~~this hoofing thing has got to stop...

[reenka]

Are you fucked in the head? Take the test.

squeeeeeeeee~! *grins like crazy* ...*struts*
i so love being mostly harmless :)



         I AM A HORSE **ahem.**

[i am an earth horse, which apparently makes me "wise, serene and prudent", not to mention "firmly rooted in your morals, ethics and responsibilities". led more by logic(!) than emotion. awww, yeah. weird. i -am- horsey though, actually. i do "tend not to look much at the big picture; instead they just follow their whims, which can result in a trail of prematurely ended relationships, jobs, projects and so on". well er... not quite. but this is in complete opposition to the earth thing. utterly. but hey. i guess us june '78ths are all a bit psycho. look at phil ;D ha. aww phil, if you ever read this: i didn't mean it that way. i mean. yeah.
   i'm supposed to do well paired with a dog, or a tiger, who are supposed to be charming, courageous and self-possessed. hm. i haven't met anyone like that, actually ;p plus i have this suspicion that they wouldn't even notice me. but still, a far cry from monkeys and rabbits, eh. sigh. yah, i want a tiger. grrrrowl.]

snake~ "more mentally than physically seductive". *cough* "master of subtle persuasion" like hell. my mom is a frikkin' freight train, i tell you. apparently, she made a "recommended" match with my dad, who was a rooster, which made him keenly observant, practical, vain, and perfectionistic-- and likely to do well at being a brain surgeon, ha.]

[my ex1: another snake, though wooden/passive-- i'm cursed, cursed i tell you!]

[my ex2: metallic monkey~ "No arm-wrestling with the metallic ones, either; they might break that appendage in two!" and even more revealing~ "Perhaps not everyone will be won over by the Monkey -- but do you think the Monkey really cares?" ha. i rest my case.]

[my sort-of ex: wood rabbit~ the wood makes you "have a tendency to be a bit too systematic in your thinking, and sometimes your passivity allows others to overwhelm and inhibit you." the rabbit means, "it's a waste of time to become exasperated with this Sign's seeming disinterest in facing its problems and conquering them." ugh. next...! on the bright side, they're warm and loving. aww.]

[a former crush: metal dog! (ha.) "Others look up to you in awe...". *sigh* earth crushing on metal. funky ;p
a's doggy nature "has trouble trusting others", and "tends to root for the underdog". ahem :) yeah...]


P.S. squeeee~! helmet-head!draco sniping. yummie ;)



um. god. almighty. i am, so, so, queer. this is the proof. i mean. if i wasn't... normal people, right. normal people [female] would go, "oh, that's nice, she must work out or something". i go, *scream*pant*scream*pant* etcetc. hee. get me my spoon i think i see dinner ;) Alain Daussin [the photographer] is so the man. so the man. heh. on a less sex-crazed note (*snort*), his ophelia-type images rock my sweet, sweet world as well. ahem. i'm sorry if this traumatized anyone ;p


regular p.p.s:
yah, so. this kinda p's me off. why, you may [or may not] ask? why would poetry annoy and discomfort and otherwise get to you like that? ah well. um. i guess it's the strange, crazed intersection between art and "reality". should it matter? how many beautiful artists and poets were actually being bastards, by writing/painting what they did, in one way or another? how many hidden cruelties lie in beauty? it doesn't matter, i guess. i've been thinking about Voice, and the difference between our day-to-day language and what we end up talking like, in our creations. sometimes, it's quite different, isn't it? sometimes, it's like it's a different person, and you wonder, are they (the writer in question), telling you a Deep Secret (heh. shout-out to diana wynne jones). do you somehow know them intimately? i know with -my- stuff, it's true. if you happen to -understand- what i've said, then yes, you do know me intimately. yes, you see right inside me to the fatty bits and beyond. it's just, weird, that in say, their LJs, many writers sound-- well-- different, don't they. all fangirly and often mundane and often no different from those girls you'd overhear on the bus, you know. of course, you can still tell-- there are still mentions, hints of the greater-than-average intelligence and creativity, no avoiding it. but mostly, it's sublimated into plebeness and banality. even if funny banality, and of course, i giggle with glee at many a plebey rant. so. who am i to talk? i'm just saying. it's different, isn't it. yet we know our secret hearts are communicating still. it's... sweet, kinda :)
    well-- because-- what we say in art/fiction enriches who we are, fills it out, broadens and deepens it. it's never painful or disorienting, only joyful. except you know, when you -know-. that the author -lies- about who they are anywhere other than within their art. then it's a kind of travesty, almost. there is a sort of... need, to be honest outside the confines of your art, for the artist, i think. it's a sort of betrayal if you aren't, isn't it? i don't know. i'd like to think so.

oh yeah, and...
someone [tzi] understands, UNDERSTANDS, ya hear, about the utter and horrid wrongness and impossibleness of draco-or-snape/hermione...! yesssssss~!! i am VINDICATED, dammit, vindicated.....*mad laughter ensues, as well as extreme dancing* muwahahahaahahahahahaha!