Scripta Manent

... in my submitted and published (how mortifying) fan fics:

- flying attendant
- electric hand beater

/lol

~ * ~

Lola's funeral was a banig of odd and wonderful habi-- I'll refer myself to my email to Chiara, 10 June 2009. As for you friendses who do read my posts, I can sum it up like this:

~I loved having the wind numb my cheeks.

~I was disgusted with inconsiderate fellow bus passengers

~I loved how sweet my drunk uncle was to us nieces and nephews

~I disliked forwardness and misguided thoughtfulness-- there was this woman there, a distant cousin, who made my nine-year-old sister feel inadequate and uncomfortable. She came up to us and chatted and flaunted sign language. Why is it it's the people I dislike whom I can lipread so easily? Or do I dislike them after lipreading them? Anyway, she might have meant well, but Jouie is so good with spelling things to me using the alphabet signs, which is why the woman sorta challenged her. The woman is a teacher. She said she's forgotten the alphabet. She asked Jouie, 'what is your name?' And Jouie signed 'Joanlouise'. The woman said, 'No, no' and signed the phrase. This embarrassed Jouie so much, I feared she might not sign a single letter to me the rest of our stay there.

~Got reacquainted with a girl called aptly called Gaddy (Her real name's Heidi but they call her 'Gaddy' so that she and her sister are a perfect rhyme. Gaddy and Kathy. :D). I love Gaddy.

~Loved the sea. Well, the view of the sea. And mountains. And treeful cliffs. The Mayon was hiding behind her veil of clouds, though.


~ * ~


The reason why I haven't finished my email to you yet, Chiara:



And it's your fault. Just finished it an hour ago. I am heartbroken.

Don't let the title or the cover misquide you, lj friends who haven't read this yet. This isn't a love story. Love is there, but it's purpose here is not to entertain. Oh no. And if you get the book, don't read the synopsis at the back, nor the praises for the book in the flaps. Just read. And let it unfold by itself, let it jolt you. I've been spoiled somewhat by Chiara, in that she already told me the spine of the story, what it's about, but I've still been jolted. Who knows how much more I'd have been shaken if I'd begun reading thinking it's the usual teenybopper dramedy-romance. Alright, the font of the title might have clued me in, too, about the futuristic elements and setting, but this is like and unlike the Giver by Lois Lowry and the Uglies series by Scott Westerfeld. I can't pinpoint where the difference is except that I wasn't on the verge of tears after I finished Giver and Uglies...

That's it, Never Let Me Go is just too like and too unlike the many genres it bumps hips with. I love the absence of the panorama you usually get from fantasy and futuristic books. I love the absence of the typical angst and anxieties you usually get from the YA's, the conflicts you usually get from the Romances. But the panorama and the angst and the anxieties and the conflicts are all there. Not beneath the surface, like a building's foundation, but rather like the very flu virus hovering around these days. :D

I'm hankering to read more Ishiguro now.

~ * ~

For comfort in between sober bites of this fillet mignon that is NLMG and Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, I had Very Rocky Road in the guise of Susan Elizabeth Phillips' Natural Born Charmer. You know how most romance books begin in the workplace or cafe with dialogue with a workmate or a friend to establish and introduce things? I hate that. This one begins in the road and had me laughing only seconds into every reading session.

~ * ~

I quit SPEW.
I quit The Restricted Section.
It doesn't feel right. But I feel relieved somewhat. Now I can focus on other things without being guilty of my lack of attention on these two.

~ * ~

What focus? Did you notice how I've been reading? Don't ask how I've been writing.

/headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk /headdesk...

~ * ~

A belated but heartfelt happy birthday wish to Leanne. *air huggle*

Aaaaand happy birthday, our sweet, prettiful and lovable Sandrea!

... and that snapshot, our trophy. It is our proof of accomplishment, of boxing that which cannot be boxed."
- Johanna Carla B. Pilar, Quizas

More than landscapes, it's people and memories we like to 'box'. Never mind the quality of the image, hehe. We just need that souvenir to trigger the recalling synapses in our brains. That souvenir, period.

Yesterday:


~ July, Tonks, Sherly, Rolydee, Jego and me, after cooking and eating French toast, chips and donuts. *bloat*

Christmas:



~ Rovie (who's insane when there's a camera) and Jouie, my goddaughter and my sister

~ my nephew, Josaphat Ira Emmanuel - Jop for short. This guy's going to break hearts someday. For now, he's content beating us at UNO.

~An officious little puffed-up canary wearing glasses with faded maroon wire-rim said in response to my last post: "Feeling jobless and useless isn't nice to feel in combination, especially since you ARE jobless."

I said-- well, I didn't say anything, just *nod-pouted*

Hehe.

~Oh, after Mass last Sunday, I lounged in the pew while waiting for the Communion to finish. I normally always sit straight, but that particular evening, I was stuffed with ginatan, a banana and jackfruit dessert with coconut cream and brown sugar, among other decadent trimmings.

Josh and I always attended the last Mass, so we had the pew to ourselves. It was okay to stretch my legs, cross my ankles, and lean on the arm I had propped two feet from me on the seat. Across the aisle, the girl who didn't have my subtlety at looking at the other churchgoers' attire and shoes seemed to be paying me more attention than was warranted by my non-special getup.

And then she whispered to her mom.

Seconds later, the mom also looked at me, though with more finesse, on the pretense of shrugging her wrap higher up her shoulders.

