Since I like to keep a tally on the old blog of how often I catch nasty, greusome diseases that fuck with my schoolwork, I though I ought to mention that I'm sick again. This is the second time this semester, which really pisses me off. Usually I get deathly ill only once a semester. This sucks. I was able to get about four hours of sleep last night.
Hell, I thought I was getting better after having a delightful weekend of lounging around Dave's apartment doing little aside from cuddling, watching Angel, eating, and playing a bit of FFX-2. And then, I actually leave his apartment last night and come back here and WHAM! I get sicker. I can't breathe. I can't swallow. My head hurts and my eyes aren't focusing well. And when I sneeze, it feels like my lungs are being forcibly expelled through my trachea. Not a happy feeling. I'm torn between taking more Tylenol Cold and popping copious amounts of ibuprofin for the cramps that just HAD to start in this morning.
Body, I hate you. You have failed me once again. I really wish I could trade you in for a new version. Or at least one with a functional immune system.
[Oh, and I'm editing the last entry to make it Tali-safe. So John can quit his bitching. *sticks tongue out*]
Well, this entry is really just for my own edification. Basically, I tend to do random little chunks of writings about the D&D game I've been in for a total of four semesters now. My character is the long-suffering, uber-cleric of (currently) Hala, Niviane, den mother and general bitch. She's fun to play and allows me to vent off a lot of my own inner-bitch without focusing my ire on any of my friends and associates. There is, of course, quite a bit more to Niviane. As the oldest of the core group from Middleton, she feels personally responsible for every little thing that happens to the others. This is, of course, utterly unreasonable. But she's not the reasonable type. So anyway, after the most recent Monday-night gaming session, I wrote the little blurb below. So just a warning to other people who might read my blog and happen to be PCs in the game (ie Tali), you may not want to read this. Or if you read this, make sure Allegra continues to act like the crazy, unreasonable, occasionally-cruel little brat that she usually is. And, um, ignore the Dark Horseman's name. You aren's supposed to know it, I don't think. Bwah.
[edit: Um. Whatever.]
* * *
In the end, Allegra was returned to us with remarkably little effort on my part. In fact, I came very close to telling Mortimer to just bug off before he called her out from the underbrush. It seemed the height of smug vanity for him to come and parade around with his hale and healthy body when we were busy mourning and desperately trying to deal with the death of one of our own. But then Allegra was there, and she probably wasnít some undead monstrosity. She was alive. Horribly wounded still, so I fixed that Ė but she was very much alive. And still irritable and disrespectful, as usual.
So we all heaved enormous sighs of relief and tried to make nice with Mortimer, for Allegraís sake.
Or rather, I tried to make nice. Allianora kept shooting me slightly reproachful looks, as though my earlier rudeness to Mortimer had somehow caused this nasty situation. Trev showed remarkably little sense and continued to loom and glower quietly at the man. And the Dark Horseman, well, he began the whole mess by leveling his crossbow at Mortimer, and never quite relaxed. And even more than Trevís instincts, Iím coming to trust the Dark Horsemanís.
And this is an irritating point, by the way. Along with Allegraís supposed death, Iím having to deal with the Dark Horseman Ė something thatís becoming more difficult daily. Heís quite obviously under a curse. We all know that. Even someone like Allegra could figure it out. He reeks of curses and darkness, though it somehow doesnít make him evil. And of course, Iím drawn to him utterly Ė and not just because this curse ties me to him. Out of all of us, he needs my help the most. Oh, sure, Trevís a werewolf or something, but he seems comfortable with it and as long as he doesnít actually change or bite Allianora, Iím willing to put up with it for a while. I suspect his lycanthropy is something I could fix (or at least control) if I had the time to sit him down and study the problem, instead of trekking through this horrible forest.
But the Dark Horseman, well, he seems to have grown accustomed to his curse, which makes it all the more irritating to me. Despite the fact that heís suffering, he just sort of sulks and broods about it, instead of trying to solve the problem. I suspect that with my help, we can figure out some way to break the curse that doesnít involve the death of one or both of us. To my embarrassment, Iím finding that the idea of his dying is pretty distasteful to me. Despite our quibbles and occasional disagreements, he supports me and I support him. And this sort of near-unconditional regard is something Iíve found myself missing about home. Heís dependable, sturdy, and probably not evil Ė and these days, those are all rare and valuable attributes. Certainly Allianora, Trev and Allegra donít quite qualify anymore.
