Kaymyth

OK, that makes me feel better, cause that's my definition, too. And I generally agree, though I do admit that some of the more Beach Boys-esque stuff is fun every once in a while. ...and now I feel old again. Really, 80s music is kind of in its own genre. There's just this weird quality about it that makes it so quintessentially 80sish. It's like nothing that came before it, and stuff that's come after that sounds like 80s music is automatically declared 80s retro.

I now find myself wondering what counts as "oldies" to kids these days.

YAS IT IS ALL MIIIIINE

Oh, the bad oboe jokes have begun! (Every oboist knows that there's no such thing as a good oboe joke.) I do remember noticing that the jokes disappeared in college. Because that's the point where we start learning reed adjustment techniques. Nobody wants to mess with the only folks in band or orchestra who are allowed to carry knives. You know, it's actually not difficult to play a flute in tune. It's just an instrument that has an unfortunate tendency to attract timid players who aren't putting in enough breath support to keep it steady.

Lindsey Stirling is touring again! Instead of KC she's going to Lawrence, but it's only a 40 minute drive and the venue is twice as big as last time! I AM EXCITE! *squeeflail*

...no.

National Novel Writing Month Basically, I'm going to be too busy trying to reach my 50,000-word count to be able to read until December.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee This almost makes up for the terrible realization I had today that Oathbringer is coming out during NaNoWriMo.

Heh. The joke is hardly original, but I still find it fun to play with. Oddly enough my husband is never amused when I start making autocannibalism jokes while we're cooking. But. Yeah. Someone on Facebook did it this morning. We were having what was already a contentious political discussion, and she called me "Rosie" in an attempt to talk down to me and I just said, "nope," and blocked her without another word.

Whoever told you that is a liar. English isn't even a language - it's three languages (German, French, Latin) stacked on top of each other wearing a trenchcoat. And then like the trenchcoated thug it is, it lurks around in dark alleys beating up other languages and rifling through their pockets for loose vocabulary. That's accurate, depending on the type of headache. Caffeine has a constriction effect on blood vessels. Migraines occur when the blood vessels in the back of your eyes constrict, then suddenly relax, springing open and causing a rush of blood that in turn causes intense pain. Caffeine helps regulate that effect so that they don't spring back so far. Yep. I noticed when I was young that caffeine didn't have much of an effect on me. It's only been in the last year or so that I've realized that I probably have the inattentive form of ADD. I'm still pondering my options on how to put caffeine back into my diet without overloading on sugar calories. My pet peeve today (and always, but it happened today): being called "Rosie" Don't ever do this, please, because it drives me into a frothing rage. It is not my name. It is a perfectly good name, and there's nothing wrong with it in general, but it is not me. If, by chance, any of you should ever meet me at a convention, signing, or what have you, you may call me Rosemary. Or Kaymyth. Or Kay. Or Red (though that's going to be less appropriate as my henna grows out and my hair colors get crazier). Or Hey You With The Face. But not Rosie. Words cannot express how much I loathe this. Never, ever, ever. Unless you're my aunt Sally because for some reason she gets away with it I don't know how but none of you are so just no.

