Kitty Marley Xoxfox (/boʊ'klɛər/)

Post Christmas.

2009-12-29T21:12:53Z

Christmas was actually pretty good. I tidied the loft and discovered some lost decorations, and then put them up (much to my own satisfaction). Christmas rolled around and I got some WONDERFUL presents: a glittering necklace, two ornate picture frames, perfume (Metal Chic), Miss Austen Regrets and the new Pride and Prejudice comic book.

I have not been totally virginal about spending. Before Christmas, I hadn't bought anything except face wipes, Marmite and a book. BUT, I have since spent OUTRAGEOUSLY on library fines, books and a bag from Accessorize.

But I am BACK to my virginal behavior, now. I only wish I'd splurged on seeing Disney's A Christmas Carol.

The job hunt... still on. I now have a bank account, and I'm going to open a savings account with the Building Society tomorrow, hopefully. My life savings are pretty measly, but worse comes to worse I can live off of them until April 10th, Easter Sunday. But THAT WOULD NOT BE GOOD. Tomorrow, I'm going to photocopy some application forms and give them to potential employers... then at least I'll be on file. I had quit looking for jobs for a few days, but it's time to take it up again.

Until I have a job, I am reading, tidying etc. My mother and I are re-reading Paradise Lost - up to book 4, though we've fallen off a bit. But we've discovered it only takes two hours to read a book, and that I can do it in one sitting. So, probably wont take too long. The other day, I saw a copy of Areopagitica in a second hand store, but I RESISTED buying it, just as I have resisted a lot of things. Because I AM trying.

My things are coming on Dec. 30th. Or they will be in the country then. Unfortunately, there's no room for anything, so I will be trying to sell a few things. My mother removed the all the fittings in my closet, including the rail to hang clothes on, so I'll have to stick a lot of it in the attic.

Good news is, I have my Paypal account, so I can sell some things on Ebay. Including all the MY LITTLE PONYS I collected as a girl. Might make a little money that way...

Come Easter Sunday, I have a job. Hatfield House has offered me both secretarial and guiding work, which might get my foot in to office work. But April is a long time to wait. So, until then, a barista's place is my best bet.

I saw Cranford for the first time, with my mother, mostly because I could not prevail upon myself to leave the front room. Never saw the old one, because I was in the US and only watched American TV (and lets face it, old ladies are snoreful). Andy Buchan was delightful, but not for long enough to satisfy me. When the cow wandered on to the tracks, I thought "OH IT'S OK THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE--" but it didn't happen.

A SECOND SERIES OF MISFITS IS ON THE BOOKS. *pleased* KellyXNathan♥♥

The job hunt goes not-so-well.

2009-11-27T01:32:44Z

Getting a job is NOT EASY. I mean, I knew it wouldn't be, but still. HORRIBLE STUFF. I've applied for two jobs and got one of them... but it was under the counter, so I said no. Actually, I didn't say anything. Probably why the man who interviewed me called today, to ask where I was. Where was I? Why, with all the other people who want to earn £5.73 and work a max of 48 hours a week.

I went to the Job Center a few days after arriving in the UK, so that the good ol' government could hook me up with "job seekers allowance" (the dole), 'til I've got something better. When I returned for an interview to determine how "eligible" I am for financial aid (got £50.00 a week out of them, haha!), I asked if there was anyone there who'd review my CV.

Then I went to the bank, and tried to open up an account. BUT, you need to prove you're a resident in the UK to do it. So I called the National Insurance Agency and coaxed them into sending me some mail.

The day before yesterday, I FINALLY got a call from Prospects, who help people like meself to write good CVs, and get out to work. The girl who interviewed me (Laurie) was 24, a former drama student, who never went to University and only passed her GCSE's in Math and English at 23! She told me she'd been unemployed for six months at the start of the year... and it made me feel hopeful. Hey, if people like her can get around the jargon and bureaucracy, and get decent desk jobs then certainly I can, right?

The biggest problem right now is that my CV is (not to put too fine a point upon it) a bit shite. Laurie said she'd send me an e-mail attachment with a CV template, but it "wouldn't send" (as she told me in a phone message today). Dunno what I'm supposed to do about that - we'll see tomorrow morning.

AND my bank account confirmation has not arrived, either. I came to this country with $400.00 in my pocket, to spend until I was established... not a cent of it has been exchanged because I'm waiting for BARCLAYS to do it. Additionally, while my last paycheck just arrived from Gillette Castle, there is nowhere for my father to transfer my money to. So how do I live? On 1) My mother, 2) my uncle, 3)The £13.?? I found in an old piggy-bank, and 4)£10.00 I found lodged in the back of the Oyster train pass that I last used when I was seventeen. I've caved four times: Clearasil facewipes, Marmite, Dr. Johnson and Company by Robert Lynd and Charlie Chaplin's Autobiography.

I know that this lifestyle is probably good for me... strengthens character etc. Atm, I'm really wondering what I'm supposed to do for Christmas. And my father's birthday is on Sunday... some sad little part of me still wants to send him a birthday card. Perhaps I'll send one late. But what about the people here? They all deserve something. And while I wonder all this, I vegetate and watch Garrow's Law and Misfits, and read The Forbidden Game novels (my favorites of ALL TIME), and sort of... despair?

So, perhaps not good for character, after all.

STRETCH

2009-11-09T00:17:06Z

I've been subject to Lj paralysis for a while.

I packed all my things. It was tough (EMPTYING the guest room, which I've ~~lived~~ existed in for the last five years), but I got it done.

There are plenty of things I will miss about being in America. I will miss Hartford, which became "my" Hartford somewhere along the way-- the child that's mediocre to everyone except its parent. I loved the Connecticut river with a deep, abiding love, and I will probably think of it mournfully for the rest of my life. I cannot even write about the castle.

I miss Staples, and the skinny, hollow-cheeked boy who photocopied my postcards.

I went to Boston, to see arcady before I left. We did a ton of marvelous things, all the sort of things I usually love: shops, art galleries, Salem... it was a well-realized send-off. I did think seriously about making an entry on the subject, but reasoned that anyone who could possibly want to know about it would find out in alternate ways.

I returned to the house in Chester, and saw my boxes off ($1,300+ FTW). My mover was a curious fellow - his hobby was making bookmarks. We talked about education and literature, and when he told me he'd dropped out of school, I quoted Twain, and said "never let your schooling interfere with your education!" Later, he asked who my favorite writer, and (though I probably should have said "Milton"), I immediately asked "Have you heard of Samuel Johnson?" The next day, he appeared at my house and gave me two Mark Twain bookmarks, and two Samuel Johnson ones. Just because.

