May. 6th, 2016 07:31 am
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a lot of the time I worry that I go overboard reversing the intended sympathetic characters in tolkien— I’m siding with dwarves against elves, obviously, and like, in the Giant Sprawling Hobbit Fic we’re about to leave the Rohirrim (who have been pretty unmitigated jerks) and meet the Dunlendings (who are going to be relatively welcoming).   It’s supported— if your question is "who is likely to be friendly towards dwarves," the answer is canonically "not the Rohirrim," but still.

still.

tolkien, you gave me a haughty haradric queen with nine cats who spy on people for her and then you were like "do not take this as indication of her clear awesomeness."  like.   sir.   sir.  SHE HAS NINE CATS.
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listen guys listen to me the greenwood elves absolutely had a yearly tradition where one night the people hunt their ruler through the woods with horse and horn and hound.  ruler may or may not literally be wearing antlers for this.  it’s all very symbolic and tied to the turning of the year and the forest’s acceptance of the elves’ presence and the ruler’s fitness to dominate it.  also they totally wouldn’t actually kill the ruler if the ruler didn’t manage to escape the hunt hahaha! they swear! totally! but for sure everyone would be very uneasy about the kingdom’s fortunes in the coming year and the ruler’s political stability would be pretty shaky and the court would all just.  quietly watch.  and the ruler had just better make sure they escape better next year.  that’s all.

Jul. 12th, 2015 03:27 am
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work of media: welcome to fantasy Europe! look at all our great characters! do you want to pick a favorite?
me: where are your Jewish analogues
work: oh, uh, over here, but listen, they’re not the protagonists—
me: is one of them fighting ferociously and unrelentingly on their behalf
work: well, yes, but listen, it’s not a good thing—
me: PRECIOUS CINNAMON ROLL, ABOVE ALL CRITICISM

Apr. 29th, 2015 06:29 pm
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today the Giant Sprawling Hobbit Fixit broke 230k

it’ll likely be another chapter and more before I beat Order of the Phoenix, though, and let’s face it, that’ll probably be another year

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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The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadows of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

Aug. 6th, 2014 07:07 am
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the day before yesterday I had a really bad headache and went to lie down for a few hours

my mother came in to check on me

"oh," she said. "I thought you'd be asleep"

"CAN'T SLEEP," I said. "DALISH PROPERTY AND INHERITANCE LAW. SALVAGE RIGHTS? WHAT FORMS OF PERSONAL IDENTIFICATION EXIST IN MIDDLE-EARTH."

at least my headache got better?

Mar. 8th, 2014 10:04 pm
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But when Húrin was gone from Menegroth, Thingol sat long in silence, gazing upon the great treasure that lay upon his knees; and it came into his mind that it should be remade, and in it should be set the Silmaril. For as the years passed Thingol’s thought turned unceasingly to the jewel of Fëanor, and became bound to it, and he liked not to let it rest even behind the doors of his inmost treasury; and he was minded now to bear it with him always, waking and sleeping.

In those days the Dwarves still came on their journeys into Beleriand from their mansions in Ered Lindon, and passing over Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, they travelled the ancient road to Doriath; for their skill in the working of metal and stone was very great, and there was much need of their craft in the halls of Menegroth. But they came now no longer in small parties as aforetime, but in great companies well armed for their protection in the perilous lands between Aros and Gelion; and they dwelt in Menegroth at such times in chambers and smithies set apart for them. At that very time great craftsmen of Nogrod were lately come into Doriath; and the King therefore summoning them declared his desire, that if their skill were great enough they should remake the Nauglamír, and in it set the Silmaril. Then the Dwarves looked upon the work of their fathers, and they beheld with wonder the shining jewel of Fëanor; and they were filled with a great lust to possess them, and carry them off to their far homes in the mountains. But they dissembled their mind, and consented to the task.

