Rambles, Rants, and Utter Nonsense

Reposting this, since it's been three years since I last answered it.

ERYNOLOGY

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A forest (big surprise there)

Q. How many televisions you have in your house?
One in my house. None in my dorm room.

BIOLOGY

Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right. I'm boring. T.T

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
No, but my wisdom teeth have to come out over Christmas break.

Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A box, on move-in day.

Q. Have you ever been knocked out?
Never.

BULLSHITOLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No. I'd spend the time in between worrying about it and not experiencing life.

Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
Caitrin (CAH-treen)

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
Black, blue, or gray

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
A little plastic thing off my Discman cord. I chew on things compulsively, so I've probably swallowed other things and not known it. XD

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Yes.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
Nope. I need them to play mandolin and keep my hands from shaking when I paint.

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
Now that I'm a college student, I'd probably have to say yes, haha.

Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
Depends on who's going to be reading it. And is naked like "full frontal uncensored" or like "tATu posing on Rolling Stone censoring each other?"

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
No. I don't like spicy things.

DUMBOLOGY

Q: What is in your left pocket?
Lint and various crumbs.

Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
No.

Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Hardwood in my house, carpet in my dorm room

Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Stand

Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
One all-purpose pair and one "nice" pair. Yes, I have "nice" flip-flops.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Last person who texted you?
My friend Jasmine

Q: Last person who called you?
Mom

Q: Person you hugged?
My roommate

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
13

Q: Season?
Winter

Q: Color?
Dark green

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
My family.

Q: Mood?
Blah

Q: Listening to?
The electric fan funning

Q: Watching?
You watching me watching you watching...

Q: Worrying about?
The math exemption test this afternoon

Q: Wearing?
Jeans, fuzzy slippers, a tank top with the Lady of the Lake on it, my vine necklace, and dangly earrings

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
The bathroom

Q: What can you not wait to do?
Be finished with my math exemption test

Q: Do you smile often?
Yes

Q: Are you a friendly person?
Unless you preach at me about my grades or Fundamentalist Christianity, yes.

Imagine my surprise when I heard that Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom was closing! This wil doubtless be a loss for region; hearing the news brought back happy memories of a middle school band trip I went on to the park (my first amusement park, actually).

And one not-so-happy memory.

I had been invited on the trip by my best friend, who was in the band; I myself was not, but she picked me as her "one guest" each band member was allowed to bring. So little 11-year-old me boarded the bus, eagerly awaiting her first theme park experience. However, I was entering a rebellious phase and had promised my overly protective mother that morning that I wouldn't go on any roller coasters.

These facts may not seem important now, but just keep them in mind.

We arrived at the park. I took in the sights with shining eyes as the band played, anxious for them to be done so my friend and I could go exploring. Finally, when they had run through their repertoire of show tunes and big-band numbers, the director unleashed us on the unsuspecting park. My friend and I met up with another friend of ours, and together we set off for adventure.

The first thing we did was to ride the Himalayan near the entrance. Naive little beastie that I was, I thought it quite tall and fast, and fancied myself on a roller coaster. Oh, how rebellious I was, how free and unconcerned for the petty demands of adults! We rode the Himalayan twice, laughing and shouting "Faster!" at the operator's booth, before wandering off to see what else we could find. All in all, I felt very grown-up and ready to take on anything.

A few hours later, we approached the end of the park; before us, a sign announced the Twisted Twins roller coaster. "Come on," my best friend cajoled, "It's a wooden coaster; it doesn't even go upside down!" I was rather frightened, but my desire to be a rebellious bad girl led me to agree.

The three of us squeezed into a car on the pink coaster, "Lola." An operator checked to make sure our safety bar was down completely, and a few minutes later we eased forward onto the tracks. Everything seemed fairly tame...and then we started climbing.

Though the car had been moving at a good speed, it now slowed to a crawl. I looked around, saw how high we were and the park spread out below us. We seemed to be dropping, but the drop was only small, and the car lurched around a curve, picking up speed.