THEN, arcady came to see me in CT, for the last three days of my time in America. I am pleased to say I managed to take her to the Mark Twain House, though there were other failures I'm still sore over (fucking steam train, what was the point of closing for a month?). And then, once she had returned to Boston, my stepmother cooked lamb dinner and tried to make it seem as though my departure was significant.

I was going to take Connecticut Limo to the airport (three hours, but minimum effort for everyone else). My stepmother, rather, thought it might be nice if she, my father, my sister and me went to spend the day in New York. This was a silly idea for a couple of reasons. I already had at least five hours journey ahead of me, so walking around first would add to the exhaustion. Additionally, as soon became clear, everything in the city closes down on a Monday... we ended up going to the Neue Galerie (Austrian and German art) featuring Klimt and Egon Schiele, which was interesting, though really just more of what I'd seen in Austria.

Then I flew out. It seems like a sort of dream... that I was ever there to begin with. Half a decade gone like a transient dark cloud.

I face a couple of problems over here. No bank account, and no job. First step: call the Inland Revenue for proof of my identity as a subject of the Crown. After that, I can open a bank account, and then - finally - apply for work. My mother wants me to apply at the Parliamentary Palace as a tour guide, and though I think it'd be fun I am very ill qualified. Better, I think, would be the Sherlock Holmes Museum. BUT, I will take almost anything. So I could go into retail, or cleaning, here in Barnet.

My family in England, at least, seem pleased to see me. I caught up with some friends yesterday, and they kindly paid for my meal (eurgh, I haven't changed my money yet and cannot spend a penny 'til I do). I am aware of the fact that my welcome has a sell-by date, and that I must find my own rooms before February, but things keep falling in my way... at least my CV is on its way. Already I am ITCHING for occupation... being without it day after day feels unnatural, and I am ridden with guilt over what feels like laziness. The Christmas season should create job openings, and if only I can be quick about it I can get one of them.

Oh yes! And today was of course, English Remembrance Sunday, which - because of its date - I haven't partaken of for five years. I know I shouldn't have enjoyed it, but I did! The pageantry, and seeing the Queen, all comforted me.

I'm glad I'm back.

Winding the bobbin.

2009-10-19T21:59:55Z

I sent off the paperwork today. TO FLORIDA. That's the paperwork with all my credit card details, via fax, to FLORIDA. I guess that's where Ocean Star International is based (primarily)... I hope they don't fuck about with my numbers. BE TRUSTWORTHY, FLORIDA PEOPLE.

On FRIDAY I am going off to Boston :} I am hoping the person receiving me won't decide I'm a gobby quack (which I felt like I was, on the phone) and try to run away from me... we shall see. After November, there will be 3000 miles of water to keep her safe from all that. We are going to do historical things and I am going to be TERRIBLY CONTRITE about THE WAR >cough<

At the same time I am in Boston, my father and stepmother will be there. Visiting a cousin, who is curator (or some such) at an art museum. It's amusing to think of Susan and Dad trying to be "open-minded", wandering around with Nina, saying nice things about Pollock and not mentioning the fact that Nina's a lesbian. EVERYONE BE SUPER TOLERANT OF THE DIFFERENTNESS.

When I get back, I will be going off to the ~~total sell-out crappy money grubbing~~ Florence Griswold museum, for the Fairies.

I wonder where my mother is. She's gone a bit MISSING.

I decided to be grown-up about living/working in the UK, and wandered onto craigslist.com to scope out my prospects. It's not too too bad, it turns out. I could set myself up fairly quickly, though I'm going to network a bit when I get back to the UK. I am thinking about applying at the Sherlock Holmes Museum. It began as a bit of a joke, but it could be a pretty good low-paying thing for me, until I can weasel out better opportunities.

I am thinking I will ignore the NUMEROUS adverts for escorts.

Lol, last thing. I got a message from my cousin this morning:

"Hi there! Hope your doing okay..I hear you are coming to the uk now. This mean no more gillette castle and the closing of this academic chapter? Im sure its as much of a relief as it is stressful, moving bits of life around always is for me anyway. Whats the address of the place you'll be staying? There bes a postal strike and i fear to post stuff to the us may be as sensible as burying it with a dead pigeon. The entire purpose of newspeak is make thoughtcrime impossible, as there will be no words to express it. Having read my message up to this point i had to remind myself of that.

Seriously....I've looked at a computer for maybe 3 hours today and it has made me feel completely useless, mush for brains and rushing to the end of sentences. This message has lost all form. There is much worse coming, and it is all around us as we look at the glowing screen. There is a breast enlargement advertisment to the right of this box. Above it, a sign inviting potential advertisers to contact facebook personnel, for the obvious increase in business=the destruction of the human mind. One of my friends recently got into marketing, i am very angry and am going to kill any remaining parts of me that have suffered at the soft poison of negative human influence. The spire cranes, its statue is an aviary. Something something urr... Music for silver lock and mouth...urrrr...something...do not travel down dumb wind like prodigals. Cannot remember all of it.

There is no response to that shit! But please give me your UK address and i'll prove that i am in fact a useful maniac. Its too late to delete all the above now and try again...honesty and destruction are wed like sea stones through stained glass. PEACE xx"

Perhaps I'm just a bit sick, but it made me laugh when I read it.

Work-less anxiety.

2009-10-13T18:21:01Z

So that's it. No more Gillette. *weeps* We did everything we're supposed to that day, then closed up for the last time and... bang. it was over. I took advantage of not coming back to break all sorts of rules before we opened up... after discovering that the door to the roof was not locked (earlier in the year) I invited Allie to walk out onto it with me, across to what is called the "secret room", a room only accessible from there and an out-of-commission, pull-down staircase. The secret room is an "off-limits" place... no one's seen it in about seven years (since the restoration of the castle). So, to celebrate our time together with Gilly, we strolled out across the dangerously frail metal plates with cameras in our hands. Allie commented that it was a good thing she wasn't afraid of heights, so I asked (being somewhat more frightened then she was) "are you afraid of death?" But we made it out ok.

