Confessions from two Tuesdays ago, no lie
I confess that I’m newly glad to re-discover this term that encapsulates the giddy gush of affection one can feel for fictional characters and situations: fangirl/fanboy. I never knew I was one. (I wonder if there’s a gender-free version . . . oh, wait . . . fan.)
Related, I am getting such an education reading fanfiction. All these new terms and stylings -like h/c (hurt/comfort) and non-canon and drabble. Who knew? Clearly, not me. (Also, a perusal through a dictionary of fanfiction terms show just where folks are placing their sexual energy these days. Kind of reminds me of when I first learned about Manga.)
Also, I now understand how “smirk” and “sneer” have entered the lexicon (at least in YA novels) in a most annoying way. Just use SAID, people!
I confess that, similar to car sales, reporting home sales and building development as a sign of fiscal health and “progress” gives me anxiety. Every day, on my bike ride, I watch houses getting rehabbed in my neighborhood (old houses turned new condos = gentrification, not that I have simple feelings about that term/such things.) As big buildings go up all over Boston, my first thought is “wow, all those toilets” and my second “how can the planet stand it?” Is it healthy? Is it not? Neutral? I don’t know.
Today I warned the boy that when we finally cave and buy a new (to-us) car, it probably won’t have a tape deck. I just wanted to prepare him for the fact. I wonder if they make tape decks that plug into your cigarette-ligher-thingy?
I finally broke down and bought a new ipiddle touch. This one is named Pippie, and I expect she’ll be around ‘til a.) I drop and crack her into a zillion pieces (following in the footsteps of pretty much everybody else I know) b.) six years pass and everyone else is watching holographic movies on their smart-thingys while I stubbornly attempt to keep my old-tech breathing c.) something so amazing goes on the market that I suddenly become an early adopter and upgrade. Of the three - a, b, c- which do you think is most likely for Phoebe?
I feel gleeful about my current work-in-progress, yet at the same time apprehensive that our honeymoon (albeit a late one, following a full decade of confusion and frustration) could crash to a sudden end. Still: hope. And Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/phobean/wip-confessions/
The cat has had a drippy nose, on and off, since the beginning of spring. This worries me and yet, my aversion to doctors/vets keeps me from making an appointment for him. I’d like to think I wouldn’t be like this if I had easy access to holistic care. But, I don’t know --the older I get, the more I distrust most forms of modern med. It’s a lineage that keeps on ticking (thanks parents, thanks Black America, thanks medical discrimination towards women and people of color.)
At some point in my biking life, and I think it’s a recent point, the movement became as natural and automatic to me as walking, breathing. Sometimes, I feel seal-in-the-ocean as I bullet through Boston on my two-skinny-wheels. Then I have to laugh because I know, in reality, I look just like everybody else. From behind, my legs going up-and-down resemble exactly the ungainly paddle of a duck.
Related, I am getting such an education reading fanfiction. All these new terms and stylings -like h/c (hurt/comfort) and non-canon and drabble. Who knew? Clearly, not me. (Also, a perusal through a dictionary of fanfiction terms show just where folks are placing their sexual energy these days. Kind of reminds me of when I first learned about Manga.)
Also, I now understand how “smirk” and “sneer” have entered the lexicon (at least in YA novels) in a most annoying way. Just use SAID, people!
I confess that, similar to car sales, reporting home sales and building development as a sign of fiscal health and “progress” gives me anxiety. Every day, on my bike ride, I watch houses getting rehabbed in my neighborhood (old houses turned new condos = gentrification, not that I have simple feelings about that term/such things.) As big buildings go up all over Boston, my first thought is “wow, all those toilets” and my second “how can the planet stand it?” Is it healthy? Is it not? Neutral? I don’t know.
Today I warned the boy that when we finally cave and buy a new (to-us) car, it probably won’t have a tape deck. I just wanted to prepare him for the fact. I wonder if they make tape decks that plug into your cigarette-ligher-thingy?
I finally broke down and bought a new ipiddle touch. This one is named Pippie, and I expect she’ll be around ‘til a.) I drop and crack her into a zillion pieces (following in the footsteps of pretty much everybody else I know) b.) six years pass and everyone else is watching holographic movies on their smart-thingys while I stubbornly attempt to keep my old-tech breathing c.) something so amazing goes on the market that I suddenly become an early adopter and upgrade. Of the three - a, b, c- which do you think is most likely for Phoebe?
I feel gleeful about my current work-in-progress, yet at the same time apprehensive that our honeymoon (albeit a late one, following a full decade of confusion and frustration) could crash to a sudden end. Still: hope. And Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/phobean/wip-confessions/
The cat has had a drippy nose, on and off, since the beginning of spring. This worries me and yet, my aversion to doctors/vets keeps me from making an appointment for him. I’d like to think I wouldn’t be like this if I had easy access to holistic care. But, I don’t know --the older I get, the more I distrust most forms of modern med. It’s a lineage that keeps on ticking (thanks parents, thanks Black America, thanks medical discrimination towards women and people of color.)
At some point in my biking life, and I think it’s a recent point, the movement became as natural and automatic to me as walking, breathing. Sometimes, I feel seal-in-the-ocean as I bullet through Boston on my two-skinny-wheels. Then I have to laugh because I know, in reality, I look just like everybody else. From behind, my legs going up-and-down resemble exactly the ungainly paddle of a duck.