Wild Moon Swings

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

The Night Gown

One of my favourite passages of all time is in a book called 'Further Foolishness' by Stephen Leacock. He was a guy with a degree in political science who used to write little pieces (for lack of a better word) criticising everybody. This was around the turn of the century so, his ideas are quite out of date, but he wrote a piece called 'Snoopopathic Literature' condemning author's for writing only about senses instead of specifics, and using 2000 words to describe something that could be more than adequately revealed in one sentence. This is the paragraph I think is the most funny.

It is peculiar about The Woman [in the story] is that she never seems to wear a _dress_--always a "gown." Why this is, I cannot tell. In the good old stories that I used to read, when I could still read for the pleasure of it, the heroines --that was what they used to be called--always wore dresses. But now there is no heroine, only a woman in a gown. I wear a gown myself--at night. It is made of flannel and reaches to my feet, and when I take my candle and go out to the balcony where I sleep, the effect of it on the whole is not bad. But as to its "revealing every line of my figure"--as The Woman's gown is always said to--and as to its "suggesting even more than it reveals"--well, it simply does _not_. So when I talk of "gowns" I speak of something that I know all about.

Maybe it's that I picture the most crotchety grouchy old man imaginable writing this paragraph that I find it so amusing - maybe. Anyway, I think it's hillarious. But at the heart of his essay are some really good ideas about plot portrayal and not stretching a story too much.

But I'm getting away from the point of my post. Today, I wanted to write about my nightgowns. I know that it's a far stretch from snoopopathic literature, but the quote popped into my head when I thought about writing about nightgowns. I own three nightgowns. None of them were purchased by myself as I don't wear nightgowns to bed. I only wear them sometimes, when I need something specific from one. Otherwise, I sleep in boxers and a T-shirt. Anyway, I noticed something interesting about them. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be writing this.

The Nightgown from My Mother

The nightgown I got from my mother is one that she used to wear. I can't remember how it ended up in my possessions. I think I was probably complaining that I didn't have one and she probably threw it at me and told me to stop my whining. It's made of yellow flannel, has long sleeves and goes to the floor. It has a couple buttons over one shoulder so that a woman could set her hair in rollers and then still get her nightgown on without disturbing the set. I used to sleep with rags in my hair sometimes, so I found this feature useful on more than one occasion. It also has some lace on it that I've repaired numerous times because over the years - it has really earned a place it my heart.

I wear it when I'm depressed, sad, vulernable and I don't think I can do anything about it. I hate going to bed when something is bothering me. I hate ending a day believing in my heart that I've done something terribly wrong and that there is no way for me to repair it that day. It makes me miserable, and if I didn't have my mother's nightgown to wear, I'd probably come unglued. Those are the kinds of nights I wear my mother's nightgown.

The Nightgown from My Grandmother

When I say my grandmother. Of course I mean my mother's mother. Who's close to their father's mother? Anyway, my grandmother lived down the alley from us while I was growing up and I know her very well. She's a country girl of the first order - meaning that she is practical down to her bones. She picked the nightgown up for me at a 'no cost clothing exchange' that was being hosted by the community. It's too big for me, but it's got a bit of a drawstring on it so that you can do what you like with the neckline and thus the whole shape of the garment. This means that it can be worn off-the-shoulder or not, depending on what you want to do with it. It goes to my knees and is made out of a weave fabric. It's white with the most delightful pink flower pattern on it imaginable.

When do I wear it? Summer time. It's as cute as a sundress.

The Nightgown from my Mother-in-Law

The nightgown from my mother-in-law was sewn by her and her sisters, as well as my best friend from high school. I believe they all worked on it feverously during the hour they had before my bridal shower. It's white with a sheer overlay. It has short sleeves and goes to the floor. It's the sort of thing a person sees in a movie and not in a store. It's very pretty and very much my taste.

But I never wear it and I feel funny about it. It hangs in my closet and I have yet to decide what it means to me. I guess that's for the future. It's feminine. My mother-in-law is much more feminine than I am. Much more so. For some reason I always think of myself as a grubby little kid who cleans up good when necessity demands it. Maybe it's my cue to be a grown up woman ... maybe.

So, there's a tribute to my three nightgowns and the women who gave them to me. It's nice to have a heritage to look back onto.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Guys Must Dig Robots

So, when I was reading Kenshin, I was reading the author's notes about how their fanmail had only recently reached a point where about 30% of it was from guys. Apparently the other 70% was from chicks, so I was thinking about the differences between an anime, manga, or just a story that is geared towards guys or girls.

Girl Anime

I'd say the fastest way is to ask - are there guys with wings? If there's a guy with wings then, yeah, it's for chicks. No doubt about it. Some examples are:
  • Escaflowne
  • D.N.Angel
  • Full Moon wo Sagashite
Of course a male character needn't have wings if they've got something else going for them. Like Zidane in FFIX having a tail, Zelgadis and Xellos in Slayers, and unfortunately Inu-yasha. I think you get the idea. I've got chaos from Xenosaga as a pic today because Xenosaga nicely illustrates both points I'd like to make. Yep, chaos from Xenosaga is definitely an angel (the third installment isn't out yet, but I think he's an angel), and then there's Kos Mos who's a robot. So, girls dig angels, while guys dig robots.