After work, everyone (or almost everyone) headed over to the Pattaconk pub and diner for a meal... which was horrible, as it turned out (two of the meals were twenty minutes late, and some of the food simply didn't arrive). Buuuuut... at least I got to say goodbye to everyone. The Nivers hugged me a couple of times before departing, and took my address so they could send me stuff in England (I already had their address because I am a stalker, and I looked it up). Their parting gift to me was an album of photos which show them in various costumes (which I will scan for fb, and put here if anyone cares to see them as Sherlockians). It was a little awkward with a couple of the guys; generally, the men who work at the Castle are a sub par and dorky (with one exception: Peter the retiree was a lot of fun and really nice). Martha and Rosalie, two little old ladies of about 60-something invited me to have tea with them on the 21st, so I'll be getting a call from one of them fairly soon :) At last Allie (only other girl at the castle who is my age) drove me home, and had a cup of tea in my Kitchen before heading back off to Bolton where she lives (a LONG commute). We're getting together too, before I leave on Nov. 2nd.

~~...and of course, I will shortly post photos of the secret room here (hopefully, by the end of the day).~~ Done it! And a few other pics, for good measure.

View of the park from the tower balcony.

RENEGADE. Out on to the roof we go!

The facade... because the building is supposed to look like a ruin.

Door to the secret room.

Ewwww... ceilings need to be redone.

One of only three fireplaces in the home!

I strongly suspect that this is the legendary rooftop garden.

Last evening party... I was sitting between Allie (dark haired girl with fish and chips) and Martha (short brown hair... looking away from the camera). Will is the balding blond (LOL ergh) in the foreground, and Matt is wearing the light blue shirt. I am slightly uncomfortable around both of them.

LOVE YOU, NIVERS ♥♥forever

One last little thing, before I head off... because I was bored yesterday and in denial about how much packing I have to do, I took a pitch from this entry at 221b_bakerst and created my own Sherlock Holmes manip:

That is all. Now I am off to box my things *grumbleweep*

Ahead--->

2009-10-06T04:27:10Z

My mother has arranged for us to return to Vienna this Christmas :D There will be Yuletide markets and Viennese food (the Kunsthistoriches for the Vermeer, the Titian and the potato soup). I consider it a good end to an imperfect year... the ~~long, hard, spirit-crushing slog~~ job hunt can then start when I am refreshed in January.

Now I really MUST get my things together. And it has just occurred to me that the gits here have one of my Christmas ornaments (my Gainsborough lady), so I must kick up a fuss and get it back before I depart. I hate making trouble :(

Monday is the last day at the Castle. I will have to say goodbye... I am not so sorry to see the back of one or two of them, but I will miss Allie and Martha. Martha, bless her, has been inviting everyone from the groundskeeper upwards to our end-of-season meal... at least the Nivers will be there and I can fawn all over them before being forced to retire from ~~William Gillette~~ State employment.

Tomorrow, I am going to buy a plane ticket, which will give me a deadline by which to be finished. Perhaps my ADHD will kick in, and I'll be good to go by my deadline. ~~HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~~

EDIT: Bought my ticket (Viiiiirgin) - Nov. 2nd. THAT'S IT. OFFICIAL.

*begins to hyperventilate*

THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME.

2009-10-03T20:48:22Z

...more then the usual, I mean.

I haven't packed A SINGLE BOX. I haven't BOOKED A TICKET. I haven't CALLED MY MOVERS.

JESUS.

I need to pack everything, so I can weigh it, so I can call up the moving man and tell him number of boxes/weight. Then he tells me when he can ship them. Then I buy a ticket.

But PACKING. I have so many delicate things... and so many thing I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHIP. Like my paintings! GOD GOD GODDY GOD.

I called the mover in FUCKING AUGUST. WTF HAVE I BEEN DOING SINCE AUGUST?

I think, after I post this entry, I'm going to go up and start. FML WHY AM I SO DAMNED INCOMPETENT??

I saw 9 tonight.

2009-09-27T01:39:20Z

It was weird as hell, but I loved it.

SPOILER ALERT!

PLOT: An old scientist creates a machine whereby the human soul can be transmuted into a robot. SURPRISE! The first robot he imbues with life ("The Beast") goes berserk and destroys mankind. So, the scientist makes it his goal to create a set of little robot dolls (I don't want to call them dolls but that what they looked like to me), which will undo his mistake. MISTAKE NUMBER TWO: he doesn't tell the little guys their purpose (or not properly). Each little doll is numbered; no. 9 is the last to come of the line before the scientist (last human alive) cops it. 9 is set loose, discovers the others (I forget what numbers there are, but I LOVED LOVED LOVED crabby no. 1), and embarks on his [rather obvious] destined mission: to destroy The Beast.

There were loose ends everywhere (the machine is never explained; is mankind simply over then?), but the dollies were so cute! There was even a little romance (?) going on between 7 and 9 (did I mention that 7 kicked ass?). The Beast and its minion were extremely scary, too (one peon looked like a snake, but it had a human cranium for a head [no mandible, ewww]).

The end of the season is coming. I am terribly sad about leaving the Castle (it felt more like a home then any other place in America), but at the same time I am almost breathlessly keen to break out of here.

Lol, RESEARCHER

2009-08-31T23:04:41Z

I went to the Connecticut Historical Society Museum this weekend. Just to browse... it wasn't that good (aimed mostly at young children). The lady at the front desk suggested I visit one of the locked exhibits (for which you require a chaperon) and the girl chosen recognized me as a tour guide. ~~I did not recognize her, as I see about 100,000 people a season, significantly more then the CHS.~~ She talked to me about Gillette, and I told her how I loved reading about him... before I know it I'm in the research lab, and this girl is validating forms for me to register as a researcher for Gillette Castle.

...So I spent the afternoon molesting the personal letters of William Gillette, his parents, some of his friends, his niece and his brother Edward. They smelled so good I wanted to EAT them.

Got some photocopies; going back on Friday. NEXT: an assault on the Stowe-Day Foundation (they're the ones with most of the PHOTOS).

Btw Mama:
1) Call me on Friday - remember that I can't call you.
2) Yes, movers means people to move things back to England pour moi.
3) They're making a new series of WAKING THE DEAD♥♥

van_poperin @ 2009-07-27T20:11:00

2009-07-28T01:26:09Z

I made the Dean's List again. *cackles*

Yesterday, I confessed to my ultra-terrifying Supervisor (Bill, who is known for firing people on the spot) that the Helen Gillette picture in Gillette's bedroom bothers me. It's a cheap print-out picture in a cheap Wallmart frame and it doesn't fit in with the rest of the interiors. I mean the picture itself is green for Goodness sake. His smile grew increasingly wide as awkwardly stumbled around the subject, mentioning in the process that I have a few type-A inclinations and that I just wanted to matt it a bit. He gave me permission to take it from the castle for a day and improve it.

