demands that they sneak– and some of the dragons sneak up close behind them. The rule is that they musn’t speak without prompting, or Martin will end the story right then and there and until the next night they won’t know what happens. Sometimes, Emily thinks, she sees the other men there too, not just the young boys, but the ensigns and the riflemen and the ground crews, trying to look like they’ve something important to do in the vicinity, and sometimes even a captain hidden under the wing of his enthralled dragon.

Fandom: Harry Potter
Working Title: Influence
Summary: The Triwizard Tournament, and how biased it can be.

The First Task was dragons, and that had Karkaroff written all over it, didn’t it; facing dragons had been part of the standard Durmstrang curriculum for centuries, and everyone knew that Hogwarts had discontinued that segment of the practical exam ever since Headmistress Fitzgerald’s time, and Beauxbatons had never included it, as France held no native dragon species.

Fandom: Hamlet, Hawkelet movie version
Working Title: This one doesn't have a working title yet. It's just a bunch of fragmented ideas right now.
Summary: Hawkelet didn't include the English Ambassadors, so I decided to assume that Horatio, upon hearing Hamlet explain about switching the letters word document, ran to Claudius and had him fax England to Not Kill R&G, plzkthx. R&G have their heads about to be chopped off when someone runs in and says "let them go, orders from above," and they're cut loose. Believing that Claudius and the Denmark Corporation wants them dead, they go on the run across Europe. In the meantime, Horatio and his girlfriend Kate Marcellus (not my fault! Hawkelet's fault!) deal with new management.

"Pretty Kate!"
...Rosencrantz' fierce grin
"So it seems," says Kate with a twisty smile, returning their hugs.  She's always liked these two.
"Fortinbras runs the place pretty well," Horatio tells them a little later, once they are inside.  "Just.  If you two ever decide to come back.  You'd be welcome."
"Nice to know we have that option," Rosencrantz answers with a cordial nod, but his voice
(has gone) goes momentarily nasty and Guildenstern's eyes (suddenly seem shuttered from behind) are suddenly shuttered over.  [held a nasty undertone for a moment, and Guildenstern's eyes abruptly shuttered over.]  They will not come back.  Horatio realizes that he is somewhat relieved, though a little wistful for his own sake. for all that he will miss their company.  It would have been nice to see a few more familiar (friendly) faces in Denmark. 
That's probably for the best
He can't help but wonder what it's like for them

Yeah, that's enough for now.
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Pulling all-nighters, for me, is easier than not. The problem is pulling all-dayers. I spent the first half of symphony desperately trying to stay awake, and failing, which is panicky because I will startle awake in the middle of Marsalis' crazy original jazz composition that doesn't really take a violin's capabilities into account and realize that I nearly dropped my violin. !.

Read the webcomic Girl Genius, and do heartily recommend it to anyone. The beginning is a little hard to get past, but indeed worth it, and I genuinely like pretty much every single character, even the ones I was sure I wouldn't. I also laughed hysterically, a lot. It is a world run by mad scientists, or "sparks," and full of robots- "clanks." Also! Also! JAGERKIN, or Jagermonsters, or just Jager, and they are LOVE. They have hats, and Eastern European accents.

And started watching Dr. Who. Per Eyal's advice, I began with the 9th Doctor, and am enjoying it- and liking him- more than I expected to. I had only ever met the Doctor through Jack's reactions to him, which means I saw all the desperate loyalty, pining love, and bitter abandonment without ever seeing what had been done to deserve that level of devotion.

