A Fresh Breeze

2011-09-07T12:31:00.000-07:00

Guten abend!

(This will be true on two counts and false on one. False, because it isn't, for anyone in the States reading this as I post it; true, because it's very much evening for me, and most of you won't see it until this evening at dinner. Either way – )

Guten abend, my family and friends! I made it safely to Lüneburg last Wednesday, and only now have internet access to contact all of you. It's been an exciting week, chock-full of orientations and classes and settling in and wandering around town. I've lost track of the times I set out to get myself lost, only to find myself right back where I started.

Lüneburg isn't very big, as we reckon things, but it is a thriving university town. This ought to seem a little strange, given that the architecture is older than the United States. My apartment house, for instance, was built in the early 1600's! Everywhere is old red brick and tile, beautiful, with trees and flowers – and buses. Lots of buses. Lots of bicyclists, too, and either set will run you down quite noisily if you don't get out of the way.

We've started classes already. There are 43 international students all told, including two from Mexico and one from New Zealand (none from Canada, alas.) Less than ten of us are staying for the year, though; the rest are going home in December.

We've also attended our first cultural events. I think all of us, or nearly so, wandered over to a Renaissance Faire on Sunday, and the farmer's market on Saturday and Wednesday. This Saturday we're all going to Hamburg for a short tour and history lesson, as well as a quick run-down of German politics.

I have an apartment all to myself, but there are three other USAC students staying in the same complex. It's good to have some people near with whom I can actually speak; that shouldn't be such a problem next semester, when I'll have learned at least some German, but it's quite convenient for the time being.

I promised you all pictures, I know, but I couldn't find my camera to bring with me, so until I get another you'll have to make do with letters!

Peace,
Breeann

2010-03-14T22:13:00.001-07:00

The only surviving photos of me at Saturday's Celtic Faire:

2010-02-17T22:33:00.000-08:00

Meme: set your music collection to shuffle. The first lines of the first twenty songs make up a poem; the first line of the 21st song is the title.

She Said She Wanted Me

My canoe lies on the water
I was standing
when the sun goes nova

Got no social graces
every breath you take
Oh tell me what was on your mind

Look out the window, what do I see?
Billboards promise paradise
They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
all that you touch

This is me forever
praying mantis on screen
I'm a cold heartbreaker
Look in the mirror and tell me
for whom the gun tolls

I never had anything happen so fast
body lines fluid in static heat

Up on the hillside
they're pickin' up the prisoners
all alone, or in twos

Hm. That almost made sense -- in a weirdly disjointed and depressing sort of way. I think it's mostly Cockburn...

2010-01-10T16:51:00.000-08:00

India Foxtrot Yankee Oscar Uniform Charlie Alpha November Uniform November Delta Echo Romeo Sierra Tango Alpha November Delta Tango Hotel India Sierra, Charlie Oscar Papa Yankee Alpha November Delta Papa Alpha Sierra Tango Echo India Tango Tango Oscar Yankee Oscar Uniform Romeo Lima India Victor Echo Juliet Oscar Uniform Romeo November Alpha Lima.

(Whiskey Oscar Whiskey, India Romeo Echo Alpha Delta Tango Oscar Oscar Mike Uniform Charlie Hotel Sierra Charlie India Foxtrot India.)

2009-12-06T21:13:00.000-08:00

It's remotely possible that I've been listening too much to Scarborough Fair and other old tunes -- not to mention reading too many faery tales. At least I didn't actually intend to start something like this.

------------
If you would win my love again
then go and hunt for me
the dragon who with glittered wings
soars through the evening sky,
and trap him in a net of dreams,
and make him, by and by,
to plow the land between the strand
of golden sand and sea.

So you would twine your life with mine?
Then fetch for me the furs
of full one thousand breathing beasts,
and with them you must sew
a cloak for me without a seam
or single stitch below --
then make a gift to me, and I
will weave my life with yours.

--------------------

It's rough, I know, and it needs I think another stanza, perhaps two. I'm not sure how I feel about the rhyme scheme right now, either. Comments?

2009-11-21T17:49:00.000-08:00

NaNo eats your brains....

2009-10-27T15:30:00.001-07:00

The Faeries Dance
(William Butler Yeats)

The wind blows out of the gates of the day.
The wind blows over the lonely of heart,
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the faeries dance in a place apart,

Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
Tossing their milk-white arms in the air:
For they hear the wind laugh, and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair,

And even the wise are merry of tongue;
But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
"When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
The lonely of heart is withered away!"

2009-09-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

I thought to walk with thee upon a day --
in summer, through the greenly breathing field,
or down the river-way; we'd go, and wield
our tongues in fierce debate (but only play.)
Or haps we'd stroll along beside the bay,
come fall, and sit upon the harbor-shield
of rocks, and watch the tide, and sweetly yield
to sea-bird songs and salty splashing spray.

But summer went without thee, o my love,
and all the leaves of fall are gone as well:
the winter's chill has stolen them away.
I found thee late, beneath a shrouded day --
no time is left to us, and who can tell
when we shall walk, the gentle sun above?

Yes, I know it's in need of work. Comments, anyone?

2009-08-10T17:14:00.000-07:00

:FIRE:.

[ ] You have a short temper.
[ ] You often act on your emotions without thinking first.
[x] You are very competitive.
[x] You like to play with fire.
[ ] You are not a strong swimmer or you can't swim at all.
[x] You prefer warm weather over cold weather.
[ ] You often lose control over yourself.
[ ] You can be quite reckless.
[x] You sometimes hurt people without realizing it.
[x] People have often called you insane.
Total: 5

.:WATER:.

[x] You have a calm, laid-back personality.
[x] You like to go to the beach.
[x] You rarely get angry.
[x] When you do get angry, you know how to control it.
[x] You think before you act.
[x] You are good at breaking up fights.
[ ] You are a good swimmer.
[ ] You like the rain.
[x] You can stay calm in stressful situations.
[ ] You are very generous.
Total: 7

.:EARTH:.

[ ] You are physically strong.
[x] You have a close connection with nature.
[x] You don't mind getting dirty.
[ ] You form strong opinions on issues that concern you.
[x] You could easily survive in the wild.
[x] You care about the environment.
[ ] You can easily focus on your work without getting distracted.
[x] You rarely get depressed.
[x] You aren't afraid of anything.
[ ] You prefer to have a strict set of rules.
Total: 6

.:AIR:.

[x] You have a free spirit.
[ ] You hate rules.
[x] You prefer to be out in the open rather than in small, enclosed spaces.
[x] You hate to be restrained.
[x] You are very independent and outgoing.
[x] You are quite intelligent.
[ ] You tend to be impatient.
[x] You are easily distracted.
[x] You can sometimes be hyperactive and/or annoying.
[x] You wish you could fly.
Total: 8

.: DARKNESS:.

[x] You spend most of your time alone.
[ ] You prefer nighttime over daytime.
[x] You like creepy things.
[x] You like to play tricks on people.
[ ] Black is your favorite color.
[x] You prefer the villains over the heroes in movies, TV shows, videogames, etc.
[ ] You don't talk much.
[ ] You are atheist.
[x] You don't mind watching scary movies.
[ ] You love to break the rules.
Total: 5

.:LIGHT:.

[x] You are very polite.
[x] You are spiritual.
[ ] When someone is in trouble, you never hesitate to help them.
[ ] You believe everything you see or hear.
[ ] You are afraid of the dark.
[ ] You hate violence.
[x] You hope for world peace.
[x] You are generally a happy person.
[ ] Everyone loves to be around you.
[ ] You always follow the rules.
Total: 4

Heh. I'm more balanced than I thought I was. I did think I'd score higher on Fire, though. And I didn't expect Light to be the lowest one. (Air's not even remotely a surprise.)

2009-07-26T17:33:00.000-07:00

As re: the earlier post? The neighbour found the body. In her yard. In a number of pieces. And showed it to Heather because I was not home.

.....Cat, you are really lucky I like you.

2009-07-26T07:38:00.000-07:00

So. I sleep in for almost two hours and wake up at about 7:30. Not bad. I get up, put on a kettle of water, contemplate bringing in the clean laundry from the machines, and head out to the backyard to check the doves' food and water. On my way, I wonder whether I ought to take Moon to see the vet, because he isn't showing any signs of appetite at all, and is pretty much ignoring me: very nearly one of the signs of the apocalypse, considering he's normally all over me pleading for breakfast the instant I wake up.

I open the door, step out, and see wing-feathers, tail-feathers, and a couple chunks of body-feathers. This is not a big deal; Moon's caught birds before. More power to him. It does, however, mean that I need to find the rest of the body before Heather wakes up and freaks out. So I walk out into the rest of the yard and pivot.