I know I am crazy and it's a finite thing. I am also the one who goes about compulsively straightening and polishing things when there are no guests to talk to... but this, I'm pretty pleased by. At least it will now bear scrutiny by the public :)
On March 15th of last year, I mentioned a Harlequin Historical novel which I'd bought upon a whim at Borders. I chose it, in case anyone wonders, because of this front cover:

Well, I just got around to actually reading it, and feel like writing a bit on the subject. It was a very GOOD BAD book. Nora Hammersmith (alias Eleanor Habersham, alias The CAT) is posing as a harmless spinster, so that she won't be suspected of being a notorious cat-burglar (geddit, harharhar). She steals to feed and cloth the poor of Manchester ~~(RobinHoodette?)~~, and furthermore to discourage wealthy residents from investing in a new mill which she suspects is part of a plot to commit insurance fraud. Enter Brandon Wycroft, Earl of Stockport and No 1. investor. He's a Lord with plenty of noblesse oblige, but - as he doesn't know that the Mill is rigged to collapse - he finds himself, in supporting it, up against Nora. I hope I don't need to explain what happens when they meet. ~~I thought this little tidbit would say enough...~~

I had inserted a quote, but upon re-considering its nature I've taken it out. Simply... too ilicit for this forum. Let's just say, she ties him to a bed sans his pants, and then leaves.

So basically, they're at it. A lot. In the background is a somewhat interesting cast of characters... I really loved the villain, Cecil Witherspoon. He's the one planning the whole hey-let's-build-this-mill-with-substandard-materials-and-then-when-it-falls-down-we'll-claim-a-higher-net-value bit. Also, he's a bit of a prude (he practically wets himself at the idea of the pre-marital sex), except when he's hunting the Cat, and then he becomes a crazy bastard. At the end there's a scene where he threatens the Cat with a riding crop, and you're not really sure if he wants to rape her or beat her. She bites his cheek, knees him in the groin and runs (I DESPERATELY want to draw a picture of Witherspoon with the bleeding teeth marks in his face). He dies in the end - the mill is built properly and Brandon marries Nora.

I had been reading this novel at the Castle, and inspired a good deal of interested joking from the other guides, who promptly requested I write some Puritan pornography. I obliged, of course, though I'm not finished... but it might prove an good source of occupation for the next few weeks. Various bits were suggested to me by different guides - "pungent musk" for example, was the phrase I was given to describe a red-headed seducer's smell. How I am going to get the word "discostick" in there is another matter entirely.

TODAY...

2009-07-25T04:26:55Z

I went to the ~~Samuel Clemens~~ Mark Twain House. I am so glad they're open - there was talk of remaining closed, because the sparkly visitor's center they built five years ago has bankrupted them.

I think I am more in love with this pace every time I visit - exactly the sort of heavy, uncluttered ornamentation I like. However, obviously, my DARLING CASTLE comes first.

Markie did taste very nice, though. And I have more postcards for my collection - I have quite a few from different years, now :)

Small sale at a high cost.

2009-07-04T19:41:21Z

The day before yesterday, I went through my books and sold some of them.

I sold Austen (books & miscellanies - not the ones my mother bought me)
I sold Dickens (ALL BUT TWO).
I sold Twain (novels, not life).

I sold art books,
And art catalogs.
I tried to sell Turner,
But was prevented by a sudden and brief return to sanity.
I sold poetry books
And poets
I forget why I chose to sell Keats, but kept Brooke. Seems very silly now.

I sold History
And Biography
And Biology

I sold Clara Schumann.
I sold Harry Houdini.
I sold Beatrix Potter.
My old friends
And numberless others
I didn't sell Samuel Pepys. WHY DIDN'T I SELL SAM PEPYS?

I didn't sell Milton either.
I should have done.
I don't need him.
But he winked up at me from the page
{which is odd, because winking is very un-Miltonesque}
And I cracked
Like old paving stones, trying to supress the roots of a mighty oak
And put him back.
Screw him,
I'll manage it next time.

Didn't sell Johnson
NEVER SELL JOHNSON
Or Mozart
Or Sickert
{Johson would shout
Mozart would weep
And Sickert wouldn't let you sleep
Ever again
If you did}

I struggled with the notion of selling Shelley. I tried to
But in the end
I didn't.
Thank God,
I'd already given everything ~~Moron~~ Byron
Away.

Who knew,
You could sell
$120 worth of flesh
And live to write about it?

Ok... I am going to try to remember Virginia.

2009-06-30T17:51:36Z

Though this may prove harder, now that I've let the time pass.

DAY 1: Spent driving down to VA. We passed through Maryland, and whilst there saw the Baltimore & Ohio (?) Train Museum. It was a pretty extensive collection, though sad to say the roof collapsed, destroying a number of the trains. they offered the opportunity to get a photo done in Victorian dress - so my father and I did.

After that it was straight on to Alexandria, to visit a couple of the shops and look around in the evening before moving on the next morning to Williamsburg. I loved Alexandria... it was almost entirely brick and all the stores had such a... Bohemian feel. We should have stayed longer.

DAY 2: After a night at a Comfort Inn, we got on the road to Mount Vernon. It was disappointing. A long, LONG line for eight minutes inside a rather ordinary-looking Georgian house. Not great paintings or features particularly (NOTHING so good as my dear Gillette). After seeing the house, we wandered around the grounds and looked at the servent buildings and the SLAVE HOUSES (I have a perverse interest in slave history). It was a lovely sunny day though, and - like the Castle - Mount Vernon is on a wonderful river. That was nice.

My Father spent about half the holiday taking photos of me like this.

After Mount Vernon, we drove on and got to the Powhatan compound. It's a plantation which had been converted to use as a reservation. Customers rent part of or an entire house (there are hundreds of identical houses in rows). The original Powhatan manor was built in 1735 by Richard Taliaferro - I prefer to think of it as Taliaferro Manor. You could wander around it free of charge, and it was far nicer then the place we stayed in. Father rented the upper half of house 43, set 140 (whatever that means). I shared a bed with my sister (just as I did for the whole holiday). It was bland, inoffensive and uninspiring. NOTHING like the places I've stayed at with my mother, though A LOT more expensive then the Comfort Inn, while being no better in quality. At the Taliaferro Manor there was a guide who actually turned out to be the gardener, who was VERY CUTE, though I neglected to look at him because I was surrounded by historical things (I know. SADSADSAD).

