September 23rd, 2003

Reborn - Yamamoto CHIBITA

Internet Access is Always Internet Access.

We access our Internet from computer cluster rooms, and today I was in one when we were all evicted, as a class was coming in. So I made my way across to road to the computer center in which I am sitting now. ^_^ Therefore I will post before any other disruptions take place. The tenses in the following LJ entry may vary. I was writing LJ entries even while Internet access was far from certain. ^_^ So here they are:

When I watched Chicago. *Whoa*. There was an usher selling ice cream during the interval, and after looking her way for quite some time, I went up to her and asked, “Can I ask you a completely insane question? Are you into Lord of the Rings?” And she looked at me and said, “Big time.”

And inside, I was all !!!!!!!

And I’d never seen her before that day. Anyway, her favourite character is Aragorn (YAY, not Legolas!), and she’s into the books *and* the movies. She asked me, “Do I have it written all over my face?” And I answered– “I don’t know – I just wondered if you were into LOTR.” *laughter* So if anyone in London sees a strange individual wandering around asking even stranger fandom questions, it’s probably me. ^_^

I don’t know if it’s LOTR-Fandom Radar or anything, but that one time, it worked spectacularly.

Musicals. WHOA. I’ve watched Les Miserables for the first time in my life. It has only reinforced my impression that Cosette is an utter wimp. I much prefer Eponine, save the fact that she was so into Marius. ALSO. Marius was played by, of all people, Jon S Club 7. Then again, Ricky Martin also played Marius at one point in time, so you can probably see the correlation between Marius and pop-idol stardom.

The girl playing Young Cosette was absolutely fabulous. She was perfect. She performed a completely haunting rendition of “Castle on A Cloud”. And you can see, in later acts, when Cosette sings, she occasionally sings to the melody of “Castle In A Cloud”. “Cosette’s Theme”, if you like.

Recently Escaped! Jean Valjean = Out of Azkaban! Sirius. Even down to the hair.

The Bishop who forgives Valjean for stealing his silver – he was priceless. He, Valjean, and Javert, had Those Voices. Those Alan Rickman-Jeremy Irons voices. *beams* When anyone speaks or sings with a voice like That, it doesn’t matter who they are. My Inner Fangirl does backflips of joy.

Also I am having Very Bad Thoughts about Jean Valjean and Javert. I mean, what with Javert being completely obsessed with capturing Valjean? Am having same Bad Thoughts, to a lesser extent, as regards Enjolras (who was dangerously good-looking) and Marius (who had a ponytail. A blond ponytail. I do not know what it is about the clean-cut, innocent look when coupled with a blond ponytail that does this to me).

And Eponine’s parents. Right at the end, there’s a scene where they gatecrash Marius and Cosette’s wedding (BOO Marius! You should’ve married Eponine!), and they, being the gutter rats they are, are dishing the dirt on the wedding guests. Eponine’s Dad sings (to the tune of Lovely Ladies), “That one’s a queer, but what can you do?” The accused stops dancing, marches over and decks his accuser – and promptly nances off. The audience was very amused. ^_^

Leicester Square poster shops have Princess Leia cut-outs. Rebel Leader! Leia and Captured by Jabba! Leia. And also Darth Vader cut-outs. Life-size. And a Gandalf the Sparkly White cutout.

Things I have Felt Very Silly About Discovering In London:

1 . Brandy Snaps have no brandy in them. None. They do have ginger. But ginger snaps are cookies. So I guess they couldn’t name them ginger snaps. Also, brandy snaps remind me of the taste of Nestle powdered milk. I feel six again. But they’re chewy. ^_^

*everyone either o_Os, @_@s, or ^_^;;;;;;;s*

2 . Pardon my intense stupidity, but London vehicle speeds are measured in miles. Forgive Fresh Out of Airport! Me for looking at signboards, and thinking, “30 kilometres an hour. . . That does seem slow. . . ”

I’m sure there will be more.

London is an utterly gorgeous city, and it has given me 99.9% SQUEE and only 0.01% Kick Offending Object and Complain Loudly Material, but the 0.01% was Collapse ) So I shall make a great deal of noise for a little while, and I will go back to squee. ^_^

I like high fantasy. That’s Tolkien-esque fantasy, when writers create entire new worlds, new languages, new cultures - everything. I think my style of writing, however, is high XDXDXD. It was homura that came up with the XDXDXD aspect of it, though. ^_^

And there was this lovely elderly American gentleman who was on the same Lake District tour as my mom and I. At the end of the journey, this happened:

He asked, “Did you enjoy the trip?”

And I was:

^____________________YES___________________^

And then he said, “I think you’ll have fun wherever you go. I hope you’ll always have that enthusiasm.”

And I was - ^_______________________________^

The Lake District was completely gorgeous. I wished, so many times, that I had Ratal with me, and anyasy, and arwen_elvenfair, and everybody who has ever loved fantasy. It is Lord of the Rings country as is no other - except maybe New Zealand. Our tour vehicle - it was not a bus, nor a car - it was a Mountain Goat. Somewhere in between. ^_^ - stopped at the top of a dam, and it was breathtaking. There was mist over the water, there was the mountains surrounded us, and the mist rolling through the forests, and the most glorious silence I have ever heard. I wished so badly that you were all with me to share that. *hugs you all*
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    The hum of several computers. ^_^
Reborn - Yamamoto CHIBITA

About Last Night

This was written last night. After the first Pub Crawl of the evening.