The next episode will have Jack in it, yey, but up 'til now it's all been Doctor/Rose. And I've heard a lot- a *lot*- of discussion and strong opinions as to what, exactly, the relationship between those two is. (Also a lot of very different opinions of Rose, that often seem to depend on how much they like Martha.) The two of them, it seems to me, practically fall in love at first sight, and it doesn't take very long for an extremely strong bond to be forged between the pair of them. They do seem to compliment each other quite nicely, I must say, and people argue and argue over whether it's platonic or not. Me personally, I sometimes find that sort of thing rather hard to compass, because I don't really *do* platonic/not platonic with people. If I love someone then I love them completely, and some level of attraction is going to be mixed up in that too. It might not be an important aspect of the relationship at all, but it's going to be there. So it's a little hard for me to imagine any sort of friendship where the parties involved have absolutely *no* attraction to each other, because for me, affection may not follow attraction but some attraction, at least, will always follow affection. that I've creeped you all out... I like the Doctor. I like how he cheers up at trouble, I like Rose, and I *hearted* the Dalek. I like Mickey, too, because he isn't macho and he's clingy and he pines away for Rose when she is gone, and also, he is just cute. I was terribly worried about him when he got eated by the rubbish bin. The show knows how to push the creepy buttons- the opening scene with the store mannekins? AWESOME. So perfect. Department store mannekins are creepy creepy things and they were utilized well. The zombies, too, in the Dickens episode were great looking. Zombies need to find the right balance of looking human and *other* to be scary, because if they're too lurchy and shambly and decomposing then they just look funny, and you have to give them enough weirdness to not just be humans gone braindead/brainhungry. Also, wtf, GWEN. And Simon Carrow, or whatever his name is (ETA: Simon Callow), I am convinced I must know him from something other than a very minor role in Shakespeare in Love which is the only movie I recognized in his profile on imdb because he looked so, so familiar, and I've only seen Shakespeare in Love once and was not too terribly impressed by anyone but Judi Dench, Geoffrey Rush and tiny!Ben Afflek. Because Shakespeare totally plagiarized all of R&J, so there. But TOSH, TOSH IS THERE, HOORAY TOSH, TOSH IS TOSH, PRITTY TOSH IS PRITTY. Tosh is post-morteming an alienified pig. Gwen- or, I should say, Eve Myles, did not annoy me in the slightest as Gwyneth. So it's not the actress I have issues with, apparently, but the character. (& her idiocy. but I digress.) I've heard a theory, and it seems to be accepted to a fairly wide degree, that Jack seems to want to make Gwen be for him what Rose was to the Doctor, was sort of looking for- Jack's taken a lot of hits, and he's lost so much of himself, and he's somehow settled upon the idea that someone like Rose will just come along and fix him, and then when Gwen comes along and wants to fix EVERYONE EVER, Jack just goes "hooray, you finally showed up!" and proceeds to try and shove her into that role, which makes much more sense than that he is interested in her romantically (though she probably wants him). Since I kept hearing Rose compared to Gwen, I was rather disinclined to like Rose too, so I suppose that either Dr Who is simply good enough to make me overcome my prejudices, or I'm better at keeping an open mind than I give myself credit for. When I have watched a bit farther I will be able to tell which it is. I believe I would be happy with the idea of Rose/Doctor being in love romantically. There are some friendships, such as McKay and Sheppard, Holmes and Watson, Neelix and Kes, Frodo and Sam, or Sirius and Remus(don't kill me), that I just really don't like to see shipped, there are some, like Janeway and Tuvok, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Karrde and Mara, Laurence and Roland, Crowley and Aziraphale, or Eliot and Olivia, that I can enjoy the shipping but will also equally enjoy their friendship and/or working relationship, and others- House/Wilson, Sano/Megumi, Bashir/O'Brian, Wolverine/Rogue, Doumeki/Watanuki, Kirk/Spock, Odo/Lwaxana, Parrish/Lorne, Jack/Ianto come to mind- that are IN LOVE, that BELONG TOGETHER, UNDENIABLY, WITH CAPS LOCK, AND I WILL NOT LISTEN TO YOU IF YOU SAY OTHERWISE, LA LA LA LA. Right now Rose and the Doctor are falling into the second category, which may change as I go on.

It is late, and I am hungry. l8rz, must work, go home, make food.