Okay, I thought, They'll ease us down over a few little hills. Just like sledding at home! This won't be so bad.

And then we got to the real drop.

The rest is a blur; I remember my stomach being left behind repeatedly, screaming, invoking God more than once, and threatening to murder my friend. At the time, I'm pretty sure I meant it.

We were told at the end that we got to go around again because the photo hadn't taken. Everyone else cheered, but I started crying and leapt from the car, telling my friend to stay behind. She followed me out, doing her best to comfort me. All the way down a small staircase and into the loading area, I was a trembling mess of snot, tears, and strangulation threats.

That was my first and thus far, only roller coaster ride. We still joke about it, but I have firmly learned my lesson. Eryn + coaster = No-no.

But when I heard that the old girls were getting shut down for good, I became a bit nostalgic. After all, even if it was a hellish experience I never wish to repeat, it was my roller coaster deflowering. A rite of passage, if you will.

So farewell, Twisted Twins. I hate your guts, but rest in peace anyway.

Argh. I never thought I could be annoyed at the fact that it was snowing, but today has proven it possible.

This winter has been unusually...well, wintery. Normal winters here comprise low temperatures, frost, rain, bare trees- the whole nine yards EXCEPT copious amounts of snow. It will snow occasionally, maybe get me out of school once or twice, and be done. And the accumulation is never very impressive.

We got five inches a few weeks ago, and a dusting about every two days since. There's probably at least an inch out there right now, and it's still coming down in flurries of varying intensity. The main problem, though, is driving. The roads are rather icy, which obviously makes it difficult to get anywhere. I am on the last day of a four-day weekend and I CAN'T GO OUT. This displeases me.

There are only so many times one can:

Play "King of the Fairies" and "River's Dance" (from Firefly; also known as "The Sailor's Wife") on one's mandolin

Watch every episode of Firefly currently on Hulu

Listen to songs that make one think of one's ex and cry hysterically over them

Experiment with the few cosmetics one owns

Turn one's brains to mush with prolonged computer use

Check one's favorite webcomics

Five times in one day

One believes you get the picture now

So, I make this loud entreaty to the sky: PLEASE STOP EMITTING FLUFFY WHITE STUFF. BECOME SUNNY SO THAT MY AWESOME FRIEND WHO LIVES TWO TOWNS OVER CAN COME UP HERE AND HANG OUT WITH ME.

OR IF THOU WILT NOT, BUT CEASE THE SNOW'S ACCUMULATION, AND I'LL NO LONGER WHINE AT THEE.

Well, off to go yell at Hulu for not uploading "Jaynestown" yet.

It is 4:25 AM local time. I woke up following a dream about acting in a play and can't get back to sleep; spent a few minutes groggily wondering if I'd forgotten how to project my voice (haven't acted in a while). And now I can has insomnia.

So I figured I'd post on LiveJournal! YEAH!

The most recent update of the webcomic "Girly" has to be a dream. Or an alternate universe. Or a conspiracy. There's just no way...I mean...DAAAA WHYYYYYY?!! (spoiler-free angst is hard)

You know what I like? Marzipan. In all its almond-y goodness. It's like maple sugar candy except almonds instead. And dangit, I really crave some now.

That's what's going on with me. It is 4:30 AM, I can't sleep, and I have a massive hankering for marzipan.

I'mma go read Labyrinth fanfic.

How many people had this book as a kid? Come on, let's see some hands...

Okay, I'm counting about four; that's not a surprise. It was never a classic or a best-seller, but it was among the biggest factors that shaped my childhood. In kindergarten, the library had only one copy, which my best friend and I fought over incessantly. It was our favorite book (though each claimed to like it more than the other), one that prompted us both to work harder at learning to read.

