So, right, the National Folklife Festival was this weekend.

We caught a performance of the Beijing Opera, doing a story from Journey To The West, a great Chinese epic which is almost like a bunch of fairy-tales strung together. (I actually grew up on one of the stories, which was about the Monkey King subduing the White-Bone Demon. That demon was one cool villainess; I think she gave me an appreciation for good villains from a very young age.)

It was, as the Californians say, dope.

There were gymnastics. There were martial arts. There was dance and elaborate poses and gorgeous, gorgeous Mandarin (?) arias. And the soprano sang higher than most European-trained opera singers.

^____________^ The performing arts are so cool. I like Kabuki, and I like musicals, but absolutely nothing beats Beijing opera.


In other news, a new rant in the fic blog, and I joined another clique. (I'm one of only two writers on the web who writes for this weird pairing, believe it or not, and the other one will testify that I corrupted her.)

Blargh, more later, I'm pooped.

Just some social blogging. The story about the Beijing Opera comes later. ^____^

Tochira, I'd... give you many special things if you wrote that "insipid fangirl version" of "devil's trill". XD

Ouji-samaaaaa. There were Tibetan monks down at the Mall today, at the Folklife Festival. Dude. You should see them debate. "Yoooooooooo chau-chau-chau!" XD

Dude, D-chan, I had an idea for the fic you wanted me to write, but... it might be all-dialogue. Would you be okay with that, or would you rather I put in other stuff? ^_^

And, um, everyone who's beta-ing Tabula Rasa--Chapter Five should be done by tonight. I hope.

Oh, screw.

So I posted this piece I just wrote. I posted a link to it on my fic blog, and the entire fic on CLAMPesque.

And I re-read it today when I got up.

I like it. I like it a lot. Inasmuch as I can look at it and say, "Hey, this piece doesn't suck."

Bad habits, however, die very hard and very slowly. So for most of the past thirty-six hours I've been an absolute ficbeast, trying to convince myself to find something wrong with it, wondering why the hell I decided to make the choices I did with it.

So if I've been really fidgety and weird with people lately, I apologise. I love the act of writing; I just can't get used to the idea that I've actually put something out which isn't complete shite.

Here's a pretty how-de-do.

I have to go to bed before I systematically rip all my fanfic to shreds, page by page by page.

Insecurity blows.

Happy Fourth of July, all. (And, boy, a VERY happy Fourth to my neighbours who were setting off fireworks at three in the morning.)

There's a little something in the fic blog... just something that's been making me feel weird for a while, I might expand on it later.

Right now, though, I'm going to go curl up with the Banquet Essay and write and hide from my relatives.

Okay, this is weird, but kinda cool.

A thumb's length from my elbow, on my forearm, is a freckle. Another thumb's length past it, between the elbow and the wrist, is another freckle at a near-perfect diagonal to that one; another thumb's length up, at the base of my wrist, is a third, and a little more than a thumb's length up, on the inside of my little finger, is a fourth.

I know where my "real" birthmark is--a little nub of skin at the back of my neck that I tend to play with when I get nervous. But I think a diagonal line of freckles is a pretty neat distinguishing mark, too.

>__<

Cue faint, persistent whine here.

I have a volunteer job, two days a week. I went today, and it's nice, and I like it a lot. I got to sit and be quiet and mark books for recording, which is... very calming. My mind wandered a little at times, but no one cared. And, really, the entire experience was nice, because I was Out Of The House And Doing Something.

However.

Mom has promised me the money I need for Otakon if I can get some kind of work five days a week. I can manage evening work at this volunteer place four days a week--they don't work on Fridays. (Hey, seems good to me.)

So I'm wondering whether or not to just give in and see if I can find a job on nearby campus. (Normally I don't like the idea of working at a school I attend/will be attending, because I kind of feel like I'm taking the job away from somebody who needs it to help with financial aid or off-campus housing or whatnot. But... maybe that's just me being self-conscious and, as usual, stupid.)

Blerg.

Also if anybody wants to comission fanart, I'm cheap. And will make an effort to go scan stuff either tomorrow or Friday.

BLARGH.

I hate PMS. I might just as well NOT take my ADD medication when it hits, because my hormones are somehow, miraculously, stronger than what I take. X(

I know, though, that the cramps and the worst of the magpie-syndrome will be gone by tomorrow, which is when I plan to go in to my volunteer job. I'm going to work one from 1 to about 6 or 7 every weekday, I just... don't want to snap people's heads off today. Or go in to work and spend half the time I should be tape-checking pretending to be Tsuzuki. I want to show people that I can do what they tell me to do.

Wrote a tiny entry in the fic blog. Congratulate me, I'm a third of the way through Tabula Rasa Chapter Five.

And Renfield? I know I've said this before, but thank you for introducing me to Fatboy Slim, Crystal Method, and Lionrock. There's so much I wouldn't be able to get written without their aid.

I have Yami no Matsuei!

...and, damn, next Otakon I'm cosplaying puppy-Tsuzuki. Paws and tail and ears and all. He's just so cute.

'mouto-chan, you rock.

Tidbit of information for everybody: according to my father and uncle, "under God" was not added to the Pledge of Allegiance until 1954, when the "threat" of Communism loomed large.

Our founding fathers had nothing to do with putting God into the Pledge.

And, you know, I do wonder what it says about the U.S. that we have a pledge when so few (maybe no?) other countries do. It seems terribly insecure of The American Powers That Be, doesn't it?

Wow, apply the right book and suddenly things feel a little better.

So my mom bought me a copy of House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski, yesterday. It's some creepy shit. I jumped at random noises for most of the morning--mind, this was around eleven in the morning, when it was bright and sunny and not raining.

And now Tabula Rasa is starting to feel a little more comfortable. I think I can go back to it and do a little work today.

Thanks, Mr. Danielewski.

Not that I'll ever look at a spiral staircase again without shivering, but thanks.