If you want to learn the Hebrew aleph-bet by the end of the day, WATCH THIS VIDEO.

If you want to remain sane by the end of the day, DO NOT WATCH THIS VIDEO.

It is hideously annoying and hideously useful; it is truly a Faustian pact. Learn the aleph-bet with the absolute minimum of effort; think that "KILL EVERYONE" is a perfectly valid answer to any question.

Once again, Quenya is proving extremely useful - the vowels are almost exactly the same as in Hebrew. YOU ALL MOCKED.

I am most bouncy and excited about spending New Year's in Oxford with lovely peoples - it'll be my first New Years not spent with parents and their friends. Exciting stuff. I might be going to London on the next day; nothing is sorted yet. My cousin was indeed out for Christmas; it's unknown whether any charges will be made against his sister.

Today was the best Christmas day I have had in years. No Drunkle Ken, Dad fell asleep on the sofa quite inoffensively, LUKE AND MATTHEW CALLED HIM ON HIS SEXISM I AM SO PROUD OF THEM, presssentssss, just ate ice cream, etc. The best thing was, by far, working at the church though. It was wonderful; I was mainly fetching drinks and talking to the early-comers. Just feeling very happy and at peace with the world.

I know that Midnight Mass was last night, but I was much more moved this morning. On the way to the church, when I was in the car with Mum, Mary's Boy-child came on the radio, which was Kit's very favourite song, after Were You There When They Crucified My Lord? We listened, and when it came to the line "And man will live for evermore because of Christmas day" Mum said "You know, she totally believed that," and I just burst into tears. I sobbed in the car for several minutes; I have a lump in my throat just thinking of it now. Kit had a faith you could build houses on - it is strange to even call it a faith. She did not believe, she knew - she knew it like I know that I am sitting on a chair right now. I can tell you about the various theories concerning the Infancy Narratives and I can read them in Greek and I can give the the years in which they might have happened and what star was shining, but she could honestly move mountains. I miss her so much, sometimes; she made me feel like the most clever, beautiful, special person in the whole world in her eyes.

A Christmas Carol by G. K. Chesterton

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O, weary, weary is the world,
But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O, stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart
His hair was like a fire.
(O, weary, weary is the world
But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.

I think we are the only family I know who, every Christmas morning, put The Pogues on at full volume throughout the house.

Midnight Mass last night was gorgeous; I got pressed into serving, and we have a MC (Brian), and the most incompetent man in the world who thinks he is MC (Mike) , and the two inevitably clash every Christmas; Matthew giggled the whole way through the service, which made our priest start laughing as well. Then there is Philip, who serves despite being about a hundred and eighteen years old (there is rife debate as to whether he looks more like Mister Burns or Gollum; I am firmly in the latter camp), who had no idea at all what was going on and planted himself on the middle of the sanctuary with a candle until I hushed him along. Then Mike nearly lit the wreath candles in the wrong order (purple, purple, purple, pink, white? I don't think so!)

Ah, wacky Catholic hijinks.

I'm off to the church again in about half an hour; every Christmas we send out about 200 meals around Birmingham, and put on a dinner for about 100 people; I'm helping to set off the hall, then coming back for my own dinner! Nom nom nom. Dad likes to have Christmas Dinner obscenely early, because he is fixated on the idea that dinner has to be finished before the Queen's Speech starts, which is pretty much his only English tradition so he is going to stick with it, by God!

Present highlights:

Dad bought Mum an Enya CD; he prefers soft choral music, Mum goes more in the line of the Pogues, Leonard Cohen, white men singing about how depressing their lives are, etc. (Though she is going through a bit of a Lady Gaga phase at the moment...)

Mum: Why on earth did you get me this?
Dad: You really like her!
Mum: I like Clannad! I've never liked Enya.
Dad: But she's Irish!

Luke got Mum a Compare the Meerkat t-shirt which we were all extremely impressed by. I got a new Bible, Muji stationary and a Teach Yourself Biblical Hebrew book; it's even sadder that I asked for these, and even picked out the editions. I also got Star Trek on DVD and the world's most voluminous skirt! Yay!

Peace and love and happiness and joy to everyone; Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and have a cracking Friday if you don't!