As I write this, the hours are drawing to a close on what was my first proper day at university. *wry smile* I began the day’s official business by starting off in the wrong direction to collect my timetable, but ran into other students who were, thankfully, more enlightened than I was. I shall now make the first pointless observation of this post by stating autumn is almost upon London, and the leaves are falling into drifts that the wind swirls in circles. Just the way I read it happening in books. There is so much that is still amazing about London to me. The way breath mists in the air, the scent of the air being so fresh - it’s all still new to me.

We had our first Law talk in the Chemistry Auditorium. With a massive periodic table up on the wall. And our first speaker said, “If you’re seeking invisibility in a large lecture theatre, the best place is the front.” Unfortunately, the mere mention of that condition made me wonder why, our sub-dean’s first name being Rodney, his last name couldn’t be Skinner.

Also we learnt that our lectures for tomorrow, Introduction to Law, and our introduction to IT (or was it the Library? Not that it matters, as you soon will discover) were cancelled, because the University staff were going on strike. They were on strike today, and were giving out leaflets in front of the school. They earn £2,134, and believe that they should earn £4,000. The strike’s on for today and tomorrow, which is when most of the students will be enrolling in school. The Library’s closed. Guess it’s Strike Logic to hit where it hurts to the most, so that everyone will know how vital you are.

And the first day of Freshers’ Fortnight, for the lawyers, began today.

Little feels better than a hot bath after a cold night out. Managed, to my relief, to hitch a ride home on a cab with a Hall-mate and Hall-mate’s friend. Which is a relief when it’s 9pm in London, and you’re too many winding streets from where you’re supposed to be. Tonight was Pub Crawl night, and a girl whose name I cannot remember told me not to take this night as representative of Pub Crawl nights. There were some fifty of us Law students wandering Tottenham Court Road and its alleys once the sun set. I’ve tried Guinness, Carling, and Bailey’s Irish Cream, though only a mouthful of each, and from glasses that were not my own. (And no, they weren’t discarded – You don’t discard pints that cost £2.50 each – at least, I wouldn’t. You could buy broadband Internet time with that. . .) I have discovered that Guinness is exceedingly bitter, and was informed that in this particular beer’s case, the alcohol sinks to the bottom. I’ve discovered that shots exist in jelly form, and with 15% alcohol. I’ve discovered that it’s an excellent idea to wear your worst clothes to pub crawls of this scale, because by the time they’re through, your clothes might as well be smoke for the way they smell. Also, Carling tastes like Jolly Shandy, only with less bite, and it’s rather bland. After the 20th or so new person you’ve met in the I’ve-Lost-Count-By-Now Pub, trying to remember names is like trying to keep awake during lectures at university. Rather difficult, but some do it with ease. And I must tell you about THE FUNNEL. It’s a funnel attached to a long, black tubing, which is used to pour, one pint at a time, alcohol, down the throats of freshers who want to take up the challenge. By the time it was nine, one of the students had already done that thrice. I think he was sick on the second time, but I don’t believe it stopped him. Much wild cheering accompanies the accomplished feat. Much alcohol also finds its way to the floorboards.

And I think what has made any experience valuable/bearable to me is that somewhere within all this is something I can use. I walk home from a night where I can’t remember anybody’s name, through the cold, my clothes might as well/could be smoke for their scent, with the beginnings of a headache, and I think – this will make fic someday. Somewhere in any experience, no matter how unendurable, is something that can be used. So when I write of firestarters that carry the scent of smoke, or of the way drunken undergraduates try to open tuna cans with fire extinguishers at 1.10am in the morning, of how telling a man who won’t move out of your way to do something really rather impossible is never a good idea when he owns the pub you’re sitting in, or even of hobbits and pints in Bree – there’s something real that I can put into the words I’m writing. I think these thoughts came from reading Neil Gaiman’s The Wake, yesterday, sitting down in Waterstones’ on a step-stool. In it, Gaiman had Shakespeare talk to Dream about his son’s death. Shakespeare said, he grieved, but inside, he was rejoicing. Because now he had experienced real loss, real tragedy, and now he could go and write about it. I thought it was a lovely idea, and you can read it to say that there is something redeeming in even the worst experience of your life. Well, provided you survive it, of course.

I shall now use lyrics from a – yes, cringe – pop song, and I shall say that every step I take brings me one step closer to you, and every day that passes takes me closer to home. And sometimes thinking of the many steps that lie between here and you makes the tears threaten, so I think of something else instead. But it will not be long. And even as I write, it is one day less.

After which my neighbor proceeded to play extremely loud rap music from 11.30pm to 1.10am, and I remember because I was awake all that time. I did go over to tell him to turn it down at about 12.30pm, and he did - a little. Earlier I'd learnt that at 1.10am the night before, several drunken students on my floor had been wandering about trying to open a can of tuna with a fire extinguisher. And today I learnt that music is not the only thing on my floor that keeps people awake at night - a hall-mate on the same floor has been woken by the couple next door to him. Speculations are all correct.

All in all there is still more good than anything else. ^_^ Definitely. And at the moment, I have Internet access, and Livejournal, and that is worth a great deal of happiness. ^_^

*hugs all of you* You've been absolutely wonderful. There is nothing like a Livejournal-induced high, and I thank all of you for being a source of happiness in these times. ^_^
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