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Mememememememe

It's meme time. Please, won't you play?

[personal profile] ravurian posts the meme thusly:

1. Leave me a comment saying something random, and I will respond by asking you five personal questions so I can get to know you better. Your comment can be a lyric or a quote, or something about your day, or a picture - anything you choose - but it will brighten my day if it's about something that interests or inspires you.

2. You will update your LJ/DW with the answers to the questions and include this explanation at the top of your post.

3. When you've posted your answers, you will return to this entry and post a link to your entry so I can read them and ask for questions of my own.

4. When others comment to your entry, you will ask them five questions.



Here are the questions [personal profile] ravurian posed to me:

1. How did your parents meet?

Mom was a shop girl at Liberty House in Waikiki. Dad was a sailor stationed at Pearl Harbor. Mom's roommate, a wild girl, picked up a couple of sailors for double-dating purposes. Dad was the roommate's date, but that didn't work out because it was LAFS between him and my mom. The roommate, it eventually turned out, was a lesbian.

2. What's your favourite myth/piece of folklore?

Artemis and her band of maidens, hunting in the wood one day, came upon the hunky hunter Orion bathing in a pond. She fell in love with him. Her twin brother Apollo, jealous of his sister's virginity (for reasons that make sense only in Greek mythology), decided to make a romance into a tragedy.

"You're a strong guy," he says to Orion. Orion agrees that he is, indeed, the strongest and most athletic guy anywhere in Greece. "Well then," says Apollo. "Show me how far you can swim."

While Orion is doing the Australian crawl out past the breakers, Apollo goes to his sis and says, "Everyone knows you're the best archer on Olympus." Artemis agrees that really, she's never been known to miss. "Maybe," says Apollo, pointing out to sea, "but I bet you can't hit that dark speck out there just beyond the breakers."

She does not miss.

When she realizes what she's done, she makes a constellation out of Orion and hangs her bow on the bough of a cypress, never to touch it again.

3. You're asked to provide a written description of yourself for an artist (who doesn't know what you look like and has never met you) to turn into a portrait. What description would you send to the artist, and would you be telling the truth?

That's just...bravura question-asking. Bravurian, one might say.

Paint me as a goddess of wisdom with a silver helmet. She's got a star in one hand--it's probably the LED flash on her phone--and she's just letting a heavy pack slide from her shoulders to the ground. Her face and frame are strong, but rigid, and you can just see the faint lines of a more graceful form behind her.

It's true enough.

4. What kind of teenager were you? Do you think you would recognise your teenage self if you bumped into her in the street? Would she recognise you? If you had 20 minutes over a coffee with her, what do you think she would find surprising/interesting/horrifying about your life?

Brilliant. The question, I mean.

I was an afflicted, barely-holding-on teenager with serious mood disorders. Big in a land of rather small people, wintry in a sunny place, I was at once miserable within myself and proud. I thought I was smarter and more creative than I was. I thought I was uglier than I was. I believed I'd go farther than I did.

I have no idea whether I'd recognize her. She certainly wouldn't recognize me. She'd think I'm incredibly old, and would probably despise me for not doing better with my life and not being thin yet. On the other hand, she'd be really, really impressed and excited about meeting a time-traveler.

5. If your writing talent had an expiry date, what stories would you like to tell before it went off?

Oh my. The one that's stuck in here with the hazy graceful ghost and the miserable teenager and the time-traveler and the hubristic accidental murderer of love, I guess.

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comment count unavailable comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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