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I’ve been doing some field work with geologists this winter and I’m kind of amazed by how these dudes can pick up a handful of dirt and talk about it for an hour using terms I’ve never heard of. Like wow you see a whole universe in there that I don’t. The world is truly full of beauty and we only comprehend a fraction of it.

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my family is fucking addicted to macgyvering and it's becoming a problem. every time something in this house breaks, instead of doing the sensible thing of replacing it or calling someone qualified to fix it, we all group around the offending object with a manic look in our eyes and everyone gets a try at fixing it while being cheered on or ridiculed by the rest.

it's a beautiful bonding activity, but the "creative" fixes have turned our house into a quasihaunted escape room like contraption where everything works, but only in the wonkiest of ways. you need a huge block of iron to turn on the stove. the oven only works if a specific clock is plugged in. the bread machine has a huge wood block just stapled to it that has become foundational to its function. sometimes when you use the toaster the doorbell rings. and that's just the kitchen.

it's all fun and games until you have guests over and you have to lay out the rules of the house like it's a fucking board game. welcome to the beautiful guest room. don't pull out the couch yourself you need a screwdriver for that, and that metal rod makes the lamp work so don't move it. it also made me a terrifying roommate in college, because it makes me think i can fix anything with enough hubris and a drill. you want to call the landlord about a leaky faucet? as if. one time my dad made me install a new power socket because we ran our of extension cords

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hold on a second man…

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He’s finally learned magic

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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (1995)

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I'm haunted by the beautiful potential in an Edwardian-era Persuasion.

A setting just after WWI, another time of major social upheaval--blurring class barriers, new ideas about gender roles, further crumbling of the aristocracy

Sir Walter blindly clings to the old order, barely thinking about the war except to lament the impossibility of getting good servants these days

Elizabeth Elliot styles herself as a bit of a women's rights activist, claiming this is the reason she remains unmarried

Anne would have served as a nurse if her father had allowed it, but of course he couldn't permit an Elliot of the Elliots to undertake such ugly work, so she stayed at home quietly undertaking the usual home-front charitable work

This war deepens the story's melancholy. There's not the same sense of the men returning home as conquering heroes. The world is changing, but is it worth what we've lost? Can we have hope for the future when all our optimistic dreams led to such slaughter?

The best way to retain some of Wentworth's glamour is to make him a flyboy. However, given their short life expectancies, I'm not sure how realistic it is to have him and several buddies survive the war.

A "band of brothers" in the trenches is also a decent analogue for their relationship

Harville's injury meant he was invalided home fairly early. Benwick's probably a wartime poet suffering from shell shock that only got worse after his fiance died in the influenza epidemic.

Louisa and Henrietta are of a slightly younger generation that hasn't been quite as scarred by the war. Their relative innocence makes them refreshing to a war-weary returning soldier

It's possible Wentworth is so shaken by Louisa's accident (and thus needs Anne to take charge) because it sparks some kind of PTSD flashback. (Though that may not be the best direction to take the character).

There's just so much potential to explore the layers--old wounds and new possibilities, finding ways to heal and grow and rebuild after pain and loss

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The way this cat goes into its cup

(Source)

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Little jockey

(Source)

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Captain Wentworth | Reacting to Anne

‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.’

Persuasion, Jane Austen

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Higger Tor, England by Dave Steventon

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Higger Tor, England by Dave Steventon

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Sir Terry Pratchett: on writing Good Omens with Neil Gaiman

I love the whole interview but this little snippet most of all:

Terry: “You can usually bet, and I’m sure Neil Gaiman would say the same thing, that, uh, if I go into a bookstore to do a signing and someone presents me with three books, the chances are that one of them is going to be a very battered copy of Good Omens; and it will smell as if it’s been dropped in parsnip soup or something in and it’s gone fluffy and crinkly around the edges and they’ll admit that it’s the fourth copy they’ve bought”.

You can never own enough Good Omens copies.

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