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Renegade Folk Hero

Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

Created on 2002-08-03 22:09:30 (#655370), last updated 2009-11-05

4,964 comments received, 4,358 comments posted

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1,251 Journal Entries, 215 Tags, 1 Memory, 0 Virtual Gifts, 16 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	Liz
Location:	Michigan, United States
Website:	Rylie & Liz

Bio

That is my cat, Rylie.
He is a total asshat.
Read more about Rylie here.

The Brief
I'm a relatively high spirited Michigander who aspires to one day publish amusing things while being an ass-kicking and subversive librarian.

I grew up in a small town in all of its glory: apple fest; the number of churches equal to that of the bars; rabid conservatism; and countless nights filled with driving around in the hope of figuring out what to do that night. Most of my adolescence and life has a lot to do with butting heads with authority figures, reasonable or not. My journal is a splendid combination of social commentary and autobiography wrapped in a fine purple paper of snark and sarcasm -- complete with humorous silver flourishes. 3 years ago I decided British spellings were for me, because they are correct. At one time I was a student at a university, but they saw fit to give me a B.A. in history. Presently I am regretfully unemployed and hating every day of it. Unsurprisingly, I enjoy knitting scarves (it's the only thing I can actually knit...), my cats and dog, reading, tea, plotting my "witch/cat lady/spinster" days, comedy, ghost stories, and contemplating the best way to annoy the neighbours (they have it coming -- you have to imagine that being said in a very level voice subtly wrought with justification for the act).

The Exposition
Presently I am a substitute teacher in the school district I was a part of in my younger days. Yes, it is hilarious. Not only have I been given access to impressionable young minds, but I have been given this fantastic opportunity by people who should know better.

One of my loves is reading -- it's on the top ten pleasures list, probably somewhere after being ~~overly~~ delightfully critical and rabble-rousing. While I can enjoy a variety of genres and styles, I'm a big fan of post-modernism and magical realism. I'm also a big fan of Harry Potter, it's my literary guilty pleasure. Gryffindor, just in case you were wondering.

GRYFFINDOR

In an effort to save some self-respect in the face of the current adversity, I've been working on a novel and, more recently, a screenplay. My work may occasionally be mentioned or referenced in my journal, but the actual bones and flesh of the stories have never seen the light of ~~day~~ the Internet. Honestly, even if my endeavours do lead anywhere, I doubt the Internet will find out it's just meeeeee (extra e's were totally necessary, yes).

Ambitions aside, I am rather unruly and anti-authority at times (if you, uh, didn't pick up on that already). Well, most of the time. The exception to that has to do with road rules; rules that are around purely for the purposes of safety and to prevent IDIOTS from crashing into me, resulting in the loss of one of my limbs, are a-okay. My father's family takes a lot of issue with the radical aspects of my personality, but in all fairness they're total Reagan-loving tools. The family members on my maternal aren't terribly rebellious at first glance, but a lot of them are subtle in their little and occasionally unexpected rebellions. I am loud in rebellions, mostly because I think butting heads with authority is fun/funny/worth shouting about. Even as a child I would proclaim to my parents, babysitters, other adults, "YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME." Once a teacher complained to my mother that I had circumvented her rules, requesting that my mother punish me. My mother refused to punish me for being intelligent enough to outsmart the teacher. Ah, my family of rabble-rousers.

In the prior, semi-historical vein: I'm the child of two "foreigners" in my home town; which is to say, my parents were originally from the Detroit area. Another marker of "other" was the divorce my parents (thankfully) decided to get in the mid-80s. There were obvious drawbacks to my family's newness and status of "stranger" in the area, most notably getting bumped from kindergarten to begindergarten in favour of letting the younger children of long-time residents into that particular class. However, there were advantages: I have never hit on one of my cousins, unwittingly or intentionally; what inbreeding there is in my family tree was left in the early 19th century. I don't really believe a lot of long-time residents of this area can confidently AND truthfully say that.

Finally: about the British spellings.

Occasionally people wonder why I choose British spellings over the spellings favoured by the USA despite being a Michigan resident. The answer is simple: I greatly dislike Noah Webster; he was a dick. He's right up there with Avril Lavigne. Just because you're trying to rebel by changing a spelling, doesn't mean it's clever or even sensible. What the hell do you think when you see "boy" spelled as "boi?" Noah Webster is no better than Avril Lavigne. I hear he didn't play his own guitar, either.

Networking
My friending policy (which sounds completely pretentious) is pretty simple: I will usually friend a person who has friended me. Just, please leave some kind of note SOMEWHERE (messages, comments...) so I know. If you just friend me without saying anything at all, I will probably think you're friend collecting/trying to sell me something/attempting to sneakily get me to read your novel (see: "trying to sell me something")/creepy. I will not freak out if eventually you decide to unfriend me (unless it's via "friends cut," because get validation somewhere else, seriously), just like I hope you won't flip your lid if I decide to unfriend you. Sometimes journals/people just aren't what you expected them to be, and that's perfectly fair. I also won't feed you some bullshit line about how we're not "meshing." I prefer not to make a big deal out of altering my friends list.

Also: I kind of hate LiveJournal for making "friend" a verb.

Hakuna matata, bitches!

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