I saw all this from the corner of my eye, so I just dismissed it. Maybe they weren't even looking at ME.

And then the priest rose, we all rose, and we were blessed in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. Thanks be to God... *applause*

That's God you're applauding, so you do it with energy and high in the air.

That's when I felt the air on my tummy.

Apparently, the two lowest snaps of my blouse had come undone-- maybe from my bloat and my slouch.

At least, the mystery of 'the looks' was cleared up.

And my navel was clean.

/giggles.

~And while I'm recalling things, let me go back further and let December 21st of last year be on the record:
J called J "Mr. Good Son"
And J called J "Ms. Bright Side".

Sherly and I had planned long, long ago to have custom shirts to wear to the Twilight showing.

Busyness and conflicting schedules got in the way. So Sherly just gave me her shirt and money for white paint last Sunday when we met. I rushed mine last Saturday, after I came home from Carmie's christening.

We'd planned to go to Air Art with our designs, but, huh, they charge a lot more than we're willing to pay. So I Googled 'how to print shirts', and discovered this lovely tutorial right here on LJ!

It gave me heart and confidence.

( Joanna's first foray into the printing business... Oi! Step by step in pictures... )

Et voila!



Not bad for a first try... though the E's in 'silence' are more like Pacman's than E's. LOL. And there are a lot of globs there, see? I won't press too hard with the cotton wool next time. I'll also tape the stencil much, much tighter!



~*~

I got 'scent and silence' from Midnight Sun. Go read it. Me won't spoil.

I did receive several looks from hardcore fans in the mall, who recognized what my blouse was saying: 'Come hither, Edward.' ^_^

Been busy-busy again. Another lovely weekend.

For the past five years, I've had a godchild annually. I'm flattered my cousins think so highly of me. But then, it's so much easier to have a cousin as your child's godparent. No escape come Christmas. Heehee!

Ate Junie Carl and I have always been close. I was so happy when she picked me as godmom to Carmela. Come to think of it, godmother is way better than being picked as a bridesmaid. I forgive Ate Junie Carl. Oiyoy. Me and Camille both, right, Cam?

Saturday, November 29th:
Carmela Antoinette. A shame she's camera shy, she has such a cute smile! (And anyway, who wouldn't be slightly cranky after being passed from arm to arm at least a dozen times? And that was just at church. ^_^ Carmela was such a pro, she didn't fuss! Just looked around and thought of Neverland...)


Carmie and her Mommy, Ate Junie



Jouie, moi, our cousins Camille, Kuya Carlston (holding Carmela) and Jonie. Behind is little King, my nephew*, Kuya Tonton's son.


Anna, Camille and Patricia (Anna's friend) with me on the UNO table... we were plotting the coming Christmas extortion. Haha!

*Here in the Philippines, we call a first cousin's child a niece/nephew. A second cousin is the child of a parent's cousin.

~*~

It's been so long since I've held a baby. My other niece/goddaughter Yesha, who's only a year older than Carmie, has been in Bicol all this time. When I was with her, she was still too small to move much.

Every time seven-month old Carmie wriggled, I panicked a bit, thinking she's crying. LOL. They're such bundles of joy and... life! Aah, abies. I can't wait to have Carmie in my arms again.

~*~

An incident: Mom stopped me from singing on the videoke.

I didn't know I could do the trembling-lip thing until then. Wow.

I don't really know how I sound when I sing now. And there were strangers there, Ate Junie's and Kuya Anthony's workmates and friends... Sheesh. Okay! Singing only strictly en famille.

Mom made it up to me. She bought me paints and sponges... and then cotton wool when the sponges didn't work. Haha. But that's next post.

Yesh, where have I been? ^_^ Reading and writing and offline when not in communion with Q, that's all. The name's Bond. James B--

~ * ~

Don't you just love it when you 'discover' books? And even better, when you discover authors?

Sarah Dessen has been winning awards while I was still mostly immersed in Harry Potter and the Classics, and because she/any of her books hasn't been featured in the local book magazine I contribute to, which is my only input about the publishing world aside from some genre blogs and plugs online, I've been unaware.

Now I'm very aware. I'll be collecting and looking out for her books.

I've read and relished two:

The Truth About Forever (2004)

Just Listen (2006)


The latter is an eloquent account of the old adage, 'the truth shall set you free'. I looked it up and discovered it's been made into a movie already. And I don't wonder why, what with modeling, eating disorders, glass houses, your classic snooty high school clique queen and music in a smooth latte-like blend.

I liked The Truth About Forever better, though. I won't spoil, but see the following quotes:

"...there are no guarantees. Be alive."

"...it was okay not to fit in everywhere, as long as you did somewhere."

Unlike other YA writers I've encountered, Dessen doesn't use ultra-modern jargon non-Americans like me would need to look up in the slang dictionary. I liked that. And is this a trend? Protagonists that make you grit your teeth? LOL. Dessen's (in these two books, at least) are conflicted anti-heroines who need to see, and do make it to, the light. With help from their guy leads: to-die-for. A la Edward in their flawed perfection. But unlike Edward, they don't coddle. Oh, and unlike the Twilight books-- which, as I've been losing hair reiterating, are more romance than YA, more romance than fantasy adventure and is only being compared to HP because of its similarly huge fanbase, not because it's remotely the same, so tuck away your complaints and expectations (about there being no 'action' or 'theme' in the books/movie) if you don't know Barbara Cartland, Danielle Steele, Fern Michaels and the rest of them, please Merlin, I'm begging you--Sarah Dessen's YA is what I call 'real' YA, spotlighting growth, maturity, wisdom. So she's right there at the top along with Katherine Paterson, Lois Lowry, Louis Sachar and Jerry Spinelli in my list.

