You are not in high school anymore.

I know, I know, this is a huge surprise to you. You grew up in this area, you went to UPHS or PHS or NMHS or possible even the O'Neal School. Maybe you even went to SCHS OR RCHS. Then they gave you a piece of paper that said you'd more or less done what you were supposed to do and now you're in the next stage of things. The problem is, it probably doesn't feel like anything's changed. Your schedule is weird now and you can come and go as you please, but you still get up and go to school and then go home, probably to the same house you've been in all this time. They still give you a report card--though now it's at the end of the semester instead of every six or nine weeks. The cafeteria food is even vaguely similar, and the classrooms look similar, and you're still calling your instructors "Miz So-and-So" or "Mister So-and-So."

But there are some key differences, and I'd like to talk to you about them today.
1) No one is making you come to school. Well, maybe your mama and daddy are hustling you out of bed in the mornings with a cattle prod, but there is no law that says you have to be here. Stop acting like you're doing us a favor when you strut into class ten minutes late. No one gives a good goddamn if you're there or not, and if you're going to be late and annoy the professor and annoy all the people you have to squirm past to get to your seat in the very back, you might as well just not even bother.
2) There are no tardy notes. If the instructor says, "be on time or you'll be counted absent", zie is not kidding. Class starts at 10AM and you show up at 10:02? You're late, and you're getting a zero on that quiz zie told us about yesterday. Suck it up, princess. If you were on campus to begin with, you have no excuse for being late, even if you're coming from the horticultural gardens. If you didn't make it to campus on time, move faster. And don't beat on the door. That's obnoxious. YOU may think you're a special snowflake, but to everyone else you're just cold and wet and fucking up our routine.
3) You know how you could do whatever you wanted in high school and you might get suspended for a week for cussing out your instructor but then you'd be right back in class once you got done with your punishment? Yeah, you can't do that now. If you mouth off to your instructor, they can and will tell you to GTFO. They can tell the whole goddamn class to GTFO if they want. See above about how no one is requiring you to be here, and try to avoid being a fuckbench. Also? It's no one's fault but yours if you do get dropped from a class. Quit whining.
4) Outside of class, please, try to remember you are in the adult world now, and try to avoid doing the following:
a) Blasting your shitty music as loud as you can in the student center. There's already music playing, and if there are four or five of you playing your music, it makes me violent.
b) Posing for MySpace shots in the bathroom. What is this I don't even. You look stupid. Stop that.
c) Shouting across the building at someone. Or across campus. Why would you do this? Why.
d) Talking on your cellphone in the library. Dude, c'mon now. Everyone knows not to do this. And that pretty room just off the library where all the cushy chairs are? STILL THE LIBRARY. Don't talk in there either. Take it outside.
e) Rolling through campus with your windows down blasting something so loud we can hear it in the middle of these lovely cinderblock buildings. No one wants to hear it. I promise. And YOU don't need to listen to it that loudly. I promise, it's just as good about 500 decibels quieter.
f) Having fights with your boyfriend/girlfriend in class. Seriously, this happened Friday. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TALKED TO THAT WHORE." "Whatever, bitch is crazy." Seriously. SERIOUSLY? Just...no. No, no, no, no.

Try following these basic steps, and you too will make it through college.

Sincerely,

cielamara

My bed looks like an absentminded and slightly deranged single person sleeps in it. It's beautifully made up most of the time in the sense that the comforter is always pulled up tight and the pillows arranged, but there's a tangle of blankets on top of the comforter, a large and cumbersome body pillow, and at any given time, there's a snarl of books, papers, laptop, mouse, cat, and occasional articles of clothing directly to the right of my nest. When I shut down for the night, I shove everything to the side. I haven't a good bedside table, and my room is tightly packed and decidedly messy. Ergo, that's what the other side of the bed is for.

It is magnificent being single. It really is. I've never been a person who "needed" to be in a relationship, and am truthfully baffled by those who feel that way. Don't get me wrong, if a relationship walked up to me and introduced itself, I...well, I'd be polite, but I don't actually WANT* anyone right now. But if, at some point in the future when I'm not in such a limbo-y stage in my life, a relationship appeared, I'd be all for it**. But God, I love being single. I can stare off into space and have all kinds of fantasies about whoever I please.*** I don't have to share my bed. The only creature who seems to feel entitled to a space therein is Tess, and her snores aren't bad at all. Well, bad by a cat's standard, but if she gets really loud like she is right now (God, cat) I can just reach over and flap my hand at her belly and she rolls into a ball and begins purring confusedly. Snoring eliminated! Bliss achieved, because is there anything in this world that can compare to the sound of a cat purring? If they are happy, and all is well in THEIR world, doesn't it just automatically make you feel a little better about what's going on in yours?