Aug. 1st, 2008 02:54 am
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Five things his fans have got wrong about Viktor Krum, and one thing they got right

1.) His favorite color is blue, not red; he supposes he was misquoted in an interview somewhere.
2.) The quality of a team matters far more to him than what it represents. He’s not madly loyal to Bulgaria– as a country, sure, it’s home, but he’ll play for anyone who offers him a fair contract, good working conditions, and a chance to improve.
3.) He has no deep personal relationship with his broomsticks, and he’s broken too many of them to count because no, he wasn’t born with the ability to do Wronski Feints.
4.) Everyone calls him a talented young seeker, and while this is undoubtedly true, he doesn’t like to hear it, because it seems to discount the sheer amount of hard work and practice he has put into being this good, and he is still not as good as he would like to be, and it will take more work.
5.) And he didn’t always want to play Quidditch professionally. When he was slightly younger he had very serious thoughts about becoming a fisherman.

1.) But he really does love to fly.

Jun. 13th, 2008 05:44 am
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You know, of me and Paul, it is pretty clear that Paul's the masochist. I mean, duh.

But I see that Maya has updated Drop Dead Gorgeous and what do I do; I get excited. Oh I know full well that it's going to hurt far more than I can imagine and yet I look forward to it, and then wish there was more. There is something horribly wrong with me.

Also I can hear Paul snoring from upstairs. Back to surfing around for apartment-decorating ideas. I'm going in to sign the lease on Saturday. Also I like my future landlady; her name is Solee, which is short for Marisol, and she has dark skin with darker freckles and a slight accent and is so genuine and you can tell she wants to be there and to help you and all that, and that is so cool, because we met with like ten different dtn girls and they were all crispy-fried blondes with whom it was pretty darn obvious that they would probably prefer showing me around apartments to scooping elephant dung, but only just.

My apartment is on the corner of Haslett and Hagadorn, in a complex called Hull Apartments. I am allowed to paint the walls but I doubt I will, as that sounds like a lot of work, and there are carpets to worry about. But I think Frank Lloyd Wright will grace my walls, because seriously I love that thing, it is ridiculous and awesome.

I have to say I thought looking for an apartment would be more like looking for a violin. You know, more of a "I'm in the market" sort of thing. Getting a new violin can take months; you go to a shop, you give them a price range, they bring you violins and you try out instrument after instrument until maybe you've found a few that you like and maybe you haven't, and you take them home and you show them to everyone and you play them backwards and forwards and at the same time you're doing this same thing with every string shop in the tri-state area, so you're surrounded by sixty thousand violins and you bring them back and forth and it takes forever and nobody thinks you're going to walk into a shop and point and go that one and take it home, that would be the stupidest thing in the world. First you have to show it to your teacher and play it and consider and see every other violin you can lay your grubby paws on. But every apartment I saw, they were all like "SO HERE'S THE LEASE YOU CAN TOTALLY SIGN RIGHT NOW," and whoa, that sort of commitment is out of the question, wot wot? And then they called me back the next day to ask if I wanted the apartment or not. So there was much running around of panic and I thought I wouldn't get the apartment in Hull after all because the girl decided not to move, but then Solee offered me a nicer one at a reduced rate. So, w00t.

Also please to be impressed that I managed to hold several coherent and even polite conversations with various apartment managers while completely asleep.

So who has read Dauntless (The Lost Fleet, Book 1) by Jack Campbell and is it any good? Because it sounds good.

Also this is probably just me being ignorant, but um, how do you hang up posters or framed pictures without damaging a wall? How do you hang dreamcatchers/winged pigs from the ceiling without damaging the ceiling?

I've lived in an owned house all my life. We have nails.

If I were an artist I would be a member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. I could have told you that.


silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
thanku fo be my frind.

Fandom meme!

There are thirteen questions behind the cut. You have to pick ten characters from any fandom before looking at the questions and then answer them.

Um, I didn't actually mean to pick all men. Just happened that way. Guess I'm feeling particularly gay tonight, or something.