Thank you so much for all your lovely messages last night - they were of great help. I say with trembling relief that the first draft of my dissertation is SENT, and now I am going to enjoy Christmas! Which in the immediate future involves washing hair for Midnight Mass, but I will do that in a celebratory mood!

And there is snow on the ground in Birmingham! So Christmassy!

Yeah, I'm not going to be sleeping tonight.

FAIL NIGHT IS MADE OF FAIL.

1. DISSERTATION DISSERTATION PANIC PANIC DISSERTATION.

2. My cousin Sean is spending the night in Charing Cross Police Station.

My mum's sister, Angie, has three children: Alison, Vicky, and Sean. Vicky and Sean are so lovely, but Alison is a vile, cunning wretch who has stolen from Angie in the past. It turns out that Alison phoned Sean and asked him to come around; she wanted him to buy some Debenhams vouchers off her. He did so, and went in today to buy Angie's Christmas present. Turns out the vouchers were bought with a stolen credit card, and Sean was arrested.

It looks like it will hopefully be sorted out by tomorrow; Sean is so nice and polite, and told the police exactly what happened. A policeman phoned Angie from the tube and told her that they believe him and he'll be out in time for Christmas, but they are probably going to charge Alison. Good riddance, I say, but the whole house is in an understandable uproar.

Back to dissertation; it will be finished before I sleep, but only God knows when that will be.

So tired. So damned tired. I have not left my staircase in two days; I think I shall have to tomorrow, to get some food and check my pidge. I know it is the last sprint now - I have an informal deadline (a poorly-line) of tomorrow night set for myself, and I think I shall get it done, though what hour of the day I do not know. I am sorry I have been so lax of late in replying to comments, but I read them all, and thank you, and if I may ask for them again, is this snarky enough to read as unobjective? I do not think Tuckett would give a crap about the tone argument...

Fitzmyer’s repeated use of the word “instrument” is an unfortunate one, relegating Mary to the position of an object – or a womb. Instead of being a woman who makes her own decision regarding the whole of her life, Fitzmyer instead makes Mary an object. It is easy to understand how such language could be interpreted as misogynistic – there is a long history of insulting women by referring to them by their sexual body parts – and even academic texts are not immune. Fitzmyer must therefore be accused of the same misunderstanding that the woman in the crowd displays in Luke 11:27, and the same response must be directed to him that Jesus directs to her in verse 28: “While he was saying this, a woman in the crowd raised her voice and said to him, ‘Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you!’ But he said, ‘Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it!’”

Thank you to everyone who suggested books with lay female Catholics in them! :D I will add them to my post-Finals reading list...

Aaaarrrghh, dissertation feels like a parasite that is slowly sucking away my will to live. There is so much I could put in, if I had word limit enough and time, but right now I just want to get the first draft finished and sent off.

I posted a short crack!fic at perfect_duet : Jack and Stephen as angels

Last night foreverdirt  came around, and we watched Sharpe's Sword (Father Curtis: what a BAMF), and then I got A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia working on the DVD player in another staircase! YAY! However wonderful the Nautical Romance is, I think it has to be my favourite film. Ralph Fienne's Lawrence is just perfect - you can see him slowly cracking throughout the film (which is pretty much close-ups on tiny twitches of the mouth or glitter in the eyes, and dialogue that never talks down to you, often including untranslated French and Arabic), and he is the most subtle woobie - the little smiles to himself, sometimes forced, the giggles when he is losing control of the situation, and sometime because he is just about to cry, and Gertrude Bell being awesome, and Feisal/Lawrence being the trufax OTP of woobie trufax.

It seems I squicked a few people out with the last chapter. Sorry about that. I figured, for a show where people kill demons with their bare hands... oh well. Here's the last chapter, and it's a lot nicer. Plus it's got the rest of the gang in it too, and a few other cameos.

Title: The Return of the Son of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Fandom/timeline: Buffy, s3: "Amends". Except Dawn is in it.
Word Count: ~1500
Characters: Buffy, Faith, ensemble
Disclaimer:: The characters belong to Joss, yada yada.
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, Angel has been talked down from the hill and awww, isn't all that snow pretty. That can't be a bad thing, can it? I mean, this is Sunnydale, where the supernatural is always helpful and it's not like magical snow instantly covering the entire town could possibly herald the arrival of... FLESH-EATING ZOMBIE SNOWMEN?!?