The Gypsy Princess was also the source of my first dealings with Customer Service. Here's the pared-down version of what happened:

Me: Mommy, I'm tired of fighting with *best friend* over Gypsy Princess. Can I just buy my own copy?
Mom: Sure, honey. Let's call the bookstore and see if they have it.
Bookstore: Yep, we have a copy!
Me: Yay!
*one car trip later*
Bookstore: Oh, I meant that we could order you a copy. My bad. :)
Me: Pleeeease, Mommy?
Mom: Let me see if your dad will pay for it.
(Mom didn't like to use credit cards, and always left any transaction requiring them to Dad.)
Dad: Sure, go ahead and order it.
Me: Yay!
Bookstore: It should be here in a week.
Me: :3
*one week later*
Bookstore: There were some unforeseen delays. Check back in another week.
Me: T_T

I forget how long it actually took, but in the end the book FINALLY got there. And I had just tasted the Real World. -_-*

But seriously, the art was amazing, it didn't involve any liscenced characters, and, most importantly, there was a message I would keep coming back to over the years.
 
There are things more precious than a crown of gold.

In middle school I learned it like the story's protagonist, Cinammon, did: the hard way. Like most prepubescent girls, I was drawn to the glitz of popularity like a moth to a candle; those girls, it seemed, had everything. They were beautiful, powerful, admired, and knowledgeable of the mystery that was dating. They were the princesses of our world, and I, a bookworm who had never fit in, longed to be part of their charmed circle.

In pursuit of this goal, I bought a fashionable purse and sparkly hair accessories. I slathered my mouth with pink lip gloss and pored over back issues of Seventeen. At one point, if memory serves, I even asked one of those golden girls to give me "popularity lessons;" she laughingly agreed, but the promised lessons never happened. Still, I continued to reinvent myself in hopes that, one day, I would achieve the title of Popular Girl.

Soon, though, the purse began to burden me, the jeweled hair clips began to ache, and the dressing rituals became a hassle. I started gazing longingly at the library and the grove of trees where I had formerly been a magical warrior queen. It took one moment, a tiny movement from the highest Popular Girl to bring the whole thing tumbling down.

"Are you wearing lip gloss?" The question came right before lunch, as I was trying to mingle with my peers.

Oh, benevolent Higher Power! She had acknowledged me! Eagerly, I nodded. With a smirk, she turned away. That smirk touched something inside me; it hadn't been approval I'd seen in that twitch of the lips. It had been relief, mixed with smugness. Oh good, the smirk had said, You've fallen in line just like the rest of them. It was never going to happen. I would never reach Leader status, but rather be a slavish follower for the rest of my school career. Such was the system, and it was a self-perpetuating one.

At lunch that day, I didn't sit awkwardly at a Popular Table and try to weasel into the conversation. Instead, I slipped into the bathroom and washed off my lip gloss. Within a week, I had dived headlong into the library's impressive fantasy collection and was seldom seen without a book.

In years to come, I would make the opposite mistake, defining myself almost exclusively as "not the Popular Girls." But the lesson I learned that day still rings true across the years.

Happiness is more precious than the golden crown of popularity.

Give your daughters The Gypsy Princess; though they may not know it yet, you're doing them a favor for difficult times to come. If you're like me, a teenager who enjoyed the book as a child, dust it off and give it another read. Who knows; you may find something you've been looking for.

...or not.

After my second viewing of the movie, my opinion was changed from "Hm. Not bad." to "ARGH GONNA CLAW MY EYES OUT THE NEXT TIME EDWARD APPEARS ON THE SCREEN!" I have vowed never to watch the DVD again, because the cockatiel-on-codeine will kill my mental image of Edward Cullen. What little good mental image of him remained after I began to realize the flaws in the book series. It seem that Twilight has been demoted from "legitimate interest" to "occasional guilty pleasure." That is all.

In other news, I must shamelessly plug selva_oscura333 's journal. Why? Because

1. She is awesome, and
2. It's the first official work on a roleplay-sort-of-thing I'm involved in with a group of friends.

