druidspell: This isn't life in the fast lane, it's life in the oncoming traffic. --Terry Pratchett (Traffic)
This is my fannish and writing journal; my primary Internet home is now [tumblr.com profile] druidspell, which is where I update very frequently about my life, my friends, and my fannish interests. That blog is open to all.
I can also be found at [archiveofourown.org profile] druidspell, where I post any finished fan works, and at [livejournal.com profile] druidspell, where I post infrequently about my real life--that journal is friends-locked, but I check my friends page every morning as part of my daily routine.

Since I also post my stuff to this journal, I'm including my policy on other people using my works as inspiration for their creative works.


My Transformative Work (Fanfiction, Filk, Podfic, etc.)
Any of my transformative works may in turn be transformed--translations, podfic, art, vids, filk, playing in my sandbox, whatever. I ask that you link me to it, because I want to see it (seriously, I love transformative work; I failed a semester of college because I would rather read fanfic than go to class), but you don't need to worry about formally asking.

My Original Work (Filk, Fiction)
Fanfic, Translation, Podfic: Go for it! I probably won't read your fic, in case I accidentally steal part of it in a later work, but feel free to do it!
Filk, Art, Vids: Go for it! And show it to me!
Basically, all of your transformative creativity gives me so much joy that my body can't contain the feels.

And if you're in fandom, I want to believe that you're more awesome than this, but just so it's been said on the record: Plagiarism is not transformative. Not cool, don't do it.

I have an open subscription policy on this journal; if you want to subscribe to me, go ahead. If you want to not subscribe to me anymore, this space exists in a perpetual state of Unsubscription Amnesty. You won't hurt my feelings, promise.
druidspell: She'll never be free, but she's won herself safe for a while (Alice)
Here are the reviews for the Conjure Oils samples from the Dark Moon Lodge and Mythos collections.

Mythos Oils
From the web: Only the best for the Great Queen. Ethiopian myrrh, jasmine absolute, white musk and moonlight that goes on for eternity.
In the pip: Myrrh and jasmine were overwhelming. I didn't try it on my skin as it made me sneeze uncontrollably.
Overall: This isn't a scent I would have chosen for myself; I don't particularly care for jasmine, and the myrrh, while nice, isn't something I want to wear. It's very feminine, as befitting a perfume oil for the goddess Isis. But she's not my goddess and this perfume's not for me.
*Isis was a scent which was included free as a bonus.

Dark Moon Lodge
Rose Mead Moon (June)
From the web: A time for bonding, leading, a time for the Queen; to ripen into the role of master of her universe, to build community and unity.
Fresh oak leaves, Queen Mab roses and white ginger lily glistening with a hint of honey.

In the pip: File under: "things that make you go MMM!" This smells exactly like Midsummer to me--it really does smell of oak leaves, which is something I don't know if I can explain, but it's like standing under a huge white oak on Midsummer Night. The ginger lily is fantastic, but the honey isn't here in the pip.
Wet on skin: Smells like fresh cut flowers, like standing in a florist's shop smelling all my favorite blooms. It's got the wonderful spiciness of a bouquet of roses and ginger, but I still don't get any honey. That's all right, though, because I adore what I do get. It's very green and warm; if it stays this nice when dry, I might bump this up the list to order a bottle.
Dry: I want to shove my face into the skin of my wrist so I can smell this always. The green is back to the fore, competing nicely with the rose. There's still no honey that I can detect. Ask me if I care.
Overall: Once I work my way through my long list of sample pips to buy, this is going to be a full bottle.

First Fruits Moon (August)
From the web: What are you feeding yourself? Are you nourished and enthused, or depleted and lackluster? What first fruits can you feed yourself to sustain your passion?
A panoply of succulent fruits and berries: blackberries, gooseberries, the first apples of the season and juicy peaches sparkling with golden sunflower.

In the pip: Very fruity, with the peaches coming on strongest and a background of what might be sunflower.
Wet on skin: Peaches and apples, my skin ate this one very quickly. If I get right up on my wrist I can smell the sunflowers starting to come up.
Dry: My skin ate it so fast that I could only barely smell it after less than five minutes. :(
Overall: I liked what I smelled while it lasted; unfortunately that wasn't very long. I'll try it again another day.

