tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38691973712321940712024-03-05T05:12:42.773-08:00Brass and Brown Leather: The Steampunk AristocratFollow the trials and travails of a woman aiming to live the steampunk dream.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-44116804066486367342012-01-02T13:55:00.000-08:002012-01-02T13:55:25.612-08:00Dorian Gray Corner 2: How to avoid being gauche<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPlHnl9Sb3bIYL7DQR0KT8c7xS_0bol2e7SiRht6uhn9gTT-m6HnR61KsIoJ1nkfTVmnL1MkOwyuKOGu9fNB3MebQEYw_8rjS6_iLlPhvEueGr-YCtmKvRdwl-bHlw0X_fPyU8kIGi1vm/s1600/IMG_20110527_173516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPlHnl9Sb3bIYL7DQR0KT8c7xS_0bol2e7SiRht6uhn9gTT-m6HnR61KsIoJ1nkfTVmnL1MkOwyuKOGu9fNB3MebQEYw_8rjS6_iLlPhvEueGr-YCtmKvRdwl-bHlw0X_fPyU8kIGi1vm/s320/IMG_20110527_173516.jpg" width="239" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Any time I am at conventions or other gatherings of steampunks, I am often struck by the skill with which those in attendance have assembled their outfits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This does not, however, prevent certain individuals from making some truly appalling fashion choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often, this is simply a matter of bad judgment, and with that spirit in mind the Dorian Gray corner has returned to provide some insight into how not to walk out the door in an outfit of such atrocious construction that it could make even a blind person wince.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before you even THINK about buying something for an outfit, as a steampunk, it behooves you to make damned sure that what you are purchasing is, in fact, unique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sure we have all seen the infamous steampunk octopus – a metal cut out whose ubiquity on Etsy (and Regretsy) has becomes veritable legend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t show up at a con decked out in the generic ‘steampunk’ refuse that talentless hacks have taken to peddling in the hope of a quick buck and at the expense of any number of good clocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Avoid shoddy workmanship like the PLAGUE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember, if you have an opportunity to wear a full steampunk outfit, you want to SHINE, and if your outfit was clearly constructed cheaply, it WILL show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dress to your body type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone can look stylish, but it hinges on a person being willing to dress to their body, rather than trying to force yourself into an outfit that may suit an idealized human being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As per example, I have an hourglass figure, with emphasis on both the top and bottom of the hourglass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As such, I will not wear a vest unless it has a corseted back, as a regular vest will simply hang straight from my upper assets and give the impression that I am an extremely fat cylinder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, even though I love vests, I forego them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Consider what you will be doing in this getup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do not wearing revealing clothes in subzero weather, do not wear a long-line corset if you intend to be able to bend over, and don’t wear high heels if you are hoping to run anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apply some common sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once you have gotten into your outfit, take a look in the mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then walk away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then return and look again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you can, view the outfit in several different kinds of light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Zero in on anything that jars with the rest of the outfit, and no matter how much it pains you, remove these from the outfit. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">6.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beware of looking ‘clunky’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Steampunk outfits tend to lend themselves to a lot of gadgets, and this is fine to a certain degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One must remember, however, that it behooves one to adhere to rule 2.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re getting dressed up, make sure you’re exhibiting only the best of your collection, and always adhere to Coco Chanel’s maxim that, before one goes out the door, take off one accessory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">7.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Make sure your attitude suits your outfit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, if you have the chance to dress the part, it’s also time to act the part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So don’t be afraid to play your role to the hilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-62187324992023538802011-10-04T12:05:00.000-07:002011-10-04T12:05:40.371-07:00A Bevy of Steampunk Beverages<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXnXOrY1T6sdkUpyzOtYYsNcAvK7EJV3eOMmUeze_4DLG57GxuvbYK0IAwwhDjNUgXJYZIZwptZ9QvP66DYWp97hIhfkCTitphsluLSBZHcGCIAy4Xi3KNcgMfWM0FYPE5iJCSJGIgXCC/s1600/IMG_20110525_123636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinXnXOrY1T6sdkUpyzOtYYsNcAvK7EJV3eOMmUeze_4DLG57GxuvbYK0IAwwhDjNUgXJYZIZwptZ9QvP66DYWp97hIhfkCTitphsluLSBZHcGCIAy4Xi3KNcgMfWM0FYPE5iJCSJGIgXCC/s320/IMG_20110525_123636.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am not ashamed to say that I love a good drink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With few exceptions, I have found most wines, beers, and hard liquor in all its varied forms to be wonderful, wonderful things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course that train of thought has led me to eventually seek out the best and the brightest – as well as the strangest – in the realms of alcohol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, for your delectation and delight, some examples of beer, wine, and general booze that I classify as steampunk!<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kraken Rum:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This probably goes without saying, all things considered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The label/bottle alone are extremely good reasons to buy it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rum itself, however, may take some getting used to for those more accustomed to Captain Morgan and Bacardi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It packs a serious, burning punch when you drink it straight (as myself and some of my more adventurous friends have been known to do.) In mixed drinks it loses that nasty/lovely caustic element and goes down nice and smooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The flavor is heavy on vanilla, with other spices like cinnamon and cloves acting as ‘backup dancers’, if you will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Please note, you must say ‘Release the Kraken’ when you open it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the law.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Steam Whistle Beer:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mentioned this umpteen blog posts ago, but Steam Whistle, if you can get it, is an excellent, light, Canadian pilsner, eminently drinkable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It goes great with luncheon type food and is very refreshing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The label itself is what causes me to class it as steampunk, and the brilliant green bottle is also very pretty to look at.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One small problem; I haven’t been able to find it in the US, despite much scowering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ichabod ale:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the New Holland brewery, this is a wonderful seasonal beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They use pumpkins in the mix (which I cannot taste) and spices (which I most definitely can).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The end result is one of the few dark-er beers that I actually enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(As a rule of thumb I almost always drink IPAs, partially because I love how they taste but also because most people don’t like them and therefore won’t steal mine.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Midas Touch:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Derived from the chemical sampling of the inside of an ancient, cauldron, this stuff is apparently pretty damn close to what ancient people used to get sloshed on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s good, albeit pricey (saffron is used in the brewing process), middle of the range on the sliding scale of pale to dark beers, and while I don’t know that it’s one of my favorites, it’s still a great way to strike up conversation at parties.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Biere de Mars:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An awesome Belgian beer, this stuff comes in an ENORMOUS bottle, and you will be tempted to drink it all in one go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in this case, you can give in to temptation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stuff is amazing -light, bubbly, and otherworldly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes me want to climb aboard the Enterprise or the TARDIS and go whizzing through space.