Iím not really sure how to deal with Allegra now. Iím torn between wanting to keep her by my side at every moment Ė just to make sure sheís really here and alive Ė and wishing sheíd just leave. Itís very difficult to deal with her general snappishness toward me when piled atop everything else. Iím having a hard time trying to keep her safe when she resists every attempt at organization and progress that I make. If Allianora is the darling child we all love and cherish, then Allegra is the fractious youngest child who refuses to listen to anyone and similarly refuses all attempts at loving and cherishing. And now, with support from this Mortimer creature and the usual unconditional emotional aid from Allianora, I fear that Allegra will grow even more intractable. In combination with Trevís lycanthropy and general unreliability and Allianoraís recent reserve and fire fascination, Iím having more and more trouble holding the group together.
On those long nights when I have watch and face with the noisy, humid nights alone, Iím forced to contemplate the possibility of never finding a way to get Trev and the girls home. I donít know if itíll even be possible to get Trev home. The ruby embedded over his heart that seems the focal point of his lycanthropic curse may well hold him here in this dark land. But the girls ought to be able to leave, if we can only find the way. Iíd move heaven and earth to get them home, but I donít know if thatís enough. Itís only during the long night watches that I can admit to myself that perhaps Iím losing touch with the world here, perhaps Iím not in as much control as Iíve always assumed. I think the Dark Horseman and Trev know or suspect this, but they either respect or fear me too much to confront me about it. The question simply remains: Can I hold us all together through sheer force of will? What will happen if I just canít?
Well, it looks like the last few posts got swallowed by pitas. Grr.
As much as I adore pitas for being free and sexy and awfully nifty-keen, I think I'm going to sulk for a bit and go read people's livejournals. And probably post snarky comments there too.
I am the Snark Queen! Coo coo cuh choo!
[Oh, yeah. But the old commentary from the Lost Entries still exists. *cheers randomly*]
a requiem Monday, September 29, 2003 -- 01:51 p.m.
(First of all, on a slightly more cheerful note, I now have a LJ. Please read the one entry there for details and disclaimers.)
And now onto what I really felt I needed to write.
Last night was . . .
No. Scratch that. I'd better start out and mention an odd, little-known facet of my personality. I fix things. No, not like toasters and hinges and things (though I suspect I could manage those if necessary). I fix situations and people and other big, important things. I've always done this. Tali, who has borne the brunt of my mothering instincts for the past year or so we've lived together, will agree with me on this. And yes, for a girl who proudly wears her Ice Queen persona, I have an absurdly strong mothering instinct (though no actual interest in having kids).
But last night my ability to fix things was utterly insufficient. The problem was neither mine, nor mine to fix, but when the people I care about are hurting, I immediately try to shoulder some of that pain, internalize it to give them respite. But I couldn't and that, more than anything else, hurt. A small part of my psyche may have died last night. I'm not sure. It probably depends on how things turn out over the next few days.
What's important, though, is that I wasn't able to fix him, my friend who was hurting. So this relatively short entry is a requiem to those pieces of us that were unable to be healed last night.
Thank you to everyone who hugged me or held me or offered me sweets after that brief nightmare. I appreciate it, even if I may be unable to verbalize it for a while.
Avast! It be the second annual 'Talk Like A Pirate Day,' savvy? Arrrrr. So I bring ye the following wee bit of conversation with Brock:
norntimespinner: greetings, do you want to do arrows today?
A calliope: Hmm. I need to get someone to take me out to get supplies first.
norntimespinner: aye I see, argh
A calliope: Avast, matey!
A calliope: Arrr.
A calliope: Savvy.
norntimespinner: Today do be the day to be talking like this.
A calliope: Aye.
A calliope: For it be the designated day, ye savvy?
A calliope: Arrrr.
A calliope: Arr.
norntimespinner: now should i talk like Jack Sparrow today? or do i be needing to talk like Barbosa?
A calliope: Either one works.
A calliope: Arr.
A calliope: Just add either 'arrr' or 'savvy' at the end of each sentence. Savvy.
norntimespinner: Aye, but you see, missy, Barbosa uses this particular pirate talk.
While, Capt. Jack Sparrow uses this one... Savvy?
A calliope: Oooh. Missy is interesting. Arrr.
norntimespinner: Barbosa is much more.. impolite, you see..
norntimespinner: or something
A calliope: He's meaner. Arrrr.
norntimespinner: i've fallen into sparrow mode... savvy?
