cyrano | (no subject)

Feeling like complete crap. I suspect there will be no Golden Compass tonight and instead there will be curling up on the couch and looking at a mug of tea. Finally getting something foodlike into my body, after the disastrous 'Apple Juice Incident' this morning.

So I'd like you to do something for me, to keep me occupied.

I know very little about some of the people on my friends list. Some people I know relatively well. I read your journals, or we have something else in common, and we chat occasionally. Some of you I hardly know at all. Perhaps you lurk, for whatever reason. But you friended me, and I thank you for your interest in my words.

But here's a thought: why not take this opportunity to tell me a little something about yourself. Any old thing at all. Just so the next time I see your name I can say: "Ah, there's so and so...they enjoy the savory aroma of monkey brains a la mode."

I'd love it if every single person who friended me would do this. Yes, even you people who I know really well. Then, if you like, post this in your own journal and see what gems of knowledge appear. After all, if RightKindOfMe hadn't posted this, I would never have seen it.

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I can't decide which idea terrifies me more - that I'll never succeed at my dreams, or that I will.

One thing I've learned about myself (or relearnt) - when I'm single, I'm actually a relatively confident, reasonably sane individual. When I'm dating, I seem to turn into a neurotic mess. :) This amuses me. It happened to be top of my brain - god knows, my blog has more information than anyone could possibly want about me.

I hope you feel better soon!!!

I have a J-shaped scar on my left big toe from a run-in with a radio flyer wagon the summer before 3rd grade started.

I have a similar one on my right big toe from one of those darned Razor scooters. =)

On the night my grandfather died, I had a dream that I met him and he said goodbye. I had no idea until the next day that he'd actually died. He was sick, but there wasn't a strong reason to suspect that was he was going to actually die that day. I'm entirely uncertain to this day what to make out of this, as it's incompatible with my worldview.

Both of my parents are alcoholics and drug users, and as a result, I have very little tolerance for either activity, however occasional or "responsible" one might be about it. Gets me in trouble with my "fun loving" sister. ;)

My still-most-beloved cat was named Donatello (lost in the skunk attack 11 years ago), after the turtle. She had a Maine Coon look about her, and I nearly burst into tears the first time I saw

ambar's cats, they looked so like her. I never got to say goodbye.

I hope you feel better and eat something foodlike, dear.

Something weird about me?

I forget who I am sometimes when I look at the moon. And I like it.

I've been running around work wrapped in a red, fuzzy blanket. The security guard told me it was very cool, "like back when people lived in castles and had kings and stuff. You look like a Queen or Princess or something."

(Personally, I feel like a big dork in my blanket, but I'm warm which is really all that matters.)

So you are Princess Dork of the land Warmania.

Poor thing! I hope food stays down and you feel better. Let's see:

1. I used to be a respiratory therapist until I got lupus.
2. Tea is ambrosia to me, and I could eat chinese food every day and wouldn't get tired of it.
3. Maeve Binchy, Jennifer Roberson and Dean Koontz are my favourite writers.
4. I have a 15 year old cat, Percy, and a 4 year old dog, Leeta.
5. I'm passionately in lust/love with

chazpure, my spouse/lifepartner.

I am the coffee addict whose body can't deal with caffeine.

I would love to wear turn of the century clothes all of the time and it pisses me off that they are so hard to buy. :)

In wearable shape, anyway!

I once had high tea in the House of Lords.

I sometimes forget what I look like, and the mirror completely surprises me. It's not that I've changed - it's that reality and my image of what I look like hasn't jibed for a long time (I think I'm a taller, dark brunette woman - I've been blonde from birth).

I love playing with 2 year olds because they're the only ones that think it's perfectly normal to sit and stare at the ceiling and make up songs and walk away without explanation. Everyone else feels the need to justify their "childish" behavior with a joke or irony first.

I used to own a caboose. A real, 25-ton, Pennsylvania Railroad N5c-class caboose, built in 1942 and featuring its classic portholes instead of regular windows. (Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater...)

Depending on exact timing of things in May, I may have two children older than my second sibling. ZOMGWTFBBQ.