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have not, however, been able to find a steampunk gin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any suggestions on that front are welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-81411031451443973692011-08-15T20:06:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:18:33.604-08:00When a film fan becomes a film fail<div style="border: currentColor;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1UVxd-vbOrqIMwW85yAEvN5U0MpakJ5gpk_WuGPN5rJj7V6G7W_u18bSy6P4wWqFXjYeZ-PJGJTNpNq81PEY48Zmok-j3sDH6d1H-bE8ry5ssiDGYztg6kFBauxUHNHzO9riQBeI05kL/s1600/IMG_20110613_142645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA1UVxd-vbOrqIMwW85yAEvN5U0MpakJ5gpk_WuGPN5rJj7V6G7W_u18bSy6P4wWqFXjYeZ-PJGJTNpNq81PEY48Zmok-j3sDH6d1H-bE8ry5ssiDGYztg6kFBauxUHNHzO9riQBeI05kL/s320/IMG_20110613_142645.jpg" width="320" /></a>I love art films. That’s just a given. I adore Pan’s Labyrinth, the 1979 Nosferatu, the short films of the Brothers Quay, and Koyaanisqatsi, amongst many other films of that ilk. Often, the weirder and more disturbing the movie is, the more likely it is that I am all over it like ants on a sugar heap. I really and truly love when films push my boundaries and expect me to think for myself. This, however, does not prevent me from enjoying more mainstream works. I adored Priest, Thor, Cowboys and Aliens, and the Hangover 2, and that’s just this summer’s roster of movies that I saw. Did I consider any of them to be extremely deep or meaningful? No, not really, but they entertained me, made me roll with laughter, hold my breath with suspense, and generally have a grand time with a bucket of popcorn on my lap. </div><div style="border: currentColor;">So now, I offer a heartfelt rant to the world. All you snobby film viewers who insist on criticizing any film that doesn’t fit your concept of high cinema, please remove your collective head from your collective ass. I had to put up with one of your kind, a self-centered hipster who refused to give any credit to the actors (in her eyes everything was due to the magic of the director) or to speculate on the meanings of particularly arcane movies. She drove me crazy. All she ever did was quote essays about the films in question, never once producing an independent thought of her own.</div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div><div style="border: currentColor;">Obviously, it was this hipster who fueled my outright hatred of film snobbery, but I feel everyone, especially those of us who love art films, should take this sort of behavior into consideration before you open your trap to lambast a film. Now of course I’m not saying that you shouldn’t criticize a movie you dislike (I’d be out of a job then), but I do suggest that you consider whether the film was really and truly *bad*, rather than it just didn’t make the cut for the Cannes Film Festival. And there are, in fact, plenty of films that are really and truly bad, (The Last Airbender, DEAR GOD, THE LAST AIRBENDER) and ripe for the shredding. In other words, here are some good, non-subjective reasons for disliking a movie: Wooden script, abysmal acting across the board, abuse of special affects for no good reason, and enormous plotholes. Here are reasons that may mean the world to you, but are in fact subjective and it may be better to keep to yourself: The film wasn’t directed by your favorite director, it was made by a big Hollywood studio, it was designed to entertain rather than to inspire nirvana….etcetera. </div>Also respect other’s right to dislike *your* movies. I don’t look down people because they didn’t like Black Swan or Inglourious Basterds. And I (and many others besides myself) would take it as a kindness that we be allowed to dislike movies regardless of the film’s perceived merit. As per example Citizen Kane just plain bores me to tears. Yes I know it’s supposed to be a classic, but I’d rather watch Attack of the Killer Tomatoes than be forced to contemplate Rosebud one more time. Or hear a hipster dissect the symbolism of Rosebud one more time. In other words; film likes and dislikes are subjective, and disliking a film is not automatically a sign that one is an uncouth yokel. <br />
<div style="border: currentColor;">Finally, one does not have to have read every book on film or seen every arthouse flick to have an opinion on a movie. I love Nosferatu for its powerful Memento Mori attitudes, and I do not give a specific DAMN about the New German Cinema style that produced it or its goals, nor do I feel any need to. Directors, after all, may make a film in a certain way and hope to send a certain message, but everyone will walk away with differing opinions. People filter what they see through their own experiences and perspectives, and if you find yourself filtering your films entirely through the lenses of others, you will end up like the hipster I mentioned earlier: a squawking parrot with no opinion of your own. </div><div style="border: currentColor;"></div>In summary, watch the movies you love, debate about them politely while keeping the subjective elements in mind, respect the likes and dislikes of others, and never feel obligated to watch a film you hate/have no interest in.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-78819357208364831492011-06-29T09:44:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:07:38.524-08:00The Great Purse Dilemma<div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>This is one area that continues to daunt me in my Steampunk wardrove. Despite a closet full of Victorian clothes and shoes, a jewelry box brimming with pretties made of old watch pieces, and a vast selection of other props ranging from parasols to goggles to gasmasks, I’m still out of luck in the purse department. <br />
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Most of this issue boils down to the fact that my purse needs be, out of necessity, a veritable black hole. My current bag of holding has a couple dozen pockets and compartments, allowing me to carry virtually anything, which I usually do. Like Mary Poppins, I can produce pens, paper, motrin, food, money, makeup, a selection of tools, and all the varied gear required in my day to day life with its bizarre occurrences and teeth rattling near misses. All the Steampunk purses I’ve seen, however, tend to be large but lack any compartments or organization worth writing home about. Up with this, obviously, I will not put, and I have remained sans-Steampunk-carrying device, though I have still not given up hope that such a purse exists.<br />
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So I’m putting out a call here: If anyone knows of a place or a website where I can get a decent (and stylish) Steampunk purse/bag/WHATEVER of sufficient capacity, I would be eternally grateful.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-47895479545895049412011-06-15T10:55:00.000-07:002012-05-19T12:07:12.263-07:00World Steam Expo 2011I’m sorry about the delay in delivering this entry. I’ve been waiting to see if more photos of myself cropped up in the World Steam Expo Flickr account (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/world_steam_expo/pool/">http://www.flickr.com/groups/world_steam_expo/pool/</a>), which, ironically, yielded several photos of me from the 2010 Expo, but very few of me this time round, save a couple shots that featured me in the background. Which is odd, since I know from the many times I was asked to pose that there are plenty of pictures from the 2011 Expo out there.<br />
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Anyway.<br />
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This year’s Expo was an improvement in every way possible. The schedule was better put together and had many awesome events (I rappelled from the ceiling in six inch heels! And there *are* pics of it somewhere, though I haven't been able to find them), the dealer room had many more sellers and a broader selection of merchandise (I bought a TON of stuff :D), and as a rule of thumb things worked better all the way around. The only major issues were mechanical ones, which I forgive readily in that *something* has to go wrong to appease Murphy’s Law. Better that it’s the microphone refusing to work than something really catastrophic occurring. Also I was recognized by several people for my show, including the people at Brute Force Studios, G. D. Falksen, and Frenchie and the Punk. OH, THE AWESOME. *rolls around in glee*<br />
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And now on to the photos!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">BOOYAH!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhx2TyLQOf7dR4VrS8cH_fOOItXNK3ZbtBK3lH39yIN3TC-8XoA9Y4eAxjXgVPsdXredcuNs-0RPJpkgZ1LMvkMGCACMWKPkgSg_hyQMcbHN_h9u-7DeMqswL5w0YGpNEjKKOF_T3nnos/s1600/IMG_20110528_141445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUhx2TyLQOf7dR4VrS8cH_fOOItXNK3ZbtBK3lH39yIN3TC-8XoA9Y4eAxjXgVPsdXredcuNs-0RPJpkgZ1LMvkMGCACMWKPkgSg_hyQMcbHN_h9u-7DeMqswL5w0YGpNEjKKOF_T3nnos/s320/IMG_20110528_141445.jpg" t8="true" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">That's the rappelling tower. I jumped off that in six inch heels. You do the math.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXe2SJfq6BLUB697Nj-3SHdN8hj9khW_eHjpx9u4NA8kr5ZxR3Jxu33lJ0k6joV9kH9Ooq2HTjQ9i6c-yllC9NpmcrMeulUI0iB_IZL_wF3xfSyltI5hJ42C49twsok22I8If3IWH1myo/s1600/IMG_20110528_111526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXe2SJfq6BLUB697Nj-3SHdN8hj9khW_eHjpx9u4NA8kr5ZxR3Jxu33lJ0k6joV9kH9Ooq2HTjQ9i6c-yllC9NpmcrMeulUI0iB_IZL_wF3xfSyltI5hJ42C49twsok22I8If3IWH1myo/s320/IMG_20110528_111526.jpg" t8="true" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love the anachronistic nature of this photo.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54-gNR2A-4_oFq77O5ZgxrHs9mzBxmpC41kLoZxLVPVEqSjGh-gA-140Uxl8gUDQid9WZx8eDabDYPWLsc0Zou1AMJzLypMQ1TbX3onhFmfIHFpssAjsgKPrL4u6-crDozq5Qr9bRvDYd/s1600/IMG_20110528_132238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54-gNR2A-4_oFq77O5ZgxrHs9mzBxmpC41kLoZxLVPVEqSjGh-gA-140Uxl8gUDQid9WZx8eDabDYPWLsc0Zou1AMJzLypMQ1TbX3onhFmfIHFpssAjsgKPrL4u6-crDozq5Qr9bRvDYd/s320/IMG_20110528_132238.