Long was their labour; and Thingol went down alone to their deep smithies, and sat ever among them as they worked. In time his desire was achieved, and the greatest of the works of Elves and Dwarves were brought together and made one; and its beauty was very great, for now the countless jewels of the Nauglamír did reflect and cast abroad in marvellous hues the light of the Silmaril amidmost. Then Thingol, being alone among them, made to take it up and clasp it about his neck; but the Dwarves in that moment withheld it from him, and demanded that he yield it up to them, saying: ‘By what right does the Elvenking lay claim to the Nauglamír, that was made by our fathers for Finrod Felagund who is dead? It has come to him but by the hand of Húrin the Man of Dor-lómin, who took it as a thief out of the darkness of Nargothrond.’ But Thingol perceived their hearts, and saw well that desiring the Silmaril they sought but a pretext and fair cloak for their true intent; and in his wrath and pride he gave no heed to his peril, but spoke to them in scorn, saying: ‘How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by the waters of Cuiviénen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?’ And standing tall and proud among them he bade them with shameful words be gone unrequited out of Doriath.

Then the lust of the Dwarves was kindled to rage by the words of the King; and they rose up about him, and laid hands on him, and slew him as he stood. So died in the deep places of Menegroth Elwë Singollo, King of Doriath, who alone of all the Children of Ilúvatar was joined with one of the Ainur; and he who, alone of the Forsaken Elves, had seen the light of the Trees of Valinor, with his last sight gazed upon the Silmaril.

Then the Dwarves taking the Nauglamír passed out of Menegroth and fled eastwards through Region. But tidings went swiftly through the forest, and few of that company came over Aros, for they were pursued to the death as they sought the eastward road; and the Nauglamír was retaken, and brought back in bitter grief to Melian the Queen. Yet two there were of the slayers of Thingol who escaped from the pursuit on the eastern marches, and returned at last to their city far off in the Blue Mountains; and there in Nogrod they told somewhat of all that had befallen, saying that the Dwarves were slain in Doriath by command of the Elvenking, who thus would cheat them of their reward.

Then great was the wrath and lamentation of the Dwarves of Nogrod for the death of their kin and their great craftsmen, and they tore their beards, and wailed; and long they sat taking thought for vengeance. It is told that they asked aid from Belegost, but it was denied them, and the Dwarves of Belegost sought to dissuade them from their purpose; but their counsel was unavailing, and ere long a great host came forth from Nogrod, and crossing over Gelion marched westward through Beleriand.


—Tolkien, J.R.R. (2012-02-15). The Silmarillion (pp. 238-239). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition.
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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

Oct. 2nd, 2013 04:57 pm
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but I was complaining to Partner about how I'd wanted Thorin's mother to say the line but she's dead and having Dwalin's mother say it would be out of character for her, and I didn't want it to go to Thror or Thrain, and I was lying there wailing ALAS, I WISH THORIN'S GRANDMOTHER WEREN'T DEAD.

And Partner was like "um shouldn't he have two?"

And I lay there gaping like I'd been smacked with a fish and then I was like "HOORAY"

hey though

May. 3rd, 2013 07:52 pm
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You know what I'm super-happy about that I just realized?

BILBO'S MOTHER.

BILBO'S MOTHER IS THE IMPORTANT ONE.

Goodbye.
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Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way! Why, it must be quite close by him at that moment, his old home that he had hurriedly forsaken and never sought again, that day when he first found the river! And now it was sending out its scouts and its messengers to capture him and bring him in. Since his escape on that bright morning he had hardly given it a thought, so absorbed had he been in his new life, in all its pleasures, its surprises, its fresh and captivating experiences. Now, with a rush of old memories, how clearly it stood up before him, in the darkness! Shabby indeed, and small and poorly furnished, and yet his, the home he had made for himself, the home he had been so happy to get back to after his day's work. And the home had been happy with him, too, evidently, and was missing him, and wanted him back, and was telling him so, through his nose, sorrowfully, reproachfully, but with no bitterness or anger; only with plaintive reminder that it was there, and wanted him.

The call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly, and go. 'Ratty!' he called, full of joyful excitement, 'hold on! Come back! I want you, quick!'

'Oh, COME along, Mole, do!' replied the Rat cheerfully, still plodding along.

'PLEASE stop, Ratty!' pleaded the poor Mole, in anguish of heart. 'You don't understand! It's my home, my old home! I've just come across the smell of it, and it's close by here, really quite close. And I MUST go to it, I must, I must! Oh, come back, Ratty! Please, please come back!'