Boy anime

Is usually about a chick robot girl kicking butt. Granted she doesn't have to be a robot, but I think that they like for her to be extremely cold. Notice how most of the manga covers for Evangelion are of Rei? Coincidence? I think not. Here are some examples:
  • Solty Rei
  • Battle Angel
  • Black Cat
Then if I were to do a list of female characters that are cold and guys like them, I'd have a long freakin list. Anyway, that's just my little observation for the day. Cheers!

Friday, May 26, 2006

The Universe has an Attitude

Okay, so remember how I said that I wasn't going to scrapbook anymore? Well, I really meant it. I meant it so much that I gave all my scrapbooking supplies to my sister. Granted, there wasn't a lot, but all that I did hadI gave to her.

So, now I got an assignment that requires me to head back to the scrapbooking supply store. I'm not exactly scrapbooking, but I need to make some bookmarks and fridge magnets. I'm making little gift baggies with goodies and stuff to give to people. Except that my personality won't let me do a half assed job at something like this. So today, I went and purchased cardstock, four different kinds of ribbon, a new hole punch, pinking shears, a pink stamp pad, and more. I only bought as much as I would need to finish the assignment, but I feel like the universe is making fun of me.

It must be because I was being inflexible by saying that I won't do scrapbooking anymore. So, the Universe snickers and says 'I'll show her that she'll do whatever I tell her to do'. And I'm like, 'You don't need to yell, Universe. You and I both know that I'll do whatever you want me to, so do we really have to have this power struggle?' Then the Universe raises an eyebrow and says sassily, 'Then don't make promises you can't keep.' *sigh* My father must be on speaking terms with the universe again ... that's the only explaination.

So, I'm standing in the scrapbooking aisle wondering why white cardstock doesn't come in standard lettersize unless you happen to be buying enough of it to outfit the copy shop you don't intend to open when a song comes on over the store speakers. A very poignant song that was extremely important to me in my past life, and practically stuffs in my face how bad things can go when I go against the Universe. I'm piling the stuff in my cart going - 'I got it! I understand! See? I'm doing what you want. You don't have to be so hard on me. I wasn't even planning on running away from my responsibilitie. Sheesh!'

But, when I'm standing looking at cardstock, I'm also appalled at the sizes of all the paper. All the nice paper comes in such weird sizes. Ya gotta wonder if anyone can run it through a printer or if all the women who purchase such things always write everything out with stamps, stickers, or embossing tools. Then I'm like, 'Is this one of those things that doesn't make sense, Universe? One of those things? Why can't you make this easy for me?'

So, here are my questions for the universe:
  1. Why aren't kids toys/adult toys built with solar cells in them instead of requiring batteries? An off-and-on switch is all you'd need to prevent insanity, and I would never have to replace the batteries in some of those simple gadgets again.
  2. Why is my spotless white shirt always the first thing to get a stain on it? You know I only really like wearing black and white.
  3. And latestly, the one that drives me the most crazy. Why aren't office supplies and scrapbooking supplies compatible?
Actually, I have a pretty good relationship with the Universe. I feel like he treats me pretty good, and he's worked hard to make me happy. This post isn't a reflection of my religious beliefs. I've just needed someone in my head to talk things over with lately, and I've named that someone the Universe - vaguely thinking that the person in my head must know something I don't. It's like that Simpson's episode, "Homer, I'm just your memory - I can't give you any new information.' Or something like that. LOL.

The truth is that I'm sorta laughing at myself. How ... non amusing.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Speaking of Scars

Today I'd to write a blog to introduce my plunge into the world of Harry Potter fanfiction!!

*snicker* yeah right. Sorry, just a little joke. I have no intention of ever writing Harry Potter fanfiction.

Today my post is actually about wigs. How does this have anything to do with Harry Potter? Please allow me to explain. When I was growing up I had only two real haircuts - long with bangs and long without bangs. Sometimes I had a layered cut and sometimes it was blunted, but I always had hair long enough to put in a pony tail, even at it's shortest. So, I decided that there was a whole other world of haircuts that I knew nothing about, so I went to the hair salon and got all my hair chopped off. Really, I must have lost 20 cm of hair. You could have made a wig with what was left on the floor (I know ... I should have donated it to cancer patients - next time). And the effect was certainly different than what I'd had before, but I was unsatisfied, so I went back to the salon and got it cut again - this time more seriously, so that I had really short hair - my bangs were only about 4 cm long and that was the longest hair I had. While I was getting it cut, I wasn't wearing my glasses - and I'm pretty blind without them. I wasn't sure if what I saw in the mirror while the stylist was cutting was what was really happening. But, I had this sneaking suspicion that I was starting to look like a teenager boy and not just any teenage boy, but Daniel Radcliffe. But, I steadied my nerves and waited for the hairdresser to finish. I kept telling myself that once I put on my glasses, it wouldn't be anything like what I thought, so I just had to relax. So, she finished and I reached for my glasses and put them on.