DAY 3: Jamestowne. My sister chose not to come, but I think she might have liked it... it was FAR better then Mount Vernon. Firstly, the Museum was AMAZING. They had things there which I'd never seen before, and all of it from such a specific time period (all 17th century) - it was quite astonishing. Glass goblets, golden caskets, tapestry rugs, matchlock muskets, armor, portraits, jewelery, tools, pottery, clothing... simply a fantastic collection, and one of the most precise and fullsome I ever saw. Sadly, I couldn't take photos inside (NO WONDER, I bet their terrified of being robbed).

Outside was the plantation. It consisted of a 1607 palisade, with colonial houses inside (perfect replicas inside and out), and people wandering around in costume. LOVED THIS. Then outside, there were the boats, and the native American encampment. I found everything fascinating, though I particularly loved the women's dress.

*serious coif-molesting moment

She was hoeing tobacco and looked glad to stop and talk.

DAY 4: Busch Gardens. Do I really need to write anything on this?? I do not like amusement parks... they get boring quickly. By the high end of the day, as my sister and I were tired of the fakey, poor quality attractions, and began to want to go home (Busch Gardens cost more to get into then any other thing we saw, so our parents desperately tried to bleed it for all it was worth).

DAY 5: Nothing much happened, this day. We all went to see Up, which I disliked. Characters in the extremes of age are rarely interesting, unless they maintain the character of middle age. Additionally, the HEIGHTS made me cringe. After that, we found an antiques store and I purchased a nice little Grecian lady (made of soap stone?). A picture of her may be put here upon request.

DAY 6: Again, my sister stayed at home while the rest of us saw Colonial Williamsburg. This place was originally the capitol of Virginia, before Richmond... by 1902 everything there was falling to pieces. In 1907 John D. Rockefeller took upon himself the task of restoring the town to the appearance it had had when the Founding Fathers walked the streets. It is a real town, though controlled by strict rules -- the residents must keep the exterior of their homes true to the period, and hide the interior if it is modern. The people who work in the town wear colonial costumes, but they are REAL workers who actually do all the things they profess to do. I ADORED the girl in the Milliner's store... she'd made the dress she was wearing (probably a fashion major, originally), and was lecturing when we came in. I sat there way too long, just sort of staring in a besotted fashion - she looked like a life-size doll to me. The museum was not so good as the one at Jamestowne, but the fact that almost everything was athentic made it about even with the Jamestowne experience. I did regret not getting a straw hat (like a bergere, but tied under the chin with a ribbon), but otherwise I left satisfied.

Governor's House

Book binder!

I ♥ you, nameless costumed girl I will never see again.

Capitol house building.

DAY 7: Time to drive home. Before leaving, I persuaded my sister to drop by Colonial Williamsburg, and we ran through the town looking for the straw hat (didn't find one in time). It's a pitty my sister didn't see this place either, as she probably would have enjoyed it... the ONLY person we saw in costume was a woman outside the court house - my sister dragged me over to have my picture taken beside her.
We changed route, so that the road back up carried us through the Appalachian mountains. We stopped at another Comfort Inn in a town called Luuuuuuray. Father and Stepmother went off to look at the Luray caverns, apparently very famous, but I chose to stay behind at the hotel and rest. That evening, Later went to a delightful little restaurant (German, mmmmmmm); the waitress looked like Wednesday Adams and had a thick southern accent and babbled about inane things (which made me want to kidnap her).

DAY 8: Got up early: home by 6 o clock.

FIN.

ALSO: I edited my last entry, about another book I descovered.

The Prince & the Wild Geese

2009-06-29T04:11:35Z

About four days ago, I went to The Book Barn, our local book-dumping place. On the one side it's good, because they'll buy/sell ANYTHING, so most of the books I'm getting rid of will find a place to sit. Bad news is, it's a) unorganized, and b) TOO TEMPTING TO RESIST. I went along just to inquire about selling, and couldn't walk away without this.

It was amidst the children's books, but it isn't one itself. It's the true life love story of the Russian Prince Gregoire Gagarin and the Irish heiress Julia Taaffe, told through Gregoire's drawings and the narration of Bridid Brophy. They met in Italy, in the Summer of 1832.

Some of the drawings are really interesting, so I thought I'd put them here.

The lovely assassin strikes her suitors down at first sight.

They crowd around her, wanting to eat her up.

A private moment, at last!

Gregoire duels with another man for Julia's love, while she looks over his shoulder.

She refuses his proposal of marriage. He returns permanently to Russia.

:) There are lots more, but I limited the entry to a couple of my favorites.

Argh...

2009-06-24T04:49:21Z

I have left off writing for so long that now I almost don't know where to begin. It seems as though, if I committed all the things I have knocking about in my head, I'd never stop. Additionally, I've been (for one reason or another) writing a lot to various people. Part of it might be the brand spanking new Parker pen which arrived in the mail last week (LOVE IT THANK YOU MAMA).
But I do want to write. SO. Virginia will be my next entry - for now I'll write the entry I intended to post before that. It's simply about a children's book I found, but I care about it, so perhaps someone else will too.

The week before I went to Virginia, I visited Guilford. I went there to see the Whitfield House, but as it was closed (who the frig keeps a State house open on Wednesdays and Saturdays only?), I wandered around the town.

Guilford Green, as per a request.

I found my way into a book store, and asked for Puritan literature (with the Whitfield house nearby, I didn't think this was so unreasonable a request). After looking at the American History shelves (loaded with books on the Revolution and Civil War), the owner gave up and said wasn't any. "Well, we're trying to get away from all that now," she said, rather cheerfully.
"Oh. May I ask why?"
"Well, the Puritans... they were stiff and intolerant, weren't they?"
And what would you know about it? "Well, yes. But they had their good points too."
"Oh? Like what?" It was an outright challenge! My desire to talk to the woman dried up like a beached whale. "Well... they were very stalwart people... day or night, rain or shine, if they put they're minds to something, they were unstoppable. Think about how people suffer small things to get in their way nowadays! Wouldn't happen to a Puritan!"
"Oh." That was the end of that exchange. I determined exploration for myself.

Which was a GOOD THING. I ended up browsing the children's corner (in case it isn't horrible obvious by now, I have a thing for children's books), and found an absolute gem! It's part of Spencer's The Faerie Queene, retold for children! Specifically, it tells the Battle of St. George and the Dragon; at the end of his quest, he marries Una.

I kind of hate that my scanner scrambled the pictures... they're great, really. But one of the really marvelous things about them is the artist, Trina Schart Hyman. Just before leaving CCSU, I went to an exhibition of storybook art which was held at the campus gallery. Primarily, I went for the original Kate Greenaway stuff they had, but that's where I first saw Schart Hyman's work. The following pictures were taken by my phone, so again this isn't a real representation of how good she is.