The HMS Morgana, formerly a military airship, was purchased in its twilight years by Jameson University as part of a last-ditch attempt to garner revanue for the struggling school. However, as the ship was being fitted for its maiden voyage (hopefully to find something important and thus benefit Jameson), the administration realized that they had no money to hire a proper crew for the vessel. They instead picked the most useless members of the school's faculty and assigned them to the Morgana.

Now they traverse the world's skies, five rather odd women with little to no mechanical or aeronautical experience; their only directive is to find something interesting that will help the university. But they're a bit more focused on not killing themselves.

Check it out, and keep your eyes peeled for Ivan Berginsky II.

I went to see Twilight today, expecting...well, to be honest, I was torn as to what to expect. Part of me thought it would ruin the book, and the other thought it would be perfect; I really wanted the latter part to be right.

The lights dimmed, and the movie began. At first, I was very disappointed. It resembled every other teen romance movie created, with too many obnoxious girls and overly-dramatic background music. Edward seemed like he should be sitting in his room wearing tight pants, cutting himself, and listening to My Chenical Romance; the intensity in his gaze and manner of speech that had seemed so like the book-Edward in the trailer now came across as cheesy and overblown.

But as Twilight progressed, I felt it coming back: the story that had mesmerized me when I first cracked the book over a year ago. The soundtrack became more subtle (Bella's Lullaby was amazing!) and the more annoying characters faded into the background. Edward and Bella's deep, pure love for each other was captured perfectly by Robert and Kirsten, and I actually came near tears during their conversation in the hospital near the end.

I loved Ashley Greene's Alice; she was always my favorite character in the books, and it was great to see her come to life, as outgoing and hyper as ever. I can't think of one character who suffered in the transition from novel to film, which in itself is a credit to the filmmakers. Keep an eye out for Stephanie Meyer's cameo!

Fans of the book: Come with an open mind and reserve judgement until the end, and you won't be disappointed. Sit back and let Twilight dazzle you all over again.

8/10

So, I've been having something of a crisis of heritage lately.

It started quite simply: I was searching for Gaelic and Welsh music in an effort to get back to my roots. I hoped to find something New Age-y in the tradition of Enya or the Mediaeval Baebes, but all I kept finding was "folk music." Folk music seemed to consist of various kinds of hymns and national anthems, but none of the rhythmic, ethereal sound I'd come to associate with traditional music from that area of Europe (too much Marion Zimmer Bradley, perhaps?).

The search got me thinking. What right have I to claim ties to these countries? My family has been American for centuries, and most of the people who watched the videos I was watching were Irish or Welsh, or at least first- or second-generation American. I was in no way Welsh or Irish.

This realization made me feel rootless. American culture only goes back 200 years, a mere blink in the eye of time; as a several-generation American I have no real heritage past that. Whatever else there was, too much time has passed for me to claim those ties. I am like an island with no memory of connection to a landmass.

Also, what about that "folk music" again? In the 1700s and 1800s, when those songs were written, my family was already in America. Now, I like some of that music and the culture it developed in, but it all came after my family had come to the USA. I wish I could reconnect with the Irish culture that my ancestors would have known; the culture of the 1600s and before.

I hear so much about the instrument I play, the mandolin, being used in Irish folk music- but there's that "folk music" again! What came before the bouncy fiddle tunes that people play in pubs, at funerals, and during state events? I know a tiny amount about the music of medieval and Renaissance Ireland, but that tiny amount only.

And forget about medieval Welsh tunes. Those are pretty much lost to the ages, from what I can tell. So sad, too, because it's a beautiful language.

So I feel lost and depressed. And have for most of the day. *sigh*

However, I did find some Gaelic rap. Which is really, really cool. ^_^

....

Okay, know what? No more angst. I'm going to play some Baebes music and get my freaking Spanish homework done. I really need to get to bed on time, because I became a crystal swan a few weeks ago and my vamp recently started rehersals for her ballet school's production of "The Nutcracker" (I'll explain later, for readers who are confused by this sentence).
 
NO MOAR ANGST; YES MOAR HOMWURK DOIN.