Bloody cat.

The door to the cage in the corner of the yard is hanging wide open. The cage is empty but for more feathers scattered inside it. There are feathers all over the yard, actually, in the trees and under bushes and half-buried in the gravel. And yes, the dove was in its cage the night before: I checked.

I go searching through the house for "presents" and find nothing. I search the backyard and find nothing. I take a peek over the side gate and find absolutely nothing. But with that many feathers gone there is no way Moon didn't get the dove.

Conclusion: he caught it, ate it, and that is why he does not want his breakfast.

Bloody cat.

Question: did he figure out how to open the cages? Siamese are known for being smart enough to figure these things out, and he does know how to open drawers, sliding doors, windows left open a crack, and boxes. Because the cage was shut and latched, and now it is open, and the cat is smug. And I have another cage of doves, and also Saiwe is used to going outside in a small cage to enjoy the sunlight and change of scene.

Did I mention that doves are Heather's favorite birds, and that she is going to notice awful quick that there's one fewer, and probably that there are locks on the present cages? Jen, too, for that matter.

Bloody cat.

2009-06-21T19:21:00.000-07:00

Meme:

List 10 of your favorite characters from different fandoms, and ask people to spot patterns in your choices, and if they're so inclined, to draw conclusions about you based on the patterns they've spotted.

Silmarillion - Finrod Felagund
Star Wars - Mitth'raw'nuruodo / Grand Admiral Thrawn
Stargate SG1 - Colonel Jack O'Neill
Star Trek - Spock ch'Sarek
Harry Potter - Luna Lovegood
Lord of the Rings - Galadriel
xxxHolic - Doumeki Shizuka
Dragonlance - Raistlin
Song of Ice and Fire - Arya Stark
Synergy - Tor

...Well, I can see a couple, but I'll admit to curiosity as to what others think...

2009-03-28T09:37:00.000-07:00

For Mom again, and Dad, I did not need to hear that.

The Female of the Species
Rudyard Kipling

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

2009-03-25T22:40:00.000-07:00

This is what I reach for and never quite manage to grasp, but it's lovely enough I can't really be envious, only admiring. Mom, I think you especially might like it.

The Shrinking Lonesome Sestina
Miller Williams

Somewhere in everyone's head something points toward home,
a dashboard's floating compass, turning all the time
to keep from turning. It doesn't matter how we come
to be wherever we are, someplace where nothing goes
the way it went once, where nothing holds fast
to where it belongs, or what you've risen or fallen to.

What the bubble always points to,
whether we notice it or not, is home.
It may be true that if you move fast
everything fades away, that given time
and noise enough, every memory goes
into the blackness, and if new ones come--

small, mole-like memories that come
to live in the furry dark--they, too,
curl up and die. But Carol goes
to high school now. John works at home
what days he can to spend some time
with Sue and the kids. He drives too fast.

Ellen won't eat her breakfast.
Your sister was going to come
but didn't have the time.
Some mornings at one or two
or three I want you home
a lot, but then it goes.

It all goes.
Hold on fast
to thoughts of home
when they come.
They're going to
less with time.

Time
goes
too
fast.
Come
home.

Forgive me that. One time it wasn't fast.
A myth goes that when the quick years come
then you will, too. Me, I'll still be home.

2009-02-26T16:34:00.000-08:00

Rainstorm

I'd always met her as an enemy before, you know --
depressing, cold, she'd pierce straight through my skin into my bones
and settle there, and leech away my energy until
I couldn't move (or didn't want to, all the same to me.)
So when she showed this afternoon, I cursed and groaned and whined
because I really didn't feel like fighting, not today,
I'd rather sleep, or maybe curl up on a couch with tea,
a book, a purring cat. But no: I didn't have a choice
at all: the clock was ticking, sunset coming far too fast.
I had to go.

Delayed a while. I hung about, annoyed,
and lurked inside the doorway. Then I darted out. I thought
if I was fast enough I'd get away without a fight.
It didn't work (it never does). She let me think it did
awhile -- she let me sneak, pretending that she didn't know
exactly where I was, pretending she was looking out
at something, someone else -- and just about the time I thought
I'd made it she said, "Peek-a-boo!" and opened up, the bitch.

There wasn't much that I could do about it, either, so
I ducked my head, went faster, tried ignoring her. Of course
it only made it worse by irritating her, and then
she really went all out -- cut the big guns loose and slammed
me with them all, and struck and flailed my back and shoulders 'til
I couldn't take it -- cried Gramercy, showed my neck, sued for
surrender. Maybe that got through, because she lightened up
for just a moment, gave a bit of breathing room before
she started in again. I didn't bother fighting, then.

And maybe that was it. It must've been, because -- it changed.
She didn't stop, don't get me wrong, but she gentled just enough
that I could catch my breath and wonder what was coming next.
Turned out it was my friend, the one who'd made me shriek with joy
since I was just a kid, and still would make me laugh and bounce
whenever he'd the chance. And now he tickled through my hair
and blew across my face and shoved me hard enough that I
came just this near to falling down, and started teasing me
for running (or for trying to), and I couldn't help but grin.
If he'd teamed up with her, I thought, she might not be all bad.

I realized they were playing games around the time she dropped
the shadow-cloak she always wore and light shone through behind,
illuminating all her guns and fortresses and fields
and clearing out the fog ahead. It worked some alchemy
upon her bullets as they flew, some transmutation that
caught all of them while in mid-air and lit a diamond spark
within each one: the air was filled with arrows made of light.

And I'll admit to laughing. It was gorgeous, like a thing
you only find in magazines or on TV or in
a calendar, and even though they both were shoving me
all kinds of forwards backwards side-to-side I couldn't look
away, just laugh.

Then I looked up. She'd spread a glowing flag
across the sky before me, blazoned all with hues almost too bright
for words. Above it was a smaller band that shimmered like
an echo or a memory, all flower-pale and faint.

So that was that. I went back home -- it wasn't a retreat
this time, I didn't fight, I danced instead, all glowing. But --
you know, I'd always met her as an enemy before.

2009-02-12T13:54:00.000-08:00

-Saiwe is back home. He was on three meds, but the Dr. Kahler declared him healthy enough to stop one of them on Tuesday's checkup. Attitude-wise he's back to normal, or at least as normal as it gets while he's molting.

-For those who missed the memo, I'm not living with Mom and Dad any more; I am instead at a duplex near the university with a couple other people, and loving it.

-I got a gorgeous and very sweet cat along with the move, but he doesn't care for being photographed. I'll post pictures of him when I can actually get them.

-I've been doing a lot of crochet work, for various reasons. Mom, you really ought to like what I'm working on now. I might just have to give it to you before September.

-I finally found my harp tuner. I won't say I'm going to play it faithfully, because whenever I say that I don't, but I will say that I no longer have fingernails, and that my fingertips are developing (gasp!) calluses.

-Choir = love. Hand-bell choir = love + headaches.

-I have a bevy of older Assyrian ladies conspiring to get me a boyfriend. It's somewhat frightening, but mostly amusing.

-I have 23 units next semester, and I alternate between eager anticipation and dread. I suppose I'll settle on one or the other a few weeks into term, but I'd rather know now. Don't tell me I'm crazy: it's been said a number of times already, and at this point probably won't change a single thing. It might get an eye-roll, though.

-I continue to fuss over my list of telcoms, weres, vampires-that-really-aren't, and the associated 'verses.

2009-01-24T13:57:00.000-08:00

I went to see Saiwe again. He's definitely improving, much brighter and alert than he was yesterday. He didn't really want to leave my hand, but he preened his feathers and stretched his wings a few times, and squawked at me when I touched under his wings. A couple times I hit a pin feather wrong and he took a nip at my fingers. That reassured me more than just about anything.

The results for the bacterial work should show up Tuesday or Wednesday; I'll be getting him back from the vet on Monday. The approval for the CareCredit card hasn't come through, though, so I'm going to try sending it through with a co-applicant attached. Hopefully that will work. If it doesn't... well, I'll manage.

More as it comes.

2009-01-23T14:43:00.000-08:00

Wednesday

I come home around 4:50. Saiwe looks excited to see me, then falls off his perch, head cocked at a right angle and wings flared, and doesn't move for maybe 45 seconds. When he does he can't balance or walk around and he's sleepy. Bad. I call Michele. At about 5:15 he startles at something and does it again. I start calling every emergency vet in the area. There are no avian vets available anywhere until 8 the next morning. I cover Saiwe's cage with a blanket and a coat, shut the lights off, and go into the other room.