I looked like him. There was no dodging the fact and once I put on my glasses - I really looked like him. The only thing that stopped me from looking 100% like a Harry Potter wannabe was the fact that dispite my previous efforts to the contrary, I have an extremely feminine figure. I couldn't pass for a guy in 200 years. However, during this time period in my life, I was never hit on by fewer guys. My husband saw me and the only compliment he could come up with to say was that at least my head was a cute shape. Which, if you knew him - you'd know that is a sign that he was totally knocked on his ass. He's far more articulate than that. He can't help it. Like most guys he prefers long hair to short, so even though he didn't make a big deal of this wretched haircut of mine, it was clear that he was a little disappointed.

Well, I just dealt with it. I felt no regret over this haircut because I wanted to have the experience of short hair, so I felt no remorse - nothing. I didn't have to blowdry my hair anymore, and no matter where I was or what I was doing, my hair didn't get in my face. There were lots of bonuses. It was very practical, so I couldn't be too upset. The only thing I really lost was a good percentage of my personal beauty. I'm the sort of person who believes that your body is the vehicle of your dreams, so it doesn't matter what it looks like as long as you can function and do the things you want to. This was the first time this belief of mine was actually challenged, and I feel like I came through it pretty well. I didn't get up and look at myself in the mirror and think how bad I looked, I just got on with things and refused to be downhearted.

Then I got another haircut. This one was much worse. I couldn't stop crying. Even though the stylist hadn't botched my hair the first time - they murdered it the second time. Truth be told, I haven't had a haircut since then. But, I refused to take the bus home from the mall and instead walked - not a short walk - two buses normally. I cried the whole way. (just as a little side quest, during this walk I had to go to the bus station and buy tickets for the little holiday I was taking, so I went there bawling my eyes out and the guy standing behind the counter was like 'one way ticket?' and I'm like - he thinks I've been through this terrible emotional trial and that I'm running away from the city ... but the truth is that I've only had a bad haircut *whaaa!!!*) So, this second haircut was like I was a little sheep and I'd been taken to the shearers by a maniac. I felt like this was different than having short hair - I'd been mutilated.

So, I was in the mall walking around with my husband feeling like I should hide my head in the dirt, so that no one would have to see me when we passed a wig shop. I had always wanted to try wigs, but always before my hair was too long to cram all of it under a wig, so I never had. But now ... that problem was totally gone. And I had a blast trying on all the different wigs, when I tried one that made my husband straighten his back and take an interest. I thought it was a little silly to spend that much money on something so useless, but he bought it for me without hesitation. The next day I wore it to work. (I have to explain that my wig is way prettier than my hair normally, no matter how much effort I put into it. My wig looks perfect and stays perfect the whole time I wear it and it only takes a second to put on. I also used to combine my bangs with the bangs of the wig so that I had a natural hairline). I only wore it to work once because it was too distracting. Apparently, my husband wasn't the only one who thought it was a huge improvement.

I don't know if there's a moral to this story, but I've decided not to cut my hair short again until I'm too old to be mistaken for a highschool boy. Do I still wear the wig? No. It's still in good shape and everything, but my hair is really long now and thick and there's no room for it under that wig. But, I wore it to church and for pics and things and it helped me feel pretty when I looked like a butchered animal, so I would recommend that everyone get one.

Monday, May 22, 2006

Wanna Play Old Manga?

I didn't exactly want to turn this into Kenshin month, but it might turn out that way. I can't help it. I really have him on the brain. I can't decide if I like him better when he's fighting or when he's goofing off. ^_^!

Okay, so lately I got my hands on volumes one through ten of Rurouni Kenshin ... the manga. I haven't read very many manga. I've read a couple volumes of Crest of the Stars, Slayers, and all of Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne, and all that is currently available of Gokusen. Other than those I'm not really much of a manga maniac. But I'm slowly coming around to the idea that I actually like manga better than anime. Anime is a BIG time investment, and it's sickening how much more screwing around goes on in an anime series compared to a manga. Manga is so much more compressed and gets to the point so much faster. If you're bored and want to get on with things, just speed up your reading and if you're enjoying it - you can read the page a couple more times before you move on.

So, I was trying to decide what really launched this little Kenshin phase and I think it was Inu-yasha. I was watching Inu-yasha and I was getting frustrated with it. It was moving sooo slowly ... urgh ... so slow. Not that parts of it weren't enjoyable because they were, but the plot is so well distributed that as an author I was sitting there going, "How dare they screw around with my time like this!" For instance, they do a plot arch about Inu-yasha, and then one about Sango and her brother and then one about Kagome and then one about Chippo, and Muzuku (I think) and then they do another round, hitting all the characters again and I was sitting there going "Bloody hell!" So even though I'd faithfully watched a DVD everyday for several weeks - I was no where near finishing it. And ya know what? Every second that I watched it just made me want to watch Kenshin more. So then, I went and downloaded a whole crap load of AMVs and now I'm reading the manga. It's interesting. I'm on volume seven right now.

Okay, on a different subject, I don't really like doing side notes, but this one time, I'll have to.

Side Note Number One - If you want to access my new blog called 'Ghost Mist', then there is a link to it on my link bar. So, go to if you're interested.