You know what I love? I love running the tub full of water, and then sliding down into it, down, down, down until the water covers my ears and my hair streams out like particularly filamentous seaweed, brushing along my skin. I can see, I can breathe, but all I can hear is the sound of my heartbeat, low and solid in my ears. Water rushes in to surround me, envelope me, and I can't hear anything else but that which is intrinsically mine. Water all around me, and my heart, beating true. I love that feeling. Whenever I'm near a body of water that I can actually submerge myself in...I'll do that, and for a moment, I am in a state of the purest and simplest bliss.

*Except the one I always quietly want.
**Sort of. I don't like the way I am in relationships. They make me insane. All the yelling and fighting I don't do in the rest of my life comes out in relationships.
***I rarely have celebrity crushes, but there's something about the way he handles his stick oh hell I can't go any further with that. Hockey is such a filthy sport.

Who's got a Twitter? I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE.

I hereby offer this rather amazing gif in honor of doctoreon's brave and noble service in fighting the War Against Stupidity in his capacity as a Captain in the Special Forces [Vaccination Information branch]. He fought well and fought hard, though, as we all know, the enemy never rests and never fucking dies and therefore neither can we. Take your medal with pride, soldier.

For the rest of you, I'd like to say this.
( Warning--I am being uncharacteristically harsh. And opinionated. )

http://www.formspring.me/Cielamara

Also, some questions for the foodies out there.

1) If making a dish that isn't desserty, what one spice/seasoning ingredient [aside from salt or pepper] do you always want to reach for, even if you don't necessarily use it? Are there any spices you DON'T like?
2) Do you have specialties? If so, what are they?
3) If you had to eat one dish once a day, every day, for the rest of your life, what would it be?
4) Do you read any food blogs?
5) What have you made that you're the proudest of?
6) Do you like to cook for other people? If so, do you have a particular "crowd pleaser" you like to bring out?
7) Have you ever had a culinary disaster or has hilarity ever ensued while you were in the kitchen?
8) And lastly: do you have any awesome vegetarian OR vegan recipes you think I'd like? (I like damn near anything, but if there are olives or cottage cheese, I'm out, man. I'm OUT.)

1) The weekend was pretty quiet. It snowed, we lounged around the house. I managed to stay mostly-vegetarian.
2) Made my mom watch "Slumdog Millionaire" and "The Village".
3) My mom is a pain in the ass to watch movies with. She's always up and down, up and down. SIT STILL AND WATCH THE MOVIE. I mean, DAMN.
4) The cats are really cute when we're home. They glue themselves to us. I woke up this morning to see a slitted green eye peering out of an inky face. I reached out and petted the mound of fur, and was treated to one of those really adorable startle-chortles that she does when you pet her while she's trying to sleep.
5) I don't care what anyone says, I love "The Village". If only because James Newton Howard's soundtrack is amazing.
6) Actually, everything he's ever done a soundtrack for was amazing. Including "Peter Pan" and "Hidalgo."
7) I haven't watched "Hidalgo" in a while. I should remedy this. I like that movie. I don't normally go for the scruffy look, but I love Viggo Mortensen.
8) There is a pot of 12-bean soup on the stove. Mmmmmm.
9) Hockey games with loototherah are the best. Especially if we're doing well. HONK HONK HONK.
10) I absolutely love being at home by myself. So quiet and peaceful. My dad doesn't necessarily make a lot of noise, but my mom sure does.
11) Of all the classes I'm taking the semester...I am surprised to find I like botany the best. I don't know why. Maybe because it's a smaller class, maybe because my professor is so happy to be teaching it. This course is his baby, and it shows. I am the most relaxed in that class of any of my classes. I like committing phylum and family names to memory. Especially when the names are cool.
12) Goat cheese with apple-cranberry chutney is amazing. God.

...Which one do y'all like best?


Lucienne [Beauchene] and Cory [DiOrlio]

Lucienne is Absent-Minded, a Great Kisser, a Hopeless Romantic, Neat, and a Genius. Her LTW is to be a Hit Movie Composer.
Cory is Absent-Minded, a Hopeless Romantic, a Slob, Family-Oriented, and Clumsy. His LTW is to be Surrounded by Family.