...And speaking of lovable guy leads, worthy of honorable mention is Rob in Meg Cabot's Missing You, the last book in her lesser-known Nancy Drew-with spunk 1-800-WHERE-R-U series (first published under nom-de-plume Jenny Carroll).


It could do with a better, less cartoony, more 'serious' cover to match its content.

~ * ~


I'm supposed to have been with Sherly today at the mall, but I had to cancel. And if I weren't recently steeped in good reads, I wouldn't be this unruffled about it.

Money-argument with my mom. When you live at home without needing allowance for school because you're not studying, with dishwashing as the only regular chore, you will be hard-up for money. Heh.

From here on to Sunday when our other friends have a big movie get-together planned in the city (Sherly will come, too, anyway), I'll have to be good. I'll clean the bathroom and I'll dust the living room.

For the movie and for acrylic paint.

~ * ~

And here's Jego (in one of his jealous reconnoiters of the fence, barking at the mutts outside), my no-fail anti-depressant aside from books.




~ * ~


Before last weekend, I've been doing at least four stories a day. I've received the first of what I'd call 'smile-mail' (Thank you very much! I will fix those right away.) and I've submitted my first problematic thingie to admin. LOL. The thing refuses to be stamped.
/scratches head.

~ * ~

I promise to un-neglect your LJ's after Sunday. Mwahugs. I miss your posts, you know! How much have I been missing? *tries not to think too much about it* I hope you're all doing well, lovies.

• have been obsessed with converting all the stuff I copy and paste on notepads (fan fics, sonnets by Neruda) into PDF's.
• UNO days.

Oncci had bought UNO cards on my birthday. I suspect it's actually his gift to me though he didn't say it. Hee.

My sister and I have stopped our tournament just yesterday, because it's their exams tomorrow. We don't take points, we just tally how often each of us wins. So far, Jouie's in the lead. For an eight-year old, she's a force to be reckoned with in UNO. And I'm not the kind who throws away games to kids at all. In fact, Jouie always feels the need to appease me with a hug when she wins a round.


~she's never gleeful as when she slams down that evil +4 action card.

• Religion (ETA: Which meandered onto books in general, genre in particular): The draft I'm entering into NaNo is a big braid with religion as one of the golden plaits. I've collected information on this element (Creating a Religion, Religion Writing, etc.), and reread and reread Ursula Le Guin's The Tombs of Atuan. That's the... 'feel' I want to employ.

I'm also thankful to Dogland by Will Shetterley. I love this novel. It's one of those books I call 'jampacked'. It's not an epic, but I can't begin to account all the emotions and thoughts I was made to feel and think while immersed in it. It's like I've lived a life while reading. There are few books about which I can say the same. (Even HP, which I adore, only feels like a breeze in comparison somehow). The titles that come immediately to mind are To Kill a Mockingbird, Frances Hodgson Burnett's three novels, and David Baldacci's non-suspense Wish You Well.

So, books whose protagonists are kids, whose stories are fleshed out from the perspective of kids, and whose kids learn--and in consequence, teach-- about life.

This is quite an awakening. I always thought I liked fantasy best. I do love it, but I look at my shelves and see more Newbery/Pulitzer winners and Classics than fantasy.

Of course, this might be because fantasy is expensive. LOL. I'll definitely stock when I have a regular income.

Back to religion, let me quote from Dogland. I've been born to my faith, and I've always had it. But I'm pretty sure I decided and was not simply hardwired to keep it during those dark days when I was thirteen, and my decision continues to prove itself good. I don't really know my drive or my questions, if any. I've been too busy being happy and carefree and thankful to really ponder on this subject, but when I read these passages, things just clicked, also in a manner I won't be able to articulate as I wish, in case someone asks. The two good sides (not the extremist, intolerant ones, you know) of the coin, both simply and profoundly laid:

( You're either asking whether I think God is good, or whether I think there should be a God. )

•  I got Dogland free from Tor. And War for the Oaks by Emma Bull, too. It was delicious reading these two opposite books in tandem.
• I can only imagine how nice it must be to have a spouse who's also a writer.
• Thanks to Tor's fiction (the short story, Shade), I am now itching to have Jumper and Reflex by Steven Gould. We've had the DVD for ages and I've ignored it. Just found out of its better, tree by-product counterpart.

• Dad and I have been text messaging like loons lately. I love him. He recommended chunkyroll dot com to me because it has all sorts of anime and Sailormoon, and all of them have subtitles! He still remembers how obsessed I used to be about Sailormoon, even if that was when I was eleven. Hehe. Aww. I've been obsessed over many things, but Sailormoon stands out because I nearly bankrupted my aunt's printing press because of it.

I gave away-- instead of sold-- the cardboard fans she made me bring to school.


~a relic from ten years ago. Nostalgia!

Well, I was eleven. Haha.

And is there even chunkyroll? I'm just about to check. Oncci says it's 'CRUNCHyroll'. *grins* My dadoink.

• And this ends my rambling update. I have dollops of happiness for October and early November because of sembreak. Will see my MaCofWiz brujos and brujas, not to mention the new ones in Potter Syndicate.

• If my entry to the Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards is, why haven't I talked about it? It still isn't, that's why.