Side Note Number Two - My brain is actually exactly like the inside of a spagetti squash ... really gross ... yeah, I'm sorry. My brain is pudding ... or something very akin to it. So, this is a pretty random post. Excuse me ... very random.

Saturday, May 20, 2006


So, continuing on with Kenshin week, here on Wild Moon Swings, I have come to talk about the book I'm reading right now. It may surprise some of you, or it may not surprise any of you, but I don't read very often. Don't get the wrong idea though, I am fairly well read and have read many classics, many romance novels, many comic books, many bylaws, and lots of things on any major reading list. I'm just tired of listening to other people express their views and am dying to express mine. So, when I do read - it has got to be something pretty special. With all that said, I prefer to write than read.

Anyway, the book I'm reading right now is called 'Ryoma, Life of a Renaissance Samurai'. Himera Kenshin is a fictional character but Sakamoto Ryoma was a real person ... and actually way more interesting than Kenshin because his exploits are real. But, they were both hanging out in Japan during the fall of the Shogun. Kenshin is supposed to be the master assassin for Choshu. Well, when I was watching the Kenshin OVA, I had no idea what that meant ... historically. But now I know that the Choshu boys were like the ULTIMATE BADASSES at that time and saying that Kenshin was the choice warrior of General Takasugi is such an intense compliment/reference that it suddenly made Kenshin 100x more THE MAN to me. If he was the best Takasugi had then that really makes Kenshin probably the best swordsman in Japan.

Now Ryoma was a lower samurai from Tosa, who went ronin before Kyoto was razed. He didn't care about Tosa and was concerned with only with the future of Japan - which was revolutionary thinking at the time. He didn't believe that his soul was in his sword and was just as happy to get a gun when they came along ... actually Ryoma's first pistol was a gift from General Takasugi.

Just as a side note: When I was reading Ryoma I found that Katsura Kogoro was in it a lot and I was wondering it that was the same person Kenshin was working for in the OVA - it is! I wondered if Katsura really did his hair with that much of a pompedor as he does in the anime, and you know what - I'm looking at an actual photograph of the man right now, and yeah *giggle* he did.

Anyway, talking about Ryoma again Japan was at serious risk of being invaded by European powers at that time. Japan had not opened it's boarders to foreigners in a couple hundred years and their technology was really behind the rest of the world. Ryoma was on a mission to save Japan, and was an extremely interesting person. He was the head of a dojo in Edo by the time he was 19, and was the founder of Japans first modern corporation. The book is crammed with all this facinating political intregue, which, in case you didn't know is one of my all time favourite thing.

I also admit that I have a thing for biographys about people who were not actors. For some reason, reading or watching the biography of an actor makes me want to die. Really really die, and in an extremely painful way. It's disgusting to me to hero worship someone who honestly has accomplished so little. I'd much rather talk about real people who really did things. Yeah, I know, I'm always referring to my distain for pop culture.

Anyway, 'Ryoma' is by Romulus Hillsborough, and I would say that it's a MUST READ for anyone who liked Kenshin. This guy will blow your mind apart, although he was not a traditional samurai. He had thrown off a lot of those ideas, but nevertheless was an absolute hero. I laugh, I cry - it moves me.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Ghost Mist

Hiya folks,

Okay, I've started a new blog. I doubt it will get the same kind of traffic this place gets, but I'm starting a new blog soley to discuss writing. It's going to be called 'Ghost Mist' which is the name of my next project after 'Mark of a Goddess'. I'll still rant here, but I need a place to discuss writing, so I'm going to do it there instead of here. Until I have things more worked out, just access it through my profile. Hopefully, I'll figure out the whole link thing this time when I try, so I might get the link up A.S.A.P. It depends on how dense I am. I'll try.

Anway, that's all I wanted to see. I'll catch you on the flip side. Cheers!

Thursday, May 18, 2006

The Only One

This is Kenshin week here on Wild Moon Swings. I am posting nothing but Kenshin art this week. This post is named for a fantastic Kenshin amv called "The Only One" by yellowcard. If you're not an amv fan - join up and download this vid. Way too lazy to look up the creator, but it's a great video and it's an excellent way for me to introduce the topic I plan on hashing today.

Lately, it has come to my attention that there is a certain conversation that takes place in most romantic movies. They ask something like, "Do you believe that there's only one man for one woman?" I have been trying to figure out if this is a question that people really ask themselves well into their thirties or if it's just a generic intimate sort of conversation that a couple can have in a romantic movie to accustom the audience to the idea that they are going to fall in love. There are other generic conversations they have too, like whether or not love and lust are the same thing, and whether or not love lasts forever. That sort of thing.

