I was just about to go to bed a few minutes earlier when there was a news flash on TV:

Michael Jackson is dead.

I practically lived with his great and unique music for nearly thirty years... not so much the popular hits like Thriller or Beat it, but songs like Will you be there won me over and made me marvel at his art and the depth of what he tried to express. I first heard that song at the age of 26, when I was still making radio programs and a good friend simply came into the studio, put a pair of headphones over my ears and switched on the CD. It's a long song, with an amazing orchestra intro, written originally by Ludwig van Beethoven for his Symphony No 9, and then it turns to the most breathtaking, desperate and moving gospel I ever heard from anyone. I sat there, staring at my friend and trying not to cry because of the sheer beauty and longing in the song that made me helpless and pierced my heart.

He was most certainly a troubled soul. May he rest in peace now.

Hubby had promised to take me out to the movie theater for our wedding anniversary, but the film I originally wanted to see was not shown anymore (Wolverine, no longer available on screen than three weeks? Are you kidding?). So he decided to invite me to see Illuminati (Angels and Demons is the original title, I think), and I agreed to give it a try.

I had watched The DaVinci Code, of course, and found it wildly entertaining... though they only made me believe the initial idea by letting Tom Hanks and especially Ian McKellen carry the biggest weight of it on their shoulders; they made me believe in their juicy little idea of an ecclestical history fraud, even if only as long as the movie was going on.

Angels and Demons is a 100 % better. The plot is incredibly clever and absolutely believable, leading the audience right into the mysterious atmosphere of a conclave after the death of a Pope. Four cardinals are abducted, and their kidnapper threatens to kill them; the Vatican calls for Robert Langdon (of all people) to solve the mystery before it's too late. And Langdon does his best, even though he deeply distrusts the clerical authorities - with good reason, as the film shows. Angels and Demons kept me at the edge of my seat for two hours, biting my fingers and with a wildly beating heart, and the merciless twist of the plot at the end almost made me faint... not because I was that surprised, but because I had recognized the solution before, for about five seconds - and had then decided not to trust my own insticts.

Great praise to Tom Hanks (who gets better and better with age), to the amazing Armin Müller-Stahl (who plays a cunning, old cardinal) and most of all to the brilliant Ewan McGregor, wo plays the deceased Pope's chamberlain, the camerlengo. Never before did he such a stunning performance... up to the language. He portrays a man from Ulster; he even altered his pretty Scottish accent to match this role. I once met a young woman from Fermanagh, and she had exactly that lisping, butter-soft "th" and those slurred "r"s (Yes, I'm hopelessly addicted to languages and dialects, why do you ask? *smiles*).

And of course I want to go to Rome now. My goodness, what a city!

It is Magnus' birthday today (he turns 11), and our wedding anniversary (the 18th). My mother will arrive this midday, which means the usual cleaning and sweeping frenzy *grins*. But Hubby used the fact that 20th Century Fox finally decided to publish the soundtrack of Australia (half a year too late...), and gave it to me as his gift.

And whoever wants to see where it leads if I really give in to being a fangirl, you may go and read Memoir, which is my first - and most certainly last - Australia-fanfic. (Caution, it's long, but my beta found it entertaining, and she didn't like the movie. Heh.).

Oh, btw. - thank you so much for being British such a great and fast help with this, pearlette! Thou art awesome.

*hugs all around*

I'm just returning to the surface to tell you that the job interview went well, and that they seriously consider Hubby to be a very interesting candidate. But there are some others as well, and they will notify him next week. Thus prayers and good vibes are still appreciated!

I'm listening to Beethoven (7th Symphony, Allegro), and I have found out a grave truth. In hours of trials and tribulations, my soul proves to be decidedly teutonic. I listen to Beethoven (because he knows the pain) and to J.S. Bach (because he's the one with the cure *smiles*).

Furthermore I decided last week to write Australia-fic, with the sole purpose to exorcise that movie from my soul, because it kept me away from chapter four of the crime-story-that-is-about-to-fill-the-household-cashier. It should have been a short, wee little thing, but it grew to a kind of beast with 11.000 words, created for the tiniest audience possible. Ah well... no one can tell me of all people that writing fanfic is NOT done just to please the writer, yes?