A calliope: Aye.
norntimespinner: now i do be needing to go, have a good while Miss Spooner.
Have I mentioned lately how adorable Brock is? He's our own fuzzy Former Jesus Pirate Paladin of Doom. Heeee.
maloki 21 Tuesday, September 16, 2003 -- 10:56 p.m.
Cover the mirror
Hide in your dreams
Forget what they told you
Forget what it means
A picture worth a thousand lies
The memory and the mirror
Nothing but what came before
Nothing but a closing door
A picture worth a thousand lies
A thousand words
A thousand eyes -- "Bury My Lovely," October Project
First a wee disclaimer: I will not be referring to actual people in my rant, thinly veiled or other. Despite earlier joking, there will be no clever aliases. Iím not really feeling the need to discuss my views on the soap opera-esque madness spinning about my real life. Instead Iím just rambling and pretending to dispense wisdom. So Iíll repeat. There are no hidden messages in here, no hints or suggestions or poorly disguised advice. I donít play games like that with my friends. So just be aware.
Humans are social animals. We crave human contact, physical, emotional and social. Unfortunately, as so-called ďrational beings,Ē we tend to apply strange intellectual concepts to our interpersonal relationships that just muck up what comes about naturally. Naturally, people congregate in small groups for safety, companionship and sex. Intellectually, we add layers of moral constraints to this: Humans should congregate in a number of groups of two Ė one male, one female Ė for legal and societal purposes, and their union is intended to be exclusive and romantic.
This is patently absurd. Yes, we humans are vaguely rational (sometimes) but societal constraints upon our relationships are simply a recipe for disaster and tragedy. Humans are fickle creatures with relatively short attention spans (when compared to our life spans). We arenít designed for a marriage partnership that lasts 50+ years. It just isnít reasonable. Society also means for us to deal with conflicting urges Ė like companionship and sexual gratification Ė that are often confused and muddled in modern times. We use words like Ďloveí to describe a variety of these emotions and urges. Again, patently absurd, but weíre adaptable creatures and we deal with it. If you look at things carefully, youíll see that love is everywhere.
And while Iím not sure I believe in fairy tale romance and True Love, I most definitely believe in love. There are many types, but all are worth the time and effort. In my opinion, love is one of the few things worth living (and dying) for. And people never seem to appreciate love when it comes. This is why friends are such fantastic accessories. Feed them a little love and spend a little time with them and theyíre endless sources of reciprocated love. Itís wonderful. I highly recommend the friendship gig. Familial love is great, and romantic love (if it truly exists) is theoretically amazing, but platonic love among friends is perhaps the ultimate. And yes, I believe itís possible to love dozens of people at once. Iíve got a big heart and thereís plenty of room in there for many other people.
Slight tangent: Iím currently slogging through both a basic chemistry class and cell biology (which is kicking my ass pretty easily) and as a science dork, I have to make the requisite science metaphor. In essence, molecules are happiest when they are at their lowest energy state. In this case, Ďlowest energy stateí means the most bonds with other atoms/molecules. This makes the molecules more comfortable, less reactive, and the like. Humans, likewise, are most content when they have a certain number of bonds, be they familial, friendly, or romantic. Love on the atomic level is still a force to be reckoned with.
Okay, back now. The science geek in me forced that little bit out. But allís better now. So in summary, love your friends, enjoy their love, and donít fret about the lack of romance. Romance is stupid. It comes along when least expected and really canít be controlled well. And besides, with romantic love, there are so many weird societal constraints, nevermind the fact that the two partners may have completely different ideas of what the relationship should consist of. And heaven forbid a true romantic should fall in love with a pragmatist! But love among friends . . . well, a bit of disagreement is expected (and even adds to the fun).
Final parting advice: Make it a policy to indulge in at least four impossible loves at all times. Itíll keep you on your toes. Plus, itís fun.
fufufu~! Wednesday, September 10, 2003 -- 01:48 a.m.
music: not a pretty girl
*points to the bottom of the entry*
Lookit. Comments are back. I am a happy girl once again. Well, at least as far as the blog goes.
Long involved rant on the stupidities of human interpersonal relationships ought to be posted sometime tomorrow. Look for it. Or not, as the case may be. Marvel at Kit's creative use of subtle aliases for her various friends! Lalala~!