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">At an Aegis presentation. Also, dreadlocks.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7tLMAbRT2dyavahJWD5W253z6nXE7v55bYE7zZADJLo81dGrRahc6EqmbhQYfjUBkr4YKl3RG9uFWQRAk_EXr9jePJaG0-IGjrhXZ0aNt91s8vSc0yoo9BL1ZYgLQ7w1_swAMep-evo1/s1600/victoria+landes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7tLMAbRT2dyavahJWD5W253z6nXE7v55bYE7zZADJLo81dGrRahc6EqmbhQYfjUBkr4YKl3RG9uFWQRAk_EXr9jePJaG0-IGjrhXZ0aNt91s8vSc0yoo9BL1ZYgLQ7w1_swAMep-evo1/s320/victoria+landes.jpg" t8="true" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">These next two photos were taken at the SmarterPics booth in the dealers room and involved a green screen, hence the awesome background. This was my outfit on the first day.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4HvxVkO8zPS2D46Ft4UQKfeezq5dzi5-xYoNu_kiGlWd8hb9MYubxZWlBN2G3GDO8tUuL70EaNGNaanjbekidYgdjsGzjDPGhT2bEcXCVaDR-iRTvPfP-c3ewCPA3wpmw45tcyOn4ZLC/s1600/victoria+landes+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4HvxVkO8zPS2D46Ft4UQKfeezq5dzi5-xYoNu_kiGlWd8hb9MYubxZWlBN2G3GDO8tUuL70EaNGNaanjbekidYgdjsGzjDPGhT2bEcXCVaDR-iRTvPfP-c3ewCPA3wpmw45tcyOn4ZLC/s320/victoria+landes+2.jpg" t8="true" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Outfit on day two. This is also my new profile pic, and during the Expo my unique shade of lipstick earned me the title of 'blue lips'. That is my beloved modded nerf gun in front, which I geekily named 'Not My Funeral' in honor of Gwynn from the Etched City's sword.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprBOyIWvjwR2wXy8fII7AqF9-Hrm2sW5Ubh3QyzCntubk7y-G7SAXoamwV14H-KsnKSaK6VjQuCJbhhjWiWAKEoITWMLb1YJHmSCtN4NiEZsUZXHslN2P3JyRTnFEEcP9LJkw6bXEcWoH/s1600/4666861667_f3fe57bab3_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhprBOyIWvjwR2wXy8fII7AqF9-Hrm2sW5Ubh3QyzCntubk7y-G7SAXoamwV14H-KsnKSaK6VjQuCJbhhjWiWAKEoITWMLb1YJHmSCtN4NiEZsUZXHslN2P3JyRTnFEEcP9LJkw6bXEcWoH/s320/4666861667_f3fe57bab3_b.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">These two photos were actually taken in 2010, but I figure they're still awesome and therefore sharable.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTraIOduJN89mkKxrTOuE04Fxusk2WQ8xBQTkQyrGjS_jEPMnDX5F5wpPJSR3NoKUy7_pAT9liPnQkaQPP7TBGDGgGRsF-dM6PXQPLZWDljBraCqBxVzZEJEPiS6m-bmoVu7wHymwjmJdy/s1600/4667481906_3928604b11_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTraIOduJN89mkKxrTOuE04Fxusk2WQ8xBQTkQyrGjS_jEPMnDX5F5wpPJSR3NoKUy7_pAT9liPnQkaQPP7TBGDGgGRsF-dM6PXQPLZWDljBraCqBxVzZEJEPiS6m-bmoVu7wHymwjmJdy/s320/4667481906_3928604b11_b.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love the way the front of my skirt has folded itself in this shot.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-14942377334598300962011-05-16T07:37:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:21:17.049-08:00Dorian Gray Corner 1: Designing an outfit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3m_ViMrWOyC-l4eV7xq9xb68xd_hL6li6NJ6B_Lm4uMLMztSoEOIcbfFOqlKhmjSe2nfjSv9LNYMBMkHN-W0u5oacOSf6IOYpv_zIZYUT-HK-quucOwH33AeguJlc3dV1sSqJD6g3eWhy/s1600/IMG_20101224_180203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3m_ViMrWOyC-l4eV7xq9xb68xd_hL6li6NJ6B_Lm4uMLMztSoEOIcbfFOqlKhmjSe2nfjSv9LNYMBMkHN-W0u5oacOSf6IOYpv_zIZYUT-HK-quucOwH33AeguJlc3dV1sSqJD6g3eWhy/s320/IMG_20101224_180203.jpg" width="239" /></a>I’ve been asked several times how I go about putting together my Steampunk clothing ensembles: Where exactly do I get my ideas, how do I bring them to fruition, etcetera. So I’m going to let you, my dear readers, in on my various secrets in this series of articles, named after one of the most appearance obsessed book characters of all time. <br />
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First of all, one important thing to bear in mind is that anyone attempting to put together an outfit of any sort needs to rely on their sense of taste and style. Taste, of course, can be a rather subjective concept, and if one feels that one’s own sense isn’t up to par, it’s advisable to involve someone else in the proceedings if for nothing else than a second opinion. Indeed, even if you normally feel your fashion abilities surpass those of everyone around you, it’s still advisable to ask someone else what they think before you go traipsing out the door wearing some bizarre concoction of clothes. (Note: This rule is negated if the central conceit of your outfit is of a grand enough scale. Or if you are Lady Gaga.)<br />
Now, on to the actual designing of an outfit. When I begin the process of coming up with some new Steampunk get up I always start off with some sort of inspiration. As per example, the idea for the ensemble I wear during my Steampunk makeup and clothing tutorial on my youtube channel (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/yankee999?feature=mhee#p/u/3/BhaS9VcE560">http://www.youtube.com/user/yankee999?feature=mhee#p/u/3/BhaS9VcE560</a>) was derived from the character Grell a la the manga Black Butler. I started by pinpointing Grell’s central color scheme of black, white, and bright red (black, white, and red is also arguably Sebastian’s color scheme, but his red is more a shade of maroon or claret while Grell’s is more in line with the color of blood or roses.) From there I assessed what clothes I had that fit that schematic, as well as the general visual tone of the manga (clean lines, minimal visual foofrah) and from there weeded out any excessively lacey or gauzy pieces of clothing. What was left was a pinstriped skirt made from black suiting, a black blouse, black-red-and-white corset, black boots, and black bustle coat. I assembled this, then added a silver pendant strung on a red ribbon, garnet earrings, and some makeup. Ta-dah! Outfit complete. <br />
This same process can be followed by anyone. Pick a starting point for inspiration, assess the color and style of the inspiration, find clothes + jewelry + makeup that match that style, then put it all together and out the door you go.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-88811425397781833532011-05-06T17:26:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:21:47.753-08:00Branching outSo it has occurred to me that while this is supposed to be a Steampunk blog, I tend to spend far too much time talking about my personal life and issues. Given that fact, I’ve decided to outsource my personal problems to a new blog. Said new blog is called the Nyarlathotep Files, and here’s the appropriate link: http://nyarlathotepfiles.blogspot.com/. So if you like hearing me rant on and on (and ON) about life at Miskatonic and the insanity here, subscribe over there. From now on this blog will be strictly focused on Steampunk, how to incorporate it into one’s life, and other gear related topics. <br />
And in other news, I now have my very own theme song for my reviews, another one of which should be gracing us in the near future.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-37091050919789635122011-04-20T12:33:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:22:20.804-08:00Peacock Queen RebornSo, if you follow my twitter (it’s in the blog sidebar! Go follow me now!) you know I lost out for the position of president of the Miskatonic Film Society. To say I’m still sore on the subject is an understatement, but I can say that I’m no longer heartbroken. I’ve learned some valuable lessons, primarily that I am no more meant to meddle in politics than I am meant to grow wings and fly to the moon. And after three months of dying to myself, I am free. Free not only to return to my Felix Harrowgate-esque self, but also to start a club of my own – the Miskatonic Scifi and Fantasy Club. No, one does not exist already, to my utter bafflement. <br />
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I am not, however, free of anger in regards to my being beaten for the position. Most of my rage derives from the fact that my opponent rigged the voting, and given that he was in a relationship with the current president at the time I should have known I was over a barrel the minute the sides were lined up. I took my defeat as gracefully as I could, of course, as an aristocrat should, but that does not seem to be enough for the new president. At this juncture I have even gone so far as to offer the hand of friendship to get dialogue going with him – a rather important gesture, given that I was elected vice president and we have to WORK TOGETHER – but thus far no luck. If he keeps it up things are going to become REALLY unpleasant in our near future.<br />
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Thankfully, now I’m back after three months of living in a coffin of my own misguided ambition for all the wrong things. So strap on your goggles, friends, and hold on. I suspect things are going to get a mite wild.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-35496110186725107902011-04-06T12:15:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:24:47.854-08:00The Etch-e-sketch of the Elder Gods<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFN6yffXZJHar-K_xsITgrJ7t9RFgui2gAUrlfBCoGQ3GgfY4TchS_yQkjejthM72CJcj_MuNnxlD3l6dddMf4n5k3W4GoQBc_JMXZKhCHBYTHfyrglaSksRKm4sHhMDJ-E54uglVdJ4K/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFN6yffXZJHar-K_xsITgrJ7t9RFgui2gAUrlfBCoGQ3GgfY4TchS_yQkjejthM72CJcj_MuNnxlD3l6dddMf4n5k3W4GoQBc_JMXZKhCHBYTHfyrglaSksRKm4sHhMDJ-E54uglVdJ4K/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a>Well spring seems to be clawing its way into the cold heart of Miskatonic for the first time in months. And as is the custom of Miskatonic spring, it heralds its arrival with some of the most bizarre shifts in weather imaginable. Over the course of one weekend, I was privileged to be pelted with rain, snow, sleet, and hail, with periodic moments of sunlight. The reason for the ridiculous weather is often blamed on everything from the hilly land to the nearby lakes or what have you, but as far as I’m concerned Miskatonic has its insane weather because we happen to exist in the elder god’s weather based etch-e-sketch, which Yog Sothoth enjoys shaking spastically whenever spring rolls around. <br />
