zingerella: Capital letter "Z" decorated with twining blue and purple vegetation (That letter)

Thou Unnecessary Letter

Further musings from the end of the alphabet

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Created on 2009-05-01 15:54:05 (#175088), last updated 2014-06-12 (175 weeks ago)

199 comments received, 387 comments posted

155 Journal Entries, 81 Tags, 0 Memories, 5 Icons

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Birthdate:Nov 15
Location:(states/regions/territories), Canada
I'm a wholesome little trollop, living with a roommate and two cats in an awesome apartment in the big city.

The brief bio goes like this:

I was born to a single teenaged mom, who had the good sense to put me up for adoption to my parents, who really wanted a baby. I hope the girl who birthed me prospered afterwards. My parents made a little brother for me. Eventually we all coped with the fact that the much-wanted baby grew up to be me. I'm still coping with the fact that my little brother grew up taller, with longer eyelashes.

I was a good kid. Went to good schools. Sang in choirs. Read a lot. Played the flute. Stayed (mostly) out of trouble Then one day I got tired of staying out of trouble, and eloped with a fellow who was old enough to be my father and had already had two wives. I figured the marriage could be something wonderful or something terrible, but at least I'd know if I did it, whereas if I didn't, I'd wonder forever. It turned soul-sucking, and I left, without ever having managed to live in the same country as my husband.

Didn't get into grad school, despite repeated attempts. Fell in love with the wrong person. Bad idea. Ran away to England in order to get over it. Came home. Had my heart broken. Ran away to extreme southern Ontario to teach English to migrant labourers and cry while picking tomatoes. Learned about resilience, agrobusiness, and making the most of things. Came home, still heartbroken, but determined to get a post-heartbreak, post-academia life. Eventually mended the broken heart and re-discovered hope somewhere in the bottom of a jar, and found my way into a community. Fell in love a few more times. Found a career making books, fixing people's writing, and generally exercising my morbid penchant for semi-colons.

I keep finding new mistakes to make. Does that mean I'm getting wiser?

And here's some information about this journal:

The Dictionary of Reference for this journal is the Canadian Oxford Dictionary, at least until it becomes too obsolete. I don't know what I'll do once that happens, but I'll figure it out.

Comments are invited, discussion is encouraged, and argument enjoyed. Please be respectful of other commenters and maintain a civil, and preferably well-reasoned tone.

Linkage is the sincerest form of flattery. I'm always gratified when people link approvingly to my writing. If they link disapprovingly, well, that's the risk one takes making one's writing public. I can deal.

Interests (66):

accessible language, autorickshaw, bach, bicycle repair and maintenance, canadian politics, canadian publishing, charleston, china mieville, contra dancing, cycling, dance manuals, dancing, des pres, dictionaries, domestic manuals, early music, editing, etiquette, etiquette guides, family-of-choice, feeding people, feminism, gibbons, grammar, handel, hildegaard von bingen, historical dance, irish set dancing, klezmer, lexicography, lindy hop, manx dancing, modern contra dance music, monteverdi, movement, mozart, neil gaiman, octavia e. butler, pulleys, punctuation, ragtime dance, rhetoric, scope of choice, semicolons, sustainable transit, the old hall manuscript, the quadrivium, the trivium, things that go boom, things with gears, typography, urban planning, ursula k. leguin, usage, usage manuals, vegan cupcakes, vegetarian cookbooks, vegetarian cooking, victorian dance, waltz, watermelon cannons, weird fusions, whimsical cakes, writing, xenophon's oeconomicus, yoga

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