I'm making Jason watch Cowboy Bebop. We watched the first two episodes tonight. He's also reading The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman. Yay for conversion! I win.

Spring needs to arrive soon. I received a catalog in the mail with pictures of gorgeous plants and flowers of all sorts. I came so close to dropping fifty bucks on bulbs and seeds. I should just wait another month. They don't ship until the spring anyway.

I finally decided to split the two hamsters up. Their fighting hasn't been as bad since I moved them to the larger cage, but every now and then they get into squabbles. Neither one has been very active, and they seem to spend their days worrying about the other. The smaller one (who happens to be the more aggressive one) seems to enjoy smaller, confined spaces. So, I moved her over to a small Habitrail sort of cage. The larger one was moved into the ten-gallon aquarium I was housing the two gerbils in. And the gerbils were moved into the twenty-gallon aquarium both of the hamsters had been in. Musical chairs with rodents. Everyone seems happy. The gerbils are thrilled with their new space, and both hamsters are acting normal and happy. So, mission accomplished, I suppose. I wish someone at the pet store had warned me about the dangers of housing two of those little hamsters together. I had no idea they prefer to be alone and would turn into fighting demons when they hit hamster adolescence.

This news article makes me sick. The area where this poor woman was mugged is just a couple miles from my place. A co-worker of mine used to live on the corner there. It's a nice neighborhood, even slightly better than where I live. I suppose I'm relatively safe when I walk Ferguson because I never bring my purse, but still... It's disconcerting to the max. It makes me want to buy that Walther PPK that I've been lusting over. Despite being a subcompact, my Glock is just too big to carry in an ankle holster or IWB holster. Maybe it is just me being paranoid, but I think it would look super obvious that I was packing.
anogete: (lee scoresby)
( Dec. 8th, 2007 09:11 pm)
My cold is almost gone!

Jason and I went to see The Golden Compass this afternoon. We both enjoyed it very much. Although, I was a bit miffed that they didn't end it the way the book ended. Everyone should go just to see Sam Elliot steal my heart as Lee Scoresby.

I managed to bang out 3,000+ more words on the SS/HG Exchange fic. I hope to have it completed and sent to the beta by Tuesday evening. Here's hoping...

There were some further developments on the incident I mentioned in this entry. Apparently, the police have managed to find the two young men who they believe murdered the elderly couple three blocks down the street from me. They're magazine subscription salesmen from Dallas. Their motive is still unknown, though I suspect they found some cash in a purse and lifted it for their own purposes. I'm still completely disgusted it the entire situation.

Oh, and I have the cutest flippin' dog ever. He sleeps on my pillow while I'm playing around on the computer. I looked over and saw him giving me this look:

criminally cute )
Jason brought home an article from the Saturday edition of the local newspaper. It was about Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy and the upcoming movie The Golden Compass. I probably don't have to tell those familiar with it that the article was basically informing all the good Christians that the books and movie are evil. I read the article and was disgusted with the amount of inaccuracies. I bitched about it all through dinner, and then stewed over it while I was washing my hair in the shower. Afterward, I sat down at my computer and wrote out a 750 word letter to the editor. I doubt it will get published because no one cares what I have to say, but I can't say that I didn't try.

I was majorly bored at work today, so I pulled up some X-Files fanfic. I live for Mulder/Scully (pre-6th season, of course). It makes me squee with delight. X-Files is one of those fandoms that feels like a comfy blanket to me. I can always go back there and feel like I'm coming home.
anogete: (Potterpuffs)
( Apr. 25th, 2007 09:57 am)
Last night I decided that I needed more shirts. So, I went shopping for colorful t-shirts. Because t-shirts are way to boring for me, and I flit from interest to interest far too often to get a tattoo, I decided to make more of my custom shirts with fandom silliness on them. Instead of printing the text out on transfer paper, I tried my hand with fabric paint and stencils. I'm sure it would have looked a lot better had I used a frickin' paint brush, but (so far) I'm enjoying the rough, silly look with the bubbly paint.

I took pictures to show how awesome I am.

Ignore the boobs. I had the Snape shirt on this morning when I decided to take pictures.

heathcliff and iorek )

I have a couple ideas for more shirts since I bought seven tees. Both involve the Stephanie Plum novels. I plan on making Morelli fans mad at me.
anogete: (Default)
( Jan. 1st, 1980 03:04 pm)
The Amber Spyglass
(a portion of Chapter 33: Marzipan

“When did you stop being a nun?” said Lyra.

“I remember it exactly,” Mary said, “even to the time of day. Because I was good at physics, they let me keep up my university career, you see, and I finished my doctorate and I was going to teach. It wasn’t one of those orders where they shut you away from the word. In fact, we didn’t even wear the habit; we just had to dress soberly and wear a crucifix. So I was going into university to teach and do research into particle physics.