Later that night I find out the same thing happened just before I got home, maybe at 4:35 or 4:40.

Saiwe had three grand mal seizures in the space of 45 minutes. Not Good. Really, really, really Not Good.

Thursday

Michele and I run him into the vet. He's alive, but not moving, not really responding except to fluff his head feathers; he doesn't give Michele any sass, even, and it is quite frankly terrifying. We check him in and a little later I get a call asking if they can do bloodwork and an x-ray. The cost is nasty, but otherwise they won't know what's causing the problems.

The x-ray shows up zinc and/or lead in the digestive tract. He's too small to operate on, so they start medicines and give me a rough estimate. (Not pretty). The vet seems confident, though, that he should be fine, and the lady at the counter advises me to apply for CareCredit so I don't have to pay in one lump sum. I send in the application... and wait.

Friday

I get a call telling me Saiwe's doing fine and asking whether or not I have results yet from CareCredit. I don't -- it's a 24-hour process. In the meantime, would I like to come visit Saiwe? Absolutely.

I go see him with Mom. He's doing a lot better, turning his head so I can get at the spots he likes best, yawning, stretching his neck out, even climbing up to my shoulder. He's still acting pretty tired, and his poop's a weird color from the medicines, but it's reassuring. At least until the lady comes back and tells me that they found some nasty bacteria in the cultures and they're sending them in so they can figure out what antibiotics to put him on.

Hopefully I get him back tomorrow; if things don't go so well it'll be Monday. We still haven't figured out exactly where the lead came from so we can prevent it from happening again, and if the CareCredit app doesn't go through I'll definitely need to find a job for the summer.

More when it's available.

2008-12-31T17:25:00.000-08:00

We went ice-skating at the foot of Half-Dome today. It was truly gorgeous -- snow and frost and pines and towering mountains, and not half as cold as Paris. At one point I swear I saw Hugin -- or maybe Munin -- winging by, and the other half of that pair dominated the parking area from the ground.

The ice in the rink was scratched and dented from the holiday rush of skaters, and I will confess to giving it some uneasy looks. I never did get the hang of roller-blades or skate-boards, and generally if I'm at an ice-rink I spend 80% of the time attached to the wall and the rest of it off the ice. So when, after about three minutes, I abandoned the wall and took a few turns around without using it as a crutch, I was fairly pleased with myself. I even bragged to Mimi that I hadn't fallen once yet -- an accomplishment, let me assure you!

--Pride goeth, and all that, and so of course I fell two seconds after my boast, doing injury to my tailbone, dignity, and left arm. But I clambered back up and continued on, and by the time I quit the rink some forty minutes later I was much more comfortable and had regained all my missing pride, though my wrist was still rather sore.

Then I went to pull off the gloves.

That was a Bad Idea.

My wrist, as it turned out, was not fine. As a matter of fact, it had swollen up rather badly, with a marvelous lump where the bone ought to have been, and it was impossible to move it or my thumb without a great deal of pain. I hadn't used it while skating, only flailed my arms about, so it was something of a surprise.

I tried to use both hands to remove the skates. It only took my wrist about half a second to convince my brain that that, too, was a Bad Idea.

We got into the van, and I realized that I could not crochet one-handed. Half an hour later, the lap-top died, and even though the scenery was beautiful I think I may have veered close to madness on the way back to Calvin Crest.

So now I'm sitting in Cedar Lodge, typing this with one hand and trying not to move the other one. The swelling has extended most of the way to the elbow along the back of my arm, and now I can't safely move that, either. My wrist is almost certainly sprained, probably with a bruised bone tossed in, I'm to get it X-rayed tomorrow or the day after, and winter term at CSUS starts the 5th. We are hoping that the bone is not actually fractured or outright broken.

Also, the scarf I was working on for my grandmother's Christmas gift will not be finished by the time she arrives, which is a source of vast annoyance since it was almost done.

But hey, I went ice-skating at one of the most beautiful locations on earth.

And I only fell over once.

2008-12-14T14:53:00.000-08:00

Water
Milk
Assam
Cinnamon
Cloves
Nutmeg
Black peppercorns
Vanilla
Orange peel
Sugar
Cardamom
Cumin
--------
= Yummy!

2008-12-11T09:12:00.001-08:00

The time-space around finals Sucketh.

Except for impromptu games of Star Munchkin, anyways.

2008-11-27T21:35:00.001-08:00

I won!!!!!

2008-11-25T08:33:00.001-08:00

...My characters are evil and need to die. I did not want to start playing with international politics this close to the deadline, especially when I don't even know what most of the countries are named!

2008-11-20T11:33:00.000-08:00

This is fun. Except for the days where I don't do much...

(But I'm still ahead.)

2008-11-10T21:05:00.001-08:00

Word count for today's not uploaded yet, but it's still ahead of the strictly-necessary count and behind my personal goal. Ah, well, no classes tomorrow!

2008-11-08T21:00:00.001-08:00

14,123. Another 2k tomorrow and I should have a fairly nice cushion for next week.

I wish there were three or four NaNos per year and not just one.

2008-11-08T19:06:00.000-08:00

13,465 words and counting. Up to date - now I just need to keep writing and make myself a nice little cushion for the upcoming days.

Next week's the worst.

Currently in play: weretigers, werebears, assassins, abductors, abductees, ambassadors, bodyguards, kings, nobles, international plots, Mysterious Forests, and the odd sorcerer or three.

...Ye gods. I am so going to have to run this through the Mary-Sue Litmus Test when I am done...

2008-11-05T21:17:00.001-08:00

First name:

Get Your Cyborg Name

Middle name:

Get Your Cyborg Name

And we cannot forget that I am also one of the:

Get Your Cyborg Name

This was just too much fun.

2008-11-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

Biology majors annoy me. They can't get out of the required year of physics, so instead they decide that it's unimportant and they can just skate through it, promptly forgetting every blessed thing they learn the moment the class ends. Never mind that they have to take a second semester of it after they finish the first. Never mind that any half-way decent med school will test you on it before acceptance. So they all sign up for credit/no credit and do absolutely nothing so far as earning a decent grade goes.

They skip out of class incessantly.
They refuse to so much as look at the homework.
When they are in class, they ignore the professor and make no attempts at interaction.

And then they have the audacity to complain when the average score on a test comes back a 35 out of 100, thereby ticking off the professor who is trying to teach these things to them and failing because they Just. Won't. Learn. And, of course, the repercussions from that then fall on both the just and the unjust. Is it time to flee Sodom yet? It's beginning to feel like it.

If physics were any harder than their other classes, I would be much more inclined to sympathy. But these students have for the most part gone through a year's worth of chemistry with A's and B's - a class that requires rather more memorization of formulae than physics, along with ten thousand other rules. A number of them have taken and passed Organic Chemistry, which is supposedly the bane of the Bio major. They've taken botany and zoology and microbiology and genetics and kept up an acceptable GPA, but the moment it comes to the physics class every ounce of skill and dedication that would normally be applied is royally defenestrated. Dr. Mokhtari takes great pains to make sure that everyone has a printed copy of the assigned problems, but what can she do when the students fold them up and never look at them again?

I'm not jumping ship: I'm in for the duration, and I will be getting a decent grade. But somehow I suspect that the Physics II classroom this spring will appear rather barren compared to the current one.

The thought pleases me.

2008-11-03T07:19:00.000-08:00

Word count as of last night: 4186. I'm hoping to keep on about 2k words per day instead of 1667 - it builds a buffer into the system. So far, so good!

2008-10-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

I swear terzanelles are going to drive me insane. In a good way. I hope. Bleh.

Here's what a few hours' worth of focus got me. Feel free to rip it to shreds.

Her cloak is red and black, and stained with light,
with gold and silver dancing in her eyes:
it hides the watching shadows of the night.

Behind, the brush of sunset sets the skies
alight; the fire spills across her face:
with gold and silver dancing in her eyes

she dips her head and lifts her hands to trace
a binding spell, a rune. The stars are all
alight; the fire spills across her face

and down her cloak; the sunset bonfires fall
and fade. She drops her hands and starts to sing
a binding spell, a rune. The stars are all

ablaze and watchful, bright and glimmering.
Her spells wrap tight about my soul: they spark
and fade. She drops her hands and starts to sing

another tune, a drawing, sweet and dark.
Her cloak is red and black, and stained with light
(her spells wrap tight about my soul, and spark):
it hides the watching shadows of the night.

2008-10-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

Today I created a Flickr account. Maybe it'll even get used...