First of all, I'm still sick. Getting better, and feeling pretty good. Prolly helps that the meds are keeping the blues away pretty well. But my throat is still phlegmy and I've got that fabulous porn star voice thing going on. And for some reason, when I get sick, I get kind of blunt and tactless around my friends. Tali reminded me of this today. So if there's anyone out there that I've offended over the past few days . . . well, actually, I'm not sorry. People need to suck it up and deal with the things I say. At least I'm fucking honest. Yeah.
Hah. Wrote a fairly obtuse MiroSan vignette for Eva. 'Cause she asked so damn often.
I didnít even realize anything was wrong until the night I walked in on Sango and Inuyasha.
Iíd passed Kagome on my way into the house. She was heading outside to fetch another load of water and it was her turn to do the hauling. I thought nothing of the fact that this left Inuyasha alone with my Sango with naught but a kitsune pup and a sleeping firecat as chaperons.
My breath caught in my throat and I felt like Iíd been punched when I stepped into the room.
His head was practically in her lap and her hands were buried in his mass of white hair. Worst of all was the fact that his eyes were closed in a vaguely canine approximation of bliss and her expression was relaxed, one of perfect ease and contentment. Iíd never seen her look that calm.
A moment later I realized that she was brushing his hair with the pink, bristled item that Kagome always packed. So I made light of the situation, as I generally do.
ďAh, will it my turn next to get my head fondled by the fairest pair of hands this side of heaven?Ē My smile seemed brittle even to me.
Sango was so relaxed that she didnít even throw the brush at me. ďYou can handle your own hair, Houshi-sama,Ē she murmured. ďKagome was in the middle of de-tangling this mess and asked me to work on it while she went out to get more water for the ramen cups.Ē
I sighed loudly and mournfully, and went about preparing the ramen for Kagomeís return, hiding my thoughts as best I could. Sango seemed content to ignore me Ė a good thing in this particular situation Ė and Inuyasha appeared to be asleep, his ears twitching and aimlessly swiveling to catch the ambient sounds. The slow, rhythmic shushing of the brush through Inuyashaís hair kept time as I methodically peeled the colored paper lids back from the ramen cups. My heart beat exactly twice as fast: two beats per brush-stroke.
Those two minutes before Kagome returned were two of the most uncomfortable minutes of my life. I kept my eyes averted, fussing with dinner, but my minds eye was busy imagining Sangoís strong pale hands slipping along the edges of a certain pale-haired boyís hairline, fingers absently stroking his neck, brushing against his furry, sensitive ears. And for the life of me, I couldnít figure out why these images made me tremble so hard I had to put down the delicate cups of dried ramen, lest I crumple them in my grasp.
Then the brushing noises stopped and there was a sudden silence.
I held my breath, afraid to look up and see Sango, my Sango, touching Inuyasha, so intimately, without a trace of embarrassed fury upon her sweet features. This was not the simple comfort of two friends. There had to be something more here. I could feel it, could feel their gazes meeting. It was impossible that he could think nothing of her attentions, so painfully obvious to me, one who has spent months carefully cataloguing every mode of her careless beauty.
ďA little help here?Ē Kagome said loudly from the doorway, a wooden bucket in each hand, staggering a little under the sloshing weight of the water.
Inuyasha was on his feet so fast that Sango squeaked in surprise and pulled out a hank of his hair. He didnít even wince.
ďWhyíd you go out for water by yourself, Kagome,Ē he said scornfully, snatching the buckets easily from her grasp.
Kagome frowned at him and opened her mouth to respond in kind. Then she touched his hair, two fingers sliding down from the crown of his head to the very end, where it brushed against his tailbone. ďThanks for brushing his hair, Sango-chan,Ē she said, her gaze never leaving Inuyasha.
ďNo problem, Kagome-chan,Ē Sango replied, absently picking silver hair from the brush, her gaze averted from the open affection on Inuyashaís face.
Inuyasha . . . well, he shook himself then hauled the water over to the fire and set about preparing the kettle for boiling.
I could only stare at Sango, wondering at myself, and my thoughts, trying to understand what Iíd just seen.
I briefly contemplated sidling up to her and touching her in one of the usual inappropriate places, if only to reassert the claim I somehow felt I had on her. There was something irrational that Iíd felt this evening, watching her and Inuyasha and I couldnít quite put a name to it. Something small-minded and petty inside me wanted to lash out somehow, perhaps to make her feel as unsteady and shaken as I felt. I wasnít sure how to accomplish that, though. So instead of touching her, or even continuing to gaze at her fire-lit profile, I held out a cup of ramen.