The Rat was by this time very far ahead, too far to hear clearly what the Mole was calling, too far to catch the sharp note of painful appeal in his voice. And he was much taken up with the weather, for he too could smell something-- something suspiciously like approaching snow.

'Mole, we mustn't stop now, really!' he called back. 'We'll come for it to-morrow, whatever it is you've found. But I daren't stop now-- it's late, and the snow's coming on again, and I'm not sure of the way! And I want your nose, Mole, so come on quick, there's a good fellow!' And the Rat pressed forward on his way without waiting for an answer.

Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. But even under such a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm. Never for a moment did he dream of abandoning him. Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that tore his very heartstrings he set his face down the road and followed submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells, still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him for his new friendship and his callous forgetfulness.

--Grahame, Kenneth (2012-05-16). The Wind in the Willows (pp. 60-61). . Kindle Edition.


Y'ever do that thing where you write a thing

and then you realize you actually stole it from somewhere else?

Because I do this thing pretty much constantly and it annoys me.

Goodbye.
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So Paul opened the back door and the kitchen windows, to let in a bit of breeze, while I was still asleep. Which means that the birdsong was very loud and the air smelled very outdoors, which meant that in my dream I was camping outside in a lovely wild canyon.

I was also Boromir, but I've been dreaming as Boromir since I was fourteen or so. I do not think people actually realize just how often my subconscious takes it for granted that I am actually Boromir.

Well, sort of they do. My friends have also been waking me up by yelling BOROMIR GONDOR NEEDS YOUR SWORD for just about as long.

*shrugs*

now the wind is blowing everything off the kitchen table. I am ignoring it and will deal with the mess later.

Goodbye.
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 "It came to pass that at the midsummer the Dwarves, as was their custom, bade Eöl to a feast in Nogrod; and he rode away."
 
-- Tolkien, J.R.R. (2012-02-15). The Silmarillion (p. 129). Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Kindle Edition. 

which means dwarves have some sort of feast at midsummer woohoo information about dwarves and dwarf culture.  The more I read the Silmarillion the more frustrated I get by all the gaps and the lack of histories from other perspectives.  I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT HALETH, OKAY.  I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT MARACH LEADING HIS PEOPLE WEST.  I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON EAST OF BELERIAND AND I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT WHAT'S GOING ON WITH THE PEOPLE WHO AREN'T FRIENDS WITH ELVES BECAUSE THERE ARE LOTS AND THE ELVES DON'T KNOW THEIR STORIES.

and I want to know what Orcs eat and how they sustain their populations

same goes for the green-elves

because they object to the humans cutting down trees and killing animals and I'm sorry but if you're not hunting for meat and you're not cutting down trees for farmland then what the heck are you eating because maybe Elves have different dietary requirements but to the best of my knowledge a population of humans cannot be sustained by gathering alone

I want to know what the dwarves did before they started trading with elves

did they hunt? fish? farm? herd?

At what point did anyone domesticate animals?  What animals?  What animals even live on Middle-Earth?  Or plants?  Only the ones that inhabit the British Isles?  Because it's a really big continent and one would think maybe I dunno

help tolkien why do you not tell me these thingggggs

like

seriously

who is doing the agriculture

because the elves don't seem all that big on it do they actually just live on starlight or what

also how come elves get all shocked and weirded out when humans age and die because uh

guys

you've had contact with dwarves for thousands of years now

and dwarves

age

and

die

have you not been paying attention?


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 Yes Thingol and Nauglamir and Thranduil and Aule and Yavanna had the weirdest marriage ever and I'm still not convinced there wasn't some sort of metaphorical ot3 going on with Manwe, whatever, this is about standards of beauty.