I love that they're real illustrations, not the brightly colored, 2D bits of rubbish that are more popular nowadays. Additionally, she clearly has a thing for romantic themes, with Knights and Princesses aplenty. I think I might have to make myself a St. George icon (that is, If I ever produce a decent icon ever again!).

EDIT: Hooray! Made a few icons today - will post shortly.

A pair of remotely interesting videos.

2009-06-19T04:58:07Z

Jamestowne

Colonial Williamsburg

A Virginia Lady.

2009-06-16T03:21:53Z

Her father was a simple conductor, but she dreamed of bigger things.

So far: Maryland, Alexandria, Mount Vernon, Jamestowne. ♥♥♥ JAMESTOWNE. More photos on FB.

AND IN OTHER NEWS.

I had icons for you, arcady, but they spontaniously disappeared before I could save them. I'll try again when I get back.

I also have some new children's illustrations by a wonderful artist, and a little story. Worth waiting for, I hope.

I saw Star Trek with my sister. OMG DO WANT YOUNG MR. SPOCK. I developed such a SERIOUS CRUSH on that character as I was watching... MUST NEEDS SPOCK!ICON SOON.

So I just realized something quite silly.

2009-06-09T05:57:42Z

Or decided something. Either way.

I am re-watching the 1980's Sabrina With Julia Ormond, and she's just told Linus where her name came from. "Sabrina fair/ Listen where thou art sitting/ Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,/ In twisted braids of Lillies knitting/ The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair..."

Sabrina is the martyr who is called upon to save a virgin from "a fate worse then death" - the movie is actually a modern adaptation of Milton's Comus.

I will probably delete this entry in the morning... but I knew there was a reason I loved that movie.

My job eats up my time awake.

2009-06-04T01:02:41Z

Nonetheless, there are some things that bare mentioning, before I sink back into dreams.

This is a picture I owe arcady of my Robert Peel bear (that's Washington beside him).

Peel bear was brought for me from Disney World.

Work is ok, though not as great as last year. The senior citizens have increased in number, and they're rude and racist to people who aren't... them. So they aren't friendly to the guests who are Russian, or Mexican, or "Ghandi people"(???). It's getting pretty embarrassing... I keep having to dart in and prevent crisis when someone is obviously ignored in favor of someone else who is middle class and white. Additionally, these women won't take orders from me (I'm too young), though I'm the one who locks the castle up at night and manages the alarm system. It really makes me dread the days when it's just me, them and the newbys (of whom there are currently two).

Nonetheless, I like being back, and seeing the NIVERS.

I visited the Stanley-Whitman House, located in Farmington CT. It was by no means as good as the Whitfield House (which is our state house, after all), but it was still beautiful. I'm falling more and more in love with Puritan aesthetics - no wonder their furniture is famous. Sadly, there were no photos allowed inside, though I did buy postcards of the exterior. I also purchased a children's book called Can't You Make Them Behave, King George? It's an anti-monarchical work, however the illustrations are lovely, and I like that they've given him credit where it's due. True, he was a snob with fixed ideas about the rights and privileges of a King, and true, he was hard on those who didn't agree with him. But he was not vicious, and he held himself to the same high standards as everyone else (the book makes him look like a fool by making him seem a bad king, though he wanted to be a good one). My mother and I differ in our opinion, but I maintain that most people would say George III was a decent ruler. Here are some of my favorite illustrations:

Omg baby George with inward turning toes... ♥

I also bought...

...the shame of it...

...a Twilight book.

I'm NOT PROUD of that fact, but it was so pretty! It's something like Twilight: The Making of a Movie. I don't really know the plot, but I did see the movie with my sister (thought I'd give it a shot), and I do LOVE concept art etc.

I don't know yet, but I might do something with all those pages.

I got some "birthday presents" from my father yesterday, which was nice, though the gifts were odd. One was a biography of Queen Victoria, and the other was how to get around Shakespeare's London on five groats a day. I've never liked Victoria, nor ever spoken about her twice in my life, and I'm quite sure there's nothing of Elizabethan England I need or want to see any more. Everything the in-leaf mentioned, I'd already done! The last gift was a check for $500... this will mean I have $600 dollars worth of un-cashed checks. I suppose a check never inspired me.

Back to work tomorrow: off on Friday and then working the weekend. AND THEN. OFFFFF TO VIRGIIIIINIA. I am trying not to think it will be like walking through the set of The Patriot. *fears*.

Argh, I am so tired.

2009-05-24T22:24:37Z

I WILL SMASH THIS COMPUTER IF IT DOES THAT AGAIN.

Ok. I have written this entry TWICE before, and both times LJ refuses to post it. RIGHT. THIRD TIME.

The tail end of last week was fucking savage.

THURSDAY: Last exam (a presentation). Pack up dorm room (4 hours 20 mins). Drive home. No one there - all gone out to The Blue Oar, which is my favorite restaurant (farewell meal for dad, who's flying to England the next day).

FRIDAY (MY BIRTHDAY): Wake up early (9PM). Unpack things from car into basement. Take text books back up to school, to sell ($85.35). Drive home. Carry things from basement to my bedroom. Call Will (from Castle), and ask if he'd like to go with me to The Blue Oar. He agrees - we meet at 5PM. He's bought me the Christopher Lee Sherlock Holmes box set (♥). He drops me back at my place - family (who were not there in the morning) now home. Lucia goes out to movies with her boyfriend. Susan brings out a Carvel cake. We each have a piece. I do laundry.

SATURDAY: First day back at the Castle. New supervisor is the shouty military kind. Scares bejeezus out of me. Most of the old crew is back (we are sans two of last year's people). Realize I don't remember anything to do with Gillette. Start to feel REALLY TIRED. Throat gets so dry I cry whilst trying to speak to the guests. Realize I have forgotten my camera. Still love my job. Get home: 2 things waiting for me. One package from arcady. OMG GLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE (♥♥♥). Also my new passport. Go up to my room; intend to fold laundry; fall asleep.

SUNDAY: Work again. Remember more about Gillette. Develop new "confounded" expression to deal with and repel stupid questions. NIVERS ARE THERE. THEY HUG ME. SUDDENLY, ALL BODILY PAIN EVAPORATES. Come home. Write entry.

