kohikari: bright clouds silhouetting the forested skyline, and reflecting on a still lake (mirror)
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FANTASIA.  So much Fantasia.  It's just.  The Nutcracker Suite, and the Rite of Spring, and Night on Bald Mountain, and.  So much.

(Plz someone make a Kanye or Rickroll joke so I don't feel obligated to...)
kohikari: a woman walking down a street, limned by an electrical explosion (kaerimichi)
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Since 2007, which means since before my spectacular nervous breakdown in my senior year of high school (accompanied by a sudden influx of bizarre medical problems: a medication side effect (from the only ADD med that ever worked for me, sadly) that killed my ability to feel hunger, causing severe weight loss; onset of a sinus thing, causing postnasal drip, runny nose, coughing, and headaches, that four years later is still pissing me off (paging Dr. House...); spraining and fracturing my foot trying to catch the bus on the first day of class, which the doctors never gave me crutches for, so it took me a whole semester to stop needing my elderly neighbor's cane; and my thyroid, of all organs, deciding to try and kill me--more weight loss, hair falling out, incredibly maddening hot flashes (menopausal women deserve fucking gold medals for putting up with that shit), and the medication to fix it suppressed my immune system, so the week before the 2008 presidential election I was in bed with nonstop fever and bright orange goo pouring out of my nose. Good times).

Since 2007, I have (a) gotten the highest first-attempt SAT score in the history of my school and then flunked all of my academic classes so fast I gave my teachers whiplash; (b) been hospitalised, which kind of actually made the problem worse, though I did stabilise my sleeping schedule and finish switching meds; (c) slept through my class's graduation, which I still haven't quite forgiven myself for; (d) gone to two semesters of night school to compensate for my grades, just barely passing the second one and graduating on the tenth of February 2009; (e) become a Marine Biology student at Salem State University, taking a dive in an inflatable obstacle course (yes, you read that right) my first day on campus and spending a semester on crutches; (f) missed my godson's second and third birthdays, because I am a fucking idiot.

Oh yeah, and I spent the summer of 2009 in Europe (mostly Norway). It was pretty awesome, even if they are all freaks for basing their public transportation on the honor system.

Time for breakfast. *feels accomplished for actually eating a breakfast meal more than once a week* *has really low standards for feeling accomplished*
kohikari: a stack of books with the words "read more / ...be stupid less" (brain food)
NOTE: Judy has had a little too much to sleep and is feeling kind of uppity.  This may have a lot more ridiculous than the activity calls for.

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1.  One of the largest metropolitan areas in America, and, in my opinion, the best.
2.  Spirit of America! Cradle of the Revolution! Don't listen to Virginia, alla that history started here, bitches.
3.  I live inbetween all the T-stops and a five-minute walk away from half the city.
4.  I grew up in the Italian North End, on their ~magnificent~ food. Doesn't get any better than this.
5.  This is CIVILISATION right herr. We don't get none of that 40-degrees-Celsius earthquaking avalanching volcano-erupting tornado-ravaging tsunami-crushing forest-fire-burning level-five-hurricaning shit up in my town. Sure, our weather is a little schizophrenic, but without that life wouldn't be interesting. It just wouldn't be the same without surprise hailstorms in July...
P.S.   Plus, gay marriage and socialised medicine? In your face, America.  Dontcha wish your province was hot like mine...dontcha wish your province was a freak like-- *bricked*

1.  I could live without the mercury going to 30 degrees C and above, kthx.
2.  Our curfews can be a little nineteenth-century.
3.  Our drivers are insane; even European drivers admit this, and Europeans really can't drive.
4.  Living expenses can be a little ridiculous, esp. in my neighbourhood.
5.  Too many kids dying on the streets.  Although I suppose we're luckier than a lot of other places when it comes to our crime and murder rate, it sure doesn't feel like it sometimes.