Harvest Moon (September)
From the web: A time for gratitude, creativity, preparation and abundance.
Steaming chai tea served with frothy milk, brown sugar and a slice of pound cake slathered in raspberry coulis.

In the pip: Brown sugar, chai, pound cake--no raspberries. It smells like heaven.
Wet on skin: As it warms on my skin, the spice of the masala chai starts to come out even more, and the brown sugar is a perfect complement. Up close it's spicy, and at the edge of the throw it's dessert sweet, like a chai-brown sugar glaze on a perfect slice of pound cake. (Note to self, I bet that would be delicious.) Still no raspberry.
Dry: The sweetness fades and the spice takes the forefront. It's also taken the longest to dry of any oil so far.
Overall: Move over, pumpkin spice everything. This is what I'm going to smell like every day of fall for as long as I can get this perfume.

Frost Moon (November)
From the web: A time for all souls and a feast for the dead. Focus on preparation, security, and securing your roots for the coming year.
Chrysanthemum, crisp fallen leaves, wood smoke and the first chilling flakes of snow.

*Note: I'm actually allergic to chrysanthemums, so I may not get through the entire review before having to wash it all off.*
In the pip: Chrysanthemum is the strongest scent--that sort of carroty smell.
Wet on skin: Still chrysanthemums, but also a bit of the scent of impending snowfall--like standing under the stars as Thanksgiving draws near. There's also a bit of the scent of wet leaves.
Dry: It has a bit of Ol' College Try to it, which I guess is their falling leaves scent.
Overall: I'll wear the rest of this pip, but only in small doses and only sparingly. That's not the scent's fault, that's my fault for ordering a perfume I know uses something I'm allergic to as a major component. My skin's a little tingly, so it's time to wash this thoroughly off.
druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)
As a relative newbie to perfume and especially to perfume reviews, I've been having such a great time reading [community profile] smellsgood that I was inspired to finally do something I've been wanting to do since Seanan McGuire announced that Conjure Oils had designed a set of perfume oils around her characters in her October Daye series. I didn't end up buying any sample pips from that collection (I set a hard limit of "no more than $35 on pips" for my first time ordering, and had others that I wanted to try equally as much or more than the 7 pips I could get for that price in the Toby collection), but I did end up with quite a few pips to try. I'm only reviewing some of them, because my nose gets tired, but I'll post the rest in the next couple days.

Read more... )
druidspell: Wicked girls saving ourselves (Determined)
I wrote a thing!

Fandom: Hockey RPF; Chicago Blackhawks
[archiveofourown.org profile] druidspell
Warnings: No AO3 warnings apply.
Summary: A series of text messages and emails between Patrick Sharp, his teammates, his wife, and his best friend. Sharpy's life is so hard, you don't even know.

At the beginning of September,
[livejournal.com profile] svmadelyn complained about the Hockey RPF fandom being pretty much dead, and she wanted some new fic to read. So she organized the Stickhandled hockey zine, and my story is one of 15 that were finished and submitted by the deadline! I'm rather pleased with how this turned out, especially considering that this is not only my first fanfic in about two or three years, but also my first attempt to write for this fandom :D

I have deleted this fic from the internet; it no longer exists. Fuck the Blackhawks, fuck P*trick K*ne, fuck rape culture, and fuck how betrayed I felt when the news broke.
druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)
I'm participating in [community profile] trope_bingo this year! Here's my bingo card:

time travel forced to marry animal transformation fusion food porn
au: daemons huddle for warmth au: other kiss to save the day accidental marriage
soul bonding / soulmates secret child FREE

locked in in vino veritas / drunkfic
au: circus truth or dare telepathy / mindmeld au: apocalypse sharing a bed
game night snowed in rivals to lovers kidfic wingfic
druidspell: (Repose)
For my writing project in November (not a proper NaNoWriMo, because I'm not going to torture myself trying to write 50,000 words either longhand or on my phone), I'm writing the origins of my Triad universe--how Gabriel and Elena got together, and how they brought Ana into the mix to eventually form a polyfidelitous triad. Below the cut, I've got some nano prep character work.

Gabriel/Elena, domestic style )
druidspell: GLEE: Santana & Brittany. "I fucking love you." (Love is a many splendored thing)
This is a filk for one of my own stories. Until the Sea Shall Free Them is the story of Lorelei, a mermaid, one of the Folk of Mharaheim, and River, an unwitting Selkie child, meeting, discovering themselves, falling in love, and choosing their own families and their own fates.