Sabrina [Beauchene] and Elie [Savagar]
Sabrina is Neurotic, a Loner, Family-Oriented, Clumsy and Never Nude. Her LTW is to be a Professional Author.
Elie is Brave, a Genius, a Mooch, a Slob, and Family-Oriented. His LTW is to be Surrounded by Family.


Sorcha [Beauchene] and Idir [Kadim]
Sorcha is Brave, Adventurous, Excitable, Easily-Impressed, and a Green Thumb. Her LTW is to be an International Super Spy.
Idir is Disciplined, a Genius, a Bookworm, Easily-Impressed, and a Kleptomaniac. His LTW is to be an Illustrious Author.

( Poll after the jump. )

I am awake.

I am awake because I've not yet gone to bed.

I have been awake this whole time, rolling around in the chilly silence of a winter night, wallowing in it. I love winter so much. I love the grudging sunrises, the way the color lurks for a while before exploding, the way everything's so stark and gray except for the east. I love the way the air slaps and bites. I love the nights--the skies are so painfully clear and the stars so bright. I especially love nights when the moon has a strong presence in the sky--there's nothing more beautiful than standing under a tree, naked in winter, and looking up and seeing the moon through the branches. It's like some sort of exquisite lace, nature-style.

I spent the night prowling the internet, as usual. I did some writing, which you can see in the last entry, and I did several hours of HILARIOUS text-based roleplaying with zaianya--the kind of hilarious where you laugh so hard you start coughing. I watched the video of Patrick Stewart addressing Amnesty International on violence against women and cried. I finished a book. And I spent a lot of time petting a wheezing, snorting, groaning cat, who was very insistent I put away that pesky black box with all the sounds and pet her, damn it. Tessy's very good at getting you to abandon your computer for her. She simply walks directly in front of it and then stands there, purring, so you can't see around her. If you move her, she'll climb onto the arm trying to control the mouse. She's quite demanding. She doesn't like climbing over blankets, so if there's not a clear spot at the edge of the mattress where she can jump up, she'll simply sit beside the bed and eyeball me till I move something.

I just finished Susan Elizabeth Phillips' "What I Did For Love", which is book number four of the new year. Yes, I realize, we're nine days into 2010. I'm on vacation and I read fast, shut up. It was quite enjoyable. Reading the reviews on Goodreads, I can kind of see the comparison to the Angelina-Jennifer-Brad gig, but I didn't see it when I read the book and I didn't care. It was mostly cuddly and squee-worthy as other SEP books I've read--not as adorable as some, but definitely cute. I'm slowly plowing my way through her shelf in the bookstore. Daddy just told me we're going to Barnes & Noble today, so we'll see what I come home with. I do have one more Mercedes Lackey book to read--"The Snow Queen", which is another of her 500 Kingdoms series. I want her to write more of those. They're adorable, and they make me want to hug something.

Off to Panera for breakfast with the parental units. Ignore the fact that I got up and made an egg-in-a-basket. It wasn't a bagel and mango smoothie, dammit.

Three years earlier

Katherine smiled politely at the man sitting in her father's solar and tried to stifle a yawn. It was the fifth betrothal proposal she had had to sit through that week, the twelfth that month. She liked to hope that they were slowly but surely running out of men who might want to marry her, but she knew it wasn't likely. Her father's lands were broad, and the Other who made sure the seeds they planted came to fruition were generous. Their harvests were lush, bountiful, with even the lowest of the peasants eating like kings in the late part of the year, when the leaves dropped from the trees. And she was his only child.

"I can bring you many flocks of sheep, my lord," the young man was saying. He had a straggly little attempt at a beard on his chin. Kit carefully slid her needle in and out of the taut fabric stretched inside her embroidery hoop--she wasn't actually sewing, but it looked convincing.

Sheep! Sheep, and barley, cows and chickens. Jewels, rich Merislin lace from the sea, heavy velvets she'd never wear. Things thrown before her father's feet, and her own. It might have satisfied her father, but it left her feeling...unmoved.

A lull fell in the conversation, and Katherine seized it greedily. "I would go collecting mushrooms, Father," she said.

"Go," Gillan said. He smiled at her. He couldn't refuse her anything.

