edenfalling: stained-glass butterfly in a purple frame (butterfly)
Reply to this meme by yelling "Words!" and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you. These words were given to me by [livejournal.com profile] snaegl.

(If you ask for words, be prepared for me to flail and take a day or two and perhaps crib them directly from your journal's interest list, because I suck at this sort of game. If I ever went on a TV show where they ask how well you know your 'fill-in-relationship' person? I would fail so hard you'd have to invoke ESP 'overlook me' fields to explain how I could possibly miss so many details.)

I got a little long-winded for some responses, which I have cut to be polite and to avoid spamming people with boring details about my life.

-----

1. Fanfic

Hello, pastime that has eaten my life since 2002! (Has it really been seven years? Wow. Where does the time go?)

Hmm. I still think sometimes, that reading and writing fanfiction is a weird hobby in a lot of ways... )

-----

2. Homework

The former bane of my life. *grin* Seriously, I never saw the point of homework when I was in school, and somewhere between 1/3 to 2/3 of the time, I didn't bother doing it. This is the main reason my grades were so variable. When teachers did not grade homework, I usually got As. When they did grade homework, I often dropped down to Cs. *shrug* I got a little more responsible about assignments in college, but not much. And I confess that I still fail to see the point of homework in general -- if you can't teach a concept during a lesson, why do you think your students will learn it on their own when they're tired, distracted, and resentful at the theft of their free time?

-----

3. Star Island

Home of the only lake-within-a-lake in North America! (Or at least that is the claim.) Also home of my family's summer cabin. It's been in my dad's family since shortly after WWII -- I think Grandpa bought the lease in 1948 or 1949 -- and when my dad and aunt die, it will pass to me, Vicky, and our cousins Eric and Brian. I know Vicky and I will latch onto the cabin with both hands. I suspect Brian will also, but I am less sure about Eric.

Anyway, Star Island is in Cass Lake, on the Mississippi River in north-central Minnesota. The island is mostly contained within Chippewa National Forest, though the south shore and scattered patches here and there are still private land. Our cabin is on forest land, and as such, we don't own it; we lease it, long-term, from the Forest Service. This means we have fairly restrictive codes about cabin appearance, septic fields, etc. Our cabin has a red roof, which is grandfathered in because it was red before the Forest Service decided green and brown are the only acceptable colors for blending into the trees and underbrush. We are on the east shore, which is a huge, curving bay with at least three miles of open water between the island and the mainland. Most of the east shore is a tall, sandy bluff, but it flattens out to the north, allowing a portage in to Lake Windigo.

Star Island is named because it has a number of sharply defined points, rather than being sort of lumpy and round like many other islands. It does not, however, look anything like a star. It looks like a giant mutant chicken. (Seriously. Go to Google maps, search for Cass Lake, MN, move the view a little northeast out into the lake, and see for yourself.) The northwest point is the head, Anderson's Point (northeast) is the tail, and Lake Windigo is the folded wing. (Alternatively, Lake Windigo is a giant mutant egg visible through the miracle of ultrasound. Variety is good!)

You know, I am going to take this opportunity to post some poetry I have written about Star Island over the years, because I really do love the place that much, and I don't know a better way to convey the sensation of a small, semi-tamed sliver of the North Woods, adrift on miles of water.

Instead of a Rainbow (1998) )


Reflections (1998) )


Inland, Walking South (2001) )


Island Dreams (2002) )


Being Apart (2003) )

-----

4. TJS

Torey J. Sabbatini, my elementary school -- the "all round school," as the slogan went. It was a circular building, with a square jammed into one corner to hold the principal's office and related rooms. The library was in the center of the circle, surrounded by a ring hallway, with wedge-shaped classrooms outside that.

This is where I met [livejournal.com profile] snaegl, back in first grade.

-----

5. Reading

I read, therefore I am.

(You think I am kidding. Well, yes, I am... but not nearly as much as you suppose.)

I can, a little, remember times when I did not know how to read -- or rather, I have memories from before I could read... )

Like I said: I read, therefore I am. Or perhaps: I am, therefore I read.

It comes to the same thing either way.
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
In honor of National Poetry Month (speaking of which, why is there not an international poetry month? inquiring minds want to know!), I am going to inflict one of my old poems on you. *grin*

I wrote this in summer of 2001, after taking a walk on Star Island.

---------------

Inland, Walking South

This is the trees' graveyard,
here along the grassy path, lined by mounds
and hollows and thin, many-trunked birches,
ghostly in the leaf-green light.

