vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (minerva in mist)
I saw an episode of WW II in HD this weekend. Wow. Color footage from the 40s that they never showed in World At War. That's not really a "good" wow -- more like a... gah wow. Personal memoirs, interviews with surviving veterans (only 10% of those who served in WW II are still alive, including female service and nursing personnel). I'm glad they're doing interviews like that, and learning the "real" stories. Did you know there was openly acknowledged prostitution in Hawaii before and during WW II? (Me neither!) The "girls of Motel Street" in Honolulu were quite patriotic at $3.00 a trick.... *boggles*

I went to Egils work party on Saturday, for about four hours. I am TOTALLY not used to that bright thing in the sky anymore! Summer needs to get here slooooooowwwly, so I can adapt. Highlights of Saturday involved killing blackberry brambles with a katana (hey, my Knight has a low taste for high irony in machetes).

On other news, there really isn't any other news. News being horrible or catastrophic or divisive or otherwise rocky things. No news being good news, I guess you can say. I spend my weekdays writing product copy and articles (but mostly product copy). I spend my weekends with [ profile] herodocles. We don't do anything world-shattering -- talk, be sloppy romantic *g*, watch TV, play games (I iz BoggleQueen!), and wrassle. Wrasslin' is fun. Not THAT kind of wrasslin'... get your mind out of the gutter!

Plus, [ profile] herodocles enjoys NASCAR, so there's that chance to nap on Sunday mornings. No, really, we both end up falling asleep during the race. It's not really interesting until the last 40 laps or so, anyway. Unless there's a spectacular crash, which they show in slow-mo for the rest of the race, so you don't really miss anything. Although, it's probably not wise for me to watch auto racing just before I leave to drive 2.5 hours home...

So that's all the news that's fit to print. Well, all the news that's happening. I never realized how un-newsy happiness is. Maybe Tolstoy was on to something....
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)
One hot Greek

(images courtesy of Diana W)
Okay, so I'm prejudiced....
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (fragile flower)
Sometime between Xmas and New Years, a certain somebody who shall be named frequently in this post ([ profile] herodocles  I'm looking at you) and I were talking about Valentine's Day. And I mentioned that I was excited about Valentine's Day this year, because I get to participate and  I (hesitantly) mentioned that I enjoyed "having a fuss made" about it.

I know that isn't true of everyone. For a lot of folks, Valentine's Day is something to avoid. Or dismiss. There's a lot of people who are angry about it, or feel cynical about it being a mere moneymaking device by the card, flower and candy companies.

My philosophical maunderings... )

Ah, but you wanted to hear about what we did, right? Not my philosophical maunderings...

The weekend's events )

What a wonderful weekend. Thanks to a wonderful man.
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say that love's a little boy,

And some say it's a bird,

Some say it makes the world go round,

And some say that's absurd,

And when I asked the man next-door,

Who looked as if he knew,

His wife got very cross indeed,

And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pajamas,

Or the ham in a temperance hotel?

Does its odour remind one of llamas,

Or has it a comforting smell?

Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,

Or soft as eiderdown fluff?

Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?

O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it

In cryptic little notes,

It's quite a common topic on

The Transatlantic boats;

I've found the subject mentioned in

Accounts of suicides,

And even seen it scribbled on

The backs of railway-guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,

Or boom like a military band?

Could one give a first-rate imitation

On a saw or a Steinway Grand?

Is its singing at parties a riot?

Does it only like Classical stuff?

Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?

O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;

it wasn't ever there:

I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,

And Brighton's bracing air.

I don't know what the blackbird sang,

Or what the tulip said;

But it wasn't in the chicken-run,

Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?

Is it usually sick on a swing?

Does it spend all it's time at the races,

Or fiddling with pieces of string?

Has it views of its own about money?

Does it think Patriotism enough?

Are its stories vulgar but funny?

O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning

Just as I'm picking my nose?

Will it knock on my door in the morning,

Or tread in the bus on my shoes?

Will it come like a change in the weather?

Will its greeting be courteous or rough?

Will it alter my life altogether?

O tell me the truth about love.

W.H. Auden

When it comes, will it come without warning

Just as I'm picking my nose?


Cool poem

Aug. 29th, 2008 08:57 am
vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)

Loving the Odd Child
Copyright 2006 Anne Allanketner 

The everyday child needs socks and sandwiches
Her hair combed, yes
And time to play, people to love.
The everyday child needs constant care
From you so keep her warm and kindly sheltered, nourished, held. 

But it’s caring for the odd one, which makes us
whole again, after long confusions, blundering
and wishing she were normal. 

Love that little odd child, and you will flower
in unexpected ways, veering off the path
that others gave you, to carved new and tender
territory in the mysterious, dark wood. 

Give that little odd child what she needs:
a softer lamp light, all day at the zoom
Art supplies for breakfast, an early
Exit from the loud party. 

Maybe she wants things you think are strange
But just believe in her, let her hold those
tiny tree frogs, let her climb down off your lap
to gather strange objects, her weird collections…

Her need for books, her fear of people
crushing plants, her awkward dislike of
your friends, her terribly low
pain threshold.

Gather each of these up in time, and kiss them.
Then put them down in front of her, loved.
This is the new path, taking your away
from normal and towards your SELF.

Towards the life you deeply long for
Towards the odd work, the odd lover, the odd house. 

You were afraid that if you gave into her,
There would be no end to it
And that is true
For the odd child is a wild and tempting
shamaness, who given an inch will rise up
dancing and gather you in arms and sing
her throaty off-key melodies as she
winds her way through the wood and steps 

Into her odd place in the bright and peopled world.
There she will shift the balance in some small
and significant way that only she can understand
having changed you so completely into yourself
she is unafraid
to reinvent
the world.


vesta_aurelia: Fangirl your Armor (Default)

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