1 Mal Reynolds
2 Temeraire
3 Bill Weasley
4 Doumeki Shizuka
5 Scott Summers
6 Will Turner
7 Harry Kim
8 Lee Adama
9 Gilad Pellaeon
10 Geoffrey Tennant

Don't click until you've written down your characters. )

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Recommended: Rozarka's fic Winterwhere.

Also sprach Zarathustra recommended: PINI DE ROMA by OTTORINO RESPHIGI


I am so very grateful to Edison's phonograph and all the wonderful advances in recording technology since.

(I think I want to see Fantasia 2000 in IMAX again, now that I am older and can appreciate it.

...lie. I appreciated it Just Fine back then, I just want to appreciate it again, and differently because I am different now.)

-pportunity ditdam/

In any case. Now that I am more dignified. (yeah right)


I don't know. Nothing's happened lately, besides being sick and concert-panicky. Oh, I know. In the airport in Connecticut I stopped at Einstein Bros. Bagels for a bagel and shmear (haha! SHMEAR!) and a cup of hot peppermint tea, and it was in a bookstore, and I wandered around looking at all the popular boring stuff and then it was like- Timothy Zahn! Why hello there! And so I bought a copy of Survivor's Quest to reread on the way home, because it's the only book of his that neither Paul nor I own.

And it was good. I caught many little things like Formbi going "Now, how would I know Car'das? I've never been out of my own system" and things like that, and it made me very happy. (I also never noticed the slashy possibilities before, either. Ehehe.) And Chak =/= Jack, either, Mr. Zahn, just like Jorj =/= George. We understand.

So I have a concert this Thursday, and I'm first chair and I have a billion solos and I am so torn between ordering you all to come see me because my parents won't, and forbidding anyone to hear a hint of it because I'm going to be terrible. (How I wish I were better.)

In three weeks I'm performing Dvorak's Romance in F Minor. Um what? Hasn't anyone realized that I don't even know it? Or that I should never attempt slow, pretty pieces because my control is nonexistant and my artistry is worse? *sighs*

I have downloaded Ginastera's Ballet Estancia, or at least the four dances that we are playing. There is one called Los Peones de Hacienda, and when Jimenez was explaining the titles to us he said that this meant something like The Ranch-Workers, or, The Cowboys, and that therefore this was a very manly movement, and should be played as such. It made me laugh.

I liked sitting next to Jonars. I really like Jonars. Or Hillary, sitting next to her was nice because she liked orchestra too, and thought it was cool that I did too. Laura at least feels like a friendly presence, even if she and I don't really have much in common either. I've never had the opportunity, to the best of my memory, of sitting with Corinna or Kelly. Sitting with Evan was so very strange. Senses of humor, again, have no overlap, and he never seems to smile, not genuinely, not really. (That's something I really like about Corinna. She is always so genuine. She seems so solid, so real. I've never met anyone that real. If she were an animal she would be a horse. Horses are extremely real as well.)

(So, here's to not getting around to finishing entries. Backdates to when it was written.)

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
You have to use 3 words to answer each question. No more, no less. It’s harder than you think.
Where is your cell phone? To my right
Your hair? Loosely gathered back
Where is your mother? Asleep in bed
Your favourite thing to do? Obsess over fandoms
Your pet peeve? Wasting my potential
Your dream last night? Dinosaurs carrying semiautomatics
Your favorite drink? Sweet hot chocolate
Your dream car? Flying canopied bed
The room you’re in? Darkly, coldly comfortable
Your fears? Forever feeling unsatisfied
Who did you hang out with last night? Two snowy boys
What aren’t you good at? Any actual work
Muffins? No thank you
One of your wish list items? Nicol Williamson's Hamlet
The last thing you did? Mourned Maya's fics
What are you wearing? A revealing neckline
Your pet? Prowling around nearby
Your computer? Keeps me sane
Your life? In the moment
Your mood? Becoming increasingly maudlin
Missing? Kibbutz Ma'agan Michael
What are you thinking about right now? Resenting my weaknesses
Your car? Tragically, traumatically totalled
Your work? Could be worse
Your summer? Saving for Stratford
Your favorite color(s)? Purples to greens
When is the last time you laughed? YOU BUST SLUG!
Last time you cried? Misunderstood and pining
School? God only knows.