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Moving on.<br />
A new review will be up by the weekend. I swear to god. I know I’ve been extremely delayed in my updating, but things have been pretty hairy over here, in one way or another. The friend based drama continues and it has seriously taxed my emotional wherewithal. This in turn makes me anxious and prone to freak outs on a grand scale (as an aristocrat, I never do anything in halves. If I’m going to lose my mind, I’m going to lose ALL of it.) <br />
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This makes it very hard to get anything except the most basic requirements of school done. I am pleased to report, however, that I seem to be climbing back out of the pit of despair, and hopefully I can stay out of it permanently this time.<br />
Finally, I’m fully prepared for the World Steam Expo. Outfits are prepped, registrations are purchased, friends are roped in, and I am super excited. Is anyone else coming? Post in the commentsVictoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-51267479715590176822011-03-23T21:11:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:25:19.434-08:00Current interests, part 2<strong>Rin: Daughters of Mnemosyne</strong>. This anime looks like a total mind screw, on so many separate levels. From what I've gathered about it, it is most certainly not for the faint of heart, and anyone who's interested in watching it should go in fully aware that it is for the mature crowd in every sense of the word. I still plan on seeing it, though. I've yet to meet any book/film/tv series/anime that could freak me out enough to make me totally flip my wig. I have, on the other hand, encountered just the *descriptions* of a few internet memes that did just that. Draw your own conclusions as to which ones they were.<br />
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<strong>Cooking and Indian food</strong>. I've recently gone off on a huge cooking jag, and have been absorbing recipes right left and center. I don't think we'll be treated to my turning into Julie from <em>Julie and Julia</em> but I think you can all certainly expect to hear about my cooking endeavors, experiments, and abject failures. I am currently focusing my attentions on Indian cuisine, mostly due to the fact that volume four of Black Butler featured copious references to curry and piqued my interest. I also have been drinking more chai tea, specifically a new flavor from Teavana known as Maharaja Chai Oolong. Oh my word, it's spectacular!<br />
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<strong>The Secret History</strong>. This has always been one of my favorite books, but I've recently been re-reading it (or at least re-reading specific passages). The plot, which features a group of sophisticated classics students who get sucked into their own modern version of a Greek tragedy, is gripping in the extreme. The book is notable for its amazing characterization and superb (albeit deliciously dysfunctional) group dynamics, and I've always been fond of two of the lead characters: Henry Winter, a Mycroft Holmes-esque polymath with ice in his veins and a nasty attitude, and Francis Abernathy, an aristocratic drama king whose shoes I often seem to find myself in when I'm at Miskatonic. (Feelings on that subject: THANK GOD I'M HOME.)Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-86915260527279439642011-03-16T11:03:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:26:10.195-08:00Etiquette: You are not exempt from it.I suspect I am not the only person this has happened to. Tell me when this starts sounding familiar: You spend the first decade or so under the careful tutelage of your parents, who do their absolute damnedest to instill good manners and etiquette in you, their offspring. If your upbringing was similar to mine, this also involved being taken to various formal events where it was an unspoken fact that bad behavior would be eliminated with extreme prejudice, further cementing the behavior. You may not think of yourself as egregiously polite or well mannered, but that’s primarily because you spend most of your time in contact with those who hold themselves to a similar standard, whether any of you know it or not. Everything is dandy.<br />
Then one day you find yourself in an environment where none of this holds true. This may or may not occur when one is in any level of grade school. For myself, I certainly experienced less than pleasant exchanges with many of my fellow students in high school, but I usually chalked that up to their dislike of me, rather than their having been raised in a barn. My big awakening occurred at Miskatonic. ANYWAY, you have been dropped on your ass amongst a bunch of cretins who don’t say please, thank you, or bother with utensils. Usually, I find, this inspires rage and frustration in the subject, and, if you’re Hannibal Lecter, psychopathic behavior. For me, it certainly entrenched my misanthropic view of humanity even deeper. <br />
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So let’s get something straight here: MANNERS ARE NOT OPTIONAL, FOR ANYONE. They provide orchestration and direction that prevents idiotic mishaps. Perfect example: Last week I was going down a narrow, crowded stair case. I kept to the right, AS YOU SHOULD, and so did most people. A few jackasses, however, decided that the line wasn’t moving fast enough, went into the ‘oncoming’ lane, and tried to make a break for it…only to have people need to get past them on their way up. Cue massive pile-up and delay. And for those who say that manners are sexist, I have this reply: They shouldn’t be. Just as an example, everyone should hold doors for everyone else, gender being utterly besides the point, and those having doors held for them should thank the holder. (As a side note, I find most women to be far ruder than men. They don’t bother to hold doors, smack people with their purses, and act infuriatingly entitled in every damn way you can imagine. NOT ACCEPTABLE, FELLOW FEMALES.)<br />
Finally, there comes a point where things just go to far and, in my opinion, the only correct response to such blatant rudeness is to throw it back in the face of its progenitor. To illustrate: The Miskatonic café has limited seating. Around lunch time, when I am usually there, the seating becomes even more limited when scores of troglodytes troupe in, drop their bags and coats on every table in sight, and then go to lunch, leaving their things, supposedly secure in the knowledge that the table in question is ‘saved’ for them and rendering people like me, who can’t get there till class lets out, SOL if they want to sit down to eat a meal like a civilized human being. After a few weeks of this, I lost my temper and decided to play their game. So if there is nowhere to sit in the café I MAKE a place, shoving people’s stuff to the side or transferring them to another table and taking what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Obviously I’ve received blowback for doing so, but in every case I’ve been able to use a combination of good manners and a pointedly worded explanation that should make the idiot brigade in question think twice before usurping a table they won’t even be using. <br />
As an added bonus, manners are far more productive than *eating* someone, fava beans or no. Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-57527841261483502692011-03-09T11:22:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:27:52.739-08:00Dress has always been my strongest suit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ipzxnBFvlE13azEc3ZJrjkIfsBpWzYvUUI2W6yBK6pMt32yq9RewplnxkOENHewOh-Gg0CKxYmhDHn9qVxdrivWRWLfu_GXyEWIFTJ5z2QmnW3fwDsXtD-Pd9xS6j_0PfvUXhYdOqLc-/s1600/2010-03-13_13.22.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ipzxnBFvlE13azEc3ZJrjkIfsBpWzYvUUI2W6yBK6pMt32yq9RewplnxkOENHewOh-Gg0CKxYmhDHn9qVxdrivWRWLfu_GXyEWIFTJ5z2QmnW3fwDsXtD-Pd9xS6j_0PfvUXhYdOqLc-/s320/2010-03-13_13.22.49.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Recently, while thinking about the impending Steam Expo, I was struck by a bolt of clothing related terror. All my outfits seemed shabby, most certainly unfit for an aristocrat intending to make her obligatory splash at a big Steampunk con. I frantically began searching the internet for some new outfits but - Quelle horreur! - all were so expensive and I needed that cash to purchase a mask for the masked ball! I was in a state of full blown hysterics when I actually bothered to start digging through my closet. That's when I realized that there was nothing wrong with my wardrobe - only with my perception of it. I had plenty of outfits, but lack of reason to get dressy had stunted my memory. So I began a delighted reunion with my varied bustles, corsets, and bloomers, and came to an understanding. Simply put: A wardrobe renovation need not require breaking the bank.<br />
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Step 1: If you feel your clothing habits have stagnated, it's best to ask yourself why. In my case, being shut up in Misktonic without any real reason to get dressed up had driven a couple nails into the coffin of my struggling fashion sense, aided by the fact that the bitterly cold winter precluded anything less than the sturdiest outfits. Jeans were the only reasonable leg-wear, coats were mandatory, and the threat of frostbite was certainly enough to keep me out of my silks and lace in favor of down and canvas (the winter did, however, provide a good reason to wear fur). <br />
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Step 2: Begin any potential renovating by getting reacquainted with your various clothes. Go through drawers. Dig through closets. As soon as I began to do this I discovered I had plenty of perfectly wonderful outfits just waiting to happen. Remember that both closets and drawers (as well as hat boxes, bureaus, chifforobes, laundry bags, wardrobes, attics, and what have you) are sneaky bastards who tend to skew your opinion of the state of your clothing affairs. Act accordingly.<br />