2008-09-27T07:16:00.000-07:00

I had weird dreams last night. Parrot finches and Bird Heaven Aviaries just don't mix well with weretigers and 4000-year-old vampires (thank you Tor & Namach.)

Michele, I blame you.

2008-08-17T07:27:00.001-07:00

Back home again.

2008-08-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

Less than two hours of sleep night before last. Who knows why - I certainly went to bed with enough time to get 8 - but at least I picked up some Naproxin so the headache wasn't too bad. Then last night went to the Jr. High Christmas party with the campers, got back at 10:30, but still left myself ample time to get 8, a full night's sleep.

...Couldn't sleep until past 1 AM, then got woken up by some weird deranged noise. Impossible to say whether it was a pair of big cats fighting or a problem with the pipes, but the toilet was fine when I went into the bathroom. Get back into the bedroom, hear something walking around just outside and sniffing at my window - and no it wasn't a squirrel or raccoon, thanks, very used to the noises those thinks make outside by now. Couldn't get to sleep for another hour, then woke up at bloody 6 AM and couldn't get back to sleep thanks to the thrice-accursed birds. Massive headache means more Naproxin today if I'm to get through Turnover, even though I really don't want to have to use it two days running. Least I didn't take one last night.

...And I have a mandatory "party" to attend this evening that will probably be more of a meeting and will run late. Less sleep.

Someone shoot me now, please?

2008-08-07T19:28:00.001-07:00

My refrigerator must have been made by Microsoft - the milk that was supposed to good for another week looks like it was left out three days running, and the meat that should have been edible for ten more days is festooned with white mold. The eggs are long gone, as is the fruit, and I've had chicken and rice for the past three days. To top it off, the lighter is broken and all of my matches are gone, and I have nothing microwaveable left in the cabin.

Hm. I think I need to go to the store.

2008-07-22T15:50:00.000-07:00

My tea came! I'm very happy about it. I got good-sized amounts of:

Rooibus Rote Grutze
Rooibus Candied Almond
Formosa Jade Oolong (Tung-ting style, yummy!)

And then samples of these (which I can't wait to try...)

Heirloom Tea Flowers
CTC Irish Breakfast Blend (a collage of Assams)
East Frisian TGFOP (another blend of Assams)
Sweet Almond Green Tea
Green Tea with Red Ginseng
Sencha (a middling grade)
Genmai Cha (which should be interesting)
Formosa Amber Oolong Select (can you tell I love Formosas and Assams, yet?)
Season's Pick Gunpowder Green (that one's Joy's)

And they tossed in a complementary Ceylon sample from the Uva Highlands region, which will probably go to Joy since I'm not normally a fan of Ceylon teas.

Oh happy day!

2008-07-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

Love the thunder, but I really rather wish it would stop raining. It's far too chilly - and I thought this place was supposed to be dry.

On a different note, I'm actually going to church today for the first time since I've been here.

2008-07-12T07:38:00.000-07:00

It's cold. I'm huddling in my cloak (thanks, Mom!) and waiting for the tea to brew while Saiwe cuddles in my hand, nipping at my fingernails.

All in all, not that bad.

2008-07-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

I thought of you last night. Somewhere between "God Bless America" and the Air Force Hymn I remembered the way you laughed, threatened the hapless dogs, watched your grandkids - and it didn't hurt.

Ave atque vale, Papa.

2008-06-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

If I do not go away, ought I to get another parrot? My living expenses for the year, especially if I don't get the full 12 k, will be close to maxed out - I built some amount of leeway into the calculations, but not much, not at all.... There's no way basic living costs will be less than 6 k. And the school tuition is 3.3 k. If I get 8 k in grants, and take away 2.5 or 3 k from the summer, I'm looking at having... say 1 - 1.5 k left over. That's... not fantastic. The bird itself would be close to 1 k, and then its upkeep would probably be at least .5 k. No es bien!

If I do get 12 k in grants, then I'm set. Hakuna matata! Say 9 k total, counting the kitties' care and tuition, then that leaves me 3 k in grants plus perhaps 3 k from the summer job - enough to get my license and cover nice things like wedding gifts and extra parrots.

But that's only this year. Granted, if I don't go abroad this year I just plain can't go for school at all. Even 15 k would barely cover getting me into Australia via USAC. I'd need to take an extra job. Much less New Zealand! And since I don't want to go just for a summer, I'd be sunk. A Masters' would be my only option left - that or independent travel. There's no doubt that if I don't go for '09 I'm not going for '10. So I'd be home; I'd have the time and resources to care for two parrots, once the initial purchase price was resolved. I even already have the cage. But would it be wise of me to do so? Any large parrot is going to be hitting sexual maturity and the difficult phase right as I graduate from college and am looking for a Master's program. What will that do to my job pursuits? It's not wise to tie yourself down, Dad says, and I hate it but he may be right. Even if I get a bird suitable for an apartment, I'm still limited. Especially since the adolescent phase is going to peak again right around the time I get done with a Masters' and am looking for work or a Ph.D.

That in mind, if I were to get a parrot, what would be a feasible choice? Large macaws and cockatoos are out of the question, as are Amazons. Much as I love them, they're too destructive, too loud, and too time-consuming. I don't want to deal with the neurotic tendencies of a Grey, yet, though when I have the time I think they'll prove fascinating. Likewise, hawk-headed parrots are just not on. Conures are lovely, but unless I go for another Py they're much too noisy, and besides, I want a bigger bird. Lories and lorikeets are too messy; parakeets are too small. I've never been drawn by the Senegals and Meyers, either.

Some of the mini-macaws could be an option. Illigers, yellow-collareds, and Nobles would probably be best, as Hahns sound a bit more trouble than they're worth. But these guys are all pricy, $700 and up, except for the Hahns. They're destructive, too - not that any parrot isn't, but they do have a reputation for it, unlike Vasas and eclectus parrots. And they can get loud a few times a day. At Crowell this wouldn't be a problem; in any other apartment it might be. And they're still a bit small for what I'm looking at.

A galah, goffins, or Ducorps 'too might work. They're not nearly as loud as their larger brethren, and they're much less stressful - and they're cuddly, too! They're not picky, though they are apparently very very messy, feather dust and flinging stuff. But they're also even more expensive than the mini-macaws. 1.5 k for a Rosie, and 1.3 k for a Ducorps? I don't think so! Even the goffins is $850, and I'm just not sure I ought to spend that much.

Not that eclectus' are any cheaper, and by all reports they have their own special set of problems. The cost of food would be much higher for these guys. The males would be shy, and the females you'd have to be leery of spooking, lest they bite - hard! On the other hand, they're not supposed to be nearly as loud or as destructive as the 'toos and mini-macaws, and they really are gorgeous birds. Of course, they're not as cuddly... but they don't have much of a reputation for being nippy, either, which means a lot.

I like the idea of Vasas, lesser or greater, quite a bit. But would Saiwe be able to handle having one around? I don't want my darling, bratty little GCC to get territorial on me and attack the Vasa - he'd wind up dead meat! The head-hunting stories sound none too pleasant, either, and Vasas apparently take a bit to warm up to new people. I haven't heard of them being nippy, which is good, but... they are strange. And I'm not sure I like the idea of the bird perpetually trying to mate with me at all, like the males apparently do. As for the females - well, some people might find that bald head attractive, but I certainly don't! And they're Old-World birds, too, which means they'd have to get vaccinated against Polyoma and Sarc - I think the 'toos would, too. On the other hand, they're less likely to get hit by hawks if they get loose, which is a Very Good Thing. And they seem to have very fun personalities, even if they're not as cuddly. But is the tradeoff worth it?

Then too there's the idea of living with Michele. If we go in together on a parrot, it needs to be one she can tolerate - okay, so that leaves the entire list open. But it also needs to be one she actively would want. I know she's into the eclectus bunch (and oh, aren't those Vos females lovely?) I don't think she's as fond of the mini-macaws. She loves Greys, though.

Meh.

But if both she and I get parrots, there's the necessity for another cage. We've only the one at present: and that not big enough for much. A Grey, sedentary as they are, would work; a mini-macaw perhaps, though I'd wince. I wouldn't want to put a 'too or eclectus or Vasa in it at all, active as they are.

And then there's the necessity of harness- and flight-training. Will we have enough hours? If we're living on Crowell we should, but what if we're in Modesto? That... wouldn't necessarily be good, especially since we couldn't take the birds to class. We could perhaps keep duplicate cages there, but that would be expensive, even if we did get them at fantastic deals.

Just my bit of rambling...