Have officially been diagnosed with both Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome and Ideopathic Hypersomnia, and apparently came pretty close to being diagnosed with narcolepsy too.

Has anyone else noticed how all my disorders conspire to make it look like I'm just plain lazy?

ETA: (I forbid anyone to say something like "Oh, I could have told you that," because nobody actually did.)

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So the conclusion is that I should NEVER BE TRUSTED WITH MONEY. Take note, all. Never give me access to money that you do not wish to be utterly wasted.

I have just spent twenty-five dollars on a device that- get this- makes one's fingernails shiny.

Um, please don't anyone tell my mother. I will die of humiliation. As it is right now, I cannot even use said device for fear that Eema someone will notice my newly shiny nails. It is hidden away in a cupboard. Perhaps on my birthday I will bring it out and claim that someone gave it to me. Anyone want to volunteer to pretend that it was a present from you? I would be ever so obliged.

...Pavel, I can sort of see the expression on your face. Whatever time you are reading this, imagine that I have just growled ferociously at you. Never speak of this ever, or I will bite you. Nastily. Don't you think I won't.

The day before yesterday I bought a white-gold 18" box chain for thirty dollars or so. Yes, I needed one, having lost my old one, but still. It's actually not turning out as well as I'd hoped- the loop at the end is circular instead of ovular and is not fitting through the loops of all of my pendants. This must be remedied somehow. I'll look into the possibility of whether or not my jewelery pliers will be of assistance.

And then today. Today I bought, in addition to a makes-nails-shiny-device, I bought a sandwich, for $6.09, and then Mr Midshipman Hornblower for $6.50, and *then* Romeo and Juliet for four dollars, and THEN- sore kara, because there is MORE-

I spend another twenty-five dollars on a two-disc set of Elvis.


Granted, I really like the books... and the Elvis... but still.

Um, I think I'm going to be subsisting off of oatmeal, rice, spaghetti, and bananas for the rest of the month.

It'll be good.

I promised you thoughts, in my subject line, although when I've ever stuck to that I'm sure I don't know. But anyway: I think I owe Eyal some clarification of my thoughts on the nature of hatred.

I do not believe that hatred is love concealed, or that it can even be turned into love, at least not in most cases. Yes, I think it can be possible, and that love can also be mistaken for hatred. But right now I am talking about actual hatred, which is not love.

I'm talking about enmity. It's a little, as I told someone once, like a tug-of-war. You throw all your strength into hauling on that rope, and you're doing your best to pull them past the white line, but at the same time your balance depends on the fact that they're pulling back. It can be a consuming thing, and a destructive thing, and no, I don't believe that hatred is good or healthy, though it comes as naturally as any other emotion. But, especially if one lacks love or friendship, an enemy is a grounding thing. An enemy is very, very real to you. They are stable, they're unchanging, and that can be, in a twisted way, very comforting, or at least assuring. You are real to someone. They make your blood run hot and your heart beat fast. They challenge you- to think, to see your convictions in a new light, to examine everything about yourself and what you believe. They teach you to be yourself, to believe in your strengths more fiercely and to fear your weaknesses. Enemies shape us. The things we hate are as significant to who we are as the things we love. We think highly of our enemies, in a way- they are worthy of facing us as equals. Beating them would truly mean something. And we don't want anyone else to beat them, because they're ours. Hate can be possessive, too, and it is intensely personal. The two of you have power over each other. You encompass a large part of each other's spheres. One-sided hate is frustrating for the same reasons as unrequited love in some ways- they're important to you, you're nothing to them, which is incredibly demeaning.

Hatred is not love. You do not love your enemies. You do not desire to see them happy. But if they disappear, it unbalances you, leaves you with a them-shaped hole in your life, takes away a part of you, and a part of your world that you thought you could rely on to be there.