I, too, have eagerly watched the Doctor's adventures in all of his incarnations. I grew up on classic Who back in the 80s and loved every cheesy bit of it. And I'm going to disagree with a huge chunk of the OP. It's important to remember that the show's format has changed drastically between Classic Who and New Who. Back in the classic days, the show was serialized - stories ran anywhere from 2 to 6 (or even more) episodes long. People in the UK were, in fact, following longer plot arcs over more episodes. Those of us in the States had them broadcast on public television as omnibus single-episode stories, but they really weren't designed that way. The new format with longer and fewer episodes is vastly different, and the treatment of story arcs does not translate well in either direction. It's not just a matter of "those durned kids and their newfangled long plot arcs" so much as the entire format of British television having changed. And I'm going to say that New Who is better. Better production values, better written, better acted, better plotted, and just generally more enjoyable. Character development back in the old days was minimal and shallow. Sometimes the writers could barely manage to shoehorn in a halfway valid reason for a companion leaving. (Seriously, Leela's random, "Oh, hey, this Gallifreyan dude that I have exchanged maybe five words with over the course of the entire story is now my twoo wuv! Laters, Doc!" was rather absurd.) They literally made Nyssa sick in one episode because the TARDIS was so stuffed full of companions that they couldn't figure out what to do with all of them. And the focus was always on the Doctor - companions existed mostly for him to explain things to them. Every once in a while you got a gem like Zoe or Romana who could hold their own intellectually, but those were the exceptions rather than the rule. Now is different. Now, the companions are vital and interesting. They affect the outcome of the episodes instead of being swept up in the effects of what the Doctor is doing. As for Jodie Whitaker, I have zero patience with anyone who complains about the Doctor regenerating into a woman. Seriously. This has been teased as a possibility since the 80s, when Tom Baker suggested the idea. Tom Baker, the man who is THE Doctor of Doctors. If Doctor Who dies, it won't be because the show went wrong. It will be because too many of the fans proved they weren't worthy of it.

Well. So the class was canceled. I didn't find out that it was canceled until I got there. You know, to the place that is both a half hour away from work and home. Yesterday went poorly.

Huh. Your hair is lighter than I thought.

I am immeasurably amused by how many of you are taking my semi-hyperbolic blathering seriously. Thank you. Bell choir, more specifically a handbell choir. Each person is responsible for two notes in the scale (and likely their associated accidentals). Each person rings two bells, one in each hand. You ring when your note comes up. It involves a lot of counting and requires a solid sense of rhythm.

I am going to an introductory bellydance class on Wednesday. This will either start me on a new hobby that will help me work towards a stronger core and better body image or I will flail around like a buffoon and slink off in humiliation. It's a toss-up, really.

Bless you, my children.

OK, so high school me probably would have meekly fumed through the entire ordeal. Adult me, however, really, really, really wants to troll the absolute rust out of this crembrain. Up to and including setting his computer's home page to the YouTube of Adam Ruins Everything's piece on Christopher Columbus. And, of course, coming up with snarky comebacks to his, "HOW DO YOU KNOW?!" nonsense. "I read it in a comic book." "I found it on teh intarwebz." "It was in the fortune cookie that came with dinner last night." "The moose out front told me." "I have access to eldritch secrets your mere mortal human mind cannot possibly comprehend." (EDITED TO ADD: "I hopped on board the TARDIS last night and the Doctor took me back in time and showed me.") Anyone else want to help me here?

More thank yous! Tonight I have party. Friends, drinks, and board games. This is the life, yo. I have also decided that crazy colorful hair is going to be a thing throughout my forties. My mother is going to be so annoyed.

Thank you for birthday happies! So, true story: this morning, I was awoken at the ungodly hour of 6:45 by my text notification noise. I picked up my phone to take a look. Groggy brain: "What? My mom is texting me super-early? OMG WHO DIED?!?!?!" Thirty seconds later: "Oh. Right. Is birthday."

Remember, though, that the last time she gave people a chance to change their minds about her, she nearly got killed in the middle of the fighting pits. Experience has taught her some harsh lessons. Of course, there aren't any (legitimate) Baratheons left now...

No. Tomorrow, I turn 40.

Ten minutes before totality, it was POURING. Then suddenly, the rain moved off...and it stayed cloudy. Though slightly less. The sun kept trying to peek through, but the clouds were a bunch of big mean meanieheads. We got a 5-second look at totality before everything closed back up and all was gloom. We did, at least, get to see the sunset colors out along the horizon. And it did get super-dark. But I was pretty bummed about getting so little, and my husband literally moped around the house for half of yesterday. We are setting our sights on 2024 (and actually considering trying to find a south Pacific eclipse cruise in 2019). For everyone else who missed eclipse fun, I give you this dramatic re-enactment:

The first inch of my hair from the roots is now purple. I am prepared for birthday! MID-LIFE CRISIS STARTS TOMORROW, MY DARLINGS!

Another solid translation of Lucifer is "Lightbringer." There are some folks out there who have had some fun equating him with the Prometheus myth.