/headdesk

• To read or to write, that is the question. I still have loads to read from Fantasy.

• And here's Rory, whose ears decided they weren't floppy at all.

~~ the quote in my post title is from Juno. Lovely script by Diablo Cody.  

I used to play this song in my kiddie organ, but all I can remember how to sing now are two lines in the chorus: "The will of the wind, you feel it and then..." "It comes and it goes, and God only knows..." And I've long lost the sheet music my aunt gave me.

September 24th, I hunted for my mom's old prayer book. There's music in the back. My sister and I played carols on the flute in her organ, which is twice as long as mine and bearing no pink at all!

September 27th, the cleaning. There was a dead moth trapped in one vase, and until now I haven't removed it yet. Neither had Mom. We couldn't bear to poke it out. It's stuck.



September 28th, Sherly, Rolydee and I reviled and hexed a van driver for waiting so long at the terminal. It was almost two pm (or was it already past two?) when my brujas arrived at the house. The driver must have felt the death glares and Sherly's threatening diarrhea. We choked down lunch in between laughter. Rolydee was her usual bubbly, insane self. She cut up apples for us in our orange juice. Sherly was cured.

>> I was a little miffed Eli (diarrhea), Ren (papers), Allen (defense) and Sandrea (org meeting/debut) didn't come, but bygones be bygones. Hmpf.

I'm Team Edward, Sherly is Team Jacob, Rolydee is... Team Billy.



We went to Mass, Sherly and I, but Rolydee had to go home to her Powerpoint projects



(Sherly saw HIM for the first time. She approves, haha). But we had a lovely time, most of it spent on DVD's and books. I miss my books!

Rolydee borrowed: Breaking Dawn, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept and Stardust.
Sherly borrowed: Pride and Prejudice, M is for Magic and two READ mags

Reniel still has: Messenger
Allen still has: A Little Princess
Riz (in Ilo-ilo!) still has: Flipped and The Phantom of the Opera

But then, I still have Riz's LOTR, hehe. And Sherly's Oliver Twist.

Speaking of books, I bought three Newbery medal-winners last Saturday. Josh and I braved rain and diarrhea (it's been going around. But Josh only had to detour to the men's room once). I bought him a Pokemon Omnibus as compensation and as a very advanced birthday present.

Holes
Sarah, Plain and Tall
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs Basil E. Frankweiler

Shiloh, Bridge to Terabithia and The Giver are the other Newbery winners I've read and relished. I'll start collecting them.

I also finally got my own copy of Palanca Grand Prize winner, Salamanca.

And also, this chick-lit: Read My Lips by Teri Brown.



It's about a deaf girl quite gifted in reading lips. 83% accuracy! This ability made her an asset to certain members of a clique, making her 'belong' while they asked her for gossip and various other tidbits. I think the novel was published directly to trade paperback. There are no blurbs, no citations, no awards, and the protagonist's talent made me green with envy and raise my eyebrows in disbelief at the same time, but I liked it.

And then just last night, I read The Lodger at Wintertide in Fantasy Magazine. Lovely love story between 'Silversack' and Sibley, who was adopted by people in a silent village. Sibley asked Silversack for a voice, not knowing Silversack can't give it to her and that she already has it.

A Maiden's Grave by Jeffery Deaver is another novel with deaf people in it. 'A maiden's grave' had been what Melanie-- rapidly losing her hearing at the time in the back story-- thought was the title of Amazing Grace.

After I searched for 'The Lodger' at Fantasy to get the link again, I found an interview with Gregory Bernard Banks, an author who often included disabled characters in his work, and consequently, Decloaking Disability Bibliography, which will now make me stay offline again, I'm sure. *bookmarks*

Where was I? Oh, books. Oh, I love Powerbooks! I was reunited with my wallet (the one I forgot in the leather pouf there when I bought Breaking Dawn)! And the nice girl at Customer Service (I am so getting her name and cell number next time, hehe) recognized me when I claimed my mag and gift cards and jokingly also made an acknowledgment receipt for the wallet.



I've had this Ferragamo baby for four years! I'm glad I didn't lose it permanently.



~ * ~

Wooh! I'm a little giddy. They probably won't read this, but thank you and God bless you, Ellen Datlow, Kelly Link and Gavin Grant.

I finished my beta reading and then I think I'll lay (very) low (lower than now, meaning no checking for updates on my fave fan fics *grits teeth*) in the fandoms for a while so I can concentrate on another short story and choose and prepare my NaNo entry.

~ * ~

Can someone give me the onomatopoeia of Robocop's gait? Pretty please. Thank you!

Been reading when not scramming for that deadline that's been moved-- thank You, Lord.

~I think I've spotted a pal of Carlisle's in the real world:

THE MYSTERIOUS FIGURE we now know as
the Comte de Saint-Germain was first
witnessed in 1710 under the name the
Marquis de Montferrat. Seen in Venice by a
musician named Rameau and a Parisian
socialite called Madam de Gergy, he had the
appearance of a man between 40 and 50
years of age. It was an appearance he would
hold all his life, and he would only officially
die in 1784. However, many people believe
he never actually passed away. To them, this
enigmatic character has become known as
‘Saint-Germain the Deathless’.

Saint-Germain’s provenance was never
revealed, not even by those he had taken into
his confidence. For his entire life he looked
like a middle-aged, strongly built man of
average height. He was an amazing raconteur
with incredible stories, and had some
impressive talents. He could create fantastic
jewels, had a complete understanding of
music and art, and was able to provide
people with potions which he claimed were
the elixir of youth. He was never seen to eat
or drink, but he enjoyed the company of
women and mixed with the aristocracy. He
never seemed to age.