Have noticed that the commenting system has ceased to function. Am hoping this is just a temporary aberration. Rawr. Anyway, I guess I'll just wait until it comes back. Or doesn't. Or something.
Yeah, so I'm heading out in a couple minutes to go help Hannah do fabric shopping. I'm also going to be on the lookout for interesting stuff for future costumes. I think that I'll probably try to put something together for this year's Coming Out Ball. For a while, Tali and I were thinking of coming out as Rock 'N Roll Princesses, but I'm beginning to drift toward Princess of Darkness now. Not sure why. I just like the idea of producing a frilly, flouncy princess dress that just happens to be black. And evil, of course. Evil's the important part here.
First of all, let it be known that boys suck. And I don't mean this in a playful, vaguely flirty way either. They're just dumb and annoying and I think I'm done with the whole lot of them. When I was little, my keenest ambition was to be a hermit off in the woods and this is beginning to sound like a fabulous idea. Why? Because there won't be any guys! Dammit!
Whew. Okay. Got that out of my system. That ire was not aimed toward anyone in particular, mind you. It just had to be said. I'll probably be saying it again over the next few weeks. Unless, that is, I decide to cloister myself in my room more.
On an almost entirely different note, the following quote from some dead German guy ('Schopenhauer') has turned up written on the inside of the door of my favorite bathroom stall:
So everything lingers but a moment, and hastens on to death. The plant and the insect die at the end of summer, the brute and the man after a few years: death reaps unweariedly. Yet notwithstanding this, nay, as if this were not so at all, everything is always there and in its place, just as if everything were imperishable ... This is temporal immortality. In consequence of this, notwhithstanding thousands of years of death and decay, nothing has been lost, not an atom of the matter, still less anything of the inner being, that exhibits itself as nature. Therefore every moment we can cheerfully cry, Őn spite of time, death and decay, we are still all together!
*sighs* Am I odd because I think this is probably one of the most romantic chunks of rambling prose I've heard in a while? I mean, come on. Romance me in the language of physics, baby!
Yes, I finished a new chapter of the Tomoyo Cycle. Which means fic. I finished a fic bit. Yay, me! In theory it's up at FF.N, I think. The site seems to be a bit slow/unreliable/sucky lately, so who knows.
And since I just finished up the last little bit, it may turn out to be incoherent when I look at it again in the morning. So those interested ought to go read it before I realize that it's gibberish and remove it in the morning. Bwah!
First of all: Snarl. Pissed because I'd written this huge long entry then somehow accidentally lost the whole damn thing. So, yeah. Kinda snarky.
Second, and more importantly, I have some vital information. I hear there's been a wee bit of confusion among people who visited Mac Hall's Otakon gallery and saw the random picture of the tall, red-haired girl in the Quistis costume. This is, in fact, not Kit. This is Kit's younger sister. It is, however, Kit's Quistis costume. Which is nifty. Even if I didn't get to go to Otakon this year (saving money for DragonCon!), my old standby costume made it up onto the gallery of one of my favorite webcomics (which everyone really should be reading).
On the subject of DragonCon: Yes, I would really, really like to go, for several very good reasons. The top two reasons are James Marsters and John Rhys Davies. In fact, I'm whipping together a quick Eowyn costume so that I can be all LotR fangirly in front of Davies (Gimli, for the uneducated) while I simper and beg for his autograph. My plans for James Marsters (Spike from Buffy) are a bit more unmentionable and most likely are also felonious.
Kim. Well, I'm pleased you like Aaya-fruit. I rather think he's loverly too. *throws more confetti in Sophie's direction* And I'm sure Aaya-fruit would love your Ritsu if THE FRIGGIN' LAYOUT WOULD ACTUALLY LOAD FOR ME.
I'm really tired of the shitty family computer and the porn it seems to inexplicably download. I have no interest in nasty internet porn, free or otherwise. I likewise have no interest in the safe herbal alternative to Viagra, or increasing the size of my penis. Argh.
Rei, who left me a nice comment: Yes, still working on 'Bed of Nails.' In fact, there is a whole new chapter of the Digi-fic sitting on my computer, complete with commentary and editing suggestions from a few people, just waiting for me to get my lazy rump in gear and edit and finish it up. Unfortunately, it's rather low priority at the moment, since I'm trying to get back to school. But it'll get done eventually. Honest.
I think I ought to go work on packing some more. I still need to sort through my costuming supplies, organize the whole mess, and pack 'em up. Every time I travel to and from school, the number of partially completed costumes that travel with me increases. Later all.
