[personal profile] xaara
Whoo, just finished a local 20K and have time to sneak in a nap and some LJ before work. It was a fairly brutal run, given the recent unpleasantness with my knee, which means this is the longest I've run at a stretch for six weeks or so. But I took it ridiculously slowly--as in, 10:35/mile--which was boring but didn't result in pain. And then I ate curry!

A meme that keeps circulating and is always fun:

1 - Leave a comment, saying you want to be interviewed.
2 - I will respond; I'll ask you five questions.
3 - You'll update your journal with my five questions, and your five answers.
4 - You'll include this explanation.
5 - You'll ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

[livejournal.com profile] lassiterfics asked me the following:

1. Why do you love Castiel?

Um. Because he, like, exists? And there are far too few things in this world that make me swoon. Seriously, though, I love him because he is not a human. He passes, most days, with his suit-and-tie flasher getup and ornery disposition, but he's a fundamentally alien creature, stuck with these weirdo Winchesters, who are family to each other but at best a sad substitute for what he's lost. He's alone, and cast out, and angry (whoa is that boy angry), and underneath that all, he's just desperately in need of a cause, a mission, a purpose.

I was talking recently about how Castiel is, for all practical intents and purposes, two years old, and I love that contrast: two years of emotional development masking a being with an incredible wealth of knowledge and power. It's why his relationships (read: that weird thing he's got going with Dean) are so off-balance: he holds physical and probably intellectual dominance, but Dean and Sam circumvent that by using their commonality--their humanity--to work around him (I don't understand that reference.) He might speak all the languages in the world (which is my favorite piece of fanon ever), but he doesn't speak human.

Plus, have you seen his eyes?

2. Favorite alcoholic beverage?

I'm a scotch girl, all the way. Oban at the moment, though I love Talisker and Macallan 18, before the latter had distribution/production problems and sort of disappeared from the market.

3. What are your favorite fic tropes?

I suppose this isn't really a trope so much as a style, but I love long, well-plotted stories, where the events taking place are as important as the people involved. Pairing- and friendship-based stories are fine, and I read a ton of h/c, since that seems to be, like, 80% of Supernatural fandom, but a strong concept and storyline makes it a story that I'll come back to rather than one I'll comment on quickly and move past. I love me some big bang.

Back in the day, when I was involved in Star Wars fandom (when FF.N was big and used the MPAA rating system, which meant I, as a 12-year-old who was so excited to be getting away with grown-up shit, accidentally read a story about a Princess Leia/wookie gang-bang), I realized that I liked secondary characters more than mains, and that's carried over. I love outsider POV, minor character development, and tasteful OCs. Most recently, the thing that has totally satisfied every single one of these favorites is Anything Worth Dying For by [livejournal.com profile] waldorph

4. What is the strangest thing you've ever eaten?

Oh man. I should preface this by saying that although I'm mostly a vegan, I have a contradictory policy of always accepting food I've never tried before. So I've eaten some really weird shit, like squid-ink soup and candy with bugs in it. Also, once, I ate a penny.

But the weirdest thing by far was these meatballs my landlady made in Italy...from tiny, bug-eyed fish. Whole, tiny bug-eyed fish and a few bread crumbs. It was like eating a golf-ball sized sphere of tiny eyeballs. Thinking about it still makes me laugh a little hysterically.

5. What is the last beautiful thing to have broken your heart?

The other day, I was sitting on my balcony with a book and a cup of coffee, watching the sun come up, and the tree that loops over it had begun to bud. A dark green oblong, wrapped like a pair of folded hands, tipped each fractal limb; it was a beautiful promise of spring. So I tucked my nose into my book and drank my coffee, and when I looked up again, one of the buds had opened, producing a tiny, absolutely perfect maple leaf. I didn't see any others; it was like the tree had opened that one, just for me, just that morning. And it hit something, some need I didn't know I had, and became one of those moments where you feel like you are part of something huge.
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May 2010


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