G'night everybody!

Last night, I had the most wonderful dream I've ever experienced. I was Lucy Pevensie at the beginning of the Prince Caspian movie, or at least I was at the beginning. It kind of morphed into something different from the Chronicles of Narnia as the dream progressed. My siblings and I were sitting around the kitchen table and I was missing Narnia (or its dream-equivalent) terribly. That desire to return was the strongest feeling in the dream, and has spilled over into my real life. I can feel it now.

Suddenly, a butterfly fluttered up to me. I knew it had been sent from the place I longed to be, and I began to stroke its wing. As I was pressing it to my cheek, it became a centipede and I somehow knew that it was a mole sent by a Narnian faction that wanted us dead. Others of its kind were coming, and soon.

We ran and hid in one of the house's cavernous bathrooms (and when I say cavernous, I mean HUGE. I'm pretty sure there were vaulted ceilings.); I had to search desperately for a hiding place and finally flattened myself against the wall of a shower, behind the curtain. Holding my breath, I watched one of our enemies' shadow move slowly past the curtain...thankfully he never even suspected my presence. Soon he was gone, and my siblings and I peered out of our respective places.

Many of our allies had gathered in the bathroom, including an enormously tall elf with pink hair. I don't remember his name, but he was a special friend of mine. He told us to have strength and hope, and explained a complicated plan to get us back to Narnia without our enemies knowledge.

We were introduced to a Friend of Narnia- a young woman who could never enter the magical world herself, but helped its denizens whenever they had business on Earth. She was a cynical, curt girl, with shoulder-length black hair and wearing salt-and-pepper coat whose main plan to get us out of London was to run toward the city limits with us, pretending to be delirious and seeing strange creatures (which were, of course, really there).

At this point, it became apparent that the enemy wanted, not only our demise, but control over Earth. The sky over London darkened and the wind picked up as we raced through the streets shouting about various mythological beings.

We reached the next "safe point" and here I remember nothing about the dream except that I was again consumed with longing for Narnia. The next morning, we piled into a bright blue car (one of the few things in this dream that didn't defy the time period of the real movies) and set off for the entry point that would take us home.

And the next thing I remember we were in the mall, several of my schoolmates from real life were there, and we were debating whether one of our male friends wore Victoria's Secret panties. I realized then that this was a dream, and I fought to keep from waking up so that I could see Narnia again.

Oddly enough, the dream held even when I regained consciousness, only broken when I accidentally opened my eyes a crack. I closed them tight again and could see the dream, but it faded before me and I grudgingly let it go.

Such a lovely dream. *sighs* I wish it could have been real...perhaps without the part about the evil faction though.

Yup, I finally bought the graphic novel. I have it right here now, in fact. ^_^

So, on to the review. To be honest, I didn't like it at first. You really have to let your mind run away with the characters to give them some personality beyond "Anarchy good, fascism bad." Also, I felt that David Lloyd is extremely wrinkle-happy (Evey is 16, not 60), which detracted from my liking of the story. This could, in part, be chalked up to the fact that I discovered anime before western GNs and am just used to people under 30 with virtually no facial wrinkles. 

I was perfectly happy to set the GN on a shelf to collect dust, but then I got to thinking about it. Really, the message isn't much different from the movie, despite what Mr. Moore says. And the different character relationships are interesting to explore, particularly for a writer like me. I finally came to the conclusion that the GN isn't so bad. I still prefer a canon for fanfiction that lies between the GN and the movie, but I will definitely be re-reading this.

One thing though: At one part (page 195 in the three-parts-in-one-book version) Evey is shown balancing in a handstand on a piece of gymnastics equiptment. She is clearly defined in these panels, and has jaw-length hair that curls under slightly at the ends. Later in the GN, she has much shorter hair that is very curly. Was her hair wet in the gymn scene? Or did someone poke David Lloyd and say "Dude, hair doesn't grow that fast?" 

Anyway, that's all for now. Bye!