This song is a reminder that not every ocean's daughter's love story is a happy one.

Ocean's Daughters
When the sea-girls come a-calling,
Whisper-wailing their mournful tune,
Will you answer? Will you follow
'Neath the light of the cold bright moon?

Ocean's daughters seek to marry;
They'll love you true and love you deep.
But their lovers must be wary
For what the oceans take, they keep.

When a sea-maid seeks a lover
To live beneath the deep dark waves,
Will you swear to love no other
Though the ocean shall be your grave?

Ocean's daughters seek to marry;
They'll love you true and love you deep.
But their lovers must be wary
For what the oceans take, they keep.

When the siren sings her binding,
Weaves salt and sand and brine and blood--
Will you choose her, never minding
That you are not her only love?

Ocean's daughters seek to marry;
They'll love you true and love you deep.
But their lovers must be wary
For what the oceans take, they keep.

The ocean's daughters play for keeps.
druidspell: Addicted to books. (Books)
1420 written tonight to conclude the scene, bringing this particular excerpt up to 4120 words. Overall, I've got 13,477 words in the story. Can I keep going on a different scene? *pretends to ponder* Hell yes I can!
druidspell: With enough coffee, I could rule the world. (Coffee)
I've chosen all of my character images--they're uploaded to one of my Photobucket accounts here. I'll post once more later tonight with my updated word count from tonight's writing. Wish me luck!


Nov. 2nd, 2010 12:18 pm
druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)


Nov. 2nd, 2010 01:13 am
druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)
I got 2700 words tonight at the eleventh hour (after having to retype the wordcount I'd achieved earlier because my computer froze and there's no autorecover on my ancient iBook) and now I'm too wired to sleep. Any suggestions?
druidspell: GLEE: Noah Puckerman in bed. "GOD ships Puck/Rachel" (OTP)
So, since I've been in therapy, I've realized that I don't need my DW account for my "Stories I Never Tell" anymore--I am telling them, to a licensed therapist, who's helping me work through those issues.
Since I wasn't using this journal for that purpose anymore, I needed to decide what I *was* going to use it for. And tonight, I've decided: FANFICTION.
That's right, ladies and gentlemen and other people who defy the gender binary! FANFIC BY DRUIDSPELL, once again being posted on the internet!

Starting with Glee fic, probably, but I also have a kink_bingo card! )
The odds are really, really good that I'm going to be writing a lot of Puck/Rachel and Santana/Brittany fic in the next few weeks/months, until I finish at least one bingo on this thing. :D
druidspell: (Pretty)

Yesterday was my first concert ever! Joe, Robert, Hanah, and I drove up to Indianapolis' White River State Park to see Believers Never Die Part Deux, with Hey Monday, All Time Low, Cobra Starship, and Metro Station opening for Fall Out Boy.

So yeah, here's the recap I wrote at 6 something this morning after being up for 22 and a half hours. )