I was born and raised here, so all I have to compare it to is the various vacations and such I've been on; Europe was lovely, if lacking in enough public water fountains (fascism!), Vermont/New Hampshire/Maine are lovely as well but the farther you get from the coast/cities the more godawful the bugs become, uhhh yeah I got nothing.  *shrug*
kohikari: bright clouds silhouetting the forested skyline, and reflecting on a still lake (mirror)
In the order in which I did them (is that sentence grammatically correct?):

super-duper-man )

back to the fyewchaaaaa... )

what's the centigrade of fahrenheit 451? )

oh the holiness of school vacation )

wonder if it's possible to beat someone up with a basketball )

*obscure Anne McCaffrey joke* )
kohikari: text: "I read crappy fanfiction in / my spare time. / It's crap, / I know it's crap, / and yet I / can't stop." (Default)
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OMG I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SO MANY TIMES you have no idea XDDD

Um, but to be more coherent. I have over the course of my lifetime--that's from 2:36AM EST Friday February 16th 1990 to, like, now--thought about this so many times I actually have a list in order of preference. Because, because, what with being a small hyperactive over-analytical bookworm with a wild imagination and from small Catholic grade school to mostly repressed year in massive public school to small special ed middle school to art high school, theatre major, and chronic lifelong insomniac with nothing better to do in the midnight hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling than (a) thinking about my day/week/life (b) making shit up (c) fantasizing if I had magic powers (d) making up stories (e) angsty preteen existential introspection that led to angsty teen emo poetry (and fic, natch)...well.

prelude )

But--to the question asked in the first place. What would my powers be? *goes and gets list*

listy )

[/tl;dr]

extra extra read all about it )
kohikari: text: "I read crappy fanfiction in / my spare time. / It's crap, / I know it's crap, / and yet I / can't stop." (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd] (Woohoo, somp'in ta waste ma tahm wiv.)

I don't think my parents ever tried to stop me from reading a book (probably because they either "wanted me to grow up an enlightened child" or (more likely) were too lazy(mother)/clueless(father) to bother), but there are a few vaguely relevant bits I can remember:

First; when I got into my mother's considerable stash of trash novels around the tender age of...oh...I was probably eight or ten, I don't think she was too happy about it--but that was mostly because I would squirrel the ones she wanted to read/was in the middle of reading away into my room and it would take a team of professional excavational spelunkers to find them again.

Second; in school I was always reading something under the desk/table when I was supposed to be paying attention, and while this ticked the teachers off, it wasn't until I'd switched from my regular fare (Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Sweet Valley High, Babysitters' Club, Goosebumps, Wishbone, American Girl, Boxcar Children, Anne McCaffrey, Tamora Pierce, Diana Wynne Jones, etc.) to what was clearly soft-core porn that they attempted a full-on intervention.  Also, when I (in my early primordial flailing attempts at pre-otakuness) was reading the novelized versions of the Sailor Moon anime, I would get embarrassed and recover them with paper and pretend to be reading something more intelligent than watered-down cartoonish pap that couldn't even spell the word "whoa" (it seems that, even then, I was something of an elitist).

Third; my friend Kate (who I first met when she was a beleaguered summer camp counselor and I a whirling precocious seven-year-old hellion with a vivid imagination, high IQ and a penchant for biting people; over the past decade or so, she's been something of an amalgam of teacher, mentor, babysitter, godmother, sister, idol, and friend) once forbade me from reading The Lovely Bones until I was old enough; for the first time in the history of my life I actually did what I was told, and when it was on my summer reading list in high school, she gave me her copy.

I think that's it.  EDIT:  Ooh, ooh, also!  My friend Jessica B-L (I know waaay too many Jessicas) gave me her copy of the Necronomicon when she moved down to South North Carolina with her Iraq vet combat-medic husband; before that, I would flip through it when I was over at her parents' place (I thought--and still think--that it's the most adorable thing ever), and I would randomly pick a page and read melodramatically and she would freak out and tackle me and wrestle the book away (it didn't matter whether I was reading from "The Conjuration of the Fire God" or the Acknowledgements).

(Hee, downstairs I can hear my cat fussing and scratching in her labohratohree; three guesses what that is.  Socute. ♥)