serinde: (today I am eight)
The Gentle Reader may recall my post-Pennsic wrap-up, in which I mentioned a boy who made my week bright. It's the usual mode for these encounters to last no longer than the end of the war, and maybe--maybe--you might have a rencontre in following years, if everyone involved is at liberty; but to have it extend longer is, if not unheard of, at least exceedingly rare, and usually just a flurry of email or calls that slowly taper off.

This is not that. This is us talking nearly every night, and this is me going down to Maryland twice in the past month to see him (and meeting his parents and being his plus-one at a wedding), and this is my heart bubbling over whenever I think of him, and this is amused observers pointing at me and saying "look at her! She's glowing!", and this is him phoning me up and singing ballads to me when I feel blue, and this is me making mix tapes for him (because yes, in fact, my brain is stuck in 1987), and this is his friends telling me how glad they are to finally meet me because "he talks so much about you!", et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.

We fit very, very well. He is a gamer, and a sci-fi geek, and a comics fan, and does theater, and we have a strong musical overlap; our conversations are never dull; we never seem to run out of things to say; and we are entirely compatible in, ahem, other respects as well. And he is outgoing where I am shy, and I am Princess Internet where he is technologically challenged, and I gave him the Brain Surgeons and he gave me Great Big Sea, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth.

Now before everyone gets all happy, let me point out that there are, as they say in management language, "challenges":
1) He lives Far Away. This is amendable, of course, but:
2) His career (music teacher) is just getting going, and he will have to go where he can find a job, at least for the first while.
3) He likes Pearl Jam and Nickelback. D: (I can get through that. At least it's not Radiohead.)
4) oh and by the way he turns 25 in a few weeks. This is, at least so far, proving no impediment on either side, but you can see how it could, potentially, if a commitment were entered into.

So, long story short, I cannot tell if we will ever be more than each other's occasional It's Complicated. I'm remarkably unencumbered about that at the moment; I'm enjoying (and delighting in) what we can share right now, and I am ever in hopes of more, but I'm letting the future take care of itself.
serinde: (determination)
So I am back from Pennsic, and quite a war it was--if not in the sense that most people mean it, because I did not see a single battle, and had absolutely no notion on how the tally was going. The entire first half of the week was chiefly swallowed by last-minute sweatshops to finish up a sideless surcoat for a sewing buddy who was being elevated to the Order of the Laurel at court on Wed. evening, which we accomplished, with just enough time to clean up and change and sneak into the back before the ceremony. (There are several disparate rants which are attached to all of that, but I won't get into it now.) It did look fucking awesome, I'm here to tell you. But it is not what I want to spend my vacation doing, so our mantra for next year is Read My Lips, No New Peerages.

The weather was hot and sticky for just about the whole time, except the first night, which was ass-freezing cold (and due to a certain amount of bed jumping, I ended up with insufficient blanketry). This drained my energy and my will to live considerable-like, especially since with other commitments in play I couldn't spend the nasty hours planted in the swimming hole. I'm stuck facing the fact that my chosen century in conjunction with my natural endowment dooms me to unhappiness in hot weather. (LITTLE ICE AGE, PEOPLE!) I was reasonably comfortable in my lighter gamurra, but, I mean, wah. I also kept stealing Beth's bog dress, and was surprised to learn I could wear it without a bra and not be utterly miserable, at least as long as I was just lounging and walking--trying to perform tasks in it (even just washing the dishes or picking up around camp) led to bQQbie issues.

I did, however, exhibit in the A&S display for the first time. I had been dithering about it but, upon receipt of a double-barrelled blast from Beth and Greta, I was all "aaaaaaaaaaa yes yes please don't hurt me", and bodged together some docco on Friday. The display was two dresses, my older green GFD top layer (which I was wearing) and my new checked wool one (on the table), with comments on the differences and learnings gathered therefrom. Mine did not garner a lot of attention from the punters, because it is not ZOMG SHINY, but I was prepared for that; and almost without exception, the people who did stop to take note of it were the serious cats. And I believe I handled the questions they threw at me in a competent fashion. So, I think that can be considered a win. And at least I finished the eyelets on my other new dress in the six fucking hours I was sitting in the sun.

However, about 3 or 4 people either asked if, or assumed that, I had woven the fabric myself. O_O If that's the level we're dealing with, I am so fucking going back to wench-wear. (A propos of which, Real Clothes are too hard to get into and out of, so for Slutty Party Wear I am going to research period prostitute clothing, if indeed it was much different, and see if I can come up with something entertaining. Oh look, more excuses to watch Dangerous Beauty.)

I got a shiny! I have been awarded the Bronze Tower for service to the Barony of Settmour Swamp, chiefly for my helping-out on Troll shifts for Swamp events, and other instances of being my usual domovoi self. I even have a scroll.

Um. Also. There was this boy.
squee
I feel like me again for the first time in years, and by that I mean "long before the breakup".
To [livejournal.com profile] mangosteen: That "GLAH" business you used to bust my chops about? That.

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serinde

September 2013

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