Yes Virginia, now Santa Claus is dead
Some guys from the SWAT team blew a hole in his head
- "Weird" Al Yankovic, "The Night Santa Went Crazy"

Chapter 1: It Came Upon A Morning Clear
Chapter 2: Stalkin' In A Winter Wonderland
Chapter 3: Now I Have A Machine Gun, Ho Ho Ho
Chapter 4: Christmas Number One

Chapter 5 and epilogue: A Slayin' Song Tonight

( Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow )

Last night, foreverdirt  and I were talking about representations of religious belief in literature, and I realised that one of the reasons I identify so much with Stephen is because he is a lay, liberal, practising Catholic. And so I tried to think of a female version, and I couldn't. So, flist, I need your help. I am looking for a character who is:

- female
- lay
- a practising Catholic

This does not include female relatives of important male Catholic characters (for example, the family of Jed Bartlett). Bonus if she is intelligent and uses reason. More bonus if she is not only Catholic because she is in an entirely Catholic environment: for example, a female character set in a novel about Ireland in 900 AD is going to be Catholic by default, unless she is visiting, but it won't be an issue because everyone around her is also Catholic.

Because the only person I could think of was Mrs. Doyle.

I have now passed 20,000 words on my dissertation. THIS IS BAD. It needs to be finished by the 23rd.

My perfect_duet  advent calender submission is for the 21st.

Fuuuuuck.

Title: The Return of the Son of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Fandom/timeline: Buffy, s3: "Amends". Except Dawn is in it.
Word Count: ~1300
Characters: Buffy, Faith
Disclaimer:: The characters belong to Joss, yada yada.
Warning: ***Non-sexual and fairly childish use of bodily fluids not normally considered appropriate to play around with. ...Yeah. Sorry.***
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, Angel has been talked down from the hill and awww, isn't all that snow pretty. That can't be a bad thing, can it? I mean, this is Sunnydale, where the supernatural is always helpful and it's not like magical snow instantly covering the entire town could possibly herald the arrival of... FLESH-EATING ZOMBIE SNOWMEN?!?

Watch out where the huskies go!
Don't you eat that yellow snow!
- Frank Zappa

Chapter 1: It Came Upon A Morning Clear
Chapter 2: Stalkin' In A Winter Wonderland
Chapter 3: Now I Have A Machine Gun, Ho Ho Ho

Chapter 4: Christmas Number One

( Peace on earth )

I wanted to get loads of work done on dissertation tonight, as I've been on a roll all day, but my chest is just making it impossible to concentrate - not the stabbing pain, but the strange feeling all over of imminent cramps, or as though I have sprained every muscle in my torso; it is in my shoulders and arms as well. It is painful, but more in a distracting than debilitating way. I have just cleared 18,000 words, which is also slightly worrying. I think I will call it a rest for the rest of the night; if it eases off I will do more typing later. I have a Bod day planned for tomorrow -it must be finished by the 24th.

I am one of the few people in the GAB now - the only person on my staircase. I have not been out since I came in on Tuesday evening, and the only person I have seen has been Carol as she came in the empty my bin. It is curiously enjoyable - I know I can be an antisocial creature, but it feels very freeing. Strangely enough, seeing no one face to face is actually making me feel less lonely - is that odd? Hmm. I do have internet peoples, of course, but it feels like good practice for possible future research.

It really is snowing. A lot. Whee.

Also: Huge thanks to gillo for the present! I really really appreciate it, you wonderful you. *hugs, twirls, serves up cup of mulled wine*

Also also: sl_podcast has put up an audio recording of my story On Gurnenthar. Listen to it here. *more wine*

Also also also, as Tabz points out, let's remember what the season is about: in the wise words of Angel, "A lot of goats. Goats, many. Those are goats, guys." There are a lot of charities out there that subscribe to the "teach a man to fish" (or a woman to read) idea. Just a thought. It'll make the gifts you buy for (and get from) those close to you even better.

Sorry, I know, I know, this godless heathen can't stand "Do They Know It's Christmas?" either. So later today: the next chapter of violent, snarky, rocket-launchin' holiday havoc.

This evening, instead of doing productive work, I went through an entire online gallery of El Greco pictures looking for the most Stephenish one.

"Now, sir!" he cried, frowning sternly