I think I'm in love with Lord Vetinari. ... uh, again.
I want him to team up with Varys (A Song of Ice and Fire), Cardinal Wolsey (The Tudors/ actual history) and Posca (ROME)... Maybe Littlefinger (asoiaf) too for good measure... Because clearly that wouldn't be enough scheming. Walsingham (history) can join in and Julius Caesar (ROME)  will make guest appearances as he runs the army... Eleanor of Aquitaine (history) appears and sits in on things to boggle everyone's brain. We may have to call in Dumbledore to mediate.

Elizabeth I/Ivan the Terrible may be my new favorite historical crack!marriage.

also? Grozny/Habsburg/Borgia/Plantagenet = MOST AWESOME CRAZy EvAR

I'm currently reading A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century. You have no concept of how much awesome is in this book. I've had to re-read the bits about the Italian city states though, because I cannot for the ever-loving life of me keep it straight as to who is betraying who over what but wait five weeks later we'll betray someone else! No! The original person! EVERYONEAAAAHHH!!!  Oh, look it's the Pope LET'S BETRAY HIM. Wait! We feel bad! Immortal souls or something? MERCENARIES. And then the mercenaries are everyone (British! French! TERRIFYING SWISS! German!) and they betray everyone including themselves all the time just by breathing. And the Pope is running amok in the middle of it retaking the Papal States and he might actually have started the whole mess but now he's right in there playing everyone against everyone else and merrily backstabbing right along.

And THIS is after EVERYONE IS DEAD FROM PLAGUE.

Meanwhile, Edward III is all "I am king of everyone, yes?" And the French are all: "Fuck of we have SALIC LAW now. Yes. Now. Wait. We always did. Really. We swear. OMGWTFANGEVIN EMPIRE..." 

So they have a war and this is when my one professor was intent on explaining how ALL OF THE ABOVE was about the wool trade. ... Which, I grant you it is doubtlessly a part of it, but I think he underestimates the pure, beautiful corruption that absolute power can have, not to mention the Pope and the mercenaries and the need to to something with this troubling excess of trained knights and soldiers and.. other things.

The author tries to help you follow all of this insanity by introducing the house de Coucy, this family of large castles and great tracts of land and haughtiness the likes of which only Medieval French Nobility could manage (their motto is something along the lines of Not Earl nor King nor Emperor; I am the Lord of Coucy Cause We Fucking Pwn You All, Dumbasses). Which works out more or less okay except we mostly follow Enguerrand de Coucy and damn did that guy get around. He's in France, he's in the Netherlands (pursuing a private war for the throne or some such... haven't got into that bit yet), he's in England, he's in southern France and quite possibly Naples(?)... and he's married to a daughter of Edward III of England- Isabella actually who as Spoiled Medieval Daddy's Girl Princesses go is the reigning champion. To the point where after dad died and Enguerrand decided that he'd finally declare himself French (because up til then he'd been in a very tricky position being a French count with English holdings and the English king for a father-in-law), well, after all that all his English holdings just went to Isabella but her brothers decided (wisely) that she needed someone to administer the estates (read: keep her from spending the entire income of England three times over).  If you think this is really some standard trope of Male Chauvanist Medieval Princes Keeping Teh Wommyn Down, please to read Thomas Costain's Plantagenet series and anything else touching Isabella and discover that she actually pawned her jewels more than once to pay for stuff and Edward had to bail her out.

Anyway, the point I'm attempting to get around to is that you know how we all get it drilled into us that Being A Girl SUCKS SO HARD in all historical times except slightly less in the present? ... Dude, there were a lot of girls running shit in the middle ages. I think this should be recognized a bit more often. I mean, if you go with the standard Woe Is All Historical Girls For They Are Disenfranchized And Beaten By Their Husbands And Daddy Doesn't Love Them thing, um, someone needed to tell the Plantagenets. Also? PHILLIP THE GOD-DAMNED FAIR aka He who is a Creepy Evil Bastard For The Ages did not, it should be noted, extend his general bastardness in his daughter Isabella's direction.

Also, Spain. Spain, get the memo. Stop giving your princesses stuff to govern.

You too, Italian states. And while you're at it, crazy psychotic Italian dictators, could you stop listening to your mistresses and wives? In public no less. Damn.


But mostly in this book, I want to know why the hell I am learning more about The Black Prince than I could from the biography of him that I picked up? The biography just followed his household accounts- all this research and letters and stuff concerning his contemporaries' views of him, conversations and his actual deeds was no present. What the hell, historians? 

I'm going to go read about Discworld now.

It's nearly V-Day. Boys the world over are going into panic mode and acting horrible to their girlfriends, sure that their awesome surprise on the 14th will solve the matter, or that it will be enough to allow them to avoid any large presents. 