When I finished writing this on paper, I'd been up for 22.5 hours. I was so tired, but a good tired. My feet hurt like hell, though; I wore the boots Jay got me, and much as I love them, they were not meant to wear to a concert like Believers Never Die. I had such a great time, though. And, fun fact for next time I go to a concert with no seating: Standing in the middle, where the crowd breaks? Best view, and nobody crushes you to get your spot.
druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)
I never thought much about Dad's family when I was growing up. In the back of my mind, I suppose I decided that they weren't as important as Mom's family; after all, Mom's family has the more interesting legend (The Right Hand of Ulster), the more frequent family gatherings*, the more open storytelling about what it was like growing up**, and I physically resemble them the more. Most of all, though, I pay more attention to Mom's family because my father was physically abusive when I was young, and I didn't want anything to do with that part of my history. But that was more than ten years ago now. I'm sometimes still angry about it, and it's not resolved, but my father has worked hard for most of my life to not repeat his father's mistakes.
Saturday we went to my Aunt Donna's for a Derby party. Aunt Donna and Uncle Bob were there (of course, since it's their house), and so were my Aunt Judy, Aunt Mary, Uncle Dennis, Aunt Erlene, and my cousin Lonnie and his wife Cindy. Not present (at this, nor so many other family gatherings) were my Uncle Tom and Aunt Charlie or any of their kids and grandkids. After dinner, Cindy asked where they were, and Aunt Donna and Aunt Mary and Aunt Erlene explained that they were almost never at any Newton gatherings, and hadn't been since Grandma Newton passed back in 1995. I have cousins I haven't seen in almost a decade, and they wouldn't recognize me (or vice versa) if we were in the same room. They are strangers to us. And it's because Uncle Tom doesn't believe that the relationship between him and his siblings is all that important in the scheme of things, especially not compared to his relationship with his children and his in-laws. After Grandma died my dad's brothers and sisters promised not to drift apart, but Uncle Tom and Aunt Charlie are more concerned with their descendants than with his siblings. (I say "his" because as far as anyone knows, they're still concerned with her siblings.) And it hurts the rest of them deeply. My Aunt Donna says she's closer to her brothers and sisters than she is to her kids, and she's involved with her kids. When my Aunt Mary needed a place to stay after things went to shit for her, she lived with Aunt Donna and Uncle Bob. Those two are best friends, even into their 50s.
But until Saturday I hadn't really thought about where my immediate family fits into the Newton dynamic. Stephanie gets mad because the Newtons get together and don't invite us--I think now that what actually happens is that they do invite us, but Dad makes excuses to not go. My Aunt Donna tries really hard to keep the family together despite the flakiness of Aunt Mary, the absentmindedness of Aunt Judy, the apparent indifference of Uncle Tom, the sheer busy-ness of Uncle Dennis, and the avoidance of Dad.
Daddy can be unintentionally cutting, vocally critical, is sarcastic more often than not, and in general is kind of a hermit. He'd do anything for his family, but my dad is also a severely depressed individual who has unresolved issues with his own father and family dynamics, and is defensive and passive-aggressive to boot.
In other words, he's a lot like me.
I realized Saturday where I get a lot of my self-defense mechanisms, and also some of my more unhealthy coping strategies. (Not all of them, mind you, not by any means; some I get from Mom, and a few are all my own, but some things: avoidance of my family, tendency to retreat from the world, using sarcasm as a shield--all those I get from Dad.) How often have I made the claim that I love my family dearly, but I like them better from a distance? How many things do I keep from my family to avoid hurting or worrying them, even (especially) the things I need to share to keep from buckling under the pressure? How much important news have I conveyed via a throw-away line in an email? For the first time on Saturday, I realized how much I'm like my father beneath the skin, and it's not a bad realization, just one that brings into perspective how much frustration Daddy must feel with the world (and how much frustration the world must feel with me).
From now on, I resolve to do as much as I am able to keep either my dad or myself from alienating ourselves from our most valuable support systems. We don't have to be alone, and neither of us is broken beyond repair. We just might need some help making the necessary mends and modifications.

