On my mind

[extemporally]

H'lo, all. I am sitting in Starbucks writing another university application essay right now -- or, oh no, I'm posting! -- and I'm listening to some Christmas carols. The last one ended with "what are you doing, what are you doing", which I am not sure is very Christmassy, but I enjoyed it anyway. Peace reigns on earth, for despite not being very productive I feel rather happy and contented right now. I would like some baked goods, but since I'm going to make those tomorrow anyway it shall be worth the wait. Brownies!

Suddenly I am looking forward to Christmas -- I haven't done my Christmas cards (brace yourselves for one in January, flist!), or bought any presents, or done much, but I feel quite happy. Yesterday my best friend came over and we watched the first three episodes of Life on Mars (Liz White, be mine), and looked at the job advertisements in the classifieds -- for the last couple of weeks there has been an ad that goes: "Japanese company requires 3 private detectives with own bicycle". Now what is up with that?? If it's still there in January my best friend and I, we'll go for it. Despite not having any detective experience at all. You need a hand-held camcorder too, I think.

Right now I would like to read fic about -- hmm, I wanted to say "boring adventures", but I don't think that quite covers it, incidents and adventures anecdotal in nature, the kind that becomes impossibly rambly with each recount and ends with the speaker breaking down in a kind of defeated "you had to be there, okay". Bicycles riding off into twilight, perhaps. Or the discovery of some unexpected artifact from the 70s, which must be returned to its original owner. I would also like to read a ficlet about Brendon cupping a fat bird, plump with feathers, very gently, in his outstretched palms. Or The Like staying in a guesthouse (a guesthouse, not a hotel, damnit) with flowery wallpaper that isn't hideous at all, or maybe a ballet AU. Things which are not beautiful and gritty, but beautiful anyway. I don't know if any of this makes sense, but I am feeling extremely self-indulgent today. I'll look at egelantier's reclist for drawn_to later tonight, maybe.

Right now I think I will type out the essay I just wrote by hand (I concentrate better when writing things out longhand), and edit it. If anyone would be willing to look at some of the essays I've written and help me out there, I would be most grateful.

Comments

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

I am very delighted by the image of you as a girl detective on a bike. In other news, I'm about to go skiing (SKIING ON THE SNOW) and I still haven't written my philosophy paper. I have until Friday, and it is a short paper, but STILL.

I remember writing university applications. I wrote about my bookshelves as a metaphor for who I am.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Gosh, I would be the worst girl detective ever (too loud, and always falling off my bicycle when we turn the corners), but we'll see, eh? Never say never!

SKIING. I am most envious. ♥

Although not of the philosophy paper! What's it on, dude?

I am writing about a day in New York with Jonathan Larson. It is most like fanfic, I am very delighted and also guilty. Applications are not meant to be this fun, are they!

[harborshore.livejournal.com]

It would be very endearing!

Cross your fingers that it's still below zero, man, or it won't work. I think it is, from the looks of things, but you never know. The temperature's dropping tomorrow, so if I can't go today I'll go then.

I have to pick a topic--I'm writing about a problem of interpretation (the academic kind, not the conference interpreting kind) in my discipline and talking about how it can be analyzed. Yes, it's pretty boring. My alternative is to talk about social constructions, but that would involve me going "You are all WRONG WRONG WRONG AND IT HURTS MY SOUL" and I think I'd get a bad grade.

Hee, whatever, I liked writing my essays too. Not the "Why I'm a good match for Oberlin College" ones, but the ones where I got to choose.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

*crosses fingers* Seriously, how can it be so cold over there? Right now it's raining and it's in the high twenties (Celsius). This is considered cold. But you know our weather, don't you.

Boring papers, argh. Good luck with it anyway!

The only bit that sucks is EVERYTHING ELSE. I have to ask my economics tutor for a reference, and that is going to be all sorts of nerve-wracking for me, argh.

[ashlein.livejournal.com]

I would read so much of Brendon as a ballet dancer.

Maybe he's in school as well so he has to manage his schoolwork with his classes, where he comes home to his shitty apartment at 10pm and all he wants to do is sleep so he can get up at 5am for his morning ballet class, where his hips burn from four hours of nothing but barre work, Rond de Jambe after Rond de Jambe trying to get his turn out perfect, how he has to spend an hour peeling blood soaked tape off his toes from where the blisters have exploded after hours of bouree's en pointe, how he has to soak his feet and study and not sleep, how every single part of his body aches, how he's exhausted but he wouldn't want it any other way.

Also I totally approve of the private detective job bb!