I was watching the Dresden Files and it occured to me that the main character is kinda hot. In fact, pretty hot and maybe even sexy like whoah, and probably good in bed. I bet he knows how to kiss... So. With that train of thought I started thinking about the guys currently residing the imaginary harem in the smutty side of my imagination. Oh, don't worry about them too much- they're imaginary so they're pretty happy in there. I'm sure when I'm not paying attention back there they've got a strip joint borrowed from the Sopranos and an Old West sandbox to play in or something. Hey, I have an overactive imagination, and it would explain part of my inability to think in a straight line.

Anyway, since I was thinking about who all was actually in the imaginary harem I realized just how many imaginary men I had lurking around back there. It was actually a little disconcerting. So, in the spirit of stupid memes, but one that's a bit more fun to contemplate, I present you a partial list Ibecause I'm sure there's some that were off riding imaginary horses having imaginary adventures or imaginary poker night that didn't get counted) of the contents of my imaginary harem (the good thing is that since they're all imaginary there's no limit to who can have them). 

The men in this list are all characters, and if you haven't heard of them, you best go find them.

I've been in a weird place lately. My head is all fuzzy and full of shapes that don't quite make sense or even fit into the same plane of existence. Like part of me is here, another part Somewhere Else, and a third is Beyond the Pale.

I'm distracting myself through retail therapy and it is helping. I have an unhealthy attatchment to that feeling of putting on a new outfit for the first time. That feeling that yes, you chose this and it was chosen well. It hides the faults and accentuates the good. It's my armor. First the clothing, then the make-up, then the hair, and lastly the sunglasses. And no one will ever know my secrets from looking at that facade. It's part of why I am giving serious thought to grabbing my workout stuff from home - my stomach needs some serious crunching.

I had a test this morning, which despite desperate studying for hte last two days I am certain I failed. Spectacularly, but failed nonetheless.

I just got a call from Rhys. Looks like I'm attending tomorrow's (rap)concert. To hell with that homework- it's a.. I think a launch party + concert. Dear gods, what do concert VIPs wear??! Apparently we'll be at a bar and then the club for the performances... Well, I suppose some last-minute ransacking of my closet might be in order. The new clothes are coming in handy after all. And yet, should I take a second set (or at least interchangeable top/shoes) for the clubs afterward? Do I risk heels or go for cute but comfy shoes??! Oh hell. This is where I need Gerri and Jade...

I miss contact. You know, hugging someone and it making things better. I do, I miss it. Yet I loathe all the strings that come as the price tag for such gifts. I wish I didn't like sex, or at least that it never occurred to me. Thinking about sex and love and stupid things when you're bored is no help at all. Worse because I have a whole list of numbers I could dial if all I wanted was sex. I have a list I could dial if I wanted to say "let's be together. You and me. Us. I'm sorry for being afraid but I want to try." But I don't want that either because I already know that price. Just sex is paid in my own pain and feeling even more alone afterward. The second choice is paid by feeling part of myself suffocate and hurting someone else in the bargain.

I feel like I've missed some important rule about loving other people. I don't think I do it right at all. I love lots of people. I care for lots of people. I adore them. There are a select few who I would do anything for. But then there's this romantic love bit that you're supposed to get... and I don't. Sure that other person is great but they don't make the others less great. I like spending time with everyone and I don't like hurting any of my friends. They return the favor, you know. I have amazing friends. Maybe if everyone had amazing friends we'd have fewer problems. And I'd find someone who wouldn't freak right the hell out if I wanted a bit of space to myself or time with friends. There's some sort of 'I want to be with only you' message that somehow skipped out of my brain, I think.

I hope there is someone out there that I'll get that happily ever after with. Of course, goddess knows he's going to have to hit me with a clue-bat about it, and then he'll have to be good-natured (or busy) enough to not mind me maintaining my own life and space to an extent. So I think I'll probably have to get used to the idea of someone older than me... The guys my age seem to be much more high maintenence than me. Which is, frankly, worrisome. I'm sick of being the guy in the relationship damn it. ... The emotional guy, not the actual guy. I date guys with old-fashioned sensibilities about who pays for things and who opens doors and what proper manners are. But then their player front dissolves and they're spouting poetry and stupid promises that they won't keep and demanding all my time. I don't have that kind of attention span!

You see I'm rambling again. There are other confessions to be made, I think, but those are for another entry.

Some regrets just won't stop, will they? They echo round and round your head for ages, and just when you think they've finally faded, they show up like some cursed boomerang to give you a whole new headache. Does a heartbreak ever heal? If you've broken someone else's heart, do you ever forgive yourself? Does a lie from someone who saw you naked ever stop making your fists curl up?

Furthermore, why does it matter so damned much who did what to provoke the American Revolution? And who the bloody hell is John Blackthorn? Do I really care about Triennial Acts or the financial repercussions of the Glorious revolution?

And why oh why can I not come up with another page of text about a book I quite enjoyed?!