Katherine forced herself to rise sedately, and to curtsy politely to the guest in the room. "Bid thee well," she said. The minute the door closed behind her, she was running, as fast as her little slippered feet would take her.
( Continue down the path... )

Inside the box was what looked rather like a dragonfly at first glance, crumpled like a used handkerchief. When it shifted, stirred by the rush of light and fresh air, Aline could see that it was not a large insect, but what could only be one of the Other.
It had a pair of ribbon-slim wings, translucent and glimmering. They had a strangely lacy look to them at first glance, but as Aline stared in a sickening mix of horror, pity and fascination, she realized it was because they had been burned by the iron. Wherever the fairy's wings had brushed the edges of her cage, the wings had burned, leaving the delicate tissue brittle and crumbling. Her skin, where it was exposed by her torn clothing, was burned as well--deep red marks in the pale bluish skin, a few of them black. Her silvery hair was tangled. When she lifted her head, her eyes were bleary, the dark sea-blue blurring from tears. The fairy said nothing, but stared at them. There were iron cuffs about her wrists. The flesh above and below the bands was blackened.
( Continue... )

The sky was a dim gray-gold, muting the brilliant early harvest hues of the barley fields that stretched out before her. As the wind gusted, Aline pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders; it was getting colder by the day, despite the second harvest having scarcely finished. Colder, yes, and the rains were more frequent. It was going to be a hard winter.

But then, all the winters had been hard, in the three years since Katherine had gone.

"Be sure to give the horses each an apple when you take them in," she said to Joseph, the oldest of the men working the farm. "And see to it that those boys brush them well. They're the only ones we've got, we must care for them as best we can." Especially since all the animals have been breeding poorly this last sevenyear.

She turned to go back to the manor house, but shouts near the edge of the forest drew her attention. There were men on horseback, and they were clearly agitated; the horses pranced about in the clearing between field and forest, and as Aline watched, the rest of the party emerged from the forest, one of them guiding a strange-looking iron box on a makeshift sled that jerked and swayed as it slid through the mud. Seeing her, one of the men lifted his hand in greeting, and then cantered across the field to her. He reined his horse in sharply when he reached her side, and swung off quickly to salute her. "My lady," he said, panting from exertion and apparently excitement, "My lord says you must go to the house quickly. We've found something, and he says you mustn't wait to see it."

"Is it--has she--" Aline could scarcely breathe. Her chest suddenly hurt, as if someone had poked her directly in the middle of it with a hard, accusing finger.

The knight shook his head, his eyes avoiding hers. "No, my lady," he said, voice low. "Will you accept my horse?"

Aline shook her head sharply. "Ah--yes," she said. "Thank you, sir." She waited for him to bring the horse around and kneel to lift her into the saddle, then she shouted and the horse took off across the fields of barley.

Gillan was waiting in his seldom-used solar chamber when she entered the house. He sat--sprawled rather--in a heavy old wooden chair, facing the metal box, when she hurried in. The tension radiating from his shoulders noted his level of anxiety. He stood when Aline opened the door. "My lady wife," he said, greeting her as he always had in past twenty years of marriage.

"What is it?" she demanded, skipping her own normal response. "What have you brought? What is this?" she gestured at the iron box. It hadn't seemed so large when she'd seen it at the edge of the forest, but here in her house, a big ugly cage with mere slits instead of windows, it was large, hulking, shattering the serenity she'd worked so hard to maintain.

"You know we've been looking for--answers," Gillan said after a moment.

"Yes," Aline said.

"We found something--someone--who might give us what we seek," he said.

Aline stared at her husband, and then at the box. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my lord."

Gillan stood, and crossed the sun-dappled room to stand by the box. It was nearly as tall as he was, and as wide as it was tall. No wonder it had required the makeshift sled to drag it through the thick dark mud, and across the field. There was no sound from within, but as Gillan slowly knelt and began to work at the lock on the door, Aline caught a whiff of something that smelled like...cooked meat. Except sweeter. It was both pleasant and nauseating all at once.

Gillan abruptly said, "See to it that you do not make eye contact, my lady. I do not know what kind it is."

Aline blinked. "I beg your pardon."

Gillan opened the door, and Aline was met with a strong gust of that cooked-meat smell. And as she staggered back from it, she saw what was inside the strange iron cage, and she gasped, her hand covering to fly her mouth as horror and nausea slammed into her like a wave in the sea. "Gillan, what have you done?"