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Argh, oh man, that would be awesome. I would like to read about Brendon going on a gay ballet crusade or something of the sort -- WHY can't he dance with a male dancer?! and so on. Also, balletic sufferings, yes. *g*

Oh man, I do not think it will ever materialise! But I like thinking of myself as a modern Nancy Drew anyway. :)

[stealstheashes.livejournal.com]

Brendon cupping a bird in his hands left me trying to imagine a Secret Garden AU. I mean, with that, clearly Brendon would be Dickon, but normally I'd probably make that Jon, and then I guess Ryan and Spencer would be Colin and Mary possibly in that order though not necessarily.

Staying in a guesthouse makes me imagine only supposed to be there for a night and then getting snowed in and stuck there.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Ooh, or maybe Brendon could be Martha -- who brings Spencer his porridge every day! I like him as a cheerful housemaid who doesn't know how to speak subserviently, even though I like him cupping birds in his hands even MORE. Hmm. *ponders*

GETTING SNOWED IN, argh. Can there be lots of cuddling for warmth? And making of Earl Grey tea?

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Gosh, yes. Chicks and a cottage and being hungry and looking at the great house on the horizon!

THIS MENTAL IMAGE AMUSES ME VERY MUCH.

[stealstheashes.livejournal.com]

lol I WAS THINKING THAT AS I WALKED TO THE BUS THIS MORNING! It'd be an au, so Martha-- Brendon could totes be more involved in the garden than he was in the book!

YES. And also doing things by candle/firelight when the electricity goes out. And having to shovel the walk which leads to impromptu snowball fights and shenanigans and Z pinning someone down in the snow because they're TOTALLY cheating before they go in to make hot cocoa on the tiny kerosene camp stove the guesthouse happens to have and arguing over marshmallow rationing and tossing them for each other to catch with their mouths.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Yes! And telling Spencer to dress himself, jeez, doesn't Spencer know how to do anything? Amazing! Also, roasted eggs. I always wondered what those were, when they were mentioned in the Secret Garden! Spencer's like, "You just put the egg in the oven... don't you?"

Brendon: CLEARLY WE MUST TEACH THIS BOY HOW TO COOK.

Gosh, I feel like there are two stories about winter in here: one's the guesthouse one (which, marshmallow rations \o/), where they shovel the snow and do errands for the owners (who are an elderly couple) only are really faily about that and keep getting distracted, and the other one, where Tennessee lives alone in a cabin in the woods and is a happy, if lonely hermit, until one day in winter when she goes out to get some wood when she finds a girl facedown in the snow -- not dead, but very weak and barely conscious.

"What's you name?" she asks, hefting the girl inside.

The girl's lashes flutter and her eyes begin to close. (No, no, Tennesse thinks desperately.) "Z," she says, and Tenn tries to defrost Z as much and as soon as possible.

[stealstheashes.livejournal.com]

lol Brendon in the kitchen :D I bet he sings and throws things together and it's very entertaining if not very neat.

I WANT BOTH STORIES. -LOL SELFISH

The first would have SNOW ANGELS. Or at least I bet it would. And the second...

It involves wrestling Z around the cabin as carefully as she can while stripping her of her wet clothes. Z puts up a token protest, but somehow Tennessee manages to get her out of them and into some of her own clothes before bundling her into bed and crawling in after her, hoping that the body heat will help. Tennessee isn't used to being around anyone as much as she's around Z, if that's really the girl's name. She isn't used to being touched that much, even if it doesn't mean anything at all.

Tennessee calls the hospital soon as the phone starts working; it's the first time she's thankful for the emergency phone her family had insisted upon, so that she could check in every so often. She was hoping that they'd send someone up, in a helicopter or something, and she tells herself it's just so Z can get better care. The storm's still too much, even then, and apparently there's another one expected not long after it's due to let up, so a doctor checks up on what she's done and gives her instructions for every possibility.

It's strange, talking on the phone, and her voice sounds unreasonably loud to her own ears; she's used to muttering to herself. Still, when she hangs up, everything seems too quiet and even though Z's still asleep, Tennessee puts on some music to distract herself from Z's shallow breaths and her pale face.

OR YOU COULD TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

And it tastes delicious! Probably he wiggles his ass when he cooks, but then again, when doesn't Brendon. <3

Of course it would have snow angels! And all the most absolutely cliched things about winter, and Z would wear a black scarf, and Tennessee would wear a tie-dyed one (is it possible to tie-dye wool? I don't think so! But whatever) and tease her about her colourlessness and throw the ends of her own colourful scarf on Z's head.

AND I WILL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Tennessee makes soup, and she wakes Z up to drink it. Z acquiesces quietly, and later the questions come, from Tenn: who are you? where do you come from? do you need to contact your family members? before eventually gathering that she'd been involved in a one-person hiking trip inspired by Into the Wild and had gotten lost, or run out of rations, or all three, and had tripped and fallen.

