Tripped across another one of those wretched quizzes. I have been so good for so long, but I broke down and clicked radio buttons and discovered that I am…
Pure, innocent, naive; the embodiment of sweetness and light.
Represented by the color white and the element air, Life is all that is good and true.
She loves order, stability, and all things beautiful and serene.
Shows an inexplicable affinity for operas, curly hair, and corsets.
Er. Okay. Half of me, maybe. I checked out the other possible answers and found my other half, which, fittingly enough, happens to be…
Dark, moody, logical, pessimisstic; probably sarcastic, cynical, and frighteningly intelligent.
Dark, morbid, appropriately represented by the color black and the element water.
Death is reserved, intellectual, introspective.
Rarely does she do anything requiring a lot of energy or display of emotion —
but when she does, anyone within a few planes would do well to duck and cover.
See? That’s why net quizzes can be so disappointing. They only take part of you into account.
Silly net quizzes.
Thanks to my circle of friends who bought me the Uber-Music-Stand last summer for my birthday, I am happily equipped for home practice and concerts. No one, I thought, would ever have a stand like mine. (Mainly because no one else would be enough of a loon to cart the six-ton thing around. But I digress.) Solid and sturdy, with a beautiful shiny black desk that folds out to both sides, creating space enough to lay out an entire string quartet if I so desired. Adieu, page turning! Of course, adieu to page turning at home, not at concerts; we’re usually packed in like little musical sardines, so there’s no room for my Uber-Stand to achieve its full wingspan in public.
Well, at our last concert, I set up my Uber-Stand and went downstairs to stash my coat. When I came back, a second violinist was walking away with it.
“Hey! Hey!” I said. “That’s my stand!”
We argued about it for a moment, then I convinced her that it was mine and off she went in a bad mood to locate hers, which she had just bought. (Someone had put it behind the door. Go figure.) So, with my beloved Uber-Stand back in my possession, I then and there resolved to find some way to identify it as mine forever and ever.
As of yesterday, I now have sparkly Harry Potter Hedwig owly stickers to put on it in a relatively inconspicuous place. Heck, I’ve had one on my laptop since I got it; why shouldn’t I put some on my music stand too?
No one will try to claim it as theirs now. No, sir.
I woke up last night and my head was brimming with ideas for stories and novels. I marvelled and cheerfully went back to sleep, anticipating waking up the next morning to The First Day Of The Rest Of My Life Never Having To Dig For A Story Idea Again.
Of course, when I awoke, I remembered the part about my head brimming with ideas, but not the ideas themselves. I could have kicked something.
On Tara’s website, she mentions developing a Life Mission Statement for herself. That idea (okay, that and all the delightfully funky little owlies) reached deep inside me and ripped something awake in a rather painful fashion. For the past year, I’ve been struggling to figure out why I’ve been unhappy, and what I want out of life that can/will bring contentment. Perhaps a mission statement is what I need. Nothing so structured as a five-year plan; goodness, no. Instead, I want a personal manifesto that inspires me.
So far, I know it will include the exististence of cats in my life, sharing company with my lovely god-daughter who brings tears to my eyes, music (both listening and making), feeling the sun on my face regularly, encouraging freckles, laughter, art (appreciation and perception), believing that I have something to share with the world at large, love on every single level I can think of, and a perpetually renewed joy in the sequencing of language in various ways.
Needs work, I know. And specifics. I have to fit warm bubble baths in there somewhere, too.
Ye gods - when did it get to be three days until the release of X2?
My right wrist has been inflamed for a couple of days, and it hurts when I type or use my mouse. I just finished editing a thirty-page document that was time-sensitive and a pleasure to edit, but I’m now pretty useless for most of the things I usually do, like typing, writing, and playing the cello.
Yesterday, I heard that a friend got a light tablet and stylus to use in place of a mouse, and it’s an attractive thought. So’s an ergonomic keyboard at this point. I’m using a rolled-up towel to rest my wrist on, but the mouse keeps bumping into it. After I post this I think I’ll take a walk, which requires no wrist work at all.
I’ve been seized with the extremely odd desire to write verse lately. Not that I’m being inspired with poetry, I just want to be writing it. This is extremely frustrating.
I slept for ten hours last night. I think I’m officially back on track.