“And there was a conference on my subject and they asked me to come and read a paper. The conference was in Lisbon, and I’d never been there before; in fact, I’d never been out of England. The whole business – the plane flight, the hotel, the bright sunlight, the foreign languages all around me, the well-known people who were going to speak, and the thought of my own paper and wondering whether anyone would turn up to listen and whether I’d be too nervous to get the words out… Oh, I was keyed up with excitement, I can’t tell you.

“And I was so innocent – you have to remember that, I’d been such a good little girl, I’d gone to Mass regularly, I’d thought I had a vocation for the spiritual life. I wanted to serve God with all my heart. I wanted to take my whole life and offer it up like this,” she said, holding up her hands together, “and place it in front of Jesus to do as he liked with. And I suppose I was pleased with myself. Too much. I was holy and I was clever. Ha! That lasted until, oh, half past nine on the evening of August the tenth, seven years ago.

Lyra sat up and hugged her knees, listening closely.

“It was the evening after I’d given my paper,” Mary went on, “and it had gone well, and there’d been some well-known people listening, and I’d dealt with the questions without making a mess of it, and altogether I was full of relief and pleasure… And pride, too, no doubt.

“Anyway, some of my colleagues were going to a restaurant a little way down the coast, and they asked if I’d like to go. Normally I’d have made some excuse, but this time I thought, Well, I’m a grown woman, I’ve presented a paper on an important subject and it was well received and I’m among good friends… And it was so warm, and the talk was about all the things I was most interested in, and we were all in high spirits, so I thought I’d loosen up a bit. I was discovering another side of myself, you know, one that liked the taste of wine and grilled sardines and the feeling of warm air on my skin and the beat of music in the background. I relished it.

“So we sat down to eat in the garden. I was at the end of a long table under a lemon tree, and there was a sort of bower next to me with passionflowers, and my neighbor was talking to the person on the other side, and… Well, sitting opposite was a man I’d seen once or twice around the conference. I didn’t know him to speak to; he was Italian, and he’d done some work that people were talking about, and I thought it would be interesting to hear about it.

“Anyway. He was only a little older than me, and he had soft black hair and beautiful olive-colored skin and dark, dark eyes. His hair kept falling across his forehead and he kept pushing it back like that, slowly…”

She showed them. Will thought she looked as if she remembered it very well.

“He wasn’t handsome,” she went on. “He wasn’t a ladies’ man or a charmer. If he had been, I’d have been shy, I wouldn’t have known how to talk to him. But he was nice and clever and funny and it was the easiest thing in the world to sit there in the lantern light under the lemon tree with the scent of the flowers and the grilled food and wine, and talk and laugh and feel myself hoping that he thought I was pretty. Sister Mary Malone, flirting! What about my vows? What about dedicating my life to Jesus and all that?

“Well, I don’t know if it was the wine or my own silliness or the warm air or the lemon tree, or whatever… But it gradually seemed to me that I’d made myself believe something that wasn’t true. I’d made myself believe that I was fine and happy and fulfilled on my own without the love of anyone else. Being in love was like China: you knew it was there, and no doubt it was very interesting, and some people went there, but I never would. I’d spend my life without ever going to China, but it wouldn’t matter, because there was all the rest of the world to visit.

“And then someone passed me a bit of some sweet stuff and I suddenly realized I had been to China. So to speak. And I’d forgotten it. It was the taste of the sweet stuff that brought it back – I think it was marzipan. Sweet almond paste,” she explained to Lyra, who was looking confused.

Lyra said, “Ah! Marchpane!” and settled back comfortably to hear what happened next.

“Anyway,” Mary went on. “I remembered the taste, and all at once I was back tasting it for the first time as a young girl.

“I was twelve years old. I was at a party at the house of one of my friends, a birthday party, and there was a disco – that’s where they play music on a kind of recording machine and people dance,” she explained, seeing Lyra’s puzzlement. “Usually girls dance together because the boys are too shy to ask them. But this boy – I didn’t know him – he asked me to dance, and so we had the first dance and then the next, and by that time we were talking… And you know what it is when you like someone, you know it at once; well, I liked him such a lot. And we kept on talking and then there was a birthday cake. And he took a bit of marzipan and he just gently put it in my mouth – I remember trying to smile, and blushing, and feeling foolish – and I fell in love with him just for that, for the gentle way he touched my lips with the marzipan.”

As Mary said that, Lyra felt something strange happen to her body. She felt as if she had been handed the key to a great house she hadn’t known was there, a house that was somehow inside her, and as she turned the key, she felt other doors opening deep in the darkness, and lights coming on. She sat trembling as Mary went on:

“And I think it was at that party, or it might have been at another one, that we kissed each other for the first time. It was in a garden, and there was the sound of music from inside, and the quiet and the cool among the trees, and I was aching - all my body was aching for him, and I could tell he felt the same – and we were both almost too shy to move. Almost. But one of us did and then without any interval between – it was like a quantum leap, suddenly - we were kissing each other, and oh, it was more than China, it was paradise.