Currently listening to: "Tell Me What The Rain Knows" from Wolf's Rain 26, vocals by Maaya Sakamoto
I just finished watching episode 26 of Wolf's Rain. It wasn't much of an "ending" but I still lurve the series. I hear that there are going to be 4 more episodes coming out on some sort of special DVD release. Which is good, because the story needs finishing, and bad, because that means it'll probably be months, at the very least. Oh, well. I'll have to exercise my patience.
As a result, the creative little slice of my brain is currently on overload. I've resumed work on planning that comic/webcomic that's been moldering in the back of my skull for a few months. The one about the psychics from mental institutions. Really. It's better than it sounds. And I've come up with character designs! And a few plot points! Oh, rapture! I do, however, think I should find a collaborator on this one. Someone to help plan and plot and write, most likely. If nothing else, I really need someone else to have a stake in it so I won't just abandon the project. Any takers?
Back to Wolf's Rain. I am currently listening to that final song in the final episode on continuous loop, which somehow works. *shrugs* I'm also entertaining the possibility of putting together a Wolf's Rain cosplay group. I'd also considered shuffling together a .hack//SIGN group, which may be more or less feasible. (I was plannin on trying BT's costume.) But Wolf's Rain! Love! I'm simply dying to try putting together a Cheza costume because she's so lovely and interesting looking. Unfortunately, I think I'm too big. At 23, I'm tall and filled out, and while not fat by any stretch of the imagination, I'm certainly not as delicate-looking as Cheza seems most of the time. (I did notice, however, that Cheza seems tallish, for a girl. She's nearly the same height as Kiba, I think.) But, if necessary, I can force one of my more petite friends into letting me dress her up as Cheza. That body suit would be so much fun to make. And we'd play with wigs and contacts! It would be much fun! So if I can't be Cheza, I might go for Cher Degre, who I suppose I resemble much more. I always thought that Cher looked like Quistis, and I pull off Quistis rather well. So Cher's a definite possibility, though her costume isn't flashy and would require other WR cosplayers to be identified. It'd be lovely to have all four wolf boys, but I don't know that I have enough cosplaying male friends with appropriate builds to pull it off. Ooooh! Or all I'd need would be one tall, dark, handsome boy with longish dark hair and I could dress him up as Darcia and I could go as Jagara, in all her armor and crap! Now that would be fun. Heh. There's definitely possibility there.
Oh, and everyone should notice Sophie's lovely layout that I finally remembered to put up. Gawd, I'm such a loser. Anyway, thanks Sophie! *throws confetti*
You've stumbled upon a decidedly uninteresting collage of personal
journal, creative ramblings, and fic discussions. A horribly outdated
archive of my fanfiction and art can be found here. Or for a vaguely more
updated listing of my fics, you can go to my FF.N profile. Or
Sophie says: "Ayame from Fruits Basket, lyrics are 'I'll Make a Man Out of You' from
Disney's Mulan, which song is nearly as fruity as Ayame himself. Font is
Selfish from Misprinted Type and
brushes are from relique.net and nocturna.net. Here's hoping Kit didn't
expect an actual serious layout out of me or anything. I mean, come on, it's
And we'll all agree that the layout's lovely, just like Ayame. Punyaaaan!
My AIM account is acalliope. Likewise, I can also be emailed at
firstname.lastname@example.org. There's also this nifty commenting function below recent
entries. I like comments. I even read them.
names: Kit Spooner, Kit the Twit, Twit-sama, the Fruitbat,
acalliope, Kaichou real name: Joanna Kathleen Spooner birthday: February 17, 1980 age: Do the math, doofus. status: Cheerfully single college student
(again) @desc: Middling-tall, middling-slim,
middling-grey-green-blue eyes, freckled ivory complexion, and long goldy-red
hair. Actually, it sounds better than it looks. Mebbe I'll post a pic
sometime to discourage would-be stalkers. hobbies: Reading, writing, sleeping. Specifically,
reading anything in print, writing both original and fanfiction, and
sleeping through classes. I'm also a bit of an anime and manga fangirl.
And I'm a nature buff. And an artist. And a philosopher on the third
Friday of every month. As long as it isn't the new moon. favorite foods: Brown sugar. Curry. Smarties. Sushi.
Noodles of all sorts. Pixi Stix! Yeeeaaargh! sign: Aquarius chinese zodiac: Monkey (Ook! Ook!)