Hello! I am still alive! I hope you all are too.

Things:

- Great-Aunt died.
- Grandad is getting close to same, in a 'he's very, very old and not eating properly' kind of way.
- Got confirmed, yay.
- OH FUCK I HAVEN'T DONE ANY REVISION YET AND MY FIRST EXAM IS TEN DAYS AWAY OH GOD.
-Camping this weekend, hurrah!

Yourself?

Oh, right, yeah, I have one of these. I remember!

So life is filled with actively Not Working. Exams next term in Mediaeval Welsh, Anglo-Saxon History and Brittonic History. They don't actually count for anything, but Cambridge likes to imbue things with deep, deep terror, and they're going to be quite horrifically hard. Sample questions:

How much did the monastic reform movement of the tenth century owe to Continental developments, and how much to internal political and ecclesiastical conditions?
For how long did the kingdom of Dumnonia retain its autonomy in the face of
the westward expansion of Wessex?
To what extent can the englyn poetry associated with Llywarch Hen, Heledd,
and Urien be regarded as a single body of literature?

In a word: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I do have a life plan now, though! For the moment: it'll change again soon. Right, so, basically, I graduate and I hang around for a while: go back to Vietnam, do a teaching programme in Palestine, go and live with my friend Okes in Paris for a while (we have no plan for how to finance this, it's just something we feel should be done :D). Then I do a PGCE, prolly at the Institute of Education, and then I do a Stage Management apprenticeship at one of the big London theatres (the Old Vic, I think, does a good one), and then I spend my life flitting between teaching abroad, stage managing, and teaching here, hopefully all over the country. As soon as I can, I buy a flat in London (hopefully Hackney) (I don't really mind if I spend my whole life paying off the mortgage, just so long as I have a base as soon as possible - I don't want to be travelling and stuff and having to come back to my parents' house, or stressing about renting a place every time I come back - this is a fairly top priority. And at some point, I take a year or so off, and go on my dream trip - driving from London to South Africa ( through these countries ) How awesome will that be? All I need is a driving license, a Jeep with a mattress and blankets in the back and ten or fifteen thousand pounds. Hurray!

And now I return to pretending to work. Lalalala.

I'm avoiding reading about Brittany in the ninth century, and therefore I shall show you my pretty, pretty room. Because what did I do on Valentine's Day? I put up hundreds of photos. Also, I have a very nice room. :D

( Yay )

My college has a gossip blog. Awesomest thing ever, and only about a month old.

I hate this book so much that I practically threw it across the room. Oh my God, it's horrific. And it's just... people are under so many misapprehensions about Dark Age history anyway, why would you want to make that worse? WHY, YOU UTTER BASTARD? Somewhere, deeply buried under there, he may have an interesting thesis, but it's hidden by his horrific arrogance, his insulting tone, his clearly tremendously high opinion of his own amazing intelligence, his absolute conviction that he's raising issues that nobody's ever thought of before, which is directly linked to his clear total ignorance about the subject that he's trying to re-imagine (a lot of the stuff that he says that academics are totally ignoring because they're all so silly and ahahahaha aren't I amazing are actually issues that are hotly debated by academics) (if I, as an undergraduate in my second term can think of concrete evidence that disproves some of his points, that is a clear indication that he's an IDIOT, I think), and his general twattishness. And it's the kind of book that people are going to read and then think that they're tremendously clever and well-educated on Dark Age history and I'll probably be talking to someone at a party and tell them what I study and they'll go, "But, ahah, didn't Harper clearly show that the essentials underlying the study of Anglo-Saxon history are wrong?" and then my HEAD WILL EXPLODE WITH HATRED.

Essentially, in summation of the above paragraph, I want to punch MJ Harper in the face.

[ETA: Also, things his book lacks: a bibliography, references, ANY INTELLIGENCE WHATSOEVER, and any kind of biography of the author himself offering any kind of proof that his brain is larger than a pea. I am not normally a snob about these things, but when I hate a book so much that I think I would genuinely hold a ritual burning if the copy that I was reading belonged to me, I am going to pick at those kind of details, obviously.]

[ETA 2: I'm only about thirty pages in, it must be said. There is the very slim chance that it might improve. I doubt it, but it's there. We shall see.]

