Intro. Stickied.
Mer. I am bad at talking about myself. In any way that makes sense, I guess.
…
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Fine.
Hello, I’m Gabrielle--Brii. I’m young and if that is uncool with you, feel free to defriend or be all TALK TO THE HAND. It’s all good.
I’d like to believe that my…appraisal of and reactions to the world are newfangled and alone in their idiosyncrasy, but, really. I’m a girl in what my family calls the neo-fascist Midwestern flat place. Such a place isn’t special-we have corn and soybeans and shit of that ilk, if you are interested. I have a fiendish love for big big cities: perhaps I am attracted to anonymity, danger, the lack of air?
Most certainly.
I’m not eloquent but sometimes I pretend otherwise.
I like ellipses and hyphens and being an idiot in the most intellectual fashion I can manage.
People with big muscles scare me. I think that is because I am small. Though it’s also strange, because I have often thought that I wouldn’t mind being engulfed and just…smushed by the limbs of another. Does that seem strange? I am sorry.
You wouldn’t know it from reading this, but I am capswhore.
My parents both work at one of the fair-but-not-outstandingly-amazing state universities and my family has been entrenched in academe for eons, it seems-thus I’ve been reared with history and numbers both. My love of the former far outweighs that of the latter-I’m not sure how my mother feels about that, but. Oh well. I am an unabashed nerd either way: school isn’t a sanctuary, a haven-it’s far too over-run with people that I dislike and cannot identify with-but it is high up on the list of places I would like to be the most.
I have been steadily teaching myself Swedish these past few months and I love Scandinavian art, particularly that of the early 20th century, and culture. My favorite painting is The Singing Tree by Isaac Grunewald, followed closely by Madonna (1895-1902) by Edvard Munch. Some of my favorite authors are Ursula Hegi, Chuck Klosterman, Aidan Chambers, Sara Douglass, Andreas Steinhofel, and Erik Orsenna. I read books in both English and French, and my literary tastes are all over the place.
Because of that-my tastes in art and culture-I think my insides are an amalgamation of the dim antique and the startlingly new. Munch mixes with My Chemical Romance, Helsinki of the nineteen-teens and -twenties with hipster comms, finger waves with fandom. I’m enormously attached to both ends of the spectrum, though I will ramble about fandom-bandom, usually-and school in this journal more than art and Scandinavia.
Randomly: I play the cello, and I have been known to fuck around with six-stringed instruments on occasion. Not so much anymore, now: My guitar teacher disappeared to Florida at the beginning of the year and my Google searches have come to naught-deary me. I don’t like or eat red meat. I function as the president (Madame High Chancellor, actually, because we like to eschew the normal titles) of my school’s Gay-Straight Alliance. I, to use the relatively blunt vernacular, swing both ways. My hair is dyed far more than is usually advised. I am an independent study student in photography at my school, and I have said many times that I would post pictures, but I am shit at remembering. That, and at working a scanner-because of this, there are only a few photography posts in this journal. I am galeiforms on AIM. I’m rarely on, but add away if you would like, and IM whenever: I like to talk.
…In case you haven’t noticed, I have a tendency to type the way I talk and think. I stop and start and stop and start and my punctuation is not really uniform, standard-as is my capitalization. Sorry for that.