...The strange format is because right now, I am so tired I could lie down and die and I'm not up to composition. I will take care of contacts, e-mails and things later, I just wanted to write that out so it doesn't seem as though I'm shunning the world. When my nap with George Washington bear is done, I'll rejoin civilization (mrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr five more minutes please??).

The inheritance of a large misfortune.

2009-05-20T20:18:55Z

I think I've posted about it before, but I thought I'd just remind people, before I start in proper, about my pseudo-niece.

Faye

My father decided he wanted to see her, so he asked his sister when would be good, and my aunt (and Faye's grandmother) answered "some time late May".

My father invited my sister to go, but she refused. Because she has finals this week, Susan can't leave her, so Susan couldn't go.

Could I go? Yes.

Was I invited? No.

I was the one who went out, and bought clothes and toys for this kid. Me. No one else. When Lucia was asked if she wanted to go, she answered "Ew Dad, obviously not. You know I don't approve of the fact that Lizzy had the baby." When my laptop broke and I told my Dad I had some bad news, Susan piped out "you're not pregnant, are you?" Like a human life can be reduced to just one big mistake. And when we were talking about kids at the dinner table, and discussing whether or not Lucia or I would have any, she called Dad on something he said by responding "Shut up Dad, you told me you didn't want any grandkids but to keep it a secret."

So basically, next generation kids are a no.

Oh! And when does he fly out? Friday. My birthday.

Susan wanted to celebrate it on Thursday. Well, turns out I won't have the time, as I'll be moving my TV, my fridge, my carpet and all my other stuff out of the dorm room, alone on that day.

So I tell my stepmother I can't do it that Thursday. I don't care about celebrating it, really. My 21st was the special one, and that was fucking pointless. I know I'm not getting any presents this year (Dad told me he considered buying me a Winston Churchill thing at the weekend, but decided not to as I "didn't need any more stuff" to bring back to the UK); eating cake for the sake of it seems somewhat farcical.

Susan says, "Oh, I was so looking forward to it... we might have to celebrate without you."

While I'm at Uni, carrying heavy boxes and trying to get my fridge down four flights of stairs, they'll be eating birthday cake in my memory.

.
.
.
.
.
FUCK MY LIFE.

So this is probably going to turn into one of those emo entries.

2009-05-04T02:52:49Z

Part I

I've become mute to my family. I answer questions as briefly as possible with my stepmother, but haven't spoken to my father or sister since Friday night. Here's why.

So I wanted to go buy my uncle and grandmother a birthday present, and there's a place in Clinton that'd be perfect. After I got home, I popped my head into the living room and told my sister - "So, I'm taking the car tomorrow, ok?"

"Oh." She paused. "Well, you'll have to get up at 6am then."

"Alright." Like a prat, I walked away content. It was only a couple of minutes later that I questioned what she'd said.

"Lucia," I began. "Explain to me the schedule for tomorrow."

"Oh, well..." I should have KNOWN, from that look on her face. "I have SATs tomorrow, so you'll need to drive me to Mercy High School."
"When are they over?"
She shrugged. "About 2 o clock."
Obviously I was a bit stumped by this. "So wait, why do I have to drive you to your SATs? Why don't you just go yourself?"
"I need to go shopping with Nick [her bf] for a tux for the Prom."
"Wait - so why aren't I taking the car after you get back?"

My Dad - paternal life-ruiner - chimes in. "You take her to the SATs, and while she's there you do whatever you want. Then you go pick her up at 2pm, she drops you home, and then she goes to get the tux with Nick."

I hope my readers, at this point, are seeing a problem. "Wait, so I'm getting up at 6pm, so my sister can take the car in the afternoon? I said I wanted the car first!"

I wish I'd said the last bit aloud. I didn't. I just stared at my father, upholding this bullshit, and then walked away. Typical. TYPICAL. I lay claim to the car, and my sister drives all over me. How many Saturdays have I given up so she could take it and do what she wanted?

I was washing my hands of cat fur when I had an ingenious idea. I'd go mute. After all, I say things to these people repeatedly, and am still ignored... I wonder what they'll do when they call me next week to ask where the car is, and I pick up the phone and say nothing?

Even as I wrote this entry, my stepmother came to talk to me. When I didn't answer, She grabbed my face and tried to stare into my eyes... and told me speaking was the only way to fix my problems. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHABIGGESTJOKEEVER.

Where was talking, that day I came to them in tears and begged them not to make me go back to University? Where has talking been, for months and months, while I repeatedly told EVERYONE IN SIGHT that I was unhappy, and they're only answer was "Keep going, you'll get there." Talking is GRAND for making OTHER PEOPLE feel better.

Part II

I've always had odd problems. When I was very small (4-8 years old), I was bullied at school (I should probably write "teased" her instead, because I wasn't physically abused... I was just the kid that no one else wanted to play with, and BOY did the other kids make me feel it), because I was socially awkward, and learning retarded (I didn't write properly until I was about 12). When I got to secondary school (age 11), I was teased for still playing with My Little Ponys (I still have all of these... they were in my bedroom until I was about 15).

I've never really been happy with who I was, despite occasional bouts of vanity. I can't hug people, or look them in the eye for too long. I hate arguments or intense emotions. I appear quite confident, but the better someone knows me, the less confident I become. I've always needed people to keep that certain degree of distance with me.

So the other day, I was in the therapist's waiting room, chatting with this kid who's often in there. We always fall into talking because we're so alike; so we're swapping stories about something or other... and he said something I could understand on an eerily finite level. Even though I didn't even know his name, I decided to throw myself out there and ask:
"So, what're you here for?"
"Oh, issues relating to mild autism."

You can imagine how my blood rain cold. Autism? I relate to the guy with autism? But after going away, I kind of got it. The inability to process or communicate deep emotions. The paralyzing fear of intimacy (which forces me to ex-communicated any person who scares me this way - and there've been a few). The compulsive habits. It's all very me. What's more, mild autism is FREQUENTLY mistaken for ADHD - with which I have been diagnosed.

I told my mother about it - we ended up having an argument (my mother claimed no one in the family had ever helped her.. and was just going on to say she loved me by didn't trust me-- and I hung up). I somehow knew that phone-call would end badly.

So I'm going to talk to my therapist about it. I think being diagnosed with a spectrum disorder would be helpful... it would leave me more free to be me. I'm sick to death of people asking me when I'm going to get a boyfriend... why I can't stand sex scenes in movies, and why my room is so tidy. I'll just shout "It's asperger's bitch!" and all will be well. Well, except for the solitude bit... I love being alone, but it'd be nice to have one or two special people in my life. Also, when someone I like hits on me (my ONE CRUSH - the only guy I ever really liked - asked me out twice, and both times I refused), I'd like to be able to say yes.