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Step 3: If you feel the need, remove any worn out clothes/clothes you just have absolutely no use for whatsoever. It may occur that your drawers are packed full of perfectly awesome day and night wear, but all that has been buried under ugly but well intentioned sweaters from Aunt Millie or t-shirts your co-workers/fellow students/WHOEVER keep giving you. Get rid of these. Give them away, re-gift them, turn them into quilts, use them as cat beds, stuff them under the door to prevent drafts, just get them the hell out of your wardrobe.<br />
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Step 4: Assess what is left behind. Is your selection of clothing satisfying? Do you feel you have too much of one thing and too little of another? Here is where you begin planning - if you find the need - to go shopping for fresh clothes. Be strategic. Don't just go out any buy a whole bunch of stuff because 'you need something new'. Instead, decide that, for example, you could use more leg wear and carefully select three pairs of new trousers that you can match to almost anything. Hell, if you can afford it go out and get three pairs of all purpose trousers tailor made for you. Using forethought in wardrobe renovation means you should have fewer things to buy and, as consequence, allows you to spend more money on them to make sure they last.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-79047062954994324462011-03-02T11:45:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:28:49.681-08:00Current interests, part 1The Kowloon Walled City: I hadn't heard of this place (it is no longer in existence, for better or worse) till today, and quite honestly I'm fascinated. Virtually any fan of Sci Fi, Fantasy, and, of course, Steampunk, is well acquainted with the trope of a slum, often walled off from an otherwise perfectly respectable city, where the buildings have grown so out of control that people walking around at the ground level can't actually see the sky, where police refuse to go into unless <br />
in force, and wbere one can go from one side of the place to the other without ever needing to touch the ground. Whether it's the Narrows of Batman Begins, the Infinite Fortress from Getbackers, or the Raft from Snow Crash, the trope is EVERYWHERE. And, as I discovered today, there was, once upon a time, just such a place in reality. That place was the Kowloon Walled City. Look it up. It's kinda weirdly awesome.<br />
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Merimask: Expo time is creeping up on me again, and as such it's time for me to buy a new mask for the masquerade ball. So, as I have in the past, I turn to Merimask. This supremely talented mask-maker has been putting out some truly gorgeous new designs, including this particularly lovely specimen that I'm salivating over. The mask was inspired by the Greek god Hermes. And is uber expensive. But, my god, I just may starve myself so that I can buy it.<br />
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Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Yeah, I know. Me and everyone else. Honestly, though, if you get into the book or see the (ORIGINAL SWEDISH) movie, and cannot be just a *little* enamored of Lisbeth Salander and the sheer level of badass she embodies, I suggest you go hide under whatever sheltered rock you came out from under and stay there.<br />
Rasputina: This band has obviously been around for quite a long time, and I’d heard about them in passing, but only recently did I start listening to them, and I’ve become very fond of the music.<br />
Red Riding Hood: Yes, it’s directed by the same woman who did Twilight, but it looks so pretty….and it has Gary Oldman….and whatever you say about the Twilight films, the issue with them is more inherent in the source material than the actual direction. That and Kristen Stewart seriously needs to wake up fully before she opens her mouth. And Robert Pattinson needs a bath.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-40059278353061128132011-02-28T19:21:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:29:14.245-08:00Breakups, Switzerland, and a whopping case of dramaAs those who follow my twitter know, I recently broke up with my boyfriend. Or not so recently. Time these days has become intensely subjective due to the snow-darkened day-to-day routine of life at Miskatonic. Events that actually happened a month ago can feel like just yesterday, and one's recent midday meal may seem to have occurred in another millennia altogether. It's not easy to deal with. At any rate, I am single again. It wasn't a necessarily easy decision, but it *was* one that had to happen. Due to a multitude of issues (my grandfather, who inspired me to pursue my study of history, died, and I've been sick a great deal, with both of those problems compounded by the fact that I've been ass-deep in work), I'm not in a place where I can deal with a relationship. I have to get back on my feet as a daring and decadent aristocrat before I can even consider romance, and even when I do I know I'm not interested in hopping back in the saddle of love. After all, I have, in theory, a limited amount of time to enjoy a single life, uncomplicated by the responsibilities of a significant other. So I'm going to enjoy it, put my energies into my studies, both in school and personally (I'm teaching myself Sumerian and studying mycology when I have a moment), and have the time of my single life.<br />
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My friends, however, are having a considerably rougher experience where Cupid and his thoughtless arrows are concerned. Simply put, two of my friends who were dating each other broke up, in one of the more spectacularly melodramatic ways possible, made worse by the fact that they had been cohabitating at the time. As a consequence, sides were drawn up, banners were raised, and what amounts to World War III broke out among mes amies. The worst aspect of all this? I'm the only neutral party in the group. So, like poor Switzerland, I'm forced to watch every move I make lest I find myself bombed (metaphorically speaking) off the face of the earth by either party. The stress is horrendous, and I'm thoroughly sick of it all, but as yet I have found no way to extricate myself from the proceedings. It's at times like these that I wish I could break up with *friends* as well as with lovers, because if any paramour of mine ever gave me this much trouble I'd have kicked them to the curb long ago. Nyarlathotep on a unicycle, what I do for friendship, let alone love....<br />
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At any rate, a new review should appear in a week. Presuming I don't just spontaneously combust and end all the drama in one fell swoop.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-21033588038168425112011-02-21T13:38:00.000-08:002011-02-21T13:54:09.927-08:00Snow MadnessLast night, when I went to sleep, the ground was clear and clean. A week of fine weather had blessed the Miskatonic campus with the sight of dead grass for the first time since sometime in November. The mood was joyous, with everyone hoping that while more snow might come, it would not fall as thickly or viciously as it had in the weeks prior. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC7_ZuTYeEOTCr2TmFXgb_wRQqHyCpmO7Eiup8eWqyWN4JMuu8bT38oPHTSyn7pTvhai_lO88kWtpNO5xOmoORpou62IS7TJYSw7A295LPgCQJ0HbJfryeVf0DdJS0p5Q-V2dkTRW57fbX/s1600/IMG_20110221_163437.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC7_ZuTYeEOTCr2TmFXgb_wRQqHyCpmO7Eiup8eWqyWN4JMuu8bT38oPHTSyn7pTvhai_lO88kWtpNO5xOmoORpou62IS7TJYSw7A295LPgCQJ0HbJfryeVf0DdJS0p5Q-V2dkTRW57fbX/s320/IMG_20110221_163437.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576264167455451922" /></a><br />This morning I woke up to the reality in the pictures I've posted here. And not only did it snow last night, oh no. Miskatonic was pelted by FREEZING RAIN that has ripped down tree branches and taken out campus power like the hand of some malevolent elder god. Questions abound as to how classes will be carried on, as it seems the weather will not get anywhere near melting till Thursday. Maybe. And that's if we keep our fingers crossed and possibly throw in a few unholy rites for added effect.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh116U1W-eqXQ56rdcCPr6wCJGu63WOW7LXu6I0RJHjnMhUI9AUR85N2Rd9-dtcjHpxTtQ3H3IP_zYncr6yAva73_bEyGQteSl7HUM8Txv6-0zgbKpVbnkBiOBNmHUHurqz6SyjOBkcZyHF/s1600/IMG_20110221_163516.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh116U1W-eqXQ56rdcCPr6wCJGu63WOW7LXu6I0RJHjnMhUI9AUR85N2Rd9-dtcjHpxTtQ3H3IP_zYncr6yAva73_bEyGQteSl7HUM8Txv6-0zgbKpVbnkBiOBNmHUHurqz6SyjOBkcZyHF/s320/IMG_20110221_163516.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576264359083568034" /></a><br /><br /><br />I, meanwhile, am ensconsed in my dorm and am able to blythely ignore the weather for the time being. Like the diligent ant, I have food packed away that will feed me through this deluge while my grasshopper companions are forced to trek up hill in search of a meal. I'm also using the time to write a new review script, and hopefully will have it done and ready to turn into a video in the next week or so. And while I'm on that topic, I'm happy to announce that I will soon have my own personal theme music! Yay! Now I just need a logo..........Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-87132817191149434722011-01-18T11:23:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:29:52.287-08:00In which I am deported back to MiskatonicWell, after yet another long absence, I'm back. Back to writing (hopefully), back to studying (reluctantly), and back to school (unwillingly). After four weeks of rest and recuperation with my family, being dropped back at Miskatonic is like being dragged out of the Ritz Carlton and thrown in a dumpster more generally used by a hospital, a lab for the study of nuclear isotopes, and a Chinese restaurant. The temperature is miserable out here, as is to be expected, and I am in so many ways not enjoying my sans-boxsprings bed, which makes my lower spine want to pack its bags and leave me for a more caring human being. Feelings on the subject: Annoyed<br />