Because people kind of seem to be assuming that because we, by our standards, find elves attractive, that ~everyone~ on Middle-earth finds elves attractive, or at least ~ethereally beautiful~, and to some extent that is true.  Hobbits, whose perspectives we're getting most of the time, seem to find elves quite beautiful, if tall and a little mysterious and intimidating.  Men, too, though I dunno if Legolas gives them Uncomfortable Gay Feelings or what, because Elvish standards of masculinity seem pretty different from the ones that Aragorn or Boromir embody, and we have no idea how Middle-earth thinks of sexuality anyway, really, except that they seem to have some sort of concept of Courtly Love because Gimli's feelings for Galadriel seem pretty close to that?  And Gimli, of course, famously thinks Galadriel is lovelier than anything he has ever seen ever, sorry Legolas, don't worry, he still loves you more no matter whose hair he's encasing in crystal.

But Gimli, I really feel, is probably the exception here because let's look at the dwarves, and the way they braid everything and they seem to have more hair by volume than anyone else, long flowing elvish locks bedamned, and the way they also have multiple engraved aglets and beautifully worked hairclasps and some of the women in the artbook have their beards just dripping with gemstones.  I'ma go out on a limb here and say they like beards.  They like hair.  That's what they consider beautiful.  They like big rounded ears and big noses and beards for everyone.

I'M WILLING TO BET THAT THEY DON'T THINK ELVES ARE THE HIGHEST STANDARDS OF BEAUTY.

If you can't imagine that, imagine a humanoid species that's completely hairless.  Utterly bald, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, no hair on the back of their arms.  No hair.  Anywhere.  And of course once you have gotten to know them it stops seeming quite so weird, and once one of them has become your friend you start seeing them as beautiful, because you like them, and you can't imagine how you ever found them ugly, and if you fall in love with one you can't imagine how anyone anywhere could ever not find them beautiful.  And of course there will always be individuals for whom hairlessness is just something they like, their type, whatever.

But for most of your own species, their first impression of these guys is going to be GAH, AUGH WHAT.  Like hairless rats.  Or hairless cats.  THAT'S JUST NOT RIGHT.

Which is not a good attitude!  Standards of beauty are different all over, and beauty is so so much wider than whatever narrow ideal your society promotes, and entirely subjective besides, and also unimportant compared to one's character.  I'm not disputing that, I promise.

But if you're writing dwarves, I think you should maybe try and remember that to you, elves don't look like Cate Blanchett, elves look like Ilia, except with Lady Loki's missing eyebrows.  You can get over it with some pretty minimal effort, but it's still weird and not what you'd expect to find attractive.

And their body types are exactly the opposite of everything you've been conditioned to find attractive, the end.

Goodbye.
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and I am fucking not okay.

That put me in a really really bad headspace

It's really hard for me to see anything ok in the world right now

shit, I hate when this happens

I'm not going to be ok for a really long time now

The whole world is just going to have gone dark for a bit

Hopefully it'll be less than a few days this time?

I

help

fuck

I don't know how to pull myself out of this

I need to

I fucking have things I have to do today

shit.

ETA: Think I've got a handle on things a little better now, thanks to angsty feels about completely separate things & the chance for some conversations, at least to the point where I can start looking for fluffy fics and they will help instead of simply being tainted by association. Have one in which the dwarves accidentally get tiny!Estel drunk.
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#I am eternally sad that a lot of my favorite characters would never ever in a million years be friends if they met

#like: Loki will never be friends with anybody

#Vimes will never be friends with kings

#Marcone will not be friends with anybody not loyal to either him or Chicago

#(or willing to help him help realize his plans for Chicago)

#(with a very clear well-laid-out bargain of exactly what they will want in return)

#(and that being something he is willing to pay)

#Thorin will not be friends with anyone not a dwarf of Erebor

#unless they prove beyond doubt that they have decided to throw in their lot with the dwarves of Erebor and share their danger

#and also not go against his decisions when he decides things in his capacity as King

#Temeraire might be friends with a great many people but Lawrence won't if they're against England in the war

#and Temeraire won't for Lawrence's sake

#Roy Mustang is perfectly willing to be friendly but he is also very done with fighting for someone else's goals

#and a lot of the others won't be friends with him if he won't fight for their goals

#Scar will not be friends with anyone but other Ishbalans and May Chang

#because he fights for his people

#and if you're not fighting for his people you may occasionally work together to achieve a mutual goal but that's it

#(May Chang wasn't on purpose but oh well they're friends now)

#Zuko is bad at people

#but he'd be willing to be friends!