I almost never ship true enemies. But their relationships- their enmity- are often just as fascinating to watch.

(It's really quite rare that I'm in the mood to slash Tybalt/Mercutio. Sure, it's fun on occasion, but pure hatred is just as fun. Their fight scene is just as good to watch as Romeo and Juliet's impassioned declarations of love.)

Anyway. Hope that helps a bit. And I don't slash Harry/Draco unless Maya's writing it. And this is because, too, Maya!Draco, who is pretty cool, is not really anywhere near my canon!Draco, whom I actually think of as "Malfoy." I never liked Malfoy. I felt sorry for him without ever considering him a sympathetic character. He was human and redeemable, but I never liked him. *shrugs*

Hamlet. Hamlet, I had the thought today, is so tragic because of the senselessness of the deaths. Three deaths are plot- the killing of Hamlet the Elder and Younger, and the killing of Claudius. Claudius kills King Hamlet out of ambition and love, Hamlet kills Claudius out of revenge, Claudius kills Prince Hamlet out of self-protection. All the rest, and there are six of them, are collateral damage. Six deaths: bystanders all, if not all completely innocent. Polonius was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. His death indirectly caused the deaths of both his children, Laertes and Ophelia. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are carelessly killed on a suspicion that proves unfounded. Gertrude falls into a trap set for Hamlet. Blah blah blah.

I also think Hamlet's actually raving mad, for all his pretending.

(You know who I mourn the most, though? Paris. Dammit Romeo, I'm really bitter at you for that. I liked Paris. I liked him a lot. He was sweet.)

I have a Worf. I don't have to let her go. She's mine and she's beautiful and I love her. She's gotten rather fat and her fur has gotten all thick and sleek and shiny and her tail has gotten fluffier, and looks more like the tail of the cat I suspected of being her father. It still just fills me with wonder that I succeeded, that she's here with me, she's not dead or stray or starving. For months I was trying to brace myself against the heartbreak I was going to suffer and I still can't get over the fact that she's staying here with me.

(She's a really weird cat, man.)

Elvis sings a version of "fever." It is very different when a man sings it, which I wouldn't have thought of. He changes the last verse a bit, too, which I thought odd, because I would have thought something like "chicks were born to give you fever" would have been sung by a male anyway. Whatever.

Anyway I'm really hungry & late for work.

This was a really stupid sounding entry. Sorry about that.

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And let you all know I'm alive, even though I've not much to say. I've been working at Michigan Flyer, which is more fun than it seemed, at least for now. It's awesome in here late at night when it's just me and Eema and Aba and Eema starts to go crazy from being in here all day and then she starts dancing, and then she and I laugh so hard we can't stand up so we're just laughing and holding each other up and Aba's just like "you guys are WEIRD." Entertaining things happen, like our window-washer actually being a National Champion Window-Washer. Also people speaking Hebrew. And someone saying that they had talked on the phone with "a young lady with a French accent." It makes me laugh how many countries people think Eema is from. Particularly India. Gotta love those retroflex D's that don't happen in Hebrew.

Asians! There are Asians in Michigan! I hardly saw any in Israel. Also, Michigan birdcalls. w00t. On the other hand, East Lansing is a Big and Lonely City, where I don't know everyone walking down the street. Also there are cars.

Found out that that trolley actually *runs.* It goes to "Old Town," so I propose we ride it, and hit Old Town, and have a big old party. PARTY. Yay, seriously, we need to be getting together more. It is annoying to this point that my work schedule is entirely irregular, because I am working for my parents.

Worf has been spayed, and will get her stitches taken out on Wednesday morning. She also got microchipped, which is a funny concept. Basically, if she gets lost, an animal shelter or veterinarian can scan her and see that she is mine. And give her back to me. She and Tessie are still in separate parts of the house.