The social scene is also far from enthralling at this juncture. There was a point for me where partying seemed like the be-all and end-all of social life at Miskatonic, but after attending a Ke$ha themed party at a friend's house yesterday I was left thoroughly disenchanted with the whole process. The only way to enjoy oneself was to get falling-down drunk, something that has ceased to appeal to me in the slightest. After watching the mess of people in the living room attempt to dance (those who were still sober or only slightly buzzed wobbling back and forth uncertainly, while the thoroughly smashed specimens often just gave up their hold on being vertical and let gravity do the work), I opted to head outside to converse with the would-be intellectuals standing on the stoop smoking their pipes and cigarettes and arguing about Nietzsche. This, however, proved detrimental on two fronts: For one, it became abundantly clear that all anyone wanted to do was impress each other rather than discuss anything (and my being one of the few if not the only female there at any given time, this meant that all the straight men just HAD to do their damnedest to impress me above all else. Victoria was decidely less than awed by their supposed epiphanies and infallible arguments.) For two, the smoke got in my eyes and mouth and just generally made me feel gross. So it was back inside, where I got cornered by an old aquaintance who attempted to give me profound life advice that might have been relevant to him but when applied to me was like trying to convince a shark to become a vegetarian for the good of its soul. At this point I vacated the party as fast as I could and walked home. Or attempted to walk. While I had been trying to enjoy myself while wearing too much eye makeup, the heavens had opened and unleashed freezing rain, which coated everything and led me to slip and slide most of the way home. Feelings on the subject: Disgusted<br />
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So now I'm sitting in my dorm room, suffering withdrawal from functional civilization. I'm also a tad depressed on account of the fact that the awesome book I was reading - Snow Crash - finally came to an end, and though I absolutely adored it start to finish I now cannot find anything else that I want to read. I JUST WANT MORE SNOW CRASH, DAMMIT. Feelings on the subject: Morose<br />
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And I have to do my laundry. Feelings on the subject: !@#QR(*U*(#T&*(QA#RPU ARGHVictoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-32534369093472951052010-12-20T19:55:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:30:50.099-08:00Proper bedside manner for dealing with an aristocratA recent physical accident and subsequent period of mandatory bedrest lead me to create a list of dos and do nots for the care and feeding of one's aristocrat, be they a friend, lover, or someone who's favor you are desperately trying to get into. Here I will record the proper way to deal with a sick and/or injured aristocrat, with all their finicky and hypochondriac issues.<br />
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1. NEVER leave the aristocrat alone. Don't even think about it. If you must, arrange shifts between you and your frinds/neighbors, but do not give the aristocrat any unsupervised time*. This may seem invasive, but it prevents the aristocrat's high strung and panic prone personality from getting a chance to convince them that they're dying/going to be permanently crippled/afflicted with some bizarre ailment.<br />
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*While they must never be left alone, neither must you always have them engaged in conversation. The point is that the aristocrat never has a chance to brood deeply.<br />
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2. Do not discuss potential complications of the injuries/disease within earshot of the aristocrat. If they hear you, they WILL psychosomatically develop the symptoms, and when they do they will flip out and only get worse.<br />
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3. Even more so, DO NOT discuss potential mental/psychological issues around the aristocrat, because if you think they can break out in a rash or suffer phantom itches quickly, that's nothing compared to their ability to mimic virtually any psychosis. No sooner will you have said 'paranoid schizophrenia', than they will babble word salad at you and become convinced they're Jesus.<br />
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4. If you must talk medicine to the aristocrat, do not use long, complicated words. This rule is especially pointed at doctors. If you do speak medical jargon to them, the aristocrat is quite likely to have *just* enough knowledge of what you mean to assume the worst, and their response will be melodramatic to say the least. Also, never bother with telling them about complications/side-effects (see rule 2).<br />
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5. Keep the aristocrat comfortable and remind them they are going to be okay. Doing so will earn you a friend for life who will repay your gift of a fleece blanket with a sable stole, and who will stand by you through any crisis. Ignoring an injured aristocrat leads to resentment on their part and, if the aristocrat can arrange it, your suffering of a serious mishap during which they will refuse you any and all aid.<br />
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6. In conjunction with rule one, do not allow the aristocrat to brood, surf the internet in search of the cause of their symptoms (it only leads them to become convinced that they are infected with ebola,), or otherwise focus on their sickness/injury.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-269707522989023222010-12-01T00:44:00.001-08:002012-01-02T14:31:20.852-08:00Bracing for winterOh yes, readers. It's that time of year. Winter is champing at the bit, though current permutations of weather have been keeping it at bay. I know, however, that this wet but snow-free weather can't last, and it's always these sorts of rain storms that create the build-up for the nastiest ice you can possibly imagine (I've mentioned this before - it's hard as a rock, and a master at camoufloge under snow. I've nearly knocked my teeth out on several occasions thanks to it). So while I have the chance I'm frantically dragging together a decent array of clothes that will bear out the winter, and feeling more and more peeved at how few long-sleeved tops I have. The one benefit of the drop in temperature is the fact that I can now wear a corset without fear of heat-stroke, but it's a small benefit in comparison to the months of hell I'm expecting. <br />
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To make matters more complex, I'm also heading into finals week and the Bosch painting that is christmas shopping. The endless torment of trying to balance school and what to get who will send me to my grave years early, I swear. So I blow off steam with my research (thank God for interesting paper topics) and going to town with my friends. Which of course lead to their own stressors as I finish papers and try to piece together snappy outfits on short notice *left eye twitches spasmodially till the aristocrat holds it still.*<br />
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So be patient with me, dear readers. Things will get back on track as soon as I can swing it. <br />
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....................I'm off to expire, now.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-38907410040680802572010-11-17T01:20:00.000-08:002012-01-02T14:31:34.509-08:00Night of the Living Dead AristocratI return! Well almost. I should (hopefully) get a new review out next week, presuming this week doesn't kill me first. And why, do you ask, am I so late in providing steampunk goodness? The reason is that I am, at the moment, fielding no less than FOUR heavy duty essays which are all due next Monday and two ENORMOUS research papers to be turned in at a later date, the end result being that if the workload doesn't cause me to spontaneously combust it means I've either achieved Nirvana or gained a super power. In the meantime, however, I'm a little nuts, and so instead I will simply provide some pictures of myself.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwB7mQJ2hrwWkucs3FMHjt7JFeBEVXtD8qW-Bb0m282DjAjBT4HMAFnOFg2E9-SVOEjE_WcF06EEOIzwgeC4Nq0l1JbY9SvTomOHcFxmKLPW8vcsi0BhyJzrjX_lInQewjfV01KUldOpFX/s1600/IMG_20101031_004213.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540447714913547714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwB7mQJ2hrwWkucs3FMHjt7JFeBEVXtD8qW-Bb0m282DjAjBT4HMAFnOFg2E9-SVOEjE_WcF06EEOIzwgeC4Nq0l1JbY9SvTomOHcFxmKLPW8vcsi0BhyJzrjX_lInQewjfV01KUldOpFX/s320/IMG_20101031_004213.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 239px;" /></a><br />
Me at Halloween. I was a Maenad. NO ONE knew what I was, even the girl dressed as Sookie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLXqakwWNy_eMj5QYfblmMrqu_kiDNLfBDNNPGeRLvIO0Iem7eHQXqAsWdgooYtIPLfx5WGv0oA2Vi1fPkMpRojhh07hOPhvHsmQ8I_a-dvZkqEAh2dT_y0WRJFs62eh6jP98gJdswDw/s1600/IMG_20101106_231802.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540448092730492338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNsLXqakwWNy_eMj5QYfblmMrqu_kiDNLfBDNNPGeRLvIO0Iem7eHQXqAsWdgooYtIPLfx5WGv0oA2Vi1fPkMpRojhh07hOPhvHsmQ8I_a-dvZkqEAh2dT_y0WRJFs62eh6jP98gJdswDw/s320/IMG_20101106_231802.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 239px;" /></a><br />