*This is false. The Newtons get together a LOT. We just don't go very often.
**This not true either; Dad's family are a bunch of born storytellers, and have hundreds of stories that I've not paid enough attention to to recognize.
druidspell: No power in the 'verse can stop me. (Stop)
I have six invite codes, available to six people who rec me their favorite always-a-girl genderswap fics! (specifically in Firefly/Serenity, bandslash (the modern meaning, with MCR/FBR/Decaydance bands), SGA, SG1 S8-S10)
Comment with recs and email.
druidspell: Broken (Broken)
Walking into that hospital room, I was probably more frightened than I'd ever been in my life. Aunt Anne, Ross' dad Randy, our grandparents, my Aunt Linda, my Aunt Doris, and my mom, sisters, and I all crowded around Ross' hospital bed (which dwarfed him--Ross was about 3'4", and the bed was adult-sized). He was hooked up to so many tubes and machines, and the TV was playing something asinine, and Ross was still screaming. Tears and snot were all over his face (my mom's family does not have the ability to cry beautifully, and Ross is no exception to that; no seven year old is). He was upset and in pain, and above all that he was hungry because he had to have tests run that required him to not eat or drink for 24 hours. It had been 12 when we got there.
It was cloudy and chilly, and I remember both how everyone gave Ross Beanie Babies while he was in the hospital, and also how everyone was so much angrier all the time--people were fed up with everyone; my Aunt Doris talked shit about Ross' dad like she was being paid to do it.
Myself, I remember being filled with sick, desperate fear, and rage I thought would never end. I wanted the whole world to disappear, just leave me and a Ross who would get better, who would stop wasting away, would stop crying, would stop being sick and pale and weak, would make me not feel so helpless. I wanted his doctors who'd missed the problem to be dragged over broken glass and burning coals, wanted to somehow infect them with Ewing's Sarcoma, the disease that was eating him up inside. I wanted my classmates, teachers, and family to somehow intuit that my heart was breaking, and treat me more gently than they were--more than that, I wanted the strength to tell them that my heart was breaking, and mandate that they treat me more gently.
Every day in Sr. Theresa Giardino's class (dear gods, may this lady rest in peace), I offered up my prayer intentions that my cousin would be cured. A few people asked me about it, and I remember Sister once remarked that it was really admirable the way I prayed for him every single day. But there were entire notebooks filled with one simple phrase: Please let Ross be cured. Please let Ross be cured. Please let Ross be cured.
And finally, finally, finally, after they'd done chemo and radiation and removed his appendix and tonsils and done a bone marrow and stem cell transplant, finally he came home. He was tiny--not just in weight (although he was that, too--he weighed something like 25 pounds at eight and a half) but also in height; he was still 3'4". The way chemotherapy works, one of the things it does is attacks rapidly growing cells. Well, in a seven year old boy, every cell is a rapidly growing cell. For a year and a half, Ross hadn't grown at all. He had no hair except for a few stubborn wisps on his head (none on his arms or legs, no eyebrows, no eyelashes), he was pale as death (because the cancer treatment reacted badly with UV light), he was severely underweight (because the chemo always made him sick, and for a long time he couldn't keep food down at all--they put an IV line in him for essential nutrients), he had a tunneled catheter line in his chest (and still has the scar from it), and he was the most precious thing I'd ever seen. Ross had to take the rest of the year off from school so that he missed first and second grades (he had a private tutor) and I babysat him every Friday night--some nights Aunt Anne wouldn't even go out, and I'd still stay over, because part of me couldn't bear to let him out of my sight for a weekend. While he was in the hospital one of the chaplains taught him to play chess, and when he was released, he taught me. (I was good enough to beat some people, and while I was there I was intensely dedicated to learning, but chess is never going to be my game; I'm just not good enough at plotting out moves and counter-moves far enough in advance to regularly triumph.) He also got me into trading Pokemon cards, and we'd battle Pokemon and watch the first movie for hours and hours--I probably spent, no joke, more than $500 on cards, most of which I didn't keep for myself; if there was one that Ross wanted, I'd give it up (not always without a fight). I still have a binder filled with the cards too precious for me to give away when I got out of the game.
druidspell: WHOA. He touched the butt. (From Finding Nemo) (Whoa)
Ugh. On the one hand, today was absolutely gorgeous--80*, wonderful breeze until about 4 pm. On the other hand, after 4 pm, the breeze completely died, and it was still 80*. I love Fi and Jay, but seriously, I hate hot weather. This whole Texas 2010 thing will definitely be a test of endurance and friendship. I spent most of today wearing very little, and ate two (2!!!) bowls of ice cream to try and lower my internal temperature. For a while, when my apartment was in the 80s, I actually turned on my air conditioning for about 3 hours. >< Boo, hot weather.

May 15 is only 19 days away! I'm going to see Fall Out Boy in concert in Indianapolis.
This will be my first concert, and, um, I have no idea what to wear. Like, at all. I mean, clothes, obviously, but what do you wear to a FOB concert? How do I not know these things? ><

My life, so hard.


Apr. 18th, 2009 11:12 am
druidspell: (Pretty)
FOB May 15 in Indianapolis: Anybody going?
druidspell: For you? Anything. (Anything)
I've talked around Ross' sickness a lot--the most common phrase I use is a variation on "when I was twelve, I watched this boy die by inches." And for what it is, that's a phrase that says a lot: I was young, he was incredibly sick, the illness lasted a long time and took him away bit by bit.
Here's what I haven't said since I actually was twelve.

First, the basic facts:

  1. Ross is my younger cousin on my mom's side; his mother is my mom's "Irish twin" sister.
    • Mom and Aunt Anne are 376 days apart. Mom is the oldest in her family of 8 siblings; the five oldest are all roughly a year or so apart--the biggest age gap is between Aunt Anne and the next sibling, my Aunt Doris.