Well, I have only been asked this 'one person' question once, and though I had never really considered it a possibility my answer popped out immediately - NO WAY! And since that day, I have thought about it more and more until I have finally cut out my answer. I think how many people you're compatible with is in direct relation to how nice a person you are. If you're a nice person then there are probably about a million people on the planet that you could get along with, fall in love with, and have a pretty happy life with. If you're extremely grouchy ... than yeah ... there might just be one. This theory includes all sorts of things:
  • Are you the kind of person who needs your partner to be 100% hot?
  • Do you need your partner to be kind?
  • Do you need your partner to successful?
  • Your same religion?
  • Exactly how picky are you?
  • Are you all of these things so you have a lot to offer a partner?
I'm not saying that being picky is a bad thing, but obviously the less picky you are, the more options you have. Then there's the last question asking how desirable you are. This doesn't apply to women as far as I'm concerned. I've never heard of a woman who didn't have tons to offer a man. I find that the problem here mostly lies with men -- not all men -- so no one jump down my throat, okay? But it seems to me that some (repeat ... some) men have this thing in their head that tells them that if they don't get a woman hot like Catherine Zeta Jones then they're settling for less. In that guy's case, yes, there is only one woman for you ... and oops - she's married to Michael Douglas (at least last time I checked).

Anyway, onto my question about these generic conversations in movies. I have to, I just have to comment on the love vs. lust question. Lust is easy. Lust takes no work. It's natural and the feelings are easy. Love, on the other hand is a lot of work. But even though it's hard, it has it's good days - charging the castle on a white steed. And it's bad days - changing an extremely dirty diaper for a woman after eight hours of work and two long commutes. Yeah, that's not glamorous to anyone and I think people may expect their relationships to be glamorous.

Love does last forever. It really does, or rather, it really can, but that does mean that you might end up spoonfeeding your husband after he has a stroke and you might not end up on that vacation in Mexico. Yeah, resting for a few minutes beside a noisy vending machine in an uncomfortable hospital chair may not seem like much to you. It might not seem like a grand romantic guesture, but to the person who's been wheeled out into the hallway on a hospital bed that is more like serving tray - it's everything in the world. I've sort of got a little personal here ... but I have to say that I don't speak from the perspective of the person helping. I'm always the person in the bed, who needs the help. I always adore my husband more after I've been through a bad spell. There's no dress ripping, no elaborate scene designed to manipulate an audience's emotions, just him reassuring me that things will be all right, that he's worried about me and cares that I'm feeling bad. That's all there is to it.

So, saying something like that, you'd think that I would believe that he is the only man in the world for me, right? He's only the only man in the world for me because I have DECIDED that he is. There's the clincher.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Taking out the Trash

Okay, so I said that I would write posts based on what I wrote about myself in the last post. I have already talked about writing at length anlkd my creativity really knows no bounds, so today I thought I'd talk about clutter and how I feel about it.

I'm the sort of person who believes in the concept 'slash and burn'. Please allow me to explain. When I was 12 I took went into my bedroom and decided that I was no longer a child. I stripped the walls of all the pictures I had up of cats and dogs and teddy bears and I threw them all away - directly into the trash. I took all my dolls and all my stuffed animals and I put them in boxes and took them down to the basement. I went into my mom's linen closet and took out a blue hospital blanket and put it over my girly looking quilt. By the time I was finished, there was practically nothing on my shelves, there was only one or two pictures left on the walls, and what was once a cluttered little girl's room became as sterile as a hospital. All because I was no longer a child.

Now, here's the important question. Did anything happen to me to spur this set of actions? No - nothing did. I just happened to realize the truth. I hadn't touched my stuffed animals or kids books in ages.

So, after I left home, my mom mentioned to me that there were six boxes in her basement that belonged to me and it was about time I took them out of her house. So, I sat in my mother's living room and carefully went through all six boxes. I ended up sending five of them to charities without a backward glance. The box that is not large. It's about the six of three anime box sets. And recently I went through the box again and chucked half of what was in it.

To put it bluntly - I am not attached to physical objects.

I love appliances and things that work hard for you and make your life easier, but ticky tacky junk can just go ... I don't like owning things like that. And throwing things away is so liberating.

I feel like I've talked about this before. I've talked about this before, haven't I?

Anyway, everyone go read Don Aslets' book 'Clutter's Last Stand' and obey it like it's the wisest thing you've ever read. I know it'll make your life a lot better. Not only will you curb your spending habits, but you'll have so much more brain room for other things. I just know you'll love it.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

75% Responsible

Yesterday, I was chatting on my balcony with one of my favourite people on earth. He was telling me about his latest career move and I sat there with my jaw hanging so low and slack a kitten could have used my mouth as a swing - gaping at the absolute coolness of his decision. He was going to go have the exact job in the exact place that I have dreamt would be the coolest job imaginable since I was probably eleven. So, I said to him, "You're living the dream, Man!"

And he said something like the following back to me, "No, I'm a friggin' idiot." Then he told me all the irresponsible things he'd been doing lately - all career choices - about him living on the road with his friends and just getting what jobs they could find on a temporary basis just to keep them rolling (that's why we've got a powerpuff girl style Kenshin today - little rurouni - and again I don't know who did this, but it's so cute!). And that now, he's doing my dream job, but he feels like he should behaving more responsibly. He said, "You see, I'm probably about 60% the fun guy who just wants to go do these weird fun things, but then I'm 40% the responsible guy who hangs out in my head just enough to spoil the fun guy's time."