"I always intended to return," Z says earnestly. "I just lost my way, that's all."

Tenn's not quite sure if she should believe this strange girl with cold skin (here she hurries to get yet another blanket) and bright eyes, but she says nothing. When she calls the hospital again and describes Z's condition they say all is well and that she should be ok, so Z stays put, because outside the snow is piling in. (Tennessee doesn't think about the fact that Z will be right here, intruding on her self-imposed hermitude, until a thaw happens.)

Z gets stronger slowly, and progresses even to doing tiny errands around the house for Tennessee. It's nice. Tennessee'd forgotten how much she likes human company, even though most days she could go without it, how nice to know that she hasn't lost her voice yet, how nice to speak absently and have someone reply, how nice to have someone else in the house with her.

The days soon settle into a rhythm. Z's like a cat -- she doesn't sleep many hours at one go, but naps intermittently. This is good for Tennessee because the cabin is quiet most of the day and punctuated only by the sound of Z's breathing. And when Tennessee crawls into bed, she might wake up to breakfast that Z's clearly been awake for a while, to prepare.

One day, when Z's sleeping, Tennessee puts some Kate Bush on and dances thoughtfully and silently and carefully around the cluttered room, her hair whirling around the place.

When she looks over at the bed she finds Z sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and fingers clutching the bedspread, light from the fire flickering in her eyes. Tennessee coughs.

"Sorry, did I --" she clears her throat. "Did I wake you?"

(Oh god, I really really need some Like icons.)

[stealstheashes.livejournal.com]

You could probably make a plain scarf and then tie-dye it. DAMN IT, NOW I WANT TO TEST THIS :(

:DDD AND THEN WHAT HAPPENS?

(I need MORE. lol only grabbed the one, but I know famine_ghost made a bunch.)

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

Oh man, that would be all kinds of weird and wonderful. I always wanted to be on a two-part bicycle! Only I couldn't ever find the person willing to be on a two-parter and the two-part bicycle at the same time in the same place.

And yes, Frank or Sisky would be the best couple of people to tell rambly anecdotes, or maybe Brendon when he was tired.

I like Charlotte too! She's just so pretty and tough, I don't know. I like her a lot, but there is no fic about her right now, so if you are really really REALLY writing that fic (please say you are!) I would be so freaking excited, I don't know! If you need any beta help, I am totally willing! :D? :D?

I will email you, thanks so much for the offer! Warning: I'm going to send you all the essays I've written, but no pressure to do all of them? Pick and choose how many you have time for, bb!

[milenaa.livejournal.com]

Idky, but the image of Brendon cupping a bird in his hands is awesome and I'd love to read that fic *__*

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

I know, right?? I mean, even a ficlet that went, like:

It was springtime. For some reason or another Brendon had tricked a tiny baby bird into straying into his fist. To give it more breathing room he cupped it into his palms, and wondered what to do with it.

But apparently it wasn't as young a baby bird as he'd thought initially -- it was a tiny bird, size-wise, but it had feathers of a brilliant blue and fully-fledged wings and everything, and it chirped impatiently and pecked at Brendon's hands, so Brendon opened his palms and let it go.

As he watched the blue bird fly away he rubbed the tattoo on his forearm and felt unexpectedly happy.

... um, okay, it seems I unexpectedly wrote it! :D?

[milenaa.livejournal.com]

♥♥♥

[softlyforgotten.livejournal.com]

Dude, I love your entries so much. I don't even know, just reading the way you write makes me really happy. \o/ And also I really like these fic ideas. That ballet AU, ahhhh, is it the same one you were thinking of before? ♥♥♥

(Also, your birthday fic is possibly-maybe going in the direction of that, umn, amnesia Tennessee/Z AU we discussed briefly. /o\ Would that be acceptable?)

deleted and reposted because html fail!

[extemporally.livejournal.com]

I am flattered, darling! <333 I like posting endless entries about the minutiae of everyday life, and you like reading them, so I guess this is working out pretty well. The ballet AU started out as yep, the one I was thinking of before, but reading the comments has put me in the mood for other ballet AUs, the one where Brendon studies and does ballet and wants to do a pas de deux with another male dancer, or the one where he shares an apartment with The Like v.01 (seriously, what a brilliant brilliant idea of willowbell's). Orr, the one that just popped into my head, the one where Ryan studied something else and feels disillusioned until he wanders into the dance studio one day. There should be SO MANY DANCE STORIES is what I mean.

(Oh wow, is that okay? I mean, of course it's okay! It is beyond okay, I really want it, oh man. Amazing! Seriously, you shouldn't even ask if it's acceptable because I'm pretty sure it's beyond that. Mik. *____________*)