And here I am getting ready for a night on the town and trying not to stare at my phone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7wHORhFyZx9iGKIo5qE-AS3H-q-VRX04j5RdDZxb9msXTZPe8Fg3-hmJ9rS0KQjQU9BUJ2Dp97PlLx-3enMLALGfV2bFVykEdficHFBx1lV7h-WqKZ4jYhcwwrFQXlNHzr1mIFP7oIB4/s1600/IMG_20101031_043727.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540448617123845714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7wHORhFyZx9iGKIo5qE-AS3H-q-VRX04j5RdDZxb9msXTZPe8Fg3-hmJ9rS0KQjQU9BUJ2Dp97PlLx-3enMLALGfV2bFVykEdficHFBx1lV7h-WqKZ4jYhcwwrFQXlNHzr1mIFP7oIB4/s320/IMG_20101031_043727.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 239px;" /></a><br />
My cactus-that's-supposed-to-look-like-a-rock is blooming. Wait, what?Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-11804962430844478442010-10-27T07:57:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:31:46.653-08:00Today's forecast: Fair travel, foul weather, crops-blightingly-bad temperWell I'm back from a lovely trip to Chicago to see the opera Macbeth at the Lyric Opera. Said trip began with me boarding a train and spending upwards of five hours on the thing, contemplating my life and going on a sort of vision quest to regain some of my lost vim and vigor. After a multitude of stops, starts, slow patches, and rattling rails, I was disgorged in the belly of Union station where I met up with my aunt and uncle, whose home I occupied during my stay. The next day we attended the opera (I wore full kimono because I bloody well could and because kimonos are easily packable, as opposed to full bustled Victorian gowns. One must <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4epm5TVF4UMAeRJvV2bRiwZgggYTk0PDxxroZQDALIBPeKvH_icZJJC4iz0pjk6A8DeX24qghWwZ4IXRKGwJAM3fOKIJseoFH1Sb-Uye4zdIZXmfMbst2nAI5ALnjHFoJ53Ye92FtfB2/s1600/IMG_0412.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532748913471779122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4epm5TVF4UMAeRJvV2bRiwZgggYTk0PDxxroZQDALIBPeKvH_icZJJC4iz0pjk6A8DeX24qghWwZ4IXRKGwJAM3fOKIJseoFH1Sb-Uye4zdIZXmfMbst2nAI5ALnjHFoJ53Ye92FtfB2/s320/IMG_0412.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
make allotment for small luggage), which proved to be decent but unremarkable, leading me to doze off as Lady Macbeth ranted about her unclean hands and I mentally suggested she just buy some damn Oxiclean already. Then it was off to dinner at an absolutely SPECTACULAR restaurant where I enjoyed the best meal I've had in months, all the while gazing on the Chicago water tower. Said tower is a portion of the cityscape that has been engrained in my mind ever since, while on vacation with my family at a young age, I turned a corner and was greeted with the sight of that gorgeous, gothic structure jutting defiantly out of the modern surroundings. My father then told me the story of the Chicago fire, relating how the town of my birth had been burnt to the ground, which lodged firmly in my imagination and has never left.<br />
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The next day, however, I was once again on the train and jouncing and vibrating my way back to Miskatonic. I was reluctant to leave, as you might imagine, but I took it all with good grace, unpacking cheerfully and savoring my memories of my time. These overall good spirits lasted till the next morning when a tornado alert led to my being yanked out of bed at an ungodly hour and having to throw on a robe over the gigantic t-shirt that serves as my nightwear. My compatriots and I were then bundled into the basement lounge where we spent an hour and half, doing absolutely nothing, all the while waiting for a tornado that never came. The most exciting thing that occurred during the time was when we were informed via walky talky that a group of students, deciding that up with this they would not put, escaped the confines of whatever bunker they'd been herded into and were triumphantly marching across campus. <br />
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And now, bringing us up to date, I am in a foul mood. After taking an art history exam that I'd studied hard for I treated myself to a meal at the school cafe. There was a bit of a line, so I queued up dutifully and waited, trying to ignore the stifling heat of the student union, which made me itch and perspire in my ornate clothing. Finally I was next to be served, a fact for which I was rewarded when the bimbo at the head of the queue slammed me with her enormous blue-patent-leather-hobo-bag-monstrosity that probably cost more than the whole of my outfit (and allow me to say that the money could have been put to better use buying her some clothes that weren't made out of sweatshirt material). She also did not bother to apologize or even acknowledge that it had happened, adding insult to injury while I suffered silently after having what felt like a text book or laptop slammed into my sternum. So, dear readers, I'm in a snarlingly bad mood, the sort that leads me to want to run home, turn out all the lights, curse humanity up one side and down the other, and then throw myself melodramatically on my bed with a hot compress over my eyes.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-64436641149153751292010-10-14T14:40:00.000-07:002010-10-14T15:37:45.100-07:00Books, bugs, and mysteries<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6xLImPSW_biRD64n-iTwdgeeeD3qo9hZ2C0jAZ9jxspTMDwkSOKT2kXy7qlhvwYO7Bpf8ut4u4z2X9qDO9Z4c0Py6CK89dFrsoCWhx4nbe0dEB42y0GmItPE2iCfu5s-_ZuUkUx64Scg/s1600/IMG_20101014_172441.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_6xLImPSW_biRD64n-iTwdgeeeD3qo9hZ2C0jAZ9jxspTMDwkSOKT2kXy7qlhvwYO7Bpf8ut4u4z2X9qDO9Z4c0Py6CK89dFrsoCWhx4nbe0dEB42y0GmItPE2iCfu5s-_ZuUkUx64Scg/s320/IMG_20101014_172441.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528034296004062626" /></a><br />Life moves apace, dear readers, and as per usual it's never simple. Exciting, yes, fun, sometimes, interesting, always, but never, ever simple. For starters, I'm literally drowning in books, both for pleasure and work. I've recieved a great many volumes from various publishers for my reviewing pleasure, which is fine, except for the small problem of these being rather large books. Combined with the huge amount of reading I do for my classes every single night the task of getting through any of them is more than a little daunting. I swear I will get to it, though. I just will have to take a bit longer than average, as after a certain point when I'm reading my brain goes into shutdown mode and refuses further input. *Deep, melodramatic sigh*<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERfi3LgibrzACqL07tLPp4YZkYPZv3zLoqtU16xreXZtBVZ9RZIq1aZ7Vb5gQZ0URuynMMLipAq3Zai3LrjviqndebPeo66AqQibD2nZ1dOvXvlKlTQ443_vCIlzjTXECh9KmGrJR6fNF/s1600/IMG_20101014_171350.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERfi3LgibrzACqL07tLPp4YZkYPZv3zLoqtU16xreXZtBVZ9RZIq1aZ7Vb5gQZ0URuynMMLipAq3Zai3LrjviqndebPeo66AqQibD2nZ1dOvXvlKlTQ443_vCIlzjTXECh9KmGrJR6fNF/s320/IMG_20101014_171350.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528034538135864978" /></a><br /><br /><br />The bug life has also been making a nuisance of itself. The hallway of the Undercity - a collective pet name for the basement level in which my friends and I make our abode - is consistently infested with all manner of creepy crawlers. Assasin bugs, daddy-long-legs, centipedes (naturally), mosquitoes, and a host of unnamed monstrosities - all of which apparently have been using anabolic steroids because they are HUGE - regularly make us scream, run, and put our books to practical use as ideal bug killers. I chalk it up to the weather, as the dropping, autumnal temperatures tend to drive insects in doors, thus causing all manner of issues.<br /><br />Also, the clanking pipes have finally come to a halt. That has not, however, brought an end to the late night noise. This time the sounds come in the form of a person, one who routinely returns to/leaves the building early in the morning, and opts to use the back door which is set to trigger an alarm if it's opened after 12 AM or before 6 AM. Said alarm has the power of a jackhammer and goes off till the door has been closed, usually by which point I'm disentangling my fingers from the ceiling plaster and trying to not have a heart attack. Who this person is remains a mystery, though I am busily compiling and correlating the incidence of the door's opening and hope to be able to bring this to a halt in the near future. Because either they cut it out or I feed them to my shoggoth. Their choice.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-34382626837540972662010-10-04T11:06:00.001-07:002010-10-04T11:07:34.700-07:00CLUNK. THUNK. BANG. WHACK.That’s the soundtrack of my life, currently, or at least the soundtrack of my life in my dormitory. The exact source of this noise is the prehistoric plumbing system (which was probably installed by the ancient Minoans if the pipes’ crumbly nature is any indicator), and this racket has been nonstop for two days, following an alarming leak that dripped its way through the ceiling right in front of my door. As if all this wasn’t bad enough, now the original noise has been joined by the bumping and cursing of workmen, who seem no closer to fixing the problem. Below is a photo of said problem, take that as you will.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreB4Gatd6FdN-xDi8igZzVLzvtYlCVuwgKi5N4kUj1lJmh2QgUWWbRmZ5Ak66S7J2ScvNKULBlE0-YzRInrrUunvug2uvyk9HeBNQhFa5OMxUX9wjFQIL1z28Jfds1X2VAKPbC5xlnVCn/s1600/IMG_20101003_000805.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreB4Gatd6FdN-xDi8igZzVLzvtYlCVuwgKi5N4kUj1lJmh2QgUWWbRmZ5Ak66S7J2ScvNKULBlE0-YzRInrrUunvug2uvyk9HeBNQhFa5OMxUX9wjFQIL1z28Jfds1X2VAKPbC5xlnVCn/s320/IMG_20101003_000805.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524254048658560514" /></a><br /><br />Of course the big issue from all this is the fact that I CAN’T SLEEP. As I write this, indeed, I’ve spent a night without a wink of valuable shut eye, and am getting that distinctive sensation that presages a bad case of mental ‘blue screen of death’. Barring alcohol or barbiturates (or a lethal combo of the above substances) I feel that my chance to get a good night’s sleep are pretty much nil, and that’s likely to turn this Steampunk aristocrat into a ravening lunatic who chews her coverlets and begs for the noise to stop. Just book me a cell in Arkham and we’re all set.