So, I got to thinking about this, and without a doubt I am 75% responsible and only about 25% fun. When in a tight pinch, the responsible one takes over completely and I might not get a glimpse of the fun me for so long that I forget she's there. Maybe that makes me more responsible than 75%, but I can't help it. I believe in living a responsible, respectable life, but I dream of going ronin and doing whatever comes into my silly head. But, I know that wouldn't get me where I want to be, so the responsible self always wins. Always. There is no contest. But just for kicks and giggles, I've decided to write three positive things about each side of me.

Responsible Self
  1. Writes
  2. Creates
  3. Throws things away
Fun Self
  1. Shops
  2. Dances to angry music
  3. Wears wigs
I should probably use this list as a guide for my next couple posts. There's a lot to talk about with just those six things. Anyway, I'd like to see myself be funner, but my responsible side is what gets things done and I suppose I really am a bureaucrat at heart. What am I saying? Of course, I'm a bureaucrat at heart and I have the stubborn attitude to go with it.

So, I'll never go ronin. I'll still get mad at guests for leaving the toilet seat up. I'll still drive the speed limit, even when I'm late. I'll still buy white bras and still not wear the orange stud choker I bought. That's right! And I'll still try my best to behave appropriately and properly, like a little lady who remembers to cross her ankles when she's sitting.

But, trust me, I'll never be able to break the habit of belting out 'Bloody Hell!' when something really pisses me off.

Ja ne!

Sunday, May 14, 2006

When I learn, I know

Lately, I've caught myself doing some research on the internet to learn a few things. I learned two really weird things. So, I'm going to have a little moment here like Osaka from Azumanga Diaho reviewing the things I learned today, but they won't be about pig tails *wink*.

So, one of the things I was researching was the symbology for tigers. I was thinking of using the information for my book, but I quickly discovered that the research was unusable and had to go in a different direction, but I still learned this weird thing that clicked in my brain and suddenly made the movie 'The Last Samurai' more interesting to me.

Did you know that a tiger is considered one of the three senseless creatures of the Chinese Zodiac? They say that a tiger is always angry and that there is no logic behind his actions. Well, when I first saw 'The Last Samurai' - I was like, 'Isn't Tom Cruise a producer for this? So, of course he'd pick for himself to be symbolized by something cool like a tiger?' Yeah, but after reading that, I think that perhaps there was a little more thought in the choice of him being symbolized by a tiger than I originally thought. The typical symbolic description of a tiger describes his character perfectly, so I was impressed that the show wasn't as brainless as I thought.

The other thing I learned was that rubies are sapphires. Sapphires come in most colours and the red ones are just called Rubies instead of Red Sapphires, which is what all the other coloured sapphires are called (example: Pink Sapphires, Orange Sapphires). Weird eh?

I'm trying to think if I learned anything else lately ... nope - brain's empty.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Orange Boots

Today, I've decided to talk about something that makes me ridiculously happy for no good reason. I wear orange boots. They are my favourite thing in the UNIVERSE that I have ever worn on my body. I can't even explain how much I love them, but today I'm going to tell the story of my orange boots and how they have affected my life.

But first, I have to say that this picture is from the doc martin website and if you want to buy them, you'll have to pay in pounds. My orange boots are not docs, but these boots I'm showing are like ... the epitimy of everything I have ever dreamed about, except for one thing - my boots have laces like figure skates so they're faster to lace than these.

I bought my orange boots for $55 when I was finishing grade 10. They were majorly on sale and were originally $110 - other kids in my grade had the same boots, but none of them were brave enough to wear the orange ones - they wore the black ones. When I went to buy them I had to have orange because they were the only ones in my size because they were trying to clear out their stock and everything else had already been sold. Now, $55 was a LOT for me to spend on boots. My parents were paying for them and my parents didn't really have any money, so I had to beg for them, and promise to wear them everyday. But they were a foolish purchase. When I went to my small school wearing them I was instantly teased by the boys and not in a good way. I was discouraged, and I wanted to stop wearing them, but I'm spunky ... or rather this is when I really proved that I was spunky. I didn't take teasing well, and I'm the type to turn spiteful quickly. I went home and looked at them - they were HUGE and looked MASSIVE on my feet and to top it all off - they were orange, so they were eye-catching.

Now, my sister had the same experience when she was a teenager and she ended up wearing yellow doc martins, so was encouraged. My sister didn't live at home anymore, so I felt like it was up to me to make a stand for rebellious youth (if you're from a city then you have no clue how hard it is to step outside the lines when you live in a small town and everyone you see knows everything about you, your siblings, your parents, grandparents - you get the picture). I buckled under and wore my orange boots every single day with a twinkle in my eye and a flirtacious smile on my lips until I convinced everyone that I liked them and that I wasn't afraid to fight back.

Even still, the symbol of individualism that comes from my orange boots inspires me beyond explanation. Even just walking down the street while wearing them empowers me. To me, odd coloured boots are the flag of rebelliousness, and the colour you pick is your battle flag. And whenever I want to kick some ass - you'd better believe that I still wear them. They're really sturdy.

Just as a side note here, I also love gem stones and my ultimate gem is an orange sapphire. Naturally, with a name like Sapphirefly I should show that I love sapphires. It's not my birthstone or anything - I just love colours and hate diamonds. A sapphire is the closest to a diamond on the hardness scale - a diamond is a 10, well, a sapphire is a 9. So, they're durable.