Love you all! Have a blessed weekend!

I know I've been dreadfully silent these past weeks, but there was been nothing much I could have told you. Hubby finally overcame the shock of losing his job the second time within one year and began sending out applications. Before he went on the scout camp at the end of May, he sent one to a company that has been repairing and selling cars practically since Gottlieb Daimler constructed the first Mercedes Benz in 1896. They re looking for a new advertising director, since the last one is seemingly about to retire, and they are located pretty close, only 10 km away from here.

They want to see him tomorrow. He is very happy and very nervous. We all are.

I would be incredibly thankful for some extra prayers and good thoughts.

*hugs y'all*

This is the last one... which doesn't mean that I won't write any Star Trek fic anymore. Rumours say that there are two sequels planned. *smiles* One may always hope that they are as inspiring and thrilling as the first movie.




First Contact
Words
Names
Touch
Roots

( Hearts )

There is only one missing yet. And this one comes directly from one of the scenes that surprised me most in the entire movie. And made me very happy. *smiles*





First Contact
Words
Names
Touch

( Roots )

This was the most difficult one to write. I wanted to go somewhere entirely else, but Nyota Uhura knew very well where she wanted to go.

You have still not seen the new Star Trek movie? Do yourself a favor and go watch it. It's amazing (and made me write six drabbles in a row, which is even more remarkable). *grins*



First Contact
Words
Names

( Touch )

Can you tell that I love doing this? And I thought that it is about time to give Kirk a part to play. *grins*




First Contact
Words

( Names )

Just borrowed this test from altariel.

Your results:
You are Uhura

Uhura 75% Deanna Troi 60% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 60% Chekov 55% Jean-Luc Picard 55% Beverly Crusher 55% Geordi LaForge 55% Mr. Scott 50% James T. Kirk (Captain) 45% Will Riker 40% Worf 40% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 35% Data 24% Spock 12% Mr. Sulu 10%

You are a good communicator with a pleasant soft-spoken voice. Also a talented singer.

Click here to take the "Which Star Trek character am I?" quiz...


That must mean something. *grins* (I need have an Uhura-icon!)

I officially declare thate this is pearlette's fault. Or perhaps I should blame Zachary Quinto and Zoë Saldana. Those who haven't watched the latest Star Trek movie yet - keep away until you have. *smiles* And this is only the first drabble in a series of four or five. I presume. (Okay, rabidsamfan, the bunnies are biting.)

( First Contact )

So. Went this evening and watched the brand new Star Trek movie.

( Spoilers ahoy! )

Last week my son wanted me to buy a movie and a computer game for him (using up his pocket money), and I decided to choose an extra movie, to spare me the mailing costs. I went up and down my wish list and finally decided for Australia - despite the bad reviews I had encountered on amazon.

( Caution - shamelessly jubilant review ahead. And very long, too! )

This morning I received a review for my story Breton Honey, and (checking the profile of the reviewer) found that the girl in question was only 11 - though the rest of the profile suggested someone decidedly older.

I thanked her for the review and added the cautious question if she had registered the rating...?

This was the reply I got:

"Very much so. My parents let me read stuff like that. Don't worry, I'm not one of those kids that goes "What does that mean?" when coming upon anything relatively graphic."

Aha.

Well, my daughter also knows about (most of) certain physical facts, and she managed to get through four volumes of Twilight without any damage, but still... I wouldn't have her read a fairly explicit tale about the wedding night of Ron and Hermione Weasley (even if she has survivied Mrs. Meyer's attempts of erotic writing). Plus that she would still not understand many details, scratch her head and come to me to ask questions (thank God!). Some things may still wait a year. Or two. When I was fourteen, I read Anne Golon's Angelique-books, to the great shock of my Gran (who kept them on her shelf).

I certainly was not overly keen to know all about smut when I was eleven, for goodness sake!