His great period of celebrity was in Paris
between 1750 and 1760. His main role was
that of spy for King Louis XV. However, his
friendship with the king created many
enemies within the French government and
he was forced to flee to England. He
resurfaced in Russia under the name General
Soltikov and played a major role in the 1762
revolution. At the start of Louis XVI’s reign
he reappeared in Paris and, through an old
friend, the Countesse d’Adhemar, he issued a
warning to Queen Marie Antoinette of the
dangers that were building for the French
monarchy. Saint-Germain tried to see the
king personally, but the police were ordered
to capture the Comte by the king’s minister.
Again, Saint-Germain simply disappeared.

He apparently sought refuge at the castle of
Count Charles of Hesse Cassel in the Duchy
of Schlesing, Austria. It was said that he
revealed many of his secrets to the count, but
by 1784 Saint-Germain had simply grown
bored of life and died. However, there is no
official record of his death, and no tombstone
bearing his name. He left all his papers, many
of which concerned freemasonry, to the
count, but like Louis XV, Charles never
revealed anything about Saint-Germain’s real
history. Indeed, even though he claimed to be
sad that Saint-Germain had died, many
commentators have suggested he did not
appear so upset, and there is a theory that he
may have been privy to a staged death.

Certainly, further reports of Saint-Germain
have been recorded. In 1786 he met the
Empress of Russia, and in 1788 he was
apparently the official French representative
at the World Convention of Freemasons. The
Countess of d’Adhemar said she had met her
old friend in 1789, 1815 and 1821, and that
each time he looked no older than her
memory of him. It is said that he continued
to have an influence on secret societies and
may even have been a guiding light of the
Rosicrucians.

So who was the strange character?

Parisians who disliked him said he was the
son of a Portuguese Jew named Aymar, or an
Alsatian Jew called Wolff. However, the
general feeling at the time was that he was
the natural son of Spain’s Charles II’s widow,
Marie de Neubourg. A more recent study has
suggested that he may actually have been
one of the sons of Prince Francis Racoczi II of
Transylvania. The prince gave his children to
the Emperor of Austria to bring up, but one
of them was said to have died at a young age.
It is now considered that this child may
have, in fact, been raised by a family in the
little village of San Germano in Italy. This
would account for how he assumed the name
the Comte de Saint-Germain.

However, some people, particularly those
involved with the Theosophy movement,
believe Saint-Germain may have been one of
the ‘great masters’, sent to show developed
men the errors of their ways. They believe he
may be still wandering the Earth, waiting for
the right time to reappear and counsel Man
through troubled waters. Until then,
however, the enigmatic figure known as the
Comte de Saint-Germain will remain a
mystery.

^_~


Ooh, and in case I go to Lourdes to drink from the spring, I might go to Saint-Medard, too. Emphasis on "might".

WHEN THE DEACON of Paris, François
de Paris, died in May 1727, great
swathes of mourners attended his
funeral. The congregation was sorrowful, for
François was only 37, and was said to have
holy healing powers. The emotional crowd
followed his coffin as it was placed behind
the high altar in the small church of Saint-
Médard. One by one, the congregation
slowly trundled past the body, paying their
respects and laying tokens of affection. One
crippled boy shuffled up to the coffin with
the help of his father. As they looked onto
the clergyman’s peaceful face, the boy was
suddenly hit by a powerful physical
reaction. Members of the crowd struggled to
control his squirming body as it was hit by a
series of savage convulsions. They pulled
him away from the altar and the convulsions
stopped. The boy opened his eyes, stood up,
and with a look of complete joyous
realisation, began dancing and singing
around the church, his malformed right leg
now taking the weight as easily as his left.

This event was the beginning of an
extensive range of miracles that happened
over a five-year period and originated at the
churchyard of Saint-Médard. What is most
remarkable about this series of unexplained
incidents is the complete integrity and
intelligence of those that witnessed the
events. Although many of the Deacon’s
followers were poor, unhealthy and perhaps
easily fooled, others who observed these
bizarre happenings were lawyers, scientists
and respected public figures. The most
detailed and believable witness accounts
came from a magistrate, Louis-Basile Carré
de Montgéron. Montgéron had a lawyer
friend by the name of Louis Adrien de Paige
who had long described the Saint-Médard
events, but Montgéron was convinced his
friend was being fooled. Despite not particularly
wishing to go to the churchyard,
Montgéron relented and agreed to visit.

The two men arrived at Saint-Médard on
the morning of 7th September 1731. What
Montgéron saw immediately shocked him;
women writhing on the floor; men beating
other women with wooden and metal bars;
there was even one woman whose nipples
were being twisted in a metal clamp. All the
time, the women did not seem to feel pain, in
fact they pleaded for more punishment.
Paige explained that this treatment cured the
women of their deformities and diseases.

Things quickly became more disturbing for
Montgéron when he saw a teenage girl sitting
at a table eating from a plate. As Montgéron
approached, he could see that the girl was
eating human faeces and drinking human
urine. The girl had previously suffered from
a psychological problem that caused her to
constantly wash her hands. Not only was she
cured of this neurosis, but the most amazing
part of the episode occurred as she appeared
to begin vomiting. Out of her mouth poured
pure cow’s milk.

As Montgéron stumbled around the
churchyard, he came upon a group of women
who were cleaning infected cuts and boils by
licking the poisons from them. Montgéron
watched as a young child, suffering form the
most appallingly diseased leg had her
bandages removed. Even the woman who
was to perform the cleansing needed to pray
for strength. But after a moment she began,
removing and swallowing the festering
tissue, leaving a perfectly clean leg. During
this first visit Montgéron saw enough
miracles to leave him emotionally
exhausted. He continued to revisit the
churchyard many times, collecting enough
evidence for an incredible book. That year,
he was thrown into prison for handing a
copy of the tome to a disgusted King Louis
XV. But Montgéron would not be silenced,
and published three further books demonstrating
an honest, serious examination of
the miracles in the churchyard of Saint-
Médard.

The French authorities grew concerned
that these miracles would undermine their
power and the king tried to close the
churchyard. At the time, the writer Voltaire
quipped: ‘God is forbidden by order of the
King to perform any more miracles in the
cemetery of Saint-Médard’. When soldiers
were sent to seize the church land they failed
totally. The stories of Saint-Médard spread
and persisted for years, and the Scottish
philosopher, David Hume wrote that there
was never ‘so great a number of miracles
ascribed to one person’, as those attributed to
François de Paris. It is a truly enduring
mystery.

~ From 100 Strangest Unexplained Mysteries, Matt Lamy

I went around pasting my answer to le meme without filling out Question # 18.

~ And I need to finish my LJ session so I can take a bath and head off to kidnap Jouie's computer teacher fetch my sister from school.

~ The first thing in both Josh's and Jouie's computer notebooks? A cute prayer. Will post later. I also stared for half an hour on saw his signature. Not bad handwriting.

ETA: I'm getting really irked with one of The Red Room's ads. I get it everywhere, since most of the sites I browse are writing sites. "How To Write Sex Scenes", for goodness' sake.

Same with grammar and punctuation, you just absorb it. From lots and lots of smut. Not that I'm sharing, Sherly.

ETA once more: "Sign petition for Stephanie Meyers to release Midnight Sun".

Stephanie Meyers: Huh?

~ Been busy. Won't elaborate for now. *fingers crossed* But I have been reading your posts, f-list. I'm nosy like that. ^_^

~ Oh my Godric, I love the song in my head right now. See post title. The song is so... cool. *waves in a 'you know' gesture. Total Eclipse of the Heart. Searched it on AOL. Peeked on it at Wiki. Whaddya know, it was inspired by Wuthering Heights!

~ Have you seen these big bows everyone seems to wear on their hair these days? A la Minnie Mouse. Well, not exactly... a little to the side. What's it called? Just curious. Really. I can already imagine how silly I'll look wearing that.

~ And speaking of silly: I like her style most of the time, and I adore her to pieces, but sometimes Emma is over the top.

I love that she'll play Betsy Balcombe... but she isn't alluding to it at all. This thing is more like a curtain/bed canopy than a gown and the skirt ruined the bodice. The shoes, ugh. Is she eighteen or eighty? Aww, Emma.

~ I only just found out that City of Ember has been made into a movie! To be shown this October! But, ugh, if you haven't read the book yet, don't watch the trailer! Argh.



~ ( Ooh, the 36 Question Meme that's made the rounds with the SPEW ladies. Do answer, please, f-list. I made the rounds to answer the rest of you who has posted this. If I missed someone, let me know. )

~ Ponder: Anna Anderson might really have been the Duchess Anastasia. But she's dead now.
~ Quote: -- Kahlil Gibran --
~ Allergy: squidballs = mini squidballs, only pink, on my arms. And itchy.

I don't know why I'm laughing so much. I'm still not over my deadlines. Grr.

• Monday, I was down with the flu.
• Tuesday, I still wasn't upright. But functioning, after sleeping for 22 hours straight from the two consecutive doses of phenylpropanolamine. (Touch-type that five times.)
• Wednesday, wasted time reading an old HP fan fic in MNFF. C&P-ed it to a notepad and read in bed. It was too late when I logged online again and checked when it was published. 2006. Ugh. I guess I needed that. I've been surrounded by great/expert/pundit/doyen fan fic authors for too long.
• Thursday, this is... today! My mom's birthday. She's mad I sent her a birthday milestone card. Ah. Yeah, this is probably why I'm giggling non-stop.

~~~

Emma Watson in Vogue Italia. Gaultier and Valentino and diamonds. Draco Malfoy must be behind this shoot.

Particularly this photo (click and then click again for a high res view. You'd want to):



You agree?

~~~

The trouble with online life is you get distracted from life (and your life's duties) whenever you go online. Toink.

Exempli gratia:

Kellan: I like The Notebook, Tristan & Isolde, and Romeo + Juliet. [I enjoy] period pieces that aren't just about winning the girl but are also about the struggle of class, wealth and privilege.

See?

~~~

And my head is spinning and threatening to implode from the lovely things I get from start_writing .

~~~

Oh yeah, I changed layout again last week and had to change my text names, too. Gardening theme now. Haha. If only I can wake up during sunrise instead of near sunset.

This has been playing in an endless loop in my head since last night. At least, it's upbeat. The only catch is I'm nodding my head the way I hate it when others do it.

*shrieks*

I've read the Breaking Dawn spoilers-- not the thing per se, just the description. This is one of those times I question my taste in books. Why do I never find myself distasteful? Am I really just plebeian? With my love of fluff and all?

*giggles* *nods away to 'Uh oh!'*

I've been joining a lot of writing communities. Let me promote them here: creativewriter, loveletters_v1and fictionwriters.

The first two requires approval of applications, although you can lurk at both. But I officially de-lurked (not that I gave myself time to lurk at all) at loveletters_v1, and now I have another community other than SPEW to write for every month. This is both good and bad. Hehe.

~~~

I meant to post about Sunday, but that spoiler made me all giddy and... guh. *giggles some more* I'm waiting for Seth (Mrs Meyer's brother) to announce it's bogus, though. I wouldn't be surprised if it is. But I think I might be vaguely disappointed. *again with the self-questioning... Why were the others quite bitchy about it and I'm not?*

~~~


ETA: alright, now that the giddiness is past: how old is Edward again? Yeah. Eh... I thought... Oh, well.

Get it? LOL. This is my second-favorite BD quote so far. Next to Alice's rock-paper-scissors line. I can't waaaaait! Twelve days more! Argh.

~~~

I'm not interested in movies unless I know their core plot from the books they're adapted from. For almost a decade now, the only times I went/am going to the cinema were/are for Harry Potter, Narnia, The Bridge to Terabithia, Twilight, etc. I don't like sitting there not reacting the same way at the same time as the rest of the audience, because I don't hear the dialogue. It's a waste of time. I appreciate the visuals, but I live for the words.

I just wait for DVD's for the subtitles. Meanwhile, I don't mind spoilers, at least, on films I don't care about as obsessively like HP and Twilight... *reads all posts on Dark Knight*

Last night, Mom and Dad went out and brought home bootleg DVD's. The picture was clear enough, but the subtitles were hilarious. When Patrick Dempsey says 'Shit!' in Made of Honor, the subtitles say 'Excrement!' *dies laughing*

~~~

Speaking of...

I posted in Jenna's poll and mentioned 'detestment'. It was nearing 4am, yeah, and I was thinking of 'resentment', typed 'detest' instead, and added the suffix to its cousin as though the suffix was a skirt either of them could wear. Apparently not.

'Detest' goes for the pouf. '-ment' is pencil-cut.

I also downloaded new movie scripts and ended up with The Doors. For some reason, I was convinced this is that book adaptation and Oscar Best Picture starring Nicole Kidman, Meryl Streep and Julianne Moore. Gods. I don't even know The Doors. Dad does. The Doors is a band. The movie with the same title is about them.

The movie I wanted is The HOURS. *headdesk* And of course its script isn't free.

~~~

I don't know why I freaked out like that over the pc being out of commission. Hooking up my laptop to the Internet is too easy I'm even disapppointed. *grins*

~~~

Silver hair. Mine. Found by Jouie within five minutes before she lolled off to her siesta.



~~~

"Authors are easy to get along with-- if you're fond of children."
-Michael Joseph, British publisher

I have half a mind to take Psychology by correspondence now. -ology courses are what's available in the UP Open University. But I wish I can go mingle with the crowd and their sweetness and sweat. Never mind that I'll need someone to do the sign language for me. :)

--goes to show this Test's dead-on precision (got from Kay):

( I refuse to mope, I'm generous of what I can give, never bored and so fixedly happy and bubbly to the point of being in denial. The Adventurer, The Enthusiast, eh? )

~ Dad copied movies on a pile of DVD's. No subtitles, though. Thank goodness, or my Haunted Legends entry won't be written.

~ I slandered Audrina. Her buttons do work.

~ I don't like posting in bullets. But it's faster.

"I wrote my first novel because I wanted to read it."
-Toni Morrison

*stunned* Thank you for that, Mrs Morrison.

Isn't that a dear alliteration? ^_^ Got it from... *forehead scrunch* Some fanfic or other. Twilight, I think.

~Dad's home. Less hair. More paunch.

Not yet giving the 6300 phone to me. Argh.

A couple of pics from the airport trip:



Jouie and the eternally-photo-ruinner-Josh. I think I jerked the phone when he flung that towel on his face.



Jouie and me

And my sweet Audrina. (Thanks, Dad!) I do love mice:



I'll be asking for a bicycle soon. This same shade of red. Or maybe pink, so that I'll be the only one to ride it. She will be Amarra. No idea if this is also a V.C Andrews name. I just picked it from the real estate catalog everyone gets from Duty Free.

Of course, got the inanimate object-naming from Jennifer and Anna.

*sleepy*

*squee*

Yet another book to clutter my currently shelf-less life. When I begged her to get it, I didn't really hope much that Mom would look for it. I also had doubts if it would still be there in Booksale. I loved the book, so I naturally thought others would covet it, too. Hehe.

Published a year before HP and the Philosopher's Stone. I laughed last night when I saw the author's name. I didn't notice it before. So enthralled was I with the book. It's an A-Z reference (not a treatise or a guide, which I'm not interested in). So I finally found out what 'athame' was.



And the photos inside aren't bad.





~ I really do need shelves now. I wonder when they'll exterminate the termites in my room. Ugh.

On the other hand, I'm so fond of someone right now. I feel guilty for telling her the new wallpaper's hideous. *grins*



(photos taken by amateur on a phone's camera ^_^)

I'm trying to sleep.

But my brother had to turn on the pc and tempt me. Nothing to post. But I've just finished composing this from my room. Yeah, a meme. It takes concentration.

Tagged by my fave twins, pips_n_chiaw

( Nothing's final until death. )

I'm always out-of-date with memes. So I tag you who haven't done this yet, oh you darling one in my f-list.


_________________



Oh, Gennesareth! I forgot Gennesareth. I have four now, Chiara. Cana, Galilee, Gethsemane, Gennesareth. Thessalonica sounds like it's a car polish brand. Hehe.



_________________



If I never knew you
If I never felt this love
I would have no inkling of
How precious life can be!

And if I never held you
I would never have a clue
How at last I find in you
The missing part of me!

In this world so full of fear
Full of raging lies
I can see the truth so clear
In your eyes, so dry your eyes!

And I'm so grateful to you
I'd have lived my whole life through
Lost forever
If I never knew you

If I never knew you
I'd be safe, but half as real
Never knowing I could feel
A love so strong and true

And I'm so grateful to you
I'd have lived my whole life through
Lost forever
If I never knew you

I thought our love would be so beautiful
Somehow we'd make the whole world right
I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong
But still my heart is saying we were right
We were right
And if I never knew you
If I never knew you
I'd have lived my whole life through
Empty as the sky
Never nowing why
Lost forever
If I never knew you.

~the genius of Stephen Schwartz. You never hear his name, though, do you, it's Alan Menken we know. As if the song could 'live' without the words. Writers rock the world. Hee. Along with the composers, yes, yes. Peace.

*sings to self*

Either I'm learning to comb and brush it right, or my hair is not as bushy as before.

Being round-faced with thick hair, I could only have one ideal hairstyle: never voluminous on the sides and never flat at the crown and temples.

From the moment I lost baby-ness, around age twelve, my hair has been layered very short, never going past my nape. The cut reminds me of the bouffant of Anne Shirley's and Edward Cullen's era. And it's rather matronly. I grew tired of it and grew my hair out. High maintenance. Trimming needed every four weeks. When it's high time for another layering, I avoid turning sideways at mirrors. My hair billows at the back like something's living in it.

Now it doesn't any longer. It's flat on the back now. Fly-away, because the shortest layer is already at the bend of my nape, but quite docile and non-Einstein-ish. The curves of the layers that should have been giving fullness to my temples but are now at my ears, I just comb back. I've been due at the neighborhood hairdresser two months ago. I've had no need to go.

Well, I haven't gone out either. Nothing major, just Sherly and family (which is one and the same thing, hehe, love you, She).

It doesn't make sense anyway that I have hair like I do. My dad's is curly, even kinky, and my mom's is straight and wispy, the kind that needs curling or blow-drying to be volumized. Unless, like mine, Mom's hair also gave up being a pain at age twenty-one.

I don't know about Dad. None of us inherited his hair and except to brag about being MVP in the basketball varsity and his exploits of exhorting money from neighbors who watched tv from my lola's balcony (in those old days when tv owners were few), he doesn't answer questions pertaining to his younger days.

Because I always end up asking when he first lost a tooth.

He's equipped with two jaws of false teeth already. He's only fifty.

I have never had so much as a toothache. Maybe my feasting on gristle has something to do with it. I like crunching those white bones especially when people will hear. My habitus disgustica.

But speaking of hair, I posted something about it on lion_lamb (♥). Bella and Hermione both have brown hair. And brown eyes. That's what started it, and it went on and on like a butterfly kiss gone bad--good.

I don't know how many of you on my f-list are members/watchers of lion_lamb aside from my dear twinses and Preethi (and of course, Cynthia, new friend, mod! ^_^). Mind boggling. 100 comments in only a little over 24 hours. I've never had so much attention on something I posted, either on forums or at the MNFF archive.

But I'm being vain. It's Bella and Hermione and Hermione's ships that's to thank for the many replies. *giggles* *can't stop*

I've pretty much stuck to Mugglenet and its strictly moderated Fan Fiction Beta Boards since my very first HP fangirl day, so it's only now that the ship wars struck me.

That people are so passionate about their ship that they are close-minded and derogatory of the rival ship has been a 'whoa!' moment last night.

I've never felt that way myself. Probably because I've read not just the books and the canon-devotee fics, but also good ones that sailed non-canon pairings.

Non-canon pairings I fancied, that is. But what's the bet that I'll be converted if I read-- e.g., SS/HG fics, too?

Yes, the reason I'm not a SS/HG shipper is because I haven't read SS/HG stories. That's the only way you can remain close-minded to a ship, methinks.

See, that people are so passionate about their ship that they can use the subtlest and most infinitesimal stuff in canon as masts is proven and amazing. Annoyingly commendable. Gods. Creativity at its most devious. And when they convincingly create their own canon, it's double the 'flabbergastment' *says me, being weaned into an older generation/younger generation pairing*

Canon aside, book characters are people.

And as in the real world's people, attraction between any man and woman, whatever age, belief or background, is rarely impossible. Just toss them repeatedly together. Like two flints, sparks will fly.

The 'that can't happen' is only on your mind, Watson.

____________


Happy birthday, Delaney!

Happy birthday, Emerita!

Belated online greeting, brother bear! (Like you read this) :P

Wow, it really worked. I just couldn't get on watching the sunrise and then sleeping. So I boiled two cups of water, plonked in one chopped onion, added a beef cube, added salt, added milk, stirred, transferred to a mug, sipped while reading and voila... I went to dreamland not long after I lay down.

Nice!

Oh and the Book List thingy, stolen from my dear twinses, Chiara and Pippa.

( I've read 31! And most of the rest will be easy to gobble from Gutenberg.org )