So, what is it that draws me to orange? Long ago I wrote a post about how much I hate the colour red, so why do I like orange? Orange is an uglier colour. Yeah, I think orange is an uglier colour. It's because it's ugly that I like it. It's because it's loud and obnoxious and it makes no excuses for itself. It just is what it is. And, in case I haven't mentioned it before - I look intoxicatingly hot in it. I don't normally wear colours, but if I do - orange is it.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Black Mask

Well, here's a poetry post. I'm sorta having some problems with my latest piece of writing, so I've been taking a bit of a break writing a little poetry. Poetry is not exactly my favourite thing, but I thought it was the perfect medium for my latest creation. For my entertainment and for the stimulation of the pudding like substance that is my brain, I give you:

Black Mask

By Sapphirefly

There’s a city set against a setting sun

The outline of the skyscrapers fades as the city lights flick on

As the sun sinks behind the buildings

I wake up

I’m not a night creature by nature

It’s just my favourite pleasure to use the night as my sparring ground

Although I’m not your enemy tonight

I’ll meet you

I wear a black mask over my eyes

It’s added adventure for me to keep my face a secret until the last second

I haven’t met you formally

So I’ll wait

You’re the sort of woman I’ve seen

Hang upside down in your loft just to let the blood rush to your head

Pop pink bubblegum at strangers

You tease me

Maybe it’s your playful eyes

Or the way you walk when you know everyone is watching you

It’s your style that draws me to you
You’re too good

I’m the kind of guy you follow

Because I caught your arm when you tripped coming out of the tunnels

You saw my black mask and couldn’t resist

Our eyes met

Chasing me all the way to the pit

It’s smoky and the air is filled with something to let you know it was a mistake

Coming here and watching me fight

You were interested

Your eyes were wide as you warned me

You didn’t think I stood a chance against the giant guy who stood opposite me

I was too slender, my hands too white

I’ll show you

His blood splattered into the third row

But that was only the beginning for me since I’m not even warm yet

You don’t know how tough I am

You’ll see it

By the fourth brawl I’m ready to go

I thought you would have run home or passed out on the floor by now

But you relaxed and you cheered for me

I heard you

I’ve got a cut above my eyebrow

I ignore the sting and the pain in my jaw and asked you if I could take you home

Still, I wear the black mask

It’s my name

My wet hair falls over the material

You’re exceptionally conversational as we leave and head out the back doors

I was wrong about you

You had fun

I think only that you’re beautiful

And how I want to blow your mind apart with the exact colour of my eyes

I haven’t decided that path yet

Will you wait?

I’ll watch you tonight

You’re the type of woman who eats ice cream directly from the tub

Who sits on the countertop and talks about me

And how I kissed you

Monday, May 08, 2006

Little Love Notes

Today, I've decided to talk about a few things that I love a lot, but the thing is, they're not things that I can write a whole blog about. I just love them and that's about all there is to them. So, I'm going to write little love notes about them. This should be an interesting experiment. The colours today will just be for fun!

Dear Strongbad,

I know I never told you this before, but I really like you. You're so ... full of crap, but in a good way. I love our little dates every Tuesday when you answer an email online at www.homestarrunner.com. It really gives me something to look forward to, and you're always there talking about ... useless crap and it makes me smile. I love you just the way you are. Don't ever change.


P.S. Give my love to Troggie.

Dear Iris,

Hi, I've never written before, but I just have to say that I love you guys. You've been my favourite band for a really long time. I love how your songs aren't dirty, but they rock. I love all your albums. I really wanted to go listen to you play in Seattle when Cause and Effect was opening for you. I would have bullied my way to the front and screamed my little head off. Your music always inspires me and takes my imagination to new and glorious heights. My favourite songs of yours are:
  • Guide on Raging Stars
  • Waves Crash In
  • Island
Oh crap! I love them all! Never stop doing your thing! Never stop!


P.S. Feel free to send me any swag you have hanging around. Ya know, if there was some that wasn't claimed or anything. I'd use it. T-shirt, buttons, posters, basically anything you've got ... if you're not using it for anything.

That was definitely an interesting experiment. Maybe I'll pick up on this later, but when I was brainstorming who else I love, I was drawing a blank.

Anyway, love is all around the world tonight.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Mark of a Goddess

Hiya Everyone! I have been dying to write my post regarding my latest fic - Mark of a Goddess. It's the book after Dragon's Moon and Mystic Wings. I resisted writing my blog about Mystic Wings until I had a complete storyboard. Well, *big smile* today I finished my storyboard for Mark of a Goddess, so I feel justified in finally writing a post about it. LUCKY!

Okay, so Dragon's Moon was action/adventure and Mystic Wings was suspense - Mark of a Goddess is going to be action/adventure. Once again, I'll state how pleasantly surprised I was that my readers hung around during the stint where Van was gone for 14 chapters. *nervous laughter* Yeah, I know, I was practically daring them to go read something else. But, the two projects were important to me, and I'm happy I was able to write something that was interesting even without Van around.