I just finished the first book of the new year and new decade. I was feeling a little superstitious about my book choice--I wanted it to be good, to set the tone for the rest of the books to come. I had a hard time finding a book that appealed to me--I picked up several, read about thirty pages, and then set them down again. I finally went rummaging on the shelves in the hallway, hoping that maybe there was an old book I hadn't read, or a book that could be reread. I came up with Julie Garwood's Ransom. It was pretty dusty, meaning I bought it probably several years ago, but I couldn't remember having read it.

Julie Garwood can sometimes be hit-or-miss--she's written some books that were spectacular, and she's written some books that were utterly lacking in personality and sizzle. Still, in the absence of more Susan Elizabeth Phillips to read, or the third of Lisa Kleypas's Travis series, it seemed a good enough premise.

The book was wonderful. I started reading it last night and was up obscenely late before I finally forced myself to go to sleep. I woke up this morning and promptly resumed reading it. The characters were wonderful--the heroine was absolutely fierce and tough as nails without being the shrieking harpy that some strong female characters are; the hero was an alpha male who was funny as hell without trying to be, and a genuinely kind person. I actually said, "D'awwwwwwwww" several times throughout the book--one such instance being when the little boy they were trying to get home told Brodick that Gillian was scared of the dark, Gillian woke up and (as they were camping outside) was startled to discover that Brodick and all of his men had formed a big circle around her so she was surrounded wherever she looked, and thus, would feel safe. Tell me that's not adorable. In addition to Brodick and Gillian, you get Ramsey and Brigid, who are entertaining in their own right, though Brodick and Gillian's story takes center stage.

So, an excellent book, and an excellent start to the literary new year. Daddy and I are going to go to Barnes & Noble soon to spend my giftcard, and with any luck I will return with similarly magnificent books.

And...not a parasite, but something special!

I am going to be a total lameass.

( I cut to hide my shame. )

So, apparently the LJ holiday promotion involves paid/permanent members being given ten coupons to give to our friends who do not have paid accounts. The coupons are for $10 off, so a recipient of the coupon can get a paid account for $9.95 instead of $19.95. I am a bit bemused by this holiday promotion--the people who already had a paid account get nothing. But I guess LJ figures they've already got us hooked and off the line and in the cooler, which...they pretty much do. I like having a paid account, and will probably keep said paid account and extra icons unless LJ blows up or something.

So, I have nine coupons left. Who wants one?

Is it REALLY necessary for my mother to call me four times in one day? REALLY?

And she wonders why I'm irritable when I answer that fourth time.

This is one of the funniest goddamn things I have ever seen. I love you, Mike Rowe.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xs61lfhqeNg&#t=7m28s

I seriously, seriously love you.

Post your email address if you'd like a gift certificate to Adagio Tea.
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If you aren't 100% sure I know your name, you might want to put that as well. Otherwise, since Adagio requires me to put first and last name, the certificate will be addressed in a really odd way.

Also, if you already have an Adagio account, this won't work. You'll have to cheat and use another email address.

Today was a rather adventurous day for Tess. First of all, Tessy is an inside kitty. A very spoiled inside kitty who thinks she's hot shit...until she ends up outside. Which she did last night. Daddy and I finished closing in the back porch this weekend, which meant he was in and out last night, sitting in front of the heater he'd put out there. And, because he had the lights off, and Tess is black, she somehow slithered past at some point and as a result, was howling frantically at the door this morning when my mom woke up.

So, my mom came in to tell me about Tessy's mini-adventure this morning, and of course, my response was, "Awww, what an idiot. Where is she?" and right as I said that, FWUMP. 11 pounds of omg-hello-happy-to-see-you black panther landed on my stomach and started nuzzling me in her adorably aggressive fashion.
( Tess goes to the vet! )

All in all, she doesn't seem to be holding a grudge, surprisingly. Of all our cats, Tessy is the most, well, catlike. She's got the strongest sense of dignity, and has a temper--if you tease or rumple her in some way, she's likely to cut a bitch. She likes affection and attention, but on HER terms only. I figured she'd be mad for at least a couple hours when we brought her home, but if she IS mad, she's not mad at me. Typically, when she sleeps with me, she sleeps at the foot of the bed, close enough to be near her human but certainly not so close it implies that she really wants attention. But when I took a nap this afternoon, I woke up with her curled right up against my ribs, purring loudly. And now she is asleep at the foot of the bed, with Roo (who hates me, WTF) asleep against my legs.

Cats are weird.