As may be obvious, I am not paying the slightest bit of attention to my flist right now. Work. Lots of it. And other stuff that has meant these past three weeks have not really been brilliant. I wrote an essay two days ago, and I am writing another one right now, and will continue to have two essays a week (with assciated reading lists: if it was just the essays I really wouldn't mind, but that works out to about ten books a week) until the end of term. As well as, of course, my language work which supposedly has to get done somewhere in there, and also occasionally I like to do this thing where I actually leave my room and go and talk to people and possibly go out with them. So basically I'm not really finding much breathing room at the moment.

Went out last night for the first time in a couple of weeks, because it was my college husband's nineteenth, and it was absolutely awesome, although not a particularly big night - was back by one. Just a really happy night - lots of hugging and dancing with people and people complimenting each other. Plus, undressed Chris P on the dance floor (to an extent - got his shirt off), which was hilarious. Tried to get Chris K's off as well, but he's more of a wimp. (Okay, context: there's this track, and I don't know its name, but you must know it -the one where guys are supposed to take their shirts off and whirl them around their heads? Anyway, yes, that. That is the context.) And I'm beginning to learn the Soulja Boy dance, hurrah. (http://youtube.com/watch?v=nNNm07dH2EY) (Ahahaha, how Cambridge is that sentence? "Yah, well, I heard this *ahem* "Soulja Boy" "track" while down at the local discotheque. So I inquired, as one does, and began to familiarise myself with the "dance moves".")

Right, gonna go and get lucnh and then essay it up.

Ha, can you tell I'm "writing" an "essay" right now? The answer is yes. And how can you tell? Because I'm posting to LJ and pissing around on Facebook and generally doing stuff like that. Bloody hell, writing an essay only actually takes about an hour and a half. It's just that I fucking drag it out until it starts to feel like TORTURE.

I'm well happy about yesterday's Torchwood. Captain John and Captain Jack are my new OTP. Seriously, how awesome was Captain John? :D (This is a sight more coherent than my actual thoughts, which went: :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Right, essay. Entertain me?

Lectures start t'day after tomorrow. Bastard things. I'm feeling relatively positive about this term, like I can keep well on top of work, but at the same time, I'm utterly avoiding doing any work now, which is, you might think, a bad sign. Partiuclarly since my first essay is due on Friday.

It's funny to be back. Nice to have evrybody around again, but also I'm missing home much more this time, not sure why. It'll pass. And it's funny to suddenly have the distance removed, to be right back in the thick of social angsts and stresses. The goods outweigh the bads, definitely, but it's a lot more mellow at home.

Basically, YAY, BACK IN THE CAM.

Just back from Scotland stop have hideous lurgy stop got fellow Girtonian round stop going on massive bender in a non-alcoholic sense on Saturday stop soon my holidays will end stop argh stop.

Anyone want a $100 iTunes voucher? For $85?

I found a tiny bit of a popslash AU while I was cleaning out my room the other day. Its working title appears to be ( Sparklies under Henry )

I am aggressively avoiding work.



Benjamin Zephaniah is so pretty. :D

( 2007 in questions, stolen from Rue )

Now, I have a request: spam me. EVERYONE. YES, EVEN YOU, THE PERSON JUST ABOUT TO CONTINUE SCROLLING. I don't care what it is, just comment in some form.

STOP SCROLLING.

COMMENT.

:D

I just thought of the most interesting ethnographic parallel! My parents were watching this absolutely dreadful film last night, Patriot Games. It was fabulous: this ex-CIA agent managed to foil an attack on a minor royal/minister involved in Northern Ireland by an IRA faction while on holiday in England, shooting one of the IRA people dead in the process. For this, a grateful England awarded him some made-up knighthood, and his wife smiled fondly and called him 'Sir' Jack. (Things which made me laugh at this point: you do not get away with shooting somebody in the UK without at least some vague, going-through-the-motions investigation, you cannot receive an award which entitles you to call yourself 'sir' if you are from a country that does not recognise the Queen as head of state, and you really probably would not get a knighthood for the small matter of diverting an IRA attack on a minor royal.) The film continued, and got more hilarious as it went. The IRA-who-were-not-the-IRA (Dad pointed out that in 1992, America still wasn't quite on the "the IRA really, really suck, please stop funding them, you absolute wankers" bandwagon) killed a lot of people! Harrison Ford went around being manly! His small daughter went around being utterly unlike any real child I have ever met! It also has Sean Bean in, as an angry, angry Irishman! I recommend it highly.