Fifty years ago and more, )

---------------------------------------------

In other news, I definitely overdid it yesterday at work -- my cold struck back with a vengeance overnight. *sigh* But I seem to be getting moderately better, and tomorrow is a shorter shift (7 hours vs. 9 hours) which I can probably cut down even more (leaving at 5:30pm is a long and honorable tradition), so hopefully I won't relapse again.

*scuttles off to try writing "Secrets"*
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
In honor of National Poetry Month (speaking of which, why is there not an international poetry month? inquiring minds want to know!), I am going to inflict one of my old poems on you. *grin*

I wrote this in summer of 2001, after taking a walk on Star Island.

---------------

Inland, Walking South

This is the trees' graveyard,
here along the grassy path, lined by mounds
and hollows and thin, many-trunked birches,
ghostly in the leaf-green light.

Fifty years ago and more, )

---------------------------------------------

In other news, I definitely overdid it yesterday at work -- my cold struck back with a vengeance overnight. *sigh* But I seem to be getting moderately better, and tomorrow is a shorter shift (7 hours vs. 9 hours) which I can probably cut down even more (leaving at 5:30pm is a long and honorable tradition), so hopefully I won't relapse again.

*scuttles off to try writing "Secrets"*
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: "Chamber of Secrets" from Ginny's point of view. Ginny tries to convince herself that she isn't guilty of Tom's crimes, with rather limited success. A Valentine's Day catastrophe does not help anything.

Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the ridiculous length of time it takes me to write each chapter of "Secrets" these days. There are only 5 chapters left. I'd like to have them done before I turn 25, but the way things are going, I really don't know how likely that is. Sorry.

The singing Valentine, in canon, is open to a fair bit of interpretation. Did Ginny actually write it? If so, did she mean to send it? Were her brothers playing a trick on her? Was Draco just trying to embarrass Harry and bringing Ginny into the trick as icing on the cake? It's never explained, so I think my version works as well as any other. I'm also trying to account for the ridiculously long period of time when Ginny knows that Harry has the diary, but she doesn't do anything to take the book back. Again, I think my explanation works within canon.

Thanks to Lasair ([livejournal.com profile] lasultrix) and Quetzle ([livejournal.com profile] aichmetes, aka Cat), my betas, for cleaning up this chapter -- Lasair told me what to take out, and Cat told me how to rearrange the remaining stuff so it works better. Special thanks to Lasair for Ginny's first and third poetry attempts. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, bad dialogue, implausible characterizations, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs.

---------------------------------------------

( Chapter 10 - Slings and Arrows )

---------------------------------------------

Special Bonus! More Bad Poetry! )

...I join Lasair in being slightly worried about her flatmate's sanity.

Also, I think I shall go and make backdated entries for my other Secrets chapters, or at least a master page with links to both the (mostly up-to-date) FF.net version and the (sadly out-of-date and badly formatted) FictionAlley version. Then I can put that in my lj memories and finally have all my fic listed in one central location! Mwahahahaha!!!

World domination will be attempted next Thursday. Donations accepted. *holds out hat*
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary: "Chamber of Secrets" from Ginny's point of view. Ginny tries to convince herself that she isn't guilty of Tom's crimes, with rather limited success. A Valentine's Day catastrophe does not help anything.

Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the ridiculous length of time it takes me to write each chapter of "Secrets" these days. There are only 5 chapters left. I'd like to have them done before I turn 25, but the way things are going, I really don't know how likely that is. Sorry.

The singing Valentine, in canon, is open to a fair bit of interpretation. Did Ginny actually write it? If so, did she mean to send it? Were her brothers playing a trick on her? Was Draco just trying to embarrass Harry and bringing Ginny into the trick as icing on the cake? It's never explained, so I think my version works as well as any other. I'm also trying to account for the ridiculously long period of time when Ginny knows that Harry has the diary, but she doesn't do anything to take the book back. Again, I think my explanation works within canon.

Thanks to Lasair ([livejournal.com profile] lasultrix) and Quetzle ([livejournal.com profile] aichmetes, aka Cat), my betas, for cleaning up this chapter -- Lasair told me what to take out, and Cat told me how to rearrange the remaining stuff so it works better. Special thanks to Lasair for Ginny's first and third poetry attempts. Any remaining canon goofs, grammar mistakes, continuity errors, bad dialogue, implausible characterizations, boring passages, and Americanisms are my fault, not theirs.

---------------------------------------------

( Chapter 10 - Slings and Arrows )

---------------------------------------------

Special Bonus! More Bad Poetry! )

...I join Lasair in being slightly worried about her flatmate's sanity.

Also, I think I shall go and make backdated entries for my other Secrets chapters, or at least a master page with links to both the (mostly up-to-date) FF.net version and the (sadly out-of-date and badly formatted) FictionAlley version. Then I can put that in my lj memories and finally have all my fic listed in one central location! Mwahahahaha!!!