2008-06-17T12:48:00.000-07:00

Evening shifts are irritating. They're not spectacularly bad - we haven't stayed in the kitchen past 9 yet - but I'd rather be done by 2 or 3 in the afternoon. But the sky is a rich Colorado-type blue, and the air is clean, and it's about 80 degrees out, and the air smells of lake and pines - and with all that, who's to complain?

Also, we're supposed to get Net access at the rentals on Friday.

2008-06-09T19:34:00.000-07:00

I promised several people a post about the Mill Creek Manor Tea House. I'm sorry it's been so long in coming, but I have had trouble wrestling my thoughts into a coherent pattern. Still, I've gone twice now, and surely I should form an opinion!

Their food - they serve lunch from noon to 4 - is tasty, although overpriced and mislabeled. I blame the pricing on the fact that Big Bear is a tourist town, and the tea house is primarily oriented towards tourists. The mislabeling I am not quite sure what to think of; the "crepes de la reine" were delicious, but they were _not_ actually crepes.

The selection of tea is acceptable, though not superb: perhaps thirty varieties. However, the selection is also very narrow. All but three of the teas on the table are flavored blends, mostly of blacks or greens (though there are a few rooibos bases tossed in). All of them bear excessively flashy names, designed to attract casual (tourist) attention. What is more, the base tea used in these cases is of mediocre quality at best.

Don't mistake me - I am a frequent drinker of blended teas (Earl Grey, anyone?) There's this fruit blend I know that makes the _best_ iced tea, bar none. But I think any balanced tea collection should contain no more than perhaps 25% blended varieties. What happened to the Darjeeling, the Assam, the Ceylon, the delicate varieties of Formosa oolongs, the Ti-guan-yin, the Silver Needle? Tea is a very old tradition, even in Europe, even in "progressive" America: any place claiming to be a tea house should _not_ bow to the whim and fancy of passing tourists and thus disdain it.

-----

When I went to the tea house, I took note of the atmosphere and layout. The building was very cluttered with tourist memorabilia. While this was understandable, due to the dual purposes of tea house and gift shop, it probably could have been organized better. As it was, the motley pastels draped and fell over every square inch of shelf, half-wall, and table, leaving me (me, of all people!) with the distinct impression of _clutter_. This was unfortunately compounded by the tendency of tourists to forget any semblance of manners when on vacation. Ladies and gentlemen, undoubtedly pleasant in their normal lives, leaned over diners' tables, chairs, meals, shoved their way behind seats, bumped the tables in their efforts to see something, attempted to find the price tag on the cozy of one's pot! It was nearly enough to induce claustrophobia.

The table setting... lacked. Instead of being served a pitcher of cream and dish of sugar, I was left to contemplate the small dish with prepackaged sweeteners, and the dismal sight of preserved half-&-half. Neither the taste nor the effect was pleasant. Surely it would not have taken much more effort to ask the customer if they would enjoy cream or sugar? When the tea arrived, it was set down, and then the drinker was ignored until the hurried proprietress slapped down a tab. No attention was given, nor any interaction, outside of that exchange.

The redeeming element in setting was the serving of the scone. This pastry was served hot, quartered, and with a dish of clotted cream and jam. The plate was actually quite elegant, and the scone tasty. Alas! the price, for one scone, was $6.50 - an abysmal charge for what was likely a packaged mixture, no matter how good the taste.

Probably I will go again until I have sampled all the blends that look interesting. Probably I will sit at my corner-table with a book, wincing as tourists climb over and behind me, and refrain from ordering the scone, no matter how delicious. But after that -

Well. I doubt it will become a favored summertime haunt.

2008-06-05T12:52:00.001-07:00

The crazy voice lady gave me a bloody A!!!!

2008-05-15T07:27:00.000-07:00

Very busy day. Wish the butterflies would go find some sweeter fields and leave me be.

2008-05-11T16:57:00.000-07:00

A blonde walks into a bank in New York City and asks for the Loan Officer. She says she's going to Europe on business for two weeks and needs to borrow $5,000. The bank officer says the bank will need some kind of security for the loan, so the blonde hands over the keys to a new Mercedes Benz SL 500. The car is parked on the street in front of the bank. She has the title, and everything checks out. The bank agrees to accept the car as collateral for the loan. The bank's president and its officers all enjoy a good laugh at the blonde for using a $110,000 Benz as collateral against a $5,000 Loan. An employee of the bank then proceeds to drive the Benz into the bank's underground garage and parks it there.

Two weeks later, the blonde returns. She repays the $5,000 and the interest, which comes to $15.41.

The loan officer says, "Miss, we are very happy to have had your business, and this transaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a little puzzled. While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a multimillionaire. What puzzles us is, why would you bother to borrow $5,000?"

The blonde replies, "Where else in New York City can I park my car for two weeks for only $15.41 and expect it to be there when I return?"

2008-05-01T08:16:00.000-07:00

2008-04-28T21:13:00.001-07:00

I don't want to cut my hair any more. I won. I'm not sorry.

Namarie.

2008-04-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you've really got to love this kind of detailed analysis....

Personally, I'm borderline ENTP/INTP. The descriptions are....

Well. Amusing.

2008-04-18T07:14:00.001-07:00

News of note:

-I have nearly decided upon a selection of teas to order from Upton

-I may have convinced several people to at least try to come with me to New Zealand

-I am making some progress on convincing my semi-stalker that I really am not the right girl for him

-My voice teacher is bipolar. Alternately, she has been abducted by aliens, and is being played by one of the same

-The Lounge has a clean courtyard, thanks to Becky

-I am writing a - shall we say, interesting? - short screenplay

-The Lounge has a cat and two kittens. They're adorable!

2008-04-11T17:59:00.000-07:00

If you have ever banged your head looking at LotR or Silm fanfic, then this is for you:

"Confused Memories of a Teen Reader"

2008-04-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

This is one of the most hilarious quizzes I've taken in a long time.

http://www.directhomefind.com/dream-home/index.php

Mine is a Wizard's Ranch.

Your kitchen is manned by a team of Keebler Drow Elves. There's a Chocolatessen, which is rapidly becoming your favorite room of the house. Having one is also becoming a trend among your wealthy neighbors. Your master bedroom is decorated to look like the treetop village of the Galadhrim. Your study has every fantasy novel ever written, including multiple editions of the Silmarillion and advance copies of Dungeons and Dragons Fifth Edition. One of your garages houses your Hummer, and others contain your H2, and H3... with room for an H4, if they ever invent one.

Your home also includes a roost for griffons. You've never actually seen a griffon, but you keep the roost ready anyway. Your guests enjoy your home theater with hi-def plasma screen TV, and the thrones you watch it from. Outside is the moat that protects your home from goblin invaders and extended family.

And, you have a pet -- a unicorn named "Shadowhooves".

2008-04-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

Che fiero costume
D'aligero nume,
che a forza di pene si faccia adorar, si faccia adorar!
E pur nell' ardore
il Dio traditore
un vago sembiante mi fe idolatrar.

Che crudo destino
che un cieco bambino
con bocca di latte si faccia stimar, si faccia stimar!
Ma questo tiranno
con barbaro inganno
entrando per gli'occhi mi fe sospirar.
Che crudo destino...!

2008-03-31T11:00:00.000-07:00

I have come to the conclusion that it is very difficult to engage feelings of loneliness when watching a green-cheek conure. They are simply too amusing, and require a good deal of attention to keep out of trouble. Additionally, they want to help with whatever you are doing - typing, playing the piano, brushing your hair, washing the dishes, clearing the table, baking bread, drinking tea, building (or deconstructing) Jenga towers, sweeping, bobbing for walnuts, decorating your homework pages, "fixing" the computer cord -

Also, they think it great fun to crawl around on your ticklish feet.

Then when they decide that they are quite through, they will clamber all over your shirt and pants, shoulders, arms, and head, surf in your hair, burrow through your shirt-sleeves, comb your hair, and preen your eyelashes. After that they will engage in professional dermatology by attempting to remove any moles, freckles, pimples, or mosquito bites that may have appeared on your skin.

All the while, of course, they keep up a constant monologue of parrot-ese, not to be confused with canary, finch, dog, cat, or anything else in the known universe...

2008-03-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

I bought 125 books for $25.

It's pretty incredible.

2008-03-18T20:45:00.000-07:00

Save a Tree
Read Online Fiction

2008-03-17T20:20:00.000-07:00

I spent some time today finding and taking "Song of Ice and Fire" character tests - with mildly disturbing/amusing results. Apparently I seem to exist somewhere between Tywin Lannister and Ned Stark. (Not to mention that one that said Melisandre, too, but I've decided to treat that as a complete fluke. If you've read SoIaF, you'll know what I mean.) Still, the juxtaposition of Stark and Lannister - especially those two! - will probably keep me laughing for a while.