#unless he's working on achieving a goal

#then sorry but hunting the avatar takes priority

#King Henry had friends once

#I think we all know what happened there

#Rumplestiltskin don't make me laugh

#Pellaeon is too busy running an Empire to have friends who aren't ~trusted subordinates~ first and foremost

#yeah Boromir is not going to be your friend if you're not actively helping Gondor

#(unless you are a hobbit and therefore fall into the category of 'noncombatant; to be protected')

#Javert has no friends Javert is the Law

#The Law doesn't have friends

#Garak will be your friend on his own terms

#they are not very reasonable terms though and if Julian is willing to meet them that's nice but no one else here is going to because gosh look at this enormous list of people with massive trust issues oh dear

#let's not even get into people like Edmund and Richard III and the Macbeths and Aaron and Tybalt and Claudius

#PINKIE PIE WILL BE YOUR FRIEND

#*everyone else on this list takes ten steps backwards and turns very pale*
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Tornado warning tonight, and some thunderstorming. Ahhh, southern Indiana weather. I did not miss you one bit.

Was only gone for four days, really, but still. Michigan is sensible about seasons, in that winter lasts for five months and summer three and spring and fall get two months each and there are almost no tornadoes. I like that. I understand that. also the winter is properly cold.

*grumble grumble*

On a better note, my playlist ended precisely on the song I'd been waiting the whole five hours to get to (shush I have a slight obsession with Fire on the Mountain right now, because Thorin, okay) so that was nice. Also nothing disasterous happened, despite the really annoying rain throughout all of Michigan and northern Indiana, so yey.

My steering wheel is now permanently crooked. It's irritating, but nothing I can't get used to, I guess. Also now I'm not supposed to go over 75 mph ever. ...er. Not that I ever would, of course, being the earnestly law-abiding American that I am.

Made myself deeply unhappy by reading tragic mob AUs. Was cheered up slightly by videos of hamsters, but I think what will actually help is sleep.

Aha! No, apparently what I needed was the third chapter of Children of the Lonely Mountain. Now I can go to bed.

Goodbye.
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She said to me, "you know, today, they say, wherever there is money, Jews are. Wherever there is power, Jews are... under. That's what some would say."

It took me a minute to parse. (My mother's turns of phrase are my favorite.)

She also said that she was surprised Shylock hadn't chosen to die rather than renounce his faith. "If this story had been written by Jews," she said, "that's what would have happened."
"I don't know about that," I said. "I think a lot of the stories Jews have written haven't been nearly as enamoured of martyrdom as a lot of the Christian ones."
"The story of Chana and her children," she said. "All her sons who chose to die."
"But I'm thinking of the ones set when they were living when and where you'd get killed for practicing Judaism. They practiced in secret, they didn't just say 'okay, then kill us.' I think a pretty core tenet is that you do whatever you have to, to survive."
"Maybe that," she agreed.

There are plenty of stories on either side of the issue, I think. But I've always considered any law may be broken to save a life to be one of the most important tenets of my own faith, at least. (Though, at least the way the story was told to me, one also has to respect the heck out of the Jews of Metzada, extremists though they were, for dying rather than allowing their enemies one scrap of victory.)

My dad was watching with us too-- he was the one who'd expressed an interest in watching in the first place-- but he left before it was over. "Not something that interests me," he said, and I know getting my dad to watch Shakespeare is always a tough sell, but I also think the anti-semitism got to him too much for him to even look for the complications of the characters and plot. Which my mother found fascinating, actually; and I'm super-impressed with how good she's gotten at following Shakespearean language.

She also asked me if I thought people watching this movie would think badly of Jews because Shylock was so nasty.
"I hope not," I said.
"Because, you know, the merchant is so handsome and nice, and trying to help his friend, and they are so in love, and he wants only good, and he is just caught between."
"Well, you also have to contrast it with his behavior towards Shylock."
"Yes. Why would he do that?"
I thought about that for a minute. I don't really have a good answer. "He practices usury," I said slowly. "The Christians think that's wrong."
"But then they come to borrow money from them."
"Yeah."
"And what, they think they should just lend it from goodness? Would they do that?"
"Antonio does."
"Hm," she said.
"But Antonio has other sources of income."
"Yes."

