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What could be better for your mind?
I just drank my last packet of rum flavored cocoa. This is very sad, especially as I've no idea where to get any more (it was a Christmas present). It is among the yummiest things I've ever drunk; rum is the only alcoholic drink I actually enjoy as a flavor, especially with chocolate. (Hah! I didn't say it!)
I'm very flattered that everybody thought I was dorky enough to go to a dance and gather anthropological data. Unfortunately, the social rituals of American teenagers are in fact incredibly *boring*, which is I why opted out of participating in most of them. I did bring notebook and pen to several dances with that excuse, but I always ended up sitting in a corner re-reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull instead. Which is hardly less dorky.
I am somewhat less flattered that everybody found the jewel theft perfectly in character. I am *not* completely obsessed with treasure! I did, however, on a fifth-grade field trip, take three semi-precious rocks from a museum gifts store while only paying for two, because I was outraged at the prices they were asking. I was then overcome with guilt, hid them all in a box of old clothes being donated to charity, and have not shoplifted since.
One of my oldest novels-in-progress does feature a charming, swashbuckling rogue called the Sparrow. He was added to the storyline five years ago, on the basis of a bad set of puns and Errol Flynn's fangirlable performance in the 1938 Robin Hood. Earl Aaron of Shoreham was cheated out of his proper title by his uncle Robert, due to his half-Jewish heritage, and ran off to the Knotwood with his sister Miriam to play at honorable outlawry. There they were recruited by Ama of Appenall to help dethrone the king; he never did bother with winning his earldom back, although he did (eventually) talk the queen into marrying him. Fun character in a storyline littered with them; unfortunately the symbolism of the Sparrow epithet was fairly important to his story-- to quote![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rivetcat, "Damn you, pop culture!"
dreamsquirrel was very certain there were no hidden messages in my music selections. I'm curious as to why. In fact, checking back proves that since this journal started, an average of every twenty-three days shows me suddenly listening to 90's east coast swing, usually off of Jet Set Six's album Livin' It Up. This would certainly be obvious on any attempt at analysis. It is in fact a private marker to me in my attempts to keep track of my times of month-- aren't you glad you know now?
The HP BNF one earned the most votes against it, but is true, due to the fact that Zsenya, Headmistress at the SugarQuill, is a curator of Special Collections at my university's library, and gave one of my classes a behind-the-scenes tour freshman year; I have actually seen the zebra-skin rug. She is an incredibly nice, incredibly smart person, and I am glad I was not yet in HP fandom yet or I would have squeed all over her. As it is I did in fact write her into a Lovecraftian story I was working on. However, I do understand the thing with the turtles and the Spiro Agnew blow-up doll a bit better now that I know her sekrit identity.
I'm very flattered that everybody thought I was dorky enough to go to a dance and gather anthropological data. Unfortunately, the social rituals of American teenagers are in fact incredibly *boring*, which is I why opted out of participating in most of them. I did bring notebook and pen to several dances with that excuse, but I always ended up sitting in a corner re-reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull instead. Which is hardly less dorky.
I am somewhat less flattered that everybody found the jewel theft perfectly in character. I am *not* completely obsessed with treasure! I did, however, on a fifth-grade field trip, take three semi-precious rocks from a museum gifts store while only paying for two, because I was outraged at the prices they were asking. I was then overcome with guilt, hid them all in a box of old clothes being donated to charity, and have not shoplifted since.
One of my oldest novels-in-progress does feature a charming, swashbuckling rogue called the Sparrow. He was added to the storyline five years ago, on the basis of a bad set of puns and Errol Flynn's fangirlable performance in the 1938 Robin Hood. Earl Aaron of Shoreham was cheated out of his proper title by his uncle Robert, due to his half-Jewish heritage, and ran off to the Knotwood with his sister Miriam to play at honorable outlawry. There they were recruited by Ama of Appenall to help dethrone the king; he never did bother with winning his earldom back, although he did (eventually) talk the queen into marrying him. Fun character in a storyline littered with them; unfortunately the symbolism of the Sparrow epithet was fairly important to his story-- to quote
rivetcat, "Damn you, pop culture!"dreamsquirrel was very certain there were no hidden messages in my music selections. I'm curious as to why. In fact, checking back proves that since this journal started, an average of every twenty-three days shows me suddenly listening to 90's east coast swing, usually off of Jet Set Six's album Livin' It Up. This would certainly be obvious on any attempt at analysis. It is in fact a private marker to me in my attempts to keep track of my times of month-- aren't you glad you know now? The HP BNF one earned the most votes against it, but is true, due to the fact that Zsenya, Headmistress at the SugarQuill, is a curator of Special Collections at my university's library, and gave one of my classes a behind-the-scenes tour freshman year; I have actually seen the zebra-skin rug. She is an incredibly nice, incredibly smart person, and I am glad I was not yet in HP fandom yet or I would have squeed all over her. As it is I did in fact write her into a Lovecraftian story I was working on. However, I do understand the thing with the turtles and the Spiro Agnew blow-up doll a bit better now that I know her sekrit identity.