I saw Over The Hedge. I must say I expected it to be terrible, and it was hilarious and far far funnier than it had any right to be. Captain Kirk's voice coming from an opossum pretty much made the movie for me, but then there was the SQUIRREL and the skunk/cat thing everything else. And then there were boomerangs.

I kind of want mochi right now. Perhaps I will walk down there and get some, and by "walk" I mean "bus." I have to practice today. I have to practice forever. I am going to die, and it is so hard to get started because I know that it is pretty much impossible. Arglbrrmshnff.

Mleh. Nothing to say. Want to find a good stretch of time, and then I will re-read all of Harry Potter and then read DH, because until I do I'm pretty much banned from the internet for fear of spoilers. I'm putting it off, in a way, because I don't want it to be over...

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Uh huh no eating here tonight you on a diet.

Hi everyone and welcome to Leora's three-in-the-morning theatre! We get the usual mixture of melancholy and mirth. I will also never get over my giant fangirl crush on alliteration. If you ever want me to go into a catatonic fangirl squee-state, eru knows why you would, find a way for Sherlock Holmes to get alliterative. You'll likely never see me again. I will curl up in my Happy Place and die.

Have been reading The Complete Sherlock Holmes, starting with A Study in Scarlet, of course, and interspersing it with Star Wars: X-wings: Wraith Squadron, because those two go remarkably well together. It's like crack.

Speaking of: Everyone read anything by mistful. I've been laughing hysterically and silently.

I really should have gone to sleep hours ago, because

Shit. Oh, Eru, I only now just realized that I forgot to call Paul back. Everyone can berate me now, and do that little seagull "CALL! PAUL!" thing that you all do so well, because I totally deserve it.

Okay. Have just written him a letter, in extremely sparkly blue ink. Tomorrow I will hunt for envelopes that don't say Okemos Travel on them. Does not make up for it, but I don't think I can call him at... oh, it's four in the morning now. How nice.

That's why my vision's gone all painful.

I need sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to Ann Arbor. So goodnight, I love you all.

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I dreamt that I was Hermione. And then I fell in love with Draco Malfoy. *shudders*

The rest of the dream was better. We were fighting ringwraiths with The Book of Three and it turned out that one of them was nice. It was cool. And I was watching a bunch of stags carrying billboards up and down alongside the highway, and I was a lion and Lynn said that I was mishtolelet, which is like... "romping around all crazy-like." And there were Jamaicans cleaning my house while I was wearing a helmet and someone with a Star Wars voice was talking about what a cool helmet it was. Then there was soap all over the front porch, so me and Eema and the Jamaican guys were all skidding around on in and singing "Zombie Jamboree." Malfoy was being all haughty and wouldn't join in. He was sitting on my swings, the ones that aren't there anymore. He also challenged Harry to a race of Malfoy riding Buckbeak vs. Harry on his broom. And talked about integrals and sets. And I think Phoebus from Hunchback of Notre Dame was there too... he may have given me the helmet. And there was lots of Tolkien. There was also a hairdresser who was quoting the bible. Wrongly, but it seemed right in the dream. Something about Elijah.

I have to go and practice, because I have orchestra today at 5:00. I don't really want to go. I want to have the house to myself again, so I can wear absurd costumes and talk to myself and sing and dance and play music real loud, stay up to all hours of the night and bake bread and clean up only when I feel like it. Sigh.

Erella and Amnon are here to visit. Last night we went out to Outback Steakhouse. I'd never been there before. It was pretty good- I liked the bread, it was brown and sweet and still hot, and the "bloomin' onion" was better than I expected. I had cream of broccoli soup (not bad at all) and Amnon's batata (sweet potato) which was achla (really good or cool or whatever). Erella brought us handmade scarves which are diaphanous and lovely, greens and blues and purples in this pretty ripply effect. I like them a lot. They also brought a CD of Israeli melodies arranged for flute and orchestra.

I was also inspired to write Little Mermaid fanfic.


This is the part where I look at myself and go, "I don't know you."

