Week Sixteen: Late Blog Is Late.

So, I'm late with my blog this week. (OHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO.)

This is the first time I've been late, so I think I'm doing pretty well. xD Looks like I'll have to wait for next year to get a full prefect attendance-blogging record.

Since I want to write this out before I have to go and work at the Town Hall running the video broadcasting software and I don't really have an IDEA for this bolg, I think I'll write and see what comes out.

PART ONE:
Lately, we've been converting the old Playroom into an art studio. It's more along the lines of what we need at this point in our lives, and all the games and whatnot are being either packed away, sent to friends or re-located to a place where they're more out of the way. It's awesome to see how the room looks with all the arts supplies in it, but what's kinda NOT awesome is the fact that my allergies act up when we're cleaning.
Having 5 cats and a beyond-furry dog means that there's animal hair EVERYWHERE, and that means that Whimsy sneezes. A lot.

PART TWO:
In the theatre class that I teach, we're putting on a little play with the younger kids (6-8). The kids wrote the story themselves, and I got cast as the Evil Queen.
Now, the Evil Queen* has captured a princess from a far-off land and an elf in her doungeon and is holding them hostage for the ransom of a THOUSAND POUNDS OF GOLD. Did I mention that she killed her nice, good, upstanding husband WAY before this story begins? Because that's how evil she is.

Keep in mind, the little ones wrote this. They wrote a story about a homicidal queen who has powers of FIRE. They come up to my hip. I have to TOWER over them and be EVIL AS I CAN BE. The first time, I told the little boy who's playing the part of the Good Wizard that I was going to be scary, but I wasn't going to be really mad at him. Now, he can't stop laughing when I'm being awful. It's really cute. xD

PART THREE:
There are now four days left until the new series of Doctor Who starts. I am so excited, I can barely stand it. I've watched all of New!Who, but I think I love the Eleventh Doctor the best. There's just something about him...I can't quite say what it is. So, yes. Much excitement over that. AND, I'm re-watching (for me)/watching for the first time (for my mums) the whole of Doctor Who from 2005 onwards. We've just moved on to the Tenth Doctor. Watching it with my mum is just FANTASTIC**.

PART FOUR:
I'm still working on editing my NaNoWriMo novel, and I've added 5,000 words since November. I'm so very pleased, and even though it's going slowly, at least it's going. Some days are better than others, but at least it's moving. I've been tossing around titles, but nothing's stuck yet.
Also, since there's only 195 days left until NEXT NaNo, I've been beginning to think about that, too.

PART FIVE:
And, to wrap this nice long rambling blog up, I've re-discovered a letter from one of my old nerdfighter pen-pals. I'm collecting a HUGE letter to go to her, (my hand-written letters average around six or seven pages), and it's nice to get back in touch with her, since we dropped out of touch for freakin' AGES.

I'll see you again before Sunday night, and have a charming week!
~Whimsy


*Hahahha, just mistyped that as "the Evil Queer". I'm going to crawl off in my corner and hyperventilate from hysterics now.
**Sorry, I had to. It was FACT.

Week Fifteen: Family

Family and community are concepts that (for me) lay incredibly close, at times intertwined. I don't have just one family, I have many.

My family is Mum, Nay, and Nessa (my sister, younger than me by three years.) We live in the same house, we talk all the time about everything, and we're all very, very close. Ever since I was born, it's pretty much been child-led anarchy over at my house. I love all of them dearly. (And they actually read this blog. Hello, family!) I tend to call them "my fambly", both in text and when I'm talking about them.

In addition to them, I have my (slightly more extended) family, including, but not limited to, my Grandma, my Pepe, his partner, and two great aunts. My family might be small, but the amount of love is anything but. These are the people with whom I burst at the seams to share good news.

If you've ever done theatre, I'm sure you're acquainted with the term "theatre family". I've had dozens of these over the years, since each show that you're a part of is different, the theatre family changes with each production.

There's my spiritual family, the group I've been meeting with eight times a year for over thirteen years. Even though I only see most of them at the celebrations, that certainly doesn't diminish the connection we all have.

Leave a comment talking about YOUR families) below! I'm quite interested!

Cheers!
~Whimsy

P.S. I'm now nineteen. Happy birthday to me! ^___^

Week Fourteen: Whimsy Has A Birthday!

This will be my last day, and last blog post as an 18 year old. While that's kind of weird, mostly it's really exciting. I always get really excited around my birthday.

I suppose it's because every year since I can ever remember, birthdays have been a big deal at my house.
When I was really little, we had birthday parties.
I have such great memories of those parties. One year, I wanted a puppy party. We ate party mix "kibbles and bits" from dog bowls, had large cardboard boxes to crawl inside, and we played fetch. Seriously, it was a little kid's idea of heaven. The photos from that party are ADORABLE. We've all got our faces painted, wearing pasta-necklace collars and we're wearing fake-fur ears.
Since we're a pretty dramatic theater-type family, birthday parties were always some sort of a production.
My sister's Winnie-The-Pooh party was another party I won't forget. We all got Pooh characters to portray, and I got Tigger. To get in character for this, I bounced EVERYWHERE. And I mean everywhere. Until I twisted my ankle. Bouncing got harder.

That's sort of how I've thrown myself into whatever it is at the time that I'm doing. Wildly excited, overly enthusiastic, a ice cream sundae of hyperactivity. And I love it.

This year, I'm going out to a used bookstore in the morning, and coming back in the evening to watch tons of Doctor Who and have a skype/blogTV party with my friends*.
This year, just as when I was six, I am bouncing with anticipation around the kitchen.
Let's hope I don't twist my ankle this time. ^__^

OhDearieMeTomorrowIsMyBirthday,
Whimsy

*Hey, when your friends live all over the world (and most are in NARNIA, or some such baloney), a skype party is the best kind of party to have.

Week Thirteen: I have a problem.

I have a problem.

I'm a very theatrical person, as anyone who's met me knows. I make goofy faces, gesture with my hands, and I put on silly voices. That's not the problem.

I love all kinds of theatre, British movies/TV shows, and generally being a goof. That's not the problem either.


I'll explain the problem here:

Here I am, just hanging about, and I want some tea, and as I put the kettle on, I ask "Oy, Mum, d'you want some tea?" After getting a reply, I take the teabag wrapper and chuck it in the bin. I take my tea over to the computer, sit down and watch Doctor Who, and promptly burn my mouth on the scalding liquid. "Bollocks!"

Let's pause the action for a moment. Has anyone other than myself noticed something odd here? I have lived in America for my entire life, never even VISITED the UK.

It should be clear now. I suffer from Inexplicably British Syndrome.



Quoting a movie? British accent.

Need to curse? British accent and British curse words.

Feel like you're losing your mind? No, you're just mad. Maybe daft, too.

Being goofy? Of course you're British!

Accents you can understand perfectly: Anything British.

Accents you can't understand: Southern American.



It's hilarious, since I'm not doing it intentionally, it's an accident. Mum's actually had to ask me what I'm talking about, to which I reply "Oh, Americans don't say that?".


Anyhow, I must fly. I have two crazy-busy days ahead, and I have to go and DO THINGS.

Cheers, y'all,
~Whimsy


(As I write this, it strikes me as ironic that I'm listening to Party In The USA/watching an American Sign Language interpretation of it.)

Week Twelve: Not Gonna Reach My Telephone

Fact: I have a cell phone.

Fact: I have skype.

Fact: I have a home phone (well, my fambly does.)

Fact: Talking on the telephone is a huge source of stress for me.



Firstly, I never know what to say. I know it's "just like talking in person", but I can't see your face. That's what you do when you talk to people in person, you see their faces.



Secondly, I'm dreadful at HANGING UP.

"So yeah."

"Yup."

"..."

"..."

"Okay then, did you have anything else you wanted to say?"

"No, Whimsy, I just called to talk."

"Oh. Right. Yes."

*silence*

Me, thinking: "Okay, where do we go from here?"

Me, talking: "Nice weather, huh?"




Then there's the terror known at the answering machine. O__O

"...Please leave a message after the beep."

"Hi, this is Whimsy calling. I was going to call for a reason, but I forgot so there's really no reason to call and talk to you, but it's been a while since we've talked so I thought we could talk but yeah.
So I guess you aren't there cuz if you WERE there you'd have picked up the phone, and if you want and it's not a bad time for you, call me back. No stress so if you're doing something important don't bother, I was just thinking...
Anyway. My phone number is 62442, in case you don't know that. Which you do. Cuz I called your cell phone and it saves my number and OH! Right! You had borrowed a book from me and if you're finished with it I'd like it back for I miss it and I want it to come home. Did I leave my number yet? I think I did. Anyway-"

*BEEEEEEP*

*blank stare at phone*

"Shit."


Or then there's that horrible fear that you have just called at the worst possible time, while everyone has the plague, there's a fire in the house, they're eating dinner with the grandparents, AND American Idol is on TV.

"Hi, this is Whimsy. Bad time?"

"...I called you."

"I knew that! I was testing you!"



And what do you do when you're ON THE PHONE? Do you sit there, just listening to the other person talk? Am I the only person who just can't sit still while talking on the phone? For serious, if I'm in my room, I will walk backandforthandbackandforth until I hang up. It's nervous energy.

On top of that, I talk with my hands a lot as well. I'm a very animated and visual person, so if you're talking to me on the phone, you're missing about half of what I'm saying. I gesticulate excessively. I can't help it.



And then there's the house phone when somebody calls. If it rings, and I'm the person who's the closet to it, I will do the hot-potato-toss-the-phone-to-anyone-else maneuver that I am so adept at.

God forbid I have to pick it up.

"Hi-this-is-Whimsy-how-are-you?"

"Hi Whimsy! I can tell your voice on the phone! I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

*Awkward lapse into silence as I realize what I've said.*

"Haha, I'm good!"

"That's...good."

Palm, meet face.



It's even worse for me if I don't KNOW the person. I can pick up the phone on Arc without TOO much stress now, but it took a long time to get to that point, and I still don't like it that much. If I have to talk to somebody who I don't know, and it's a kinda-important call, I will start having a panic attack.

Long story short?
Phones and Whimsy are NOT FRIENDS.

Am I the only one who feels like this? For some reason, Skype is different.

You want to IM me? We can do that all day long. ^___^




P.S. I tell people all the time that I don't like talking on the phone. Most of the time, they go "Aww, it's okay, I won't bite" and try to make me feel comfortable with talking to them.
It's not you. Really.
I like you. I don't like telephones.

P.P.S. All I can think about is that Lady Gaga Telephone song in my head. It will NOT leave.

Week Eleven: "...let me dance in the glitter."

The dedicated blog readers who have been with me from the beginning (February/March 2010), or who have read back that far*, will recall True Colors, the absolutely fantastic conference for lgbtq(etc, etc, etc**) folks.
If you haven't, and don't feel like going back to look it up, or I haven't been non-stop yakking to you about it already, here's a refresher.
3,000 lgbtq youth and the people who support us, rainbows, laughter, friendship, entertainment, all packed into two full days of workshops, keynotes and even a dance.
This year will be my first time presenting, but my fourth time at the conference overall.


Being in a place full of such acceptance and unconditional love is such a heartwarming feeling. Not to say that I don't have that at home, which I do, most certainly. Spending a weekend with 3,000 people who are all so wonderful is simply energizing.


Four years ago, I went to the conference as a 14 year old, straight ally daughter of lesbian moms.
This year, I will be going as a 18 year old, third generation queer*** presenter.
I've grown and learned a lot about myself, and I'm beyond happy with both who I am, and where I'm going.

It's not only the anniversary of going to TC, but it's also the anniversary of this blog. (In my mind, the February 2010 posts don't /really/ count. Even though they do.)

I'd like to thank each and every one of you. You've let me into your lives, and I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed getting to know you all. Each comment, each follower and every one of you who attempted/are attempting to do BOW'11 with me mean so much.
Thank you all so very much, and let's go onto another year!

One more thing:
Bring on the rainbows, and let me dance in the glitter.
~Whimsy

* Or those who speak to me regularly on Skype or another social network.
**Forgive me for using the short string of letters, please. I'm not writing out the whole QUILTBAGPIPE initialisim every time, but I'm doing it in my head, believe me.
***My grandad, my mum and now myself are all queer. ^___^

Week Ten: I'm teaching Hermione.

Really quick, to catch you up on my life: I'm teaching three classes. A Hogwarts class, and two theatre classes. The kids range from 6 to 12 years old, and every single one of them is ADORABLE.

I'm going to focus on the Hogwarts kids, because I find them (possibly) the most hilarious and the most fun to teach.

We've got three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and three Slytherins. Mum, my sister and I have each taken a table to take care of. My sister got the 'Puffs, because she is one, and I was ever-so-happy to get my table of Slytherins.

As one might expect, all the kids are behaving RIGHT in line with the house traits.

We have the Hufflepuffs. Quiet, the sweetest kids in the class, very happy all the time, artistic, the whole deal.

Then there's the Ravenclaws. These are the kids who are counting up the abitrarily awarded house points and who perk up as soon as you say the word "trivia".

And over at the end of the room, there's the Slytherins. We're easily the most rowdy table, and two out of my three kids are totally convinced that we're all going to become Death Eaters.

How much to I love teaching this class? So. Very. Much.

So far, we're made wands and filled them all with unique cores, sorted them all into houses, made house badges and even created trunks to keep all their Hogwarts things in. I want to take my own class. Seriously.

We have one little girl who is Hermione, %110. She visibly crumbles when she can't think of the trivia answer, and she's quite literal.

Examples as follows.
Hermione: Are you trying to be Tonks? Your hair is green, not pink.
Me: I dyed my hair pink at first, so I could be Tonks, but now I have it green because I like it better.

Me: *sets out bowl of "mandrake root" to fill wands with*
Hermione: "That's cork pieces."
Me: "No, it's mandrake root."
Hermione: *eyes suspiciously*

She's the cutest thing ever.

Teaching is really wonderful, working with all these young kids. I can honestly say that I love what I do for a living.

I hope you all have the same feeling.

~Whimsy