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Residency, Day 6 -- The Literary Dinner

Santa came to my literary dinner! It filled my heart with great and profound gladness. Poor Santa, he must've wondered why I went into manic happiness upon seeing him. I feared I inflicted boredom upon him though, and I spent the day letting the Centre's answering machine answer his phonecalls -- knowing he was going to try for a last minute appearance at my dinner -- and I feel like the world's most terrible student. Santa ended up calling my house, confounding my mother, which was highly amusing, but, he came to my dinner.

I forgot to thank Santa for inspiring Finches. I AM the world's most terrible student!

And I was a nervous wreck for all three of my readings. I read it anyway. And then they made me blabber on about myself, which I did, incoherently, even more so than I usually am. It's funny that I seem to remember myself being better at topical speeches on the spot.

Met Lee and Lynn Battersby. It filled me with great glee that someone out there in the world speaks a *facepalm*. Lee wore an Invader Zim shirt. More glee ensues.

And the lovely little old lady I met yesterday was also at my table -- her name is Salaamah -- and she was as lovely as always. Salaamah represents the exact kind of person I'd like to grow into. That is, a bit eccentric, rather much a tea-drinking little old lady. With lots of philosophy on the side. Except I'd be a bit creepier, and a bit more morbid than I am now. Y'know, maybe I'll just grow into mokie instead...

At least, no one fell asleep from my reading. That's a plus, right?

Can't believe I forgot to thank Santa for Finches. It was a speech he gave, a year ago, in his class on characterization, where he described characterization in terms of the id, ego and superego and wrapped it up in evolutionary philosophy, that inspired me to think of writing a story on evolutionary theory, and more than that, to have an unborn child at its heart. I really am the worst possible student.

Interesting night. Nerve-wracking as well. I doubt I'd be able to eat a tuna casserole ever again.



( 12 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 21st, 2006 03:14 pm (UTC)

Congratulations, sweetheart. It sounds like it was a resounding success to me!

Very big hugs, BTW.
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:22 am (UTC)
Thank you. It's so sweet of you to say that. *hugs back*
Nov. 21st, 2006 08:13 pm (UTC)
I'm sure Santa is smart enough to know that you were just nervous and not a terrible student. :)
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:21 am (UTC)
I'm sure he understands, but that doesn't make me any less ruder. *overpolite Asian student woes*
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:03 am (UTC)
If I'd known my Zim t-shirt would cause so much glee, I'd have worn the bright blue one :)

'Twas good to meet you. we're looking forward to doing it again under less formal circumstances. And your reading went better than you think it did: you were clear, read well, and the work was mesmerising. As my late mother would say-- dinna fash your sen.

I was a student at Santa's faculty 17 years ago. I ROFL that you call him Santa :)
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:18 am (UTC)
Ogosh ooo! Someone I've actually met has found my journal!

*waves* Would like to meet up with you guys again, whatever the circumstances. Thanks for the kind words! (Though I'd appreciate a translation of what the Irish bit meant.)

It's funny, but everyone I know seems to call Santa, well, Santa. I have to stop myself from calling him Santa to his face a lot of times. But he is quite a Santa. I adore him. Was last a student of his last year. It seemed horribly unfair to inflict Santa with my studentness, but that's what I did.

And if you were a student of Santa's 17 years ago, you cannot possibly be that old! ;P
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:30 am (UTC)
Ogosh ooo! Someone I've actually met has found my journal!

Yup. And I've visited your website. Next stop is to start tracking your physical movements... (inserts mad psycho laugh, chokes, falls to foor, sputtering...)

The Irish is Scottish :) It means Don't fuss yourself, ie: don't worry about it. Much more exotic my Mum's way, tho'...

you cannot possibly be that old!

Blood of virgins. Accept no substitues :)

Nah, I was at Curtin between 1989-91, when I was 18-20. Sigh. So young, so thin, so stoopid! I would show you some of my writing from that time, but then I would have to kill everyone, and that could get messy.

Nov. 22nd, 2006 07:05 am (UTC)
Yup. And I've visited your website. Next stop is to start tracking your physical movements... (inserts mad psycho laugh, chokes, falls to foor, sputtering...)

Pffft. I've had a long history of stalkers, and I'm not afraid of you! Yer missus, on the other hand...

So it was a Scottish accent! Sorry about that. I wasn't sure whether it was Scottish or Irish, and went with the latter. But it's still v. sweet. :)

*calculates* Nah, you're still not that old. ;P
Nov. 22nd, 2006 11:48 pm (UTC)
My mother was Scottish, and my family comes from Nottingham in England, so my accent tends to waver between Glasgow, Midlands, and Strine depnding upon how excited I get :) The end result is that every nationality on Earth looks at me strangely.....

Nah, you're still not that old

You're only as old as you feel. which this morning makes me about 800....
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:14 am (UTC)
Yay for good evenings!

Yay for allergy medicine that produces strange mental images at the idea of you growing into me ("She's going to need a belt, or I won't fit properly...")! Er, I mean, yay for eccentric old lady friends!

Yay for SANTA!
Nov. 22nd, 2006 06:20 am (UTC)
Yay! Um. Still beating myself up over all the things I did wrong. It'll pass, soon as I finish beating myself up over all the things I did wrong.

And the way I keep talking to an Inner Mokie, I'm sure at some point I'll end up visualizing you and having tea parties with your ethereal person.
Nov. 23rd, 2006 04:59 am (UTC)
No worries--with you and I on opposite sides of the globe, I'll imagine it all away as a dream. :D
( 12 comments — Leave a comment )