*steps from her soap box and wishes all of her friends a lovely, peaceful weekend*

Yesterday I found the time to spend a few delightful hours chatting with rabidsamfan and going through a tale I had written weeks ago. She's a marvelously patient person, coping with my word diarrhea and my (still) imperfect use of grammar. We worked through paragraph after paragraph, and she told me what to cut and what to change... and when we had reached the "juicier" part of the story, she was satisfied pretty fast.

She sent me the file, and I found a remark behind that part, saying: "As soon as you have reached the part you really want to write, you make very few mistakes." That made me grin (at first), and then think. Did that mean that all I wanted to write in this tale was TEH SMUT? Okay... it has become decidedly easier with the years (since I wrote my very first PWP, Chestnut and Honeysuckle),but in this special case I had caught myself in my own trap.

Following a discussion here in LJ (see especially rabidsamfan's comments), I had decided to give the idea of a clumsy, erotic hero a chance, and my very first thought was: Ron and Hermione. Now... Ron is not the sexiest man alive, or is he? And the movie version of his character makes things not better, but worse (sorry, Rupert). I consulted the books and found that Rowling - while neglecting Snape's characterization - did a great job making plausible what Ron does, and why. It was still not easy... I "felt" my way from scene to scene, trying to fathom what exactly makes Ron and Hermione love each other, and how he might have developed after the war. What kind of man would he be? How insecure would he feel? And when I reached the part where the wedding night takes place in the story, I stood on safe ground, so to speak. Perhaps that's the reason why things got decidedly easier afterwards. *smiles*

And now you may decide yourself if the result is any good.

( Breton Honey )

First of all:

A Happy Birthday to rabidsamfan!!

I wish you happiness, health, joy and a glorious new year of your life. You know that I normally have a Winter Fire-tale ready for you (and that there was still one plotbunny left on the list), but I simply didn't manage to finish it in time this year. But... I finally began writing, and the tale has grown to a number of 1572 words so far. Do I need to say that there will be much more?

This is completely unbeta-ed yet, but it was already great fun to play with, and it may give you a little glimpse of what is still about to come. All my blessings to you, my dear friend.

( The Rising of the Lark - Beginning )

Thank God, the sunshine is back. We had the warmest and most pleasant April in years so far, but the last few days were cold and rainy (Hubby even had to take an extra blanket on his bed last night). Last Saturday, I planted persian buttercups and swedish ivy in our two flower boxes on the terrace... I had never planted anything before, so this was a very Gamgee-ish thing to do. *smiles* And when the temperature dropped to (almost) winter level again, I sat there, biting my nails and trembling for my swedish ivy (which doesn't like frost at all).

This is how it looks like:



The leaves are soft and furry, and they have a gentle but palpable scent of incense. The gardener in the shop told me that it will grow like weed as long as I don't let it get too "wet feet" or frost. The gardener actually said Froscht (pronounced frosht), because folks over here have that funny dialect, and I understood Frosch (frog) and spent the whole way home pondering the possibilities of a frog jumping into the flower box. Impossible.

I'll do some ironing now and then go and sit down on the terrace with a book. And watch the swedish ivy grow.

Have a lovely Sunday, f-list!

Seemingly it's Shire Repost month, and so I decided to offer this one from 2005, because it's just as melancholic and a bit sad and still optimistic as I feel right now. Enjoy!

( Sometime even Rosie Gamgee has to be reminded that asking for help is not a weakness and that beside being a mother she also still is a lover. )

You love puppies and fluff, you make funny polls about hair shampoo and breakfast cereals, you write tales that lift and warm my heart, you are one of the most precious friends I found via the Net, and you are still - at least for me - the heart and soul of this wonderful fandom.

And for I can't offer any cute cubs, I have this instead:



For this is where I'd love to meet you... for a chat over the garden fence, for the exchange of freshly baked bread and cooked marmalade, for some discussion of tulip bulbs and daisies, and perhaps for a (very small) pint of ale in the Green Dragon.My smial is the one with the brilliant blue door.

May this lift and warm your heart, my dearest Janet.

Happy Birthday, shirebound!