Ten-Day Meme, Day Six
I... am one siiiiick Ysabet. I believe I have the flu. Went to work, came home as quick as I could manage, took Theraflu and slept away the day; now I'm sitting up waiting for the next dose of Theraflu (which I should've taken a while ago, only I fell asleep instead) to take effect and I might as well get this done while I'm still vaguely coherent. I'm running a good bit of fever, so far as I can tell-- the only working thermometer in my place is a cooking thermometer, which brings to mind very bad thoughts-- and I'm distinctly fuzzyheaded. Or more so than usual. Whatever.
So, okay.
Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn offs.
Day Eight: Three turn ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.
Um, lessee... Damn. This one's HARD, because there're so many to choose from! How the hell do I winnow it down to only five?
1. My dad, for the love of music he gave me, not to mention the belief that I can learn to make just about anything with my own two hands. What I make might not be the best in the world or the most beautiful or the best-working, but I *can* do it, and I can learn to make it better. This is such a fundamental facet of my self that it's hard to trace it back... but I remember him encouraging me to build my first treehouse and knot my own rope ladder and change the oil in my car and write my own music. We built a harp together-- I still have it-- and I carved horn guitar-picks for him with a Dremel. Thanks, Daddy, for teaching me that my hands are my best tools.
2. Mr. Rutherford, my English teacher in 9th grade. He encouraged me to "think in stories", as he put it, to listen to my world like I was planning to tell it back to somebody. My writing stems directly from this.
3. My adopted sister and friend nightengale , for being there when I need her and allowing me to be there for her. We make each other stronger, little sister.
4. A three-in-one entry here, writers who've shaped the way I see and the language I think in: Diane Duane, Robert Heinlein and Andre Norton.
5. My mom, for gardening and harvesting and growing; Mama, you taught me that there're things to eat growing everywhere and that it's a shame to waste them. You taught me to can and jar and pickle (and it amazes me how few people still do this!) and to try new stuff, even though we never did see eye-to-eye about beets. I owe my love of nature directly to you and my tendency to look around at what's blooming and growing and ripening with the knowledge that we walk in a garden every day.
So many more people I could add in, SO many more... friends and family and more writers and pets and people I've never met and people I've known all my life... but the Theraflu's kicking in and I'm gonna roll over and go to sleep now. Hope I don't throw up any more. G'nite.
So, okay.
Day One: Ten things you want to say to ten different people right now.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn offs.
Day Eight: Three turn ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.
Um, lessee... Damn. This one's HARD, because there're so many to choose from! How the hell do I winnow it down to only five?
1. My dad, for the love of music he gave me, not to mention the belief that I can learn to make just about anything with my own two hands. What I make might not be the best in the world or the most beautiful or the best-working, but I *can* do it, and I can learn to make it better. This is such a fundamental facet of my self that it's hard to trace it back... but I remember him encouraging me to build my first treehouse and knot my own rope ladder and change the oil in my car and write my own music. We built a harp together-- I still have it-- and I carved horn guitar-picks for him with a Dremel. Thanks, Daddy, for teaching me that my hands are my best tools.
2. Mr. Rutherford, my English teacher in 9th grade. He encouraged me to "think in stories", as he put it, to listen to my world like I was planning to tell it back to somebody. My writing stems directly from this.
3. My adopted sister and friend nightengale , for being there when I need her and allowing me to be there for her. We make each other stronger, little sister.
4. A three-in-one entry here, writers who've shaped the way I see and the language I think in: Diane Duane, Robert Heinlein and Andre Norton.
5. My mom, for gardening and harvesting and growing; Mama, you taught me that there're things to eat growing everywhere and that it's a shame to waste them. You taught me to can and jar and pickle (and it amazes me how few people still do this!) and to try new stuff, even though we never did see eye-to-eye about beets. I owe my love of nature directly to you and my tendency to look around at what's blooming and growing and ripening with the knowledge that we walk in a garden every day.
So many more people I could add in, SO many more... friends and family and more writers and pets and people I've never met and people I've known all my life... but the Theraflu's kicking in and I'm gonna roll over and go to sleep now. Hope I don't throw up any more. G'nite.