As a note to those who have read, my brother took it and came out as Brienne of Tarth.

2008-03-13T21:00:00.001-07:00

The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying. dying, dying.

O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O, sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

~Alfred Tennyson

2008-03-12T16:29:00.000-07:00

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed." ~Dwight Eisenhower, 1954

Fifty-three years old - it might as well be fifty thousand. It is still hard to hear, but does that make it less true?

2008-03-07T18:22:00.000-08:00

I want to have this:

"If the world should stop revolving, spinning slowly down to die,
I'd spend the end with you,
and when the world was through
then one by one the stars would all go out, and you and I
would simply fly
away."

But it doesn't fit. And so, denied that, I would rather be Aubrey than the singer - but I am denied that, too, and I think I am stuck in between.

Where it hurts.

I hate it.

2008-03-07T17:55:00.000-08:00

The silver swan, who, living, had no note,
When death approach'd, unlocked her silent throat;
Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,
Thus sang her first and last, and sang no more:

"Farewell all joys, O death, come close mine eyes;
More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise!"

~Orlando Gibbons, "The Silver Swan"

2008-03-07T08:05:00.000-08:00

If you choose to believe me, good. Now I will tell how Octavia, the spider-web city, is made. There is a precipice between two steep mountains: the city is over the void, bound to the two crests with ropes and chains and catwalks. You walk on the little wooden ties, careful not to set your foot in the open spaces, or you cling to the hempen strands. Below there is nothing for hundreds and hundreds of feet: a few clouds glide past; farther down you can glimpse the chasm's bed.

This is the foundation of the city: a net which serves as passage and as support. All the rest, instead of rising up, is hung below: rope ladders, hammocks, houses made like sacks, clothes hangers, terraces like gondolas, skins of water, gas jets, spits, baskets on strings, dumb-waiters, showers, trapezes and rings for children's games, cable cars, chandeliers, pots with trailing plants.

Suspended over the abyss, the life of Octavia's inhabitants is less certain than in other cities. They know the net will only last so long.

2008-03-07T08:01:00.000-08:00

I totally demolished the class structure in the Creative Writing workshop yesterday: sent several people into hysterical laughter, confused a good half the class, and absolutely terrified the rest. And all it took was one little word.

"Lycanthropy."

2008-03-06T07:20:00.001-08:00

It started out with Stephanie's rabbit, who had an unusual fondness for coffee. Then her cat decided that it really liked wine - who knows why! After that it was an Australian shepherd who would eat anything - pills, powders, poison - if it was served with ice cream. And did I mention the German shepherd who would sooner bury a hot dog than eat it?

It turns out that we're not done yet. The newest development? My conure simply cannot keep himself away from Earl Grey tea, brewed extra strong, served with warm cream and sugar.

2008-03-03T08:04:00.000-08:00

One of the hedges is out. The opening-up of space and sight is wonderful to behold. I'm going to have to keep that in mind when sketching out architectural and landscaping plans.

2008-02-28T20:59:00.000-08:00

HERE, in the wild parts of the world -
here, where humans do not come, and crows do not fly,
nor hares creep, and where ship-banners are furled
(when indeed they dare to come at all) - here, in the wild, I lie.

THERE is a curious sort of mist that hangs above the world:
sheer, thick as cobwebs, unyielding as an infant's cry.
It envelopes the dead lands, the mountains, the curled
frozen shores that once, long ago, lived. If I sigh
into it, it does nothing but murmur back, muttering of the world.

BE it so that, far beyond this clouded sky,
words are stronger than I? I have been too long furled.

DRAGONS, dreams, ancient stories hurled
against the bones of Time, and Time's eye,
watching, mocking, the interwoven histories curled
upon each other. I am myth, a fading cry
of what was. The memories have been furled,
bound tight in custom, reason. Still - here, in the wild, I lie:
here, in the wild parts of the world.

2008-02-24T15:37:00.000-08:00

A kenning is a description of a thing one saw, often done in formal or poetic language; it was very popular as a form of Anglo-Saxon riddling. Anyway, here's one I made!

I saw this thing once: a face made of red fire and golden flame drowning beneath the water. Waves of her hair drifted golden above the lake-weed, and red strands tumbled lazily about the little silver fish. About her flame was wrapped a great mantle darker and bluer than the water; there were diamonds sewn into the hem and hood and collar. The darkness drowned her fire, and all that was left was the diamond-studded mantle shifting and turning in the lake: the owls and wolves made a funeral dirge.

2008-02-24T15:25:00.000-08:00

Reading the Entrails: a Rondel

They'll call it chance, or luck, or call it Fate-
The cards and stars that tumble as they will.
Tomorrow manifests and brings the bill
For every kiss and kill, the small and great.
You want to know the future, love? Then wait:
I'll answer your impatient questions. Still-
They'll call it chance, or luck, or call it Fate,
The cards and stars that tumble as they will

I'll come to you tonight, dear, when it's late,
You will not see me; you may feel a chill.
I'll wait until you sleep, then take my fill,
And that will be your future on a plate.
They'll call it chance, or luck, or call it Fate.

~Neil Gaiman

2008-02-19T20:39:00.000-08:00

A kenning I wrought for you...

I saw this thing once: a face made of red fire and golden flame floating drowned beneath the water, red hair drifting above the lake-weed and tumbling about the little silver fish; about was wrapped a great blue mantle with diamonds at the hem and hood and cloak.

2008-02-12T18:45:00.001-08:00

Since I received a few complaints about the last one, I've rewritten it to be less - geeky, shall we say? Here is the new version.

2008-02-06T08:50:00.000-08:00

A Song for the Unicorn

Once I was as you are now;
I sang and danced and smiled.
But now I have become undone,
a restless wand'ring child;
there is no breath of faith or hope
or joy upon my lips,
nor any warmth of love (or life)
in my chill fingertips -
for once I went – o! Long ago -
to spin within a glade
(of faery moss and chiming bells
and starlight it was made)
but from the night the stars came down
and landed in that glade,
and danced before my dazzled eyes
in moonlight and in shade;
(flowing flashing flames of hair
as white as any snow
that blew about the silver curves
of neck and back and brow,
a slender whipping tufted tail
that lashed and to and fro,
and rising spiral into night
from that white-gleaming brow
a horn that pierced eternity
and danced with faery-light
so that the glade was fair and green
when all should have been dark,
and music rang within it
sweeter than a summer's lark....)

And when it left I could not move
save for to weep and moan,
for in my heart the seeds of beauty
had been deeply sown -
and now that it had gone again
my soul was left to sigh
and I became a wandering lonely
thing where ravens cry....

(But once I was as you are now,
and 'tis no fault of mine
that now I must forever seek
that white unearthly shine.)

2008-02-03T21:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, with about ten minutes worth of work, Saiwe learned to pick up a bell and drop it in a cup. Today, in less than fifteen minutes, he completely generalised the concept. I could not be prouder.

The bell angles at the end of two large keychains, so when he tried to carry it, he perpetually got it tangled up with his feet. This resulted in his grabbing it and flinging it about as if he were attempting to take someone's eye out, screeching happily all the while. He would retrieve it from my lap, my hand, the bench, the table, even the floor, and drag it back to a cup that might be anywhere, at any height, sometimes even having to climb an arm or flap up to the table in order to reach it. At the bridge (ata, Saiwe! Ata!) he'd fluff up quite pleased with himself and wait for his bit of walnut. And of course, he's also working (again) on coming when cued. (Anan, Saiwe! --Ata!) It didn't take him more than half a dozen repetitions to learn that, either!

Tomorrow, I think I'm going to try to teach him to turn left in a circle - and then Tuesday to turn right!

2008-01-28T09:27:00.000-08:00

So Dad thinks that instead of trying to self-ID my strengths, I should ask others about them and see what they think, then use those to attempt to narrow - or broaden - the occupation field. For instance, Dad thinks maybe I should be a mediflight nurse or surgeon with a certification for Canine Search and Rescue, since I love animals, am prepared for just about every situation, like adventure, have something of a healing instinct, and am nearly unflappable by injuries or what-have-you. What about you?

2008-01-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

A song from my harp-book -

I once loved a lass, and I loved her so well
I hated all others what spoke of her ill.
But now she's rewarded me well for my love,
for she's gone to be wed to another.

When I saw my love to the church go,
with bride and bride-maidens she made a fine show -
and I trailed behind with my heart full of woe,
for she's gone to be wed to another.

