At long last, the 2007 Reenactment Season has come to a glorious close.
NOOOOOO. ;~; I WON'T BE REENACTING UNTIL MAAAAAY.
Meh, could be worse. I mightn't be reenacting at all.
The Trenton ball was a lot of fun, thought a bit awkward on my part. I'd forgotten my jacket, you see. Kevin was pissed for a while, but eventually we figured something out. I was allowed to wear Shrek's waistcoat, with a promise that this would never happen again. Needless to say, I looked a wee bit dowdier than usual and didn't get asked to dance by anyone besides Kevin and Katie.
Oh, the shame.
"Road to Boston" was fun, though. You switched partners every time, but no dancing with Tim.
He keeps insisting he's not ignoring me, but he's got a piss-poor way of showing it.
Anyway, I did remember my jacket on Saturday, and that was a good thing. I got away stocking-less both days, without Kevin noticing me...I think...
Pano was there, along with his song. We got along pretty well, and I always enjoy a chance to chat with Pano, so I was hanging around his shop most of the day.
In fact, I got acquainted with several people on Saturday, including--anomaly of anomalies!--the Psychoesse/der Jungfisch. She really is friggin' weird, but she can be nice if she wants to. There were also a few exclusively-Trenton girls, Vivian (a campfollower who I know not what regiment she's with), and a possible new recruit (Kayla).
Good news about her? She's adorable, and she loves history.
Bad news about her? She's ten years old.
Well, good things come in small packages. I think that's the saying, anyway.
Joe, Kevin, and Tim all really liked their presents, and I got monies from Bruce and Dan.
Yay! ^^
Now all I have to do is keep in touch with them all winter.
RIP: 2007 Reenactment Season
"The only proper vacation for a diehard Catholic...shrine hopping!"
-Pano
- Where I Iz:Like I'm swimming in a sea of gelatin. Awkward gelatin.
- 'ow I Iz:
blah - Da Noise:Christmas Music
My poor, ickle LJ.
I haven't had much time to write, and this is no exception.
Fort Lee was pretty good, disregarding the fact that we had to drive up past New York freakin New York.
I really don't see what's so great about it, the skyline looked just like that of Philadelphia.
Very few Sutlers at Ft. Lee, just Pano and a couple of unofficial ones. I got a rosewood knife for Tim at Pano, some rock candy for the kids I was watching, and a little cloak for Elisa at one of the unofficials.
I'm getting a little nervous over Joe's present, though. What if he doesn't like it?
OY! What a travesty.
Trenton in 41 days.
"Be glad you're Polish. The Poles get three good things: a good face, a good disposition, and a good appetite."
-Dzia-Dzi
- Where I Iz:The Book of Joelle? XD
- 'ow I Iz:
listless - Da Noise:The Bible-Thumping station that is mispronouncing "Joel".
And so, Rock Ford (Lancaster) ends, on quite a high note.
'twas very nice on Saturday, all those hawks about. I told a spectator that they were anticipating the carnage of "the rebels" for their breakfast. Poor man. He must think I'm insane, for being such a good Hessian lass. But sometimes, it's rather difficult to stand the Doodles. They're so elitist, so set in their ideas that "DE COTENATELZ WUZ ALWAAS RITE!111!!!" (The Continentals were always right!)
'tisn't true.
I remember when I used to be like that. I used to pick on the King's Troops all the time.
Now I look up to them.
Nice group, the "lobsterbacks".
Joe and I had an excellent time Sutlering. I think I've been underestimating his gallantry. He caught my hat both times it blew off when we went Sutlering, he held my cloak, and he complimented me on my brooch. Plus, he was rather excited when I mentioned that I had seen the battle. Probably due to the fact that he was running around in smoke and loud noises. He's been pleading with me to watch the battles. Perhaps I'll go more often.
I wanted to write up an entry about some Fanfiction Musings of mine, but my brain feels like it's melting out of my ears.
Damn English project.
Two weeks 'til hope and I see Tim again.
I shall be cordial, but I shan't push him to talk to me, this time.
Pat'll take care of it.
"The arch-rebels, barefooted tatterdemalions,
In baseness exceed all other rebellions,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle-guns.
To rend the empire, the most infamous lies,
Their mock-patriot Congress, do always devise;
Independence, like the first of rebels, they claim,
But their plots will be damn'd in the annals of fame,
With their hunting-shirts, and rifle-guns."
-The Rebels, Capt. Smyth of the Queen's Rangers
- Where I Iz:Holding my brain in my head.
- 'ow I Iz:
rushed - Da Noise:1776 Soundtrack-Sit Down, John!
I walked home with a very, very heavy backpack.
And now my shoulders hurt.
Ow.
Alexeystalin still thinks I like him.
Drumbore's freaky.
PSATs were easy.
I saw Mike once in the hallways.
It's a relief to know that school will never change, no matter what happens in other bits of my life.
I found out there is to be a dance at Lancaster.
I just pray that Mademoiselle Psychoesse doesn't dance!
I don't think she does.
But I really shouldn't care.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
Twenty times.
Now THAT's some serious dedication!
^^
If he wants to dance with her, let them dance.
- Where I Iz:Recuperating from the walk.
- 'ow I Iz:
sore - Da Noise:Pink-Who Knew
What I'm going to do, for this week, is not have quotes. Instead, in every post, I'm going to remind myself that I should not fret over Tim and the Psychoesse.