It's pretty much stopped raining, as far as I can tell. Maybe I'll bike to MSU. That'd be kind of fun. By kind of fun I mean not, but I do need the excercise, so... self-propelled speeder bikes it is. Or something. Eru, I'm pretty tired. My left eye has been hurting lately. Also my teeth, kind of.

I am extremely bitter at Meijers for rearranging everything. It seems to always be that way, doesn't it? As soon as I figure out the arrangement of something, and how everything in it works, it gets entirely changed. Annoys me to no end. I think Eema's here to make me go to MSU and practice. I really don't want to. I just want to stay in and be lazy. Rrrgh.

silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)

vybafnout = to jump out and say boo

Whaaa. That is my new favorite word EVER.

On a more negative note, my poor beloved laptop seems to have been infected by proximity to my old computer, which has sneezed on my laptop out of jealousy and given it some viruses. I am sorry old computer! I still love you! And my laptop, I love you too, and as soon as Paul comes home I will screw up my courage and ask him to help. First I will purchase a flash drive and save all my pretty pictures and documents and music, and then try to hide anything remotely questionable before letting anyone else touch the keyboard, such as my collection of Viktor icons, or the folder of Good Omens slash fanart, and the two Wolfstar pieces that were just too well done not to save, and the video of me dancing to Od Lo Ahavti Dai. The bad thing of finally having a computer all to myself for the first time in my life is that now I have to make sure it never falls into other hands, for fear of what they will think of me. I'd look like a total fangirl.



Which of course I am not.




Mar. 23rd, 2006 07:08 pm
silentstep: text "SilentStep, Official Fanfic Muse" over a Vermeer painting of the Muse of History (Vermeer Blue Iris Muse)
Do you know how incredibly talented a writer has to be in order to make me seriously want to ship Ron/Pansy?

SOOOO incredibly talented. Points to mistful for actually doing it.

Sometimes I toy with the idea of Ron/Luna in my head, because it's nice and neat to have someone for each of them, but most of the time I think Luna's a bit too good for him.

(Can you tell I don't think very highly of the boy?)

Luna definitely deserves a good ship, because she's AWESOME, and most people see her with Neville, but I think he's too timid for her. The Loonies and Lions appeal to me if it's well enough written, but I tend to prefer the Orange Crush.

*suddenly imagines Fred/George/Luna* Er. Yeah, I don't think I'd put her with any of the Weasleys, even though Percy would be happily ironic, but Percy needs someone very different from Luna.

So I don't know. But I think I have suddenly been converted to Ron/Pansy.

That is so wrong.

Oh Maya. Such power you wield over my poor mind.

A snippet )

Please to write a Luna/someone fic, so that my brain does not die.


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!



Feb. 22nd, 2006 04:11 pm
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I am sorry I have slightly dropped off the face of the earth as far as posting anything actually real, about me, goes. College has decided to catch my leg in a bear trap this semester and I am still working on gnawing through the bone. It's remarkably strong, my shinbone, even though the marrow tastes rather good. I hadn't given all that much thought to the metaphor, but actually it makes for some lovely symbolism, so I'm going to leave it for future generations to puzzle over.

In any case, right now life sucks, despite the fact that I have discovered the stories and anecdotes in mistful's livejournal (an Irish writer named Maya living in New York). No need for pity or whatnot, I'm o- well, I'm not exactly okay, per se, but I'm surviving and I'll... I'll... oh, Eru knows what I'll do, but I'm not feeling particularly depressed although I may be slightly despairing. *waves a hand airily* (You know, it always looks stupid when I do that in real life, but *you* can imagine that it looks brilliant.

Happy Slightly Belated Birthday to Katie, you are awesome, yay for you!

I have to go to orchestra now.

(I actually skipped orchestra yesterday. !!!! Yeah, I know. I'm going to say I was sick. I'll be believed because I've never lied to him; last time I missed orchestra I was rather stupidly honest so he'll believe that I'm not lying now. *curses* Anyway I really have to go.)



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