When I saw my love sit down to dine,
I sat down beside her and poured out the wine;
and I drank to the lassie that should have been mine...
But she's gone to be wed to another.

The men of yon forest, they ask it of me:
"How many strawberries grow in the salt sea?"
I answered them back with a tear in my eye,
"How many ships sail in the forest?"

So dig me a grave, and dig it so deep,
and cover it over with flowers so sweet,
and I will lie down there and take a long sleep;
and maybe, in time, I'll forget her...

2008-01-20T12:48:00.000-08:00

If you are running over a field of broken glass, and trip, and start to fall - do you throw out your hands to break your fall, or run faster and try to recover your balance?

2008-01-15T10:42:00.000-08:00

This site is absolutely amazing. And yes, it is meant to be humorous!

My current favorites:

9. MORAL ARGUMENT (I)
(1) Person X, a well-known Atheist, was morally inferior to the rest of us.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

18. PARENTAL ARGUMENT
(1) My mommy and daddy told me that God exists.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

23. DORE'S ARGUMENT
(1) I forgot to take my meds.
(2) Therefore, I AM CHRIST!!
(3) Therefore, God exists.

27. ARGUMENT FROM AMERICAN EVANGELISM
(1) Telling people that God exists makes me filthy rich.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

34. ARGUMENT FROM MANIFESTATIONS
(1) If you turn your head sideways and squint a little, you can see an image of a bearded face in that tortilla.
(2) Therefore, God exists.

38. ARGUMENT FROM SHEER WILL
(1) I DO believe in God! I DO believe in God! I do I do I do I DO believe in God!
(2) Therefore, God exists.

39. ARGUMENT FROM NONBELIEF
(1) The majority of the world's population are nonbelievers in Christianity.
(2) This is just what Satan intended.
(3) Therefore, God exists.

58. ARGUMENT FROM ARGUMENTATION
(1) God exists.
(2) [Atheist's counterargument]
(3) Yes he does.
(4) [Atheist's counterargument]
(5) Yes he does!
(6) [Atheist's counterargument]
(7) YES HE DOES!!!
(8) [Atheist gives up and goes home.]
(9) Therefore, God exists.

72. ARGUMENT FROM INSANITY
(1) No sane person could have thought up Christianity.
(2) Therefore, it must be true
(3) Therefore, God exists.

73. ARGUMENT FROM EXHAUSTION (abridged)
(1) Do you agree with the utterly trivial proposition X?
(2) Atheist: of course.
(3) How about the slightly modified proposition X'?
(4) Atheist: Um, no, not really.
(5) Good. Since we agree, how about Y? Is that true?
(6) Atheist: No! And I didn't agree with X'!
(7) With the truths of these clearly established, surely you agree that Z is true as well?
(8) Atheist: No. So far I have only agreed with X! Where is this going, anyway?
(9) I'm glad we all agree.....
....
(37) So now we have used propositions X, X', Y, Y', Z, Z', P, P', Q and Q' to arrive at the obviously valid point R. Agreed?
(38) Atheist: Like I said, so far I've only agreed with X. Where is this going?
....
(81) So we now conclude from this that propositions L'', L''' and J'' are true. Agreed?
(82) I HAVEN'T AGREED WITH ANYTHING YOU'VE SAID SINCE X! WHERE IS THIS GOING?
....
(177) ...and it follows that proposition HRV, SHQ'' and BTU' are all obviously valid. Agreed?
(178) [Atheist either faints from overwork or leaves in disgust.]
(179) Therefore, God exists.

104. ARGUMENT FROM FORMATTING
(1) Behold, foolish Atheists, I present you with an incontrovertible proof of the existence of God.
(2) [Christian posts 10,000 word document without a single paragraph break.]
(3) [Atheist's eyes implode.]
(4) I see that nobody can refute (2).
(5) Therefore, God exists.

127. ARGUMENT FROM CHOCOLATE, a.k.a. MRS. POPE'S PROOF
(1) Chocolate is God's gift to humanity.
(2) Therefore, God exists.
(3) Now class, would anyone like to attempt an Argument From Beer?

167. ARGUMENT FROM COLLEGE FUNDING (usable by parents only)
(1) You believe in God.
(2) If I ever find out that you don't believe in God, you won't get any money for college!
(3) Therefore, God exists.

175. ARGUMENT FROM STAR TREK
(1) You will be assimilated.
(2) All your salvations belong to us.
(3) Resistance is futile.
(4) Therefore, God exists.

2008-01-11T22:39:00.000-08:00

I am officially speechless.

Link

2008-01-11T19:14:00.000-08:00

I'm not a huge addict of modern medicine. I don't take it for headaches or cramps; I really could care less about a stretched muscle or six; I wait through the nauseating symptoms of the flu without complaining. I don't really bother with fancy pain-deadening stuff for nasty bruises or cuts or scrapes: open air is good enough. When insomnia threatens, I don't run for the sleeping pills. But if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a bad cold.

I'm relatively sure that the reason I hate colds so much is that they sit in my throat and won't let me talk, sing, eat, drink, or sleep. Plus they give headaches and make my eyes and ears and nose hurt. And, now I've got Saiwe, I can't be completely certain it's not influenza instead of a cold - and influenza is transmittable from humans to pet parrots. Potentially lethal, too. Poor guy probably thinks I've abandoned him because I haven't been handling him...

2008-01-09T21:08:00.001-08:00

I hate head colds.

2008-01-08T07:33:00.001-08:00

I got Josh to show me some basic exercises with the weights last night. Apparently I am to do those four days a week and aerobic exercises the other three. I was personally glad that I could bench forty pounds for 15 reps and not the 25 I expected: I'm not starting from quite an awful position as I thought I was. (Still pretty lousy, though.)

In other news, I fear I am coming down with a cold, and am probably going to be constantly drinking tea so as to let the steam relieve my sinonasal cavities.

2008-01-07T07:18:00.000-08:00

I was listening absent-mindedly to the TV when I heard something so ludicrous I felt compelled to share it.

Hillary Clinton, speaking of the election: "I want people to make an informed choice."

2008-01-06T15:06:00.000-08:00

My resolutions for this year:

to be able to bench at least 50 kilos
to play the harp at a journeyman's level
to finish drafting and redrafting that thrice-accursed novel, and submit it to at least five editors

Anyone else?

2008-01-05T11:20:00.000-08:00

Homosexuality and Bisexuality

Still not sure where I am on this entire thing...

2008-01-03T16:08:00.000-08:00

You know - a lot of people don't like this as a potentiality for me. They think that it is a waste of my potential and a blatant violation of what I should do with the gifts that have been given me. But there are so many things I could do with those gifts, and so many places for blame - if I could be the one who develops an interstellar drive, thus relieving humanity of the growing population concerns, would I have done wrong in neglecting the calling of medical research, wherein I might have discovered the cure for cancer? And what if both of those would be wrong, because I should have been a psychologist, healing minds, or a pastor tending to the minds and souls of hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, or a musician who composed songs that swept the world, or an author whose stories were cherished by children for generations, or a politician who engineered peace within the world, or the cessation of starvation...?

There are so very many glamorous - aye, and needed, I'll not deny that - things that I might do. And then I say, perhaps I should simply be a mother and a wife, and none of those others - and that is held up in parity with those others, even though it is not something I would choose before all of them. I think I would become far too tired, even resentful, if I chose that, and only that.

But I think I could do that and train and breed animals. I think I would be content. Not - stretched, perhaps, in some areas, but happy. I think that more and more these days. I want it to be true; I want it to be mine. But somehow that is not a wise use of my "gifts"; if I am to do anything in addition to being a mother, it must be something bigger.

Why?

2008-01-03T08:14:00.000-08:00

I have noticed that fussing with Saiwe is rather like fussing with a toddler. As an example, he decided this morning that he wanted to chew on the computer cord, though he has never done so before. I held my finger up and told him no; he backed off. Ten seconds later he was back again for a repeat performance. The third time, he hung onto the cord, requiring me to pry his beak off it and tell him no again. After about six repetitions, he left it be - and then moved to the rest of the computer. At least he knows better than to nip me - most of the time!

2007-12-31T11:56:00.000-08:00

I am in a state of shock: Wanderlust just closed down. The world has become a little more dark and dreary.

That's all.

2007-12-23T12:19:00.000-08:00

Everyone knows the Do-Re-Mi song from the Sound of Music, right? Well, here's a variant we picked up on today's tour....

Do, a beer, a German beer
Re, the guy who serves the drinks
Mi, the one I buy beer for
Fa, a long way to the bar
So.... I think I'll have a beer
La, la la la la la la
Ti? I'd rather have a beer!
That will bring us back to Do!