I
I have Mattie, too.
And Keener.
Crimson, Sable and Midget Angels. ^^
From now on, my focus is them, not him.
And here we go.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
If he wants her, he can have her.
Take that, bitch.
- Where I Iz:Freeing myself from the chains of his influence.
- 'ow I Iz:
accomplished - Da Noise:In the Navy
-From an IM conversation
That pretty much sums it up, doesn't it?
Goddamn my rotten luck with boys. And now Tim won't even talk to me. He wore my handkerchief and went Sutlering with the Psychoesse. I don't care if his excuse was that he thought my feelings would've been hurt. If he wanted me to know that I wasn't to have anything to do with him today, he should've worn the NJV's handkerchief.
And the Psychoesse will be with him at Hope, Mercer, and possibly Trenton/Princeton.
Dear Lord, I shan't have a moment to talk to him without her glaring at me.
I wasn't even that clingy.
-hisses-
I think this is the first time I've wished ill health upon a fellow reenactor.
Anyway, besides that, Red Bank was really good. I hung out with the NJV, and Katie/Jack went Sutlering with me. That's always fun. Kevin got me a lovely hat, with white and blue ribbon. Gawgeous, dahling, gawgeous. Too windy to wear it, though.
Joe was actually talking to me today! Huzzah. ^^ Perhaps it's a switch. If Joe talks to me, Tim doesn't and vice-versa.
I really must get my mind off him. If I am to retain any sanity, pining for him won't do any good. I learned that last year with Alexey.
But I must see if I can still go Sutlering with him.
Perhaps she won't let me?
I need to get him a Rosewood box or something for Christmas. Didn't he say that he was trying to get as many Rosewood things as possible?
I bet the Psychoesse doesn't even know that.
Bitch.
One week to Lancaster.
- Where I Iz:Plotting slow, painful deaths.
- 'ow I Iz:
enraged - Da Noise:Disney-Der Fuhrer's Face
-James Dean
Last night, I had such a lovely, bittersweet dream. It was in two parts.
The first part took place with me only in my Reenactory chemise. It was sunset at Brandywine, but there was no one there. No reenactment was taking place. The only sounds were birdcalls and the wind in the tall grass. I was literally gliding through the Battlefield, visiting all the places so very special to me. The Barn, where the dances are held. The field where they actually hold the battles. The split oak, where Tim first took me in his arms. The open space where the loyalist camps are pitched. This whole dream, I was the only one there, save for three figures who occasionally appear in the distance.
The next part was during an actual reenactment. That bit I don't remember so well, other than Tim and Matthew both showed up in it.
I woke up with tears in my eyes and my ribbinz in my hand.
The entry last night...let's say that's oversimplified. It's going to be easier said than done to refuse Tim my heart.
However, I will try my damndest to make sure he won't break it so wantonly again.
If he wants me as his lady-love again, he's going to have to wait until Trenton. And even then, he's not going to be my only dance partner.
Anyway, nothing interesting happened today, other than me going into hysterics because I bled on my sheets and my nightdress.
Oy vey, what a scene!
And it's my sister's birthday. You're gettin' old, Toogle-Doo.
Now to see about getting that Sister/Latimer fic done and up. They're a difficult pair to wrestle with, little blond boogers. But I've got Mattie to help me. I <3 Mattie. ^^
Six days until I can get into garb and give Tim his present.
There's naught like an embroidered handkerchief to put someone on a guilt trip.
- Where I Iz:Attempting to hijack the TARDIS
- 'ow I Iz: restless
- Da Noise:Raffi-Bananaphone
On Katie's album, I came across this icon she made for me, a while back. "Yeah...I dig drummer boys."
And, of course, there was a picture of Tim on it. Small enough thing, but it really got me thinking.
A week ago, at this time, I was in a happy daze, on my way home from Brandywine. Tim had finally shown more interest in me than the simple, platonic relationship we had kept up for almost a whole reenactment season. He had been so gentle about it, too, so gallant. I really thought it would last.
In about twenty-five hours, it'll be a week since I had my heart broken by the very same boy. Torn into shreds, like parchment on the wind. I remember I was in such a black mood, I honestly thought I might never be happy again.
But now I see that was far too overdramatic, and I was quite foolish for it.
Silly me, for having such a volatile heart. I decieved Matthew, who truly loves me, because Tim had led me on. They're both dears, but in the end, it will be Matthew for me. I would never be able to stand Tim's whining when he's in a bad mood.
So at Manahawkin, I will go Sutlering with Tim, same as always. But I will not let him try and make me his again. I know better than to do such a silly thing. No matter what my whirling heart may tell me, he is to be like an brother and nothing more. Not for a while, anyway. It's not his vase, to smash against the wall if he so wishes.
Okay, enough of the bad metaphors.
Anyway, just for the hell of it, I'm now going to list the sewing projects I have planned.
Embroidered Pockets (Pansies, ivy)
Handkerchief for Terra (Flaming stick man, initials)
Jaeger Cockade
Handkerchief for Joe (?)
Handkerchief for Kevin (?)
Seven days until the reenactor high stops and I go to Manahawkin.
You Know You're a Reenactor If:
You want to go to a battle RIGHT NOW and no one else wants to.
- Where I Iz:Suspended in Time and Space
- 'ow I Iz:
nostalgic - Da Noise:Enya-Wild Child
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