“We saw each other about half a dozen times, no more. And then his parents moved away and I never saw him again. It was such a sweet time, so short… But there it was. I’d know it. I had been to China.”

It was the strangest thing: Lyra knew exactly what she meant, and half an hour earlier she would have had no idea at all. And inside her, that rich house with all its doors open and all its rooms lit stood waiting, quiet, expectant.

“And at half past nine in the evening at that restaurant table in Portugal,” Mary continued, “someone gave me a piece of marzipan and it all came back. And I thought: am I really going to spend the rest of my life without ever feeling that again? I thought: I want to go to China. It’s full of treasures and strangeness and mystery and joy. I thought, will anyone be better off if I go straight back to the hotel and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be the better for making me miserable?

“And the answer came back – no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven was empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there never had been a God at all. Either way I felt free and lonely and I didn’t know whether I was happy or unhappy, but something very strange had happened. And all that huge change came about as I had the marzipan in my mouth, before I’d even swallowed it. A taste – a memory – a landslide…

“When I did swallow it and looked at the man across the table, I could tell he knew something had happened. I couldn’t tell him there and then; it was still too strange and private almost for me. But later on we went for a walk along the beach in the dark, and the warm night breeze kept stirring my hair about, and the Atlantic was being very well-behaved – little quiet waves around our feet…

“And I took the crucifix from around my neck and I threw it in the sea. That was it. All over. Gone.

“So that was how I stopped being a nun,” she said.

“Was that man the same one that found out about the skulls?” Lyra said after a moment.,

“Oh – no. The skull man was Dr. Payne, Oliver Payne. He came along much later. No, the man at the conference was called Alfredo Montale. He was very different.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“Well,” said Mary, smiling, “yes, but not then.”

“Was it hard to leave the Church?” said Will.

“In one way it was, because everyone was so disappointed. Everyone, from the Mother Superior to the priests to my parents – they were so upset and reproachful… I felt as if something they all passionately believed in depended on me carrying on with something I didn’t.

“But in another way it was easy, because it made sense. For the first time ever I felt I was doing something with all my nature and not only a part of it. So it was lonely for a while, but then I got used to it.”

“Did you marry him?” said Lyra.

“No. I didn’t marry anyone. I lived with someone – not Alfredo, someone else. I lived with him for four years, nearly. My family was scandalized. But then we decided we’d be happier not living together. So I’m on my own. The man I lived with used to like mountain climbing, and he taught me to climb, and I walk in the mountains and… And I’ve got my work. Well, I had my work. So I’m solitary but happy, if you see what I mean.”

“What was the boy called?” said Lyra. “At the party?”


“What did he look like?”

“Oh… Nice. That’s all I remember.”

“When I first saw you, in your Oxford,” Lyra said, “you said one of the reasons you became a scientist was that you wouldn’t have to think about good and evil. Did you think about them when you were a nun?”

“Hmm. No. But I knew what I should think: it was whatever the Church taught me to think. And when I did science, I had to think about other things altogether. So I never had to think about them for myself at all.”

“But do you now?” said Will.

“I think I have to,” Mary said, trying to be accurate.

“When you stopped believing in God,” he went on, “did you stop believing in good and evil?”

“No. But I stopped believing there was a power of good and a power of evil that were outside us. And I came to believe that good and evil are names for what people do, not for what they are. All we can say is that this is a good deed, because it helps someone, or that’s an evil one, because it hurts them. People are too complicated to have simple labels.”

“Yes,” said Lyra firmly.

“Did you miss God?” asked Will.

“Yes,” Mary said, “terribly. And I still do. And what I miss most is the sense of being connected to the whole of the universe. I used to feel I was connected to God like that, and because he was there I was connected to the whole of his creation. But if he’s not there, then…”

Far out on the marshes, a bird called with a long, melancholy series of falling tones. Embers settled in the fire; the grass was stirring faintly in the night breeze. Atal seemed to be dozing like a cat, her wheels flat on the grass beside her, her legs folded under her body, eyes half-closed, attention half-there and half-elsewhere. Will was lying on his back, eyes open to the stars.

As for Lyra, she hadn’t moved a muscle since that strange thing had happened, and she held the memory of the sensation inside her. She didn’t know what it was, or what it meant, or where it had come from; so she sat hugging her knees, and tried to stop herself from trembling. Soon, she thought, soon I’ll know.

Mary was tired; she had run out of stories. No doubt she’d think of more tomorrow.


anogete: (Default)


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags