that was weird

I walked out of Bruff and was suddenly terrified. No reason, just -- you know how it is, when your throat suddenly closes up and there's just a stab of fear, somewhere just behind your eyes and you can't breathe and every little movement is a threat? Like that. It was -- bizarre. No reason. I walked back to J.L. completely on edge, every muscle tense, just -- it was really weird. No reason at all.

And I'm kind of a jumpy person normally -- I mean, I tend to flinch whenever someone walks into a room and I'm not expecting it. Every. Single. Time. If I turn a corner and there's someone already in the hallway when I didn't expect it. If I can hear them coming, or know they're going to be there, that's fine, but if they're just there -- I flinch, I jump, I generally look like a scared rabbit. And this has been happening a lot lately. New environment, maybe, or it could just be that J.L.'s so isolated I don't expect to see other people, so when I do -- *shrug* Paranoia. I don't really get why I get it, but there we are.

(no subject)

...I think I burned myself folding my laundry. What the hell, Tulane? (The dryers dry REALLY HOT, and metal studs on jeans STAY hot, and just...ow. Teeny-tiny little burn on my thumb, just over my ring. It doesn't really hurt, but...wow, Tulane. Stay classy!)

(no subject)

So I finished reading Beowulf and now I kind of want to write Narnian epic poetry. You know, the kind that goes, Peter, Summer's King, High King of Narnia / who brought spring to Narnia / in the days of long winter / rode from his great castle / Cair Paravel by the sea / the white city, with his sword / lion-headed Rhindon, bound in gold / and magic, gifted by Father / Christmas when Peter and his kin / came to Narnia as children / answering the country's call for / salvation from the White Witch / Jadis, who called herself / Empress and Queen of fair Narnia / locked in eternal winter until / Peter, Summer's King, brought spring / and victory.

Except. I think I'd kind of end up wanting to hurt something after about a page of that.

oh, I can totally blame my theatre arts class for this one

Oh my God, you know what I want to write, except I totally wouldn't, because oh my God so much work? The Telmarine age of theatre. Like, there's the fifty-eight cycle morality play about the rise and fall of the High King Peter, which is heavily criticized for outright stating an incestuous relationship between Peter and Queen Susan (and remember, one of the big debates of Narnian history is whether or not Susan is Peter's wife or his sister) and implying an equally incestuous relationship between Peter and Prince Edmund. Then there are the Shakespearean style plays, the Tragedy of the Prince of Shadows (a.k.a. Edmund), the one about his lover, the, uh, married woman he got pregnant, and a bunch of swashbuckling stories about Peter killing things, and also a well-known comedy about his seven fiancees, except by this time they've turned into his seven wives, and then there's some tragedy about Queen Susan, and one minor play about Princess-Consort Lucy. And the historians gripe bitterly about the plays, because they're not at all accurate, and some things are seriously messed up, because Caspian the Conqueror and Peter the High King certainly did not live in the same era. And then someone gets the bright idea to put on these plays in front of the Pevensies during PC, when they're at the Telmarine castle...

Like MacBeth showing up at the Globe. "I did what? And my wife did what? God, you fucking English."

*snickers*