Finals coming up. I wonder how I'll manage it WITHOUT A LAPTOP (fuck you father - you had all week to take care of it and you only started ON FRIDAY).

I came to school: there was no class.

2009-04-28T18:50:52Z

Damnit. That's fine: I'll just write a babbling lj entry.

My laptop died on Saturday. Dad says it's fried, and he's going to have to reformat it, which means all my new programs (my HP INKJET DRIVER FTW) will disappear. Worse, I have a ton of work to do right now. Here's an example.

I am racking my brains trying to think of an argument for my composition class concerning convergence culture. NOT Easy. Despite the fact that there is so much commercial and fan media interaction nowadays, it's really hard to think of a subject that scholars, conglomerates and fans take an active interest in. I've settled upon Alice in Wonderland, which must be getting gradually more popular because of the new Tim Burton movie, not to mention the second American McGee's Alice. Basically, I've decided to argue that new and old media have different effect on the way the story is conveyed: if you read the books, their quite dark and sinister: if you listen to the audio book, their light-hearted and fun. Depending on how the individual fan understand the story, their response (if they create fan-art, fan-fiction, fan vids etc) is dark or light, and the medium they use reflects that. Darker interpretations require more involvement, so the medium is more complex; lighter interpretations inspire casual, non-involved media, like a youtube vid. Now all I have to do is find scholars who support this theory *seriously sick face*

Last night I was up until 3am working; the night before it was 4:15pm. This project is really taking chunks out of my spirit. I have not forgotten my resolution from last post, though: I'm looking for reasons to be cheerful. Sunday afternoon, before I started working, the house emptied out (Susan and my father went off to their beach house; Lucia went out with friends), and I got to be alone for a while. It was WONDERFUL. At first I only thought I'd just fold some laundry and watch Law and Order, but then the Grenada Sherlock Holmes came on TV (♥), and I had a moment. You know, where you're standing there, knowing there's a lot on your plate and youre going to be miserable some time in the near future? I had that moment, and I looked at the screen and thought "I'm going to ENJOY this." So I did. Three episodes together. I had tea, I had Jeremy Brett, and I had my time.

I think that's why I was able to sit in front of the computer for hours on end without killing myself. I'd had my play, now was time to buckle down. It worked surprisingly well, though of course >now< all I can think about is the Grenada Holmes box-set waiting for me in England. But this is good - this is my plan working - this is a reason for me to keep my chin up.

It's not so bad, after all. I just have to do finish the paper up. That, and the one on Women in Milton's literature. And complete my comp blogs. And finish the Milton Wiki page. And pass the Medieval Hist quiz on Friday, read Paradise Regained and Sampson Agonistes by next week, pass finals...

Fuck YEAH I can do this.

LOLOLOLOL

2009-04-21T16:50:59Z

I just got this e-mail from Lucia.

hey kaddy!
so your birthday is coming up soon, and i know some things that i thought you would loveee.
so i used your credit card thinger cause i did it online, but when youre home this wk ill give you the money for it.
but pleaseee dont go look at it cause im sure you can see it hhhaha.
it better be a surprise:)
mom wouldnt let me use hers cause shes a whore.
but what else is new.
see ya friday!
and DONT LOOK ON YOUR CARD!!!
<3

...Gotta love little sisters :D

Late night meditations.

2009-04-16T04:57:37Z

I think the trouble with writing livejournal entries is that you need to write about the things that are happening to you. If it's not personal, and not involved, then it's not really worth reading. I don't want to make these admissions publically, nowadays. Not to anyone. Not even to myself.

That sounds horribly tragic, and it is. Obviously I don't want to write about what's pathetic.

But sometimes, things pass through my mind which I DO want to write about. Trivial things, like the two Devil May Cry art books I just bought, after having spent Lent abstemiously buying NOT SO MUCH AS a magazine. The 95% I got on a paper that I thought I'd sunk (Wilberforce and the English Slave Trade). The fact I just pumped eight pages out on a subject I haven't researched (female inferiority and submission in Paradise Lost). The book I rediscovered (Charmed Life). I want to share these things. They matter to me.

The trouble is that loose scraps need to be anchored in what is greater (and what, in my case, is truly horrid). I need to admit that My Milton teacher upsets and affects me to almost a silly degree. That my aunt accosted me during last weekend's Easter party, and made me admit my problems to an audience of people who now think I'm a snobbish whinge (which I am, but that's beside the point). That I miss my mother horribly, and can't believe I won't see her until October. That I'm freakishly frightened of returning to England and caring for myself.

Blah. I think the thing I'm most ashamed of is the fact I let my life get this way. Jesus, when did I stop dealing? Everywhere I look, people are working with their problems and moving ahead of me. Getting jobs, getting married... my eighteen year old cousin had a baby in March (I don't agree with the circumstances and I'm not hugely maternal, but the fb pictures get my hormones going like crazy. I envy her having what she wants.)

Ok, whatever. I need to stop moping... that much is clear. Aunt Didi (same aunt as accosted me on Sunday) is conducting a self-help seminar this weekend, and I've agreed to go; as much as I am usually against this chicken-soup-for-the-soul shit I think I'm gonna try to take some of it on board. I'm going, as much as is possible, to stop thinking about all the things that've gone ankles up. self-derision doesn't make me fix things, it just increases this sense of shame.

Also, it must be said I've not fully credited the good things in my life. I still have things to look forward to, like the things I've bought which wait for me in England (the Devil May Cry books are headed there... that concept art is truly wonderful... I thought the castles they drew resembled the ruin I saw in Portugal, and low and behold, the artists had traveled to Spain for research!). Similarly, simple home comforts are almost always within reach (a good movie, a sketch pad, my ipod). My classes, though not totally wonderful, do have their high points (The religious aspects of Medieval History are FASCINATING). And finally, when the semester is over, I return to Gillette Castle, and for three wonderful months I will have nothing to worry about (William Gillette is not quite as good as my mother, but he's not a paper umbrella). Life yields constant little things to be grateful for.

That reminds me of the headache I had a couple of nights back. After downing roughly 120ml of Ibuprofen (I was seriously hurting), I lay in bed and thanked God that it was something so small. I was lying in bed with a headache, and there are people lying in bed starving to death, or dying of cancer.

...I feel weirdly cheerful, all of a sudden. My life isn't so bad. It's not great, but it could be a lot worse. I pray I am able to keep this idealism up. It would be nice to be able to enjoy life again.