World domination will be attempted next Thursday. Donations accepted. *holds out hat*
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
World Blog Haiku Day:

Today was boring
But I have no class tonight
Holidays are cool

There. Anyway, I helped Pat out for a while, and washed her hair properly (some of her other people either put it off, or don't rinse the shampoo out thoroughly enough). And because of the legal celebration of Independence Day today, I don't have evening class! Muy mucho cool.

*beams cheerfully and wanders off to eat shishkebab*
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
World Blog Haiku Day:

Today was boring
But I have no class tonight
Holidays are cool

There. Anyway, I helped Pat out for a while, and washed her hair properly (some of her other people either put it off, or don't rinse the shampoo out thoroughly enough). And because of the legal celebration of Independence Day today, I don't have evening class! Muy mucho cool.

*beams cheerfully and wanders off to eat shishkebab*
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
Here we are, with more poetry from the vaults.

This poem is, to a large extent, about my old friend and ex-boyfriend Ryan. He's a great guy, really; he just has way too much emotional baggage that he refuses to effectively deal with. Which is why he can't keep a healthy, steady relationship, but just try telling him that... *grumbles about the general stupidity of men*

---------------------------------------------
My Dear Faust
---------------------------------------------

Listen to me truly: I don't pity you.
I grieve for the boy you were -- he went through hell.
You seem intent on staying there, a lost soul,
Self-damned, seeking a Gretchen;
I am not she.
I don't know anything about heaven.

You say I am an angel, that I put on a halo and flew away.
Like hell.
You say I am a diamond, that my flaws make me perfect.
Like hell.

There are no angels for men like you,
Drawn to your suffering, lonely and lost.
There is no Beatrice to guide you.
I am my own woman -- no angel, no lost love;
I am not your absolution.
Find your own forgiveness; it is not mine to give.

You made your devil's bargain.
Find your own way out.

---------------------------------------------
Summer 2000
revised 21 May 2002
---------------------------------------------

I'll probably post some old stories over the next couple days, as I have nowhere else to put them until such a day as I get around to acquiring a website and properly learning html. Which will not be anytime soon, more's the pity.
edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
Here we are, with more poetry from the vaults.

This poem is, to a large extent, about my old friend and ex-boyfriend Ryan. He's a great guy, really; he just has way too much emotional baggage that he refuses to effectively deal with. Which is why he can't keep a healthy, steady relationship, but just try telling him that... *grumbles about the general stupidity of men*

---------------------------------------------
My Dear Faust
---------------------------------------------

Listen to me truly: I don't pity you.
I grieve for the boy you were -- he went through hell.
You seem intent on staying there, a lost soul,
Self-damned, seeking a Gretchen;
I am not she.
I don't know anything about heaven.

You say I am an angel, that I put on a halo and flew away.
Like hell.
You say I am a diamond, that my flaws make me perfect.
Like hell.

There are no angels for men like you,
Drawn to your suffering, lonely and lost.
There is no Beatrice to guide you.
I am my own woman -- no angel, no lost love;
I am not your absolution.
Find your own forgiveness; it is not mine to give.

You made your devil's bargain.
Find your own way out.

---------------------------------------------
Summer 2000
revised 21 May 2002
---------------------------------------------

I'll probably post some old stories over the next couple days, as I have nowhere else to put them until such a day as I get around to acquiring a website and properly learning html. Which will not be anytime soon, more's the pity.
edenfalling: golden flaming chalice in a double circle (gold chalice)
I was going to write an April Fool's fic, really I was... but I seem to be fresh out of humorous ideas. Bah.

So instead, loosely in the religious spirit of Easter (more the spring celebration bit, not the specifically Christian version of the rebirth-of-the-year story), here's a poem I wrote a while back in a Building Your Own Theology course. (Yes, Unitarian Universalists really do have adult RE courses like that. We're weird that way. It's one reason I've stayed with the denomination instead of drifting away into vague semi-agnostic semi-paganism with lots of candle rituals.)

Credo )

And yes, I really do track my poetry revisions to the day. Probably because I so rarely write any... I'm all about the prose, baby!

Must go and revise stupid HP one-shots today while I have no classes and have no desire to go outside in the rain. I've started to get itchy feelings that chapter 7 of Secrets is ready to be written, but I refuse to write it until I have my [censored] one-shots out of the way. So I Must! Finish! Editing!

Otherwise they'll never be finished, you know. 'Cause I'm lazy and forgetful like that.

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edenfalling: stylized black-and-white line art of a sunset over water (Default)
Elizabeth Culmer

July 2025

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