Okay, so Mark of a Goddess ... is going to be so different from the anime that I feel like it might not be able to pass for Escaflowne fanfiction. Sure, it's Van and Hitomi and the gang, but the story has a much different message than Escaflowne - the characters have different conclusions - and basically it's so far off the precedent that the anime set that I feel funny releasing it as it is. I keep telling myself that after 200,000 words taking the characters off in a different direction, I'm allowed to do whatever I think is best, but I still feel a little funny. If someone didn't read DM and MW then it will probably seem extremely weird - and I use the words loosely.

So, when I examine a story these days I try to ask myself if it's romantic. If it's got that touch of human interest that draw in the readers' emotions. I'll be honest and say that I'm having a harder time describing Van and Hitomi's relationship with any luck. They're married - so the baby's breath of romance won't cut it anymore - we're into the blood red roses section of the relationship, but I find it distastful to imply/describe too much. It's really challenging. I'm challenging myself to keep it clean and to make it ... breathtaking ... I'll find a way. But the storyboards won't help me with this part. I'll just have to listen to my three most favourite romantic songs on my playlist to inspire me for Escaflowne fics (I dont' get good vibes from everything). For your reading pleasure:
  • Coldplay - The Scientist
  • Cosmicity - I Want You
  • Brave New World - Falling
The next thing I try to look at is the action - well, kittens, I've got that covered. It's gonna knock your socks off.

Then I look at suspense. I think it'll be good. It'll be less confusing than Mystic Wings. People wrote in all the time and said they had no idea what was going on. So, I'm working to make my writing a little more user-friendly.

The biggest problem I've encountered is chapter two. It didn't exist originally, but then I thought I'd better write it to help with that whole 'user friendly' concept that I mentioned above. It's really draining me, but I think I'll think up a way to make it better. I've got to, or I'll never release anything past chapter one.

Anyway, finishing this will be a great accomplishment for me and I'm looking forward to doing it. I've been aching to kick the marbles out of someone's head lately, and so I think this will be a good project for me.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

King of Spades - go kick some Ass!

Okay, so this is a bad thing to admit. Back when I was coming up with my system of power in Mystic Wings, I didn't research an actual tarot deck properly. I tried, but for some reason my searches were totally fruitless, but now that I'm working on Mark of a Goddess, I decided to get into it, just enough to figure out the names for a few new characters. I wouldn't take no for an answer and I found out what I was looking for.

Before I say anything else, I have to say quite noisily that I don't believe in astrology, tarot readings, palm readings, numerology, or anything like that.

With that said, I think it's quite clear why my idea to turn the characters from a tarot deck into people with magical powers never occurred to anyone else, because I had no friggin idea what a tarot deck really was. I had no idea that it was so much like ordinary face cards. And who would think to give characters the names of face cards and send them out into the world armed with mystical powers? "Hey you! King of Spades - go kick some ass!" *sigh* I know exactly who - the same people who turn Sir Isaac Newton into a bad guy, and Joan of Arc into a phantom thief who seals the demons in paintings ... and me ...

I'm not feeling terribly stupid about the idiocy of my power system. I wrote a really good disclaimer before the chapter where I reveal all this that said that I knew nothing whatever and that I was just making it up as I went. I feel like I tried my best to come up with something no one else had done before. Alas, I'm catching myself turning into a post-modernist, and I don't even have the sense to be ashamed.

So, that's the story behind my story. Hope I didn't disillusion any of you about my greatness. No, I am not actually that great. I'm just willing to B.S. with the best of them *wink*.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Zelgadis-san is MY HERO

I love Zelgadis.

Actually, I drew this picture during a couple of my lunch breaks at work. While I was colouring it, do you know how many people approached me and asked me if I was drawing a bird? A sick amount - sick. In any case, it's nice to post my own art work, and I can't help it if people are stupid.

I love interesting characters, and I love Zelgadis. I love him in the anime and in the manga. I love how he's drawn. I love the guy who does the Japanese voice for him. Heck, I like his voice so much that I watched all of Scryed because he does the voice for Dyouhou. The guy only opened his mouth like once and I was like "... it's HIM! EEP!" That's how sad I am. Scryed isn't even a great anime either. The AMV I made was solely made to hilight how much I love Zelgadis ... and I'm sure the list of things I do proves how strongly I feel about him.

Not only that, but of my fanworks, Zelgadis is in absolutely ALL of them except Dragon's Moon and Mystic Wings. The only non-romantic fanfic I ever wrote was about Zelgadis, and I am so heartbroken that none of my Slayers fics picked up a following in the same way that my Escaflowne fic did, because I LOVE writing from behind his eyes.

When I think about it rationally, I even agree that Xellos is a more carefully crafted character, but that doesn't matter to me, because ... I love Zel the best. I'm such a sucker for tormented souls and Zel certainly is that.

It's just that I was off checking out Eugene-sama's artwork for him. She loves him too. You can tell by the way she draws him, and by the way over 50% of the pictures she draws are of him. She's AWESOME. Here's the link so everyone can go http://my.netian.com/~ch1yujin/page1.htm.

In a second, I'm also probably going to go on another rant about how much I love Gokusen so, look forward to that.

Love is SO around the world tonight!