  2. Ross is often referred to as my twin separated at birth (by five years, two different sets of parents, and different hospitals.) He's my mini-me, my best friend, my most treasured person in my life.
    • Possibly even more than my soulsister, but it's hard to say; once someone's that close, it becomes a "how many angels on the head of a pin" question: it's impossible to answer for sure, and debating it is something only people with a lot of time on their hands and a desperate need of a hobby discuss.

  3. I began babysitting Ross every Friday night when I was eleven and he was six; I stole the job from my older sister Stephanie.
  4. In April 1998, when he was six and a half years old, he began complaining of leg pain. His mother took him to the pediatrician, who couldn't find a reason for the pain, but advised him to take hot baths to relax his leg muscles and ease the pain.
  5. In July 1998, the family took a trip down to Huntsville, Alabama to celebrate the wedding of my Uncle Willie. Ross complained of such severe pain that several of our relatives were concerned. Aunt Anne was mostly frustrated at this point; for three months he'd been complaining, and there was no reason any doctor could find for him to be hurting.
  6. By late September 1998, in the space of five months, Ross had been to the pediatrician more than most children go the doctor in five years. He'd gotten every diagnosis from growing pains (hot baths, exercise) to constipation (drinking castor oil every night before supper and again before bed) to making it all up for attention. He was taking two or three hot baths a night, because the pain wouldn't stop--he'd take more when I was babysitting; four was typical, but five or six weren't out of the question.
  7. Early October 1998: Ross turned seven. His birthday was on a Sunday, and I remember that it was a perfect fall day: sunny, clear, a little windy, and the trees were turning from green to gold and orange and red. Everything was idyllic. He tried to get me to play Pokemon with him, and we played with his massive collection of LEGOs and dinosaurs; he had that Jurassic Park dinosaur toy whose rib meat detached and showed the bone and bloody muscle... it was my favorite.
  8. This was when I was in 6th grade, and our school district had just moved to modified-year-round schedule, which gave us two weeks off in October. Two days after his birthday, my sister and I were at home when our grandmother called. I answered the phone, and she said that Ross was in the hospital; some tests from the doctor had come back with results the doctor didn't like, but she didn't say what they were.
    • The next night, Aunt Anne called with the test results and the diagnosis.

  9. I was in the living room watching Full House in the dark, and Stephanie, Mom, and Andrea (home on break from college) were in the kitchen talking. Mom answered when Aunt Anne called, and I thought I heard them say the word "cancer." I came into the kitchen, and I remember blinking because the bright light disoriented me. Andrea and Steph looked really upset, and Mom told me that Ross had cancer.
  10. I remember being frozen--I know that I must have started to cry. Andrea tried to hug me, and I shoved her away and started to walk, then run, to the back of the house where my bedroom was. I slammed the door shut, punched the wall a few times, and then did that slow slide down the wall crying all the while. (People say that nobody does that in real life, that it's a chick flick cliche. As one friend so memorably, so pithily, puts it: They can suck my clit. I've done it, and my life is not a chick flick.)
  11. The next day, we went to see Ross in Kosair Hospital. The 7th floor is (or was at the time) their oncology ward. [Just as a side note: there is NOTHING sadder than a pediatric oncology ward.] We stepped off the elevator and the sound of screams immediately assaulted our ears. I don't remember the hallways we walked through, just that it sounded like we were getting closer and closer to the mouth of hell, and the wailing of the damned just kept getting louder and louder. When we reached Ross' room, of course, we discovered that it was coming from him. (He was only barely seven, had been told he had cancer, pulled out of his school, told he'd be staying in the hospital, denied food and water, and wasn't on sufficient pain medication. He was scared and in pain and so fucking young.)