She liked Portia. She said she had an intelligent face. I agree.

She took the braid out of my hair, because I had a headache.
"But I wanted a braid," I said. "Like a dwarf."
"You are not a dorf."
"A dwarf."
"You are not a dorf."
"I am a dwarf."
"No you're not."
And then she made me a pot of tea, because my mother is awesome.

I am a dwarf, though. I have the bodily proportions of a dwarf (seriously my legs are only a third of my height) and sideburns like a lady dwarf (ha ha I bet my sister is sad she had hers lasered off now) and I am Jewish like a dwarf and I speak Hebrew like a dwarf and I am POSSESSIVE AS ALL HELL like a dwarf. Also I could totally dig living underground, heck yes, small enclosed spaces and not relying on the sun for my circadian rhythms sign me the heck up.

I'm trying to get back into livejournaling, okay, or at least posting more public entries that are about what happens in my life rather than just using this as a personal archive.

So in light of that, LET ME TELL YOU about the awful twelve-hour trip up here, okay, I don't even know what was going on with the weather but first I fishtailed and panicked and was okay and then I spun off the road and ended up facing backwards on the shoulder until some nice person stopped and let me back in and then that happened a second time and then traffic inched along at under five mph all around Indianapolis and then I fishtailed my way in between giant trucks in and out of an unplowed rest stop where I'd numbed my hands scraping the ice off my windshield wipers and then, exactly halfway between my apartment and my parents' house, my tire exploded and sent me careening off the road down a ditch to end in a gently spinning stop in a meadow.

and I was very very very very very lucky that it happened right there, because I was fine and nothing was hurt but it also meant I had to spend hours hanging out in very very small-town Indiana

which was fine really, the mechanics were all very nice and friendly, and did not judge me at all for not knowing squat about cars, but it also meant I bought a ham sandwich at the gas station in an attempt to conceal my Jewishness because sorry but small-town Indiana makes me paranoid

then I got back in my car and realized that sitting in my front seat holding my LotR trilogy was a bag that was covered in sparkles and a menorah and the words "HAPPY HANUKKAH" so yeah

and when I was telling my mother about the nice people who had all stopped to make sure I was okay after the accident she said to me "it was a good thing none of them were Cookus"
and because I know my mother I said "yeah, why do you think I had the ham sandwich"
and she laughed
and my dad was like "...what?"
and she said "you know, Kooks"
and he was like "...what?"
and I was like "The KKK, Aba"
and he cracked up and walked away muttering "Kooks!" under his breath
and then my mother was like "it's funny because your keys!"
and then I laughed too, because my keychain is dripping with Jewish things
there's a Magen David and a fish that says katan alecha and a yad with the tfilat haderech on the back
So eating that ham sandwich was in vain
which is a little annoying, because it was terrible and made me feel sick.

"It's a little sad that you had to think of it, though," she said to me later.
Which of course it is.

Er

so have a post that is all about me being Jewish

that's it

that's the post

sorry

Usually I can go for longer without talking about it, I swear!

Anyway.

I am thinking of doing a Thorin fanmix. It will have:

1.) Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons
2.) Fire on the Mountain - Rob Thomas
3.) Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis - Ralph Vaugh Williams (MAJESTY, ok, shut up)
4.) Horses - Due South Original Soundtrack
5.) Yerushalayim Shel Zahav - Naomi Shemer

and that's all I have thought of so far. Though it's not like I've tried very hard. I will eventually.

My car is still in the shop until sometimes tomorrow at least. which is annoying, because I wanted to go donate blood and buy the Chronicles at the bookstore and go see The Hobbit again, and I can't really do any of that without a car. My mother is not going to be willing to drive me to the movie theater to see The Hobbit again.

But it's been so long since I've seen it don't judge me

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
I keep trying to look up the words & conjugations to make sure their Hebrew was correct

Have no resources with which to do so really

and gosh whatever facility I ever had in reading has long since been lost

not that it was ever any good really

would "hagen!" be the imperative for "defend" or "protect?"

Goodbye.

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