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-3841705849792674002010-09-06T08:58:00.001-07:002010-09-23T15:47:03.392-07:00Life at MiskatonicNow, just for the record, I think we all know I do not attend THE Miskatonic University. I do, however, attend a tiny college in the arse-end of nowhere, which happens to possess some very interesting books and is surrounded by a town full of people who are one generation away from developing the full blown Innsmouth Look. So it serves my purposes and attempt at privacy to refer to my school as such. <br /><br />This year I'm living in a single in a 1920s era building, with plenty of privacy but also with some very like minded neighbors (I think a lovely young lady name Azenath moved in at the end of the hall), which serves my purposes nicely as I'm hoping to continue my reanimation experiments and I need assistants and - oh I'm thinking out loud again. Ha ha. *cough* The room is quite small, as my pictures indicate (see below), but it's excepitionally comfortable and the close proximity to like-minded human beings (and not so human beings) provides comfort and security. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlmj3ftFfBC_00uK6IvKO5LmhM-xai63WrXMeAsyXhT1_aWh_cMOeg4t5-ErSUt7t2b5vJtj4kPxnneHwqojJev1QH6hmoUot3yP9rB_mBVbrmfa5pBBROQgp0Ekp-OvtdEACSTf3l_Ym/s1600/IMG_20100905_223536.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLlmj3ftFfBC_00uK6IvKO5LmhM-xai63WrXMeAsyXhT1_aWh_cMOeg4t5-ErSUt7t2b5vJtj4kPxnneHwqojJev1QH6hmoUot3yP9rB_mBVbrmfa5pBBROQgp0Ekp-OvtdEACSTf3l_Ym/s320/IMG_20100905_223536.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513836090529552386" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8SDqEGBWeL_B4INs6pQ1VrIePWgImQ0vcauYa0zPz3Dz14VBcCL8utjGayZ78Pfn1fF7uMazzfJMkmqPRAmrl-j_cYUZThx3XK5FjH0iEu-4kzt32fOY5ikuMUZZmCwkKksCE4dF8b0h/s1600/IMG_20100905_223547.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb8SDqEGBWeL_B4INs6pQ1VrIePWgImQ0vcauYa0zPz3Dz14VBcCL8utjGayZ78Pfn1fF7uMazzfJMkmqPRAmrl-j_cYUZThx3XK5FjH0iEu-4kzt32fOY5ikuMUZZmCwkKksCE4dF8b0h/s320/IMG_20100905_223547.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513836391218834066" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzHlqlFArqsS1tUcor8NA44B0Zo9vAYl4cNQYsoFR8q7t7mYDDLDr4CAzIQayVUYaXMLnwMf_wxKqgVSTAmZxwVHZXtS7WT1HgQDfW1BDQLPg0ENRQ_TzD3aX3z5pDY1Xo7LUPOojvN5d/s1600/IMG_20100905_223603.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzHlqlFArqsS1tUcor8NA44B0Zo9vAYl4cNQYsoFR8q7t7mYDDLDr4CAzIQayVUYaXMLnwMf_wxKqgVSTAmZxwVHZXtS7WT1HgQDfW1BDQLPg0ENRQ_TzD3aX3z5pDY1Xo7LUPOojvN5d/s320/IMG_20100905_223603.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513836627534247922" /></a><br />My classes are also finally ones that go towards my major, including history and art history courses. I've had to buy a metric shit ton of books, all of which weigh so much I'm more than a little convinced they're made of depleted uranium. And don't get me started about my Latin copy of the Necronomicon. I could beat shoggoths to death with that thing. <br /><br />Hopefully a new review will go up in the near future, I'm just trying to solve some issues so I can actually see the film Nickel Children, and if you haven't watched the trailer for it yet hurry up and go do it.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-84205741486653812022010-08-20T09:25:00.000-07:002010-08-20T13:12:57.074-07:00Feeding the tea addictionI've never been a fan of coffee. It all looks and tastes the same to me, and I prefer it to be absolutely vile rather than drowning it in sugar, milk, and whipped cream the way starbucks lovers do. I used to drink it when I was younger, but it never really filled my desire for a warm caffienated drink. At that point tea was also of little to no interest, as I was still under the impression that tea only came in stapled cheesecloth bags and tasted profoundly bad. I did love the look of teapots, however, and it was that love that drew me into Teavana in the last days of my senior year of highschool. There a very clever saleswoman proceeded to sell me an entire cast iron tea set and two hulking canisters of tea, which followed me to college, at that point unused. <br /><br />Then, one innocuous day, I fired up the hot pot, threw some tea in my virginal cast-iron teapot, and made my first batch of matevana. After a few tenuous sips of that lovely chocolatey tea I knew my fate had been sealed. I was hooked. I have since gone on to broaden my selection of tea, and I now have no less than thirteen different types, as well as nine differet teacups, not including the tea-leaf reading cup that I never use as I'm too damn lazy. Don't believe me? Take a look at the photo below.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBS1PZLqyoomUiYwmy86NyJNbqyo-URWP43a7zgRTgb727tnb2DdsJgYdxUgW7hBRW2B6uo0aPB6FlQYKtE5TkbvrPul0T6JLYCcVhubW3YZwWunhfme9XgovxMmW1qUulqNHDlLfVkwXs/s1600/IMG_20100820_115116.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBS1PZLqyoomUiYwmy86NyJNbqyo-URWP43a7zgRTgb727tnb2DdsJgYdxUgW7hBRW2B6uo0aPB6FlQYKtE5TkbvrPul0T6JLYCcVhubW3YZwWunhfme9XgovxMmW1qUulqNHDlLfVkwXs/s320/IMG_20100820_115116.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507537094740160002" /></a><br />Indeed, I'm drinking tea as we speak. It's a kind brought back from England by a friend of mine, known as Yumchaa Courtesan, and is an infusion of fruit and berries, containing no actual tea leaves. It's light, tart, and quite enjoyable, as well as being a startling shade of pinkish red. Again, see below.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4oABm-a6rVx54a_R5iVLGikm51mg5WHjPbuS3qMTTd9lCQhbs7WiMiyFkf5bOZjPkvL2MTWh1byJO8NlHTurP2tYnegwEvn_Sx7rdI820j7w5t1Ygbjx9vWu8j-hUCoUHHhGiAeIoJFx/s1600/IMG_20100820_121308.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp4oABm-a6rVx54a_R5iVLGikm51mg5WHjPbuS3qMTTd9lCQhbs7WiMiyFkf5bOZjPkvL2MTWh1byJO8NlHTurP2tYnegwEvn_Sx7rdI820j7w5t1Ygbjx9vWu8j-hUCoUHHhGiAeIoJFx/s320/IMG_20100820_121308.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507537399779170274" /></a><br />As for my favorite kind of tea, there's no contest there: Sweet Oolong Revolution, as made by Teavana. It's sweet, with a malted undertone, and, simply, wonderful. <br /><br />So, to anyone who's on the fence about tea: Try the good stuff. You'll like it. (Joooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooin ussssssssssssssss.........)Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3869197371232194071.post-76116033203486927692010-08-11T00:54:00.000-07:002012-01-02T14:32:44.421-08:00I'm more hothouse orchid than hardy highland rose.I love to 'get away from it all' as much as the next person. How the next person and I do so, however, tend to be very different things. In my mind if one is going to take a vacation it should be to a splendidly comfortable place that requires one to merely arrive and enjoy oneself. One should not have to clean, cook, run from bugs, or anything else that is even the tiniest bit taxing. Luxurious? Yes. Decadent? Absolutely. Hence why if I had my way I would vacation very rarely, but when I did I would be doing it in the grandest style I could reasonably afford. I am a fan of the spa, the five star hotel, the best restaurants and plays, and, as you, my dear populace may have realized from my list of things I'd rather not be doing, the vacation I am currently on is not exactly my preferred method of relaxation. <br />
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It is true I've had a fairly good time thus far, though there have been considerable hangups. The largest of these has been the fact that I was recently eaten alive by chiggers, and the bites tend to get more aggravated when I'm sweating or stressed which makes me itch like mad and want to peel my own skin off. The other prime issue is that the isolated nature of the house my family is occupying means that we're all in contact a great deal, and at least two members of the family - myself and my mother specifically - are not huge people persons (or, more accurately, my mother isn't a huge people person while I am not exactly adept at social interractions with others and will often simply retreat to my boudoir when I feel cornered). This means that toes get trod on, fangs to get bared, and tempers can flare. Finally, there is a general feeling that one should be doing something all the time, and, as stated above, in my mind a vacation should be a time in which one is obligated to do absolutely nothing. Why on earth would one go way the hell out of one's way to continue the same tired routine one carries on at home? <br />
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Now, however, I do have to say, that, in said vacation's defense, it is far from bad, and, in some ways, the paragraph preceding this one was more an excuse to vent than anything else. On the plus side I've visited some of my favorite shops, gotten alot of writing done (a new review will grace us in the near future), and caught up on alot of things I've been let slide (like reading the third book of the Dark Tower series and updating the inventory I keep that records all the minerals and rocks I've collected over the years). So it's all a matter of balance, and I can at least thank my lucky stars that I'm in an actual house and not a camper, or, god forbid, a tent. I have running water and toilets that don't require the user to kick them to make sure bats don't fly out (yes, I have experienced that). The food has been lovely, and the company, when we put our rayguns down and stop trying to recreate the Mexican standoff from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, has been most pleasant.<br />
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............................The bugs still suck.Victoriahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01571825702692492636noreply@blogger.com4