2007-12-11T10:05:00.001-08:00

Almost done. Less than 48 hours to leaving. Saiwe, please be good for Michelle!

2007-12-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

I just finished the Firestaff Collection. I have to say, for not being published, they are certainly some of the better works I've read - to be honest, better than most of the recent fantasy currently in print, and certainly better than Eragon or Harry Potter or Mercedes Lackey. This is primarily because the characters, plots, and deus ex machinae are all believable....

You might take a look; they're not too much a waste of time.

2007-12-02T19:19:00.000-08:00

Me: (upon seeing a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches stacked two deep and five high) Wow....
Mimi: What's wow? (upon looking over) Wow......
Ha!

2007-11-20T06:31:00.000-08:00

I know that accepted Western culture leans heavily towards a woman changing her name when she marries (though yes, Alasse, there are exceptions, and it's not as socially stigmatized now). But you know, I really like my name. I don't think I would really want to change it. And it's not even just the phonetics - it's the meaning.

Breeann - strength, strong-willed, noble, lofty, gracious, daughter of a hill - take your pick, though the most commonly agreed-upon tends to be strong or stubborn.

Elizabeth - house of God. A church. A temple.

Wright - a person who makes something. An architect, builder, constructor. A maker (though not Alvin Maker).

Literally, my name translates out to, "One who makes a strong temple/church". And I like that. I think I'm going to keep it.

2007-11-07T06:44:00.001-08:00

I've not heard from Darren yet, but the two 'keets left, Rana and Linwe, seem to be healthy and fine. I'm allowing myself to hope. This afternoon I will likely be taking Snow's body to a vet for an autopsy. I have absolutely no desire to lose the rest of my flock.

2007-11-06T20:54:00.000-08:00

Aiwendil died last night. I thought - and hoped - that it was just a broken neck from a bad fall after a night fright. But then Snow started acting ill this afternoon, so we went and bought some antibiotics - and now she's dead. I really, really hope the two were unrelated, because if it's communicable then it's got a _very_ short treatment time and is, apparently, quite deadly. I'm sincerely praying that Saiwe stays healthy. I do not want to lose him.

2007-11-01T06:50:00.000-07:00

NaNo starts today!

Teaser! No editing allowed, that's for December.

“What’re you reading?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Quick fingers grabbed the book away. “Liar!”

She crossed her arms. “So?”

“Do they know you’re reading this?”

“What if they do?

“I think you’re lying again.” Her brother regarded her with a smirk. “I bet they don’t. Maybe I should tell.”

“Tell them what? That I’m sitting peacefully reading a book once I’ve finished all my work? Oh, yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

He tossed it in the air, caught it. “Where’d you get it, anyway? I didn’t think we had any of this stuff around the house.”

“Please. Like I’d tell you.”

He only shrugged. “Your funeral…”

“The library. Don’t tell.”

“Fine. But you know it’s useless. It’ll only distract you. It’s not real.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ellen was eight years old when she discovered that faery tales could be more fun than actually reading her school books. She was very, very careful to keep this discovery from her parents and brother. Somehow she was quite certain that her parents would disapprove – and what else were younger brothers for than for tattling – well, and annoying their elders, but that was the same thing, wasn't it?

Anyways, she managed to hide from her parents for a long time, but she couldn't quite keep Jason out of her business (and out of her books). Luckily enough, even though he couldn't figure out the point of reading them, he didn't tell – although he blackmailed her with it more than a few times. So typical of him. But he wasn't that bad, and he never did really tell.

She loved those books. They seemed to call to her, tales of unicorns and dragons and griffins and faeries and princesses running through her dreams. Sometimes Ellen wondered why she couldn't see them for real, in her bedroom, or better yet in her school, and then remembered that they weren't really real, not like Math and English and Science were. But she still wished, and she still loved to read the stories, so she kept on sneaking books home from the library to read when her chores were finished and homework done.

Sometimes she tried to talk about her stories with her bestest-best friend Jennifer. Jenny would squeal, “Oh, that's so romantic,” and ask to hear more about the handsome prince. But then, when Ellen would wish for the unicorns or dragons to appear at school, Jenny would look scared. “Why would you want that?” she'd ask. “That would be bad! The teachers would all get mad, and we wouldn't have any lessons or homework, and then we couldn't even go to high school because we wouldn't know anything!” (High school was the highlight of Jenny's existence.) And Ellen would try to explain that unicorns were beautiful, and it would be worth it to have one at school, or even a dragon if you gave it lots of milk....

No, Jennifer never really got it. Sometimes she thought she should tell Christopher, instead, because Chris always listened, and he loved animals so much (even though she thought it was a little strange to always be trying to tame the wild cats around the school with lunch-scraps.) Once Ellen started to talk about dragons – but Chris looked confused and asked why you would want a giant lizard with wings, and anyway dogs were cooler, and the hawk he saw at the school Science Fair. So she didn't talk about the stories when she was around him. And obviously Jason was out, because, really, he was her little brother, and he didn't know anything anyways.

And eventually it stopped being important, to talk about it, because there was so much homework to do, between her school-classes and her piano lessons – and then her mother started her on flute, and there was barely enough time in the day to play with her friends, let alone read...

2007-10-28T06:14:00.000-07:00

So I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year. Or at least, I'm trying.

And I'm having a great deal of fun planning... and who knows? Maybe, maybe, that flickering dream of a chance will be enough, and hope will become reality -

2007-10-24T20:55:00.000-07:00

I love this quote by LeGuin:

Sure it's simple, writing for kids. Just as simple as bringing them up.

All you do is take all the sex out, and use little short words, and little dumb ideas, and don't be too scary and be sure there's a happy ending. Right? Nothing to it. Write down. Right on.

If you do all that you might even write Jonathan Livingstone Seagull and make twenty million dollars and have every adult in America reading your book.

But you won't have every kid in America reading your book. They will look at it, with their clear, cold, beady little eyes, and they will put it down, and they will go away. Kids will devour vast amounts of garbage (and it is good for them) but they are not like adults; they have not yet learned to eat plastic.

Incredible, no?

2007-10-13T16:47:00.000-07:00

Hear the wind moan
In the bright diamond sky
These mountains are waiting
Brown-green and dry
I'm too old for the term
But I'll use it anyway
I'll be a child of the wind
Till the end of my days

~Child of the Winds

2007-10-08T19:41:00.000-07:00

Man cenuva lumbor ahosta,
Menel acuna
ruxal' ambonnar,
ear amortala,
undume hacala,
enwina lume
elenillor pella
talta-taltala
atalantie mindonnar?

The old darkness beyond the stars.... Talta-taltala atalantie mindonnar. The Quenya used there, I think, is not entirely translatable - but it is certainly appropriate. Sometimes, recently, I identify with it.

On another note, anyone want to come with me on a road trip over spring break? I'm thinking Montana, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, and maybe a few other back-woods places....

2007-09-28T09:29:00.000-07:00

Markirya

Who shall see a white ship
leave the last shore,
the pale phantoms
in her cold bosom
like gulls wailing?

Who shall heed a white ship,
vague as a butterfly,
in the flowing sea
on wings like stars,
the sea surging,
the foam blowing,
the wings shining,
the light fading?

Who shall hear the wind roaring
like leaves of forests,
the white rocks snarling
in the moon gleaming,
in the moon waning,
in the moon falling
a corpse-candle;
the storm mumbling,
the abyss moving?

Who shall see the clouds gather,
the heavens bending
upon crumbling hills,
the sea heaving,
the abyss yawning,
the old darkness
beyond the stars
falling
upon fallen towers?

Who shall heed a broken ship
on the black rocks
under broken skies,
a bleared sun blinking
on bones gleaming
in the last morning?
Who shall see the last evening?

2007-09-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking a good deal lately. I am not sure that it is a good thing, considering... well, considering life, the universe, and everything in general. It seems to me that if I would relax everything would be much easier... And then there are questions and wonderings that I dare not share, because, let's face it, any organisation, including Christianity, is prone to being judgmental - and I just don't want to deal with it right now. Not to mention that I keep wanting to go visit the Nephi and Scipio areas in Utah and get a feel for the communities there to see if my childhood memories are still valid; I think, however, that that may have to wait, as my family has no desire to take a road trip to "the middle of nowhere." Perhaps I should get my license and go with some friends instead...

Ai, but there are so many questions that I dare not ask, too much research left undone, too much of the Bible that has not been pored over, too much of wondering, too much...

C'est la vie. It does not matter.