Name: Scruffy Gender: Femme
Interests: Books
Avocation: Daring adventurer, dashing explorer, purveyor of lost texts, performer of thrilling heroics and bibliophile extraordinaire. No task is too great, no distance too far, no book to long. Expanding knowledge of the fictional world through the acquisition and perusal of the works of imaginative geniuses from forgotten ages. Supporting avid music appreciation as a means of societal escape. No mathemathic skills required or desired. Interested? Inquire within.
As the holiday season (I can haz points for political correctness?) rolls around my room becomes littered with the brown cardboard carapaces of mail order solstice gifts, the bright trappings of cheap wrapping paper and the ubiquitous roll of tape that everyone seems to be looking for but nobody can find until all the gifts are wrapped and the need for it is no more. My bank account suffers repetitive roundhouse kicks to the gut and that little malevolent disembodied voice in the back of my head sees fit to ressurrect itself with violent suggestions of what ought to be done with customers who ask stupid questions. Cheery tunes emitted from the stereo induce the urge to rear end someone while I pine for my failing ipod which is currently on it's last legs with half of it's functions inoperable and the vast majority of it's buttons nonresponsive.
I want to knock through four or five blocks around me and build a hedge maze.
Dancing on the legs of a newborn pony, Left, right, left, right, keep it up son. Go ahead and have her, go ahead and leave her, You only ever had her when you were a fever.
I finally got the balls to cut into the seven yards of black poplin I bought months ago. All of the pattern bits are done; I just have to figure out how it all fits together, do some heavy tweaking and save up enough monies to buy lace. Got some painting done on the chimera mask. Not as much as I'd like due to the wonderfully diverting Robin Hood (Maid Marion is a tart by the way), but it's starting to look sort of decent. Thinking about how to finish the wings. Need several pounds of turkey feathers. And glue. Lots of glue. The depressing bit about life is that loving someone doesn't guarantee love in return. And people don't do the whole tar-and-feathers bit anymore. That would actually be useful. A whole person's worth of free feathers .... oh well. No use dreaming about it. I'm not looking forward to work tomorrow. I'm closing. I hate closing. We always end up staying obscenely late grousing about Small Children and their inexplicable desires to Pull Things Off Shelves.
Today is dedicated to Guy of Gisbourne. Because I find Richard Armitage quite sexy.
So by the time history class rolls around and the energy gleaned from five hours of sleep wears off my mind begins to wander. Today my musings were of a 'what if' nature. Here is what I proposed to mine self: What would I do right this very instant if I had no ties binding me to here and money wasn't an issue?
-Hop a plane to India to pick up some incense -Visit a Buddhist temple and perhaps stay for a bit -Wear a sari -Board a train to the Tibetan highlands -Climb the tallest mountain there to watch the moon rise -Meet a kiang -Hike over to the China coast -Charter a boat to Japan -Visit Harajuku, possibly several times -Mysteriously appear in Europe -Swim the English Channel -Have a picnic in one of the formal gardens in France -Impersonate a duchess -Ride a horse on the beach -Etc