Apr. 14th, 2009 08:59 am
druidspell: Dreamsheep (Dreamwidth)
So I'm still sick and not feeling awesome, and I got to work a little less than 2 hours early today, but when I checked my email today, I had an email from Dreamwidth Studios telling me that my email address had been pulled from the "set and verified OpenID login email" pool, and now I have a Dreamwidth account!! *grins happily* You can find me at druidspell.dreamwidth.org, although for now nothing's there. *does a happy dance* Yay yay yay yay yay!
druidspell: Ex Adversum, Libertas (Adversity)
I've formed the kind of friendships that refuse to be casual my entire life. When I consider you one of my best friends, it means that I literally have a hard time picturing my life without you in it. And that does mean that yeah, it takes me a while to build up to a relationship where I'm willing to name you "friend", let alone one of my closest friends. But it also means that once I do... you're a part of my life forever.
My first best friend was Ria--we met when we were less than a year old, played together every day until my family and I moved away, and stayed friends through three grade schools, high school, and three colleges. When good things happen in her family, I celebrate because it's almost as good as a happy event in my family. (Sometimes it's better.) When hard things happen, I grieve with her, because anything that causes her pain hurts me as well.
Chronologically, my next best friend was Bridgette. She was... Bridgette was my entire world. And even when she was much more important to me than I was to her, I still made her my world, still put her on a pedestal, because she was everything. I realized a while ago that I fell in love with her sometime between age 6 and age 11, and I never really fell *out* of love with her, even though it's been 11 years since we named each other our mutual best friends. I haven't seen her in more than 4 years, and I still think of her almost every day.
(Fiona and Shannon, I met at almost the same time, through the same venue, and I was a little in awe of these two.)
Fiona was someone who made me feel welcome at DarkForest, who wrote with me and chatted with me, who made me feel more secure in my own sanity because there was someone else in the world who felt some of the same things I felt. And we had some iffy patches, times when we were on opposite sides of the issue at hand. But Fi never once made me feel like she didn't respect my feelings, or my right to believe what I wanted to believe (whether or not she felt like I was wronger than a wrong thing). These days, she's still one of my best friends, and I'll be moving in with her in August 2010, when I move to Texas. I explained to Thomas and Darkstar, when we were talking once before her second visit to Kentucky, that she's like my spiritual packmate.
Shannon was someone who, when I met her, made me want to be better. And it was a desire she inspired in me the entire time that we were writing together, through good times and bad. It's true what they say, nobody hurts you like best friends and family, because oh gods, we hurt each other badly. The two of us broke each others hearts. But this past summer, Shannon took a major step, coming down to Kentucky, and we managed to talk to each other face to face for the first time and hash out some of the things we'd done and what we'd learned from them, and I still think that I've learned more from Shannon in 9 years than I've learned from nearly anyone else I've ever met. She still makes me want to be better.
Jacynthia I met when I was four, but at the time, you couldn't stretch any definition of "friend" to include what our relationship to one another was. I was the bratty little sister of her best friend, and they hated it when I tagged along on their adventures. It wasn't until my freshman year, when I tagged along on the Speech Team adventure to the Cave Run Storytelling Festival, that we became friends ourselves. Once we became friends, though, "living out of each other's pockets" wouldn't be an inaccurate description of our lives. It was with Jacynthia that I met Mommy--who has shaped us both, for good and for ill--, with Jacynthia that I got my first (and hopefully last) job in retail, with Jacynthia that I braved the bad side of the barrio, college, and assorted (mis)adventures on the Planes. I'd pick her at my side over entire armies, and together I think we'd win.
If I had to conquer the world, I think I might make Ross my military brain. I would not let him clone me, as he's been hoping to do since he was 6. (Make A Wish wouldn't let him clone me either; I think that's how he ended up with a Furby instead of a trip to Jurassic Park or a chance to meet the guy who played Boba Fett for his wish.) I would choose him at his worst over the rest of the world at their best, and I'll tell you why: When I was twelve years old, I watched this boy die by inches, then make a recovery that I still can't call anything but miraculous. Ross single-handedly restored almost complete faith in the existence of God for me.

I wouldn't be anywhere today without these people. If there's anything you love about me? You can thank one of them for encouraging that quality.
druidspell: WHOA. He touched the butt. (From Finding Nemo) (Whoa)
[1] Would you do meth if it was legalized?
I can think of at least 900001 things I'd rather do, starting with shoot myself in the foot and ending with being shipped naked to Antarctica and then lit on fire.
[2] Abortion: for or against it? )
druidspell: Pete Wentz's dog Hemingway as a puppy. (Hemmy)
The rules are simple:
1 - List 20 things that you want to say to people, but never will.
2 - Don't say who they are.
3 - Please do not assume that anything is about you.
4 - If you are not 110% convinced... it's probably not you.

20 Things to 20 People )
druidspell: Addicted to books. (Books)
Song? )


druidspell: Me, bowling at a family reunion, with my username inset in the bottom right corner. The blurriness is intentional. (Default)

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