Aaaanyway, it made me think. In Icelandic sagas, there is a running theme of the young Icelander who goes over to Norway (Icelandic motherland, in sort of the same cultural position to Iceland as the UK is to the US, although a totally different political position, and the analogy is obviously imperfect) and impresses the Norwegian king with his special skills and everyone loves him and the Norwegians give him loads of honours and talk about how awesome he is. Rather similar to Patriot Games and other Hollywood films. It'd be an awesome thing to do a dissertation on. :D

I am bored, so two memes:

( Christmas meme )

Wikipedia novel meme! Instructions:
Go to Wikipedia and hit the Random Article link. This is the title of your book. Now, hit random again, until you get three names. The first is the pen name you published your book under; the second is the name of your protagonist, and the third is the name of the villain.

Hit Random again ten times to get chapter titles (you can go for more if you want, but ten is at least a good minimum). If you'd like, hit it once or twice more to get previous books your protagonist has appeared in. Or a newspaper to list your favorable reviews. :D

Wisques by Rossetto

Chapter 1: Jokers in Solitaire
Chapter 2: Mushi Production
Chapter 3: A5004 Road
Chapter 4: Blowback
Chapter 5: Ashleworth
Chapter 6: Peñón de Alhucemas
Chapter 7: The Flats
Chapter 8: Aodán Mac Póilin
Chapter 9: Volodarskyi Raion
Chapter 10: Goniothalamus wynaadensis

Rossetto's third book is her most interesting yet, written almost entirely from the point of view of a young man, Ajaan Suwat Saverco, who is in a coma. There is something special about him, some reason why he is being stealthily moved across the world, but Ajaan is uninterested in his immediate surroundings, lost in memories of Wisques, the area of Northern France where he had his accident. It is up to the reader, then, to answer the questions. Who is David Tyrrell? What is his interest in Ajaan? And why is Ajaan being slowly moved closer to his native India?

"Stylish, intelligent and taut." - The Florida Cup

Rossetto's previous books include Ar Dywysog Gwlad y Bryniau (God Bless the Prince of Wales) and Cinema of Portugal.

And what do we learn from this meme? That I should never, ever try to get a job writing book blurbs.

Actors should never be allowed to look after their own props. Ever. GRARGH. I genuinely love backstaging it up, and I'm good at it, but seriously. Bad actor. No touch.

Questions!

Do you wish you'd joined that orgy?

Not in any way, shape or form. I couldn't even begin to be comfortable.

Which is better: Hellenic Greece or Plantagenet Britain [I'm gonna change this to England, because Scotland wasn't anywhere close to being absorbed, and Wales was grabbed during the dynasty]?

I couldn't tell you which is better. I would prefer to have lived in Plantagenet England, but that's because it's a period which interested me more, and I would prefer to study the Plantagenets if I had a choice. Also, Magna Carta! There are very few things more awesome than the Magna Carta, frankly. Also, I know Henry VII is normally classed as a Tudor, but he was dirrectly descended from the Plantagenets, and he laid loads of the foundations for modern Britain. But overall, value judgements on historical periods is a bit of an odd concept.

How are you?

Right at the moment, not bad at all. Tonight's going to be a bit of a big one, I hope. Going for a meal in about an hour, then ice skating, then off to the theatre for the late show at which I am doing my backstage thing, and then after that the get-out for the show (it's our last night), which will be fun, and then the after-party which will be awesome on its own merits, but is a shared after-party with the cast and crew of this year's Footlights panto. AHAHAHA YOU WISH YOU WERE AS COOL AS ME. (Everybody's heard of Footlights, right? It's where Monty Python got started. And I believe it's where Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie met. Aaaand other people. Funny people. *waves hand*) On the other hand, my supervisor hates me. But that's okay.

What's the hardest thing about being at uni?

The incest of it all. It's all very pressurised and everybody knows everything that happens to everyone within about five minutes. I love gossip, but sometimes a step back is nice - I'm sort of pleased to be going home for that reason.

Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?

lora_elisabeth stole the cookie from the cookie jar.

MOAR QUESTIONS PLS.

Tonight in moments:

My new college husband gave me a cheap and hilariously nasty ring from Claire's Accessories with skulls on it, and he gave it on bended knee with strands of party popper string in his hair. I love Alasdair. We're going to have awesome children

I stole Hatman's hat, and wore it at a jaunty and extremely impressive angle, until Anthony cruelly stole it from me. And then there was a bit of a hat-stealing extravanganza, and (still not quite ex-) crush was involved, and apparently he's 6'3". To which I say "Mmmm."

I sat and talked to Okey on the sofa for a while. Found out that I won't see him during the holidays at all because he's not really allowed to be friends with girls. Very strict mother. :( It was a lovely warm chat, like all chats are with Okey.

Banter with Sarah and Andrew, sitting in the bar and laughing at Sarah's stupid dance moves and just at Andrew in general.

Will and Niall, who organised the ent, running around looking serious and organised and grim. Will and Niall never look serious. It was impressive.

Lots of chatting and chilling and music and general awesomeness. It was a really good night. And now I must sleep. Essay to write tomorrow!

Okay, seriously, if your friend texts you and says "We're having an orgy in [her boyfriend's] room. Wanna join?" she's clearly joking, right? APPARENTLY NOT.

My face: :O

My vow of secrecy: already mildly shattered. But only one person, and only because it's such utterly incredible gosip that I can't not.

Right, um, moving on! I really like this meme, so please ask me questions. You can ask them anonymously in the comments if you want not even me to know who's asking.

Poll #1095503 Meme!
Open to: All, results viewable to: None

Ask me a question!

Quick, quick! best way to set up a mailing list that people can self-add to? Need answers asap, please, fabulous flist?

The ASNaC department's EC Quiggin Memorial lecture this year is on "Rune-stone inscriptions
and queer theory", given by Henrik Williams. Either he's old-fashioned and is using the word queer in the sense of, "Here is my odd theory. It belongs to me, it is mine, it is my theory," or this is going to be an utterly awesome lecture.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HATE MEN.

I AM IN AN ASTONISHINGLY FOUL MOOD. AND MY ESSAY ISN'T EVEN STARTED AND I DON'T CARE.

DID I MENTION I HATE PEOPLE WHO POSSESS A Y-CHROMOSOME? IN FACT, JUST PEOPLE IN GENERAL.

Here it is made known in this document that Bishop Aethelwold and Wulfstan Uccea exchanged lands in the witness of King Edgar and his councillors. The bishop gave Wulfstan the land at Washington and Wulfstan gave to him the land at Yaxley and at Ailsworth. Then the bishop gave the land at Yaxley to Thorney and that at Ailsworth to Peterborough. And a widow and her son had previously forfeited the land at Ailsworth because they drove iron pins into Wulfstan's father, Aelfsige. [i.e. into a wax figure of him] And it was detected and the murderous instrument dragged from her chamber; and the woman was seized and drowned at London Bridge, and her son escaped and became an outlaw. And the land came into the king's possession, and the king gave it to Aelfsige, and his son Wulfstan gave it to Bishop Aethelwold, as it says here above.

Get in. My degree has Anglo-Saxon witches.

- My brothers (two of them - littlest and biggest) are coming up to stay the night next weekend, EEE. I plan to take them around to all of my friends and go, "Here, here are my brothers. Bask in their glory for a moment. Now we're moving on." :D

- My Vietnamese friend Linh informs me that the (soon to be ex-, because I am working on not crushing, since I have no goddamn time) crush looks "manly and handsome". I love the Vietnamese attitude to relationships, it's adorable. She also told me to work hard on stealing his heart.

- I am so ready for the end of term. (Week and a half, get in.) In fact, so ready that I might just pretend that it is the end of term. Right now. I bet my supervisor will accept that as a valid excuse, right?

- I have an essay to do, like every week. I haven't started the reading yet. Argh. And it's my friend's birthday tonight, so everyone will be down in the bar while I'm locked in my room, reading. And I just can't. Be. Bothered. Seriously, who gives a fuck about the tenth century political unification of England. AAAAAHHH ASNAC IS A MADE-UP DEGREE.

- Cambridge can be a really fucking annoying place to be.

- I went to a charismatic church the other day. Someone spoke in tongues! It was deeply awesome and deeply worrying. The sermon was all about giving money to the church and the spiritual wasteland that we live in nowadays. Ick. On the other hand, the actual worship was awesome - loved the singing and dancing and stuff.

Went home this weekend! Skipped lectures today and yesterday! The first was (mostly) fun and good. The second is bad. Bad, I say.

This is now my favouritest ever card game, OMG.

My friend Stuart now has the following things written on his door: "The divine Stuart, also known as God. Sort of pink and fleshy... with nipples." The handwriting is mine, to be fair, but I take no responsibility for the pink and fleshy bit. My other friend Emily, his next-door neighbour, has "Thinks Stuart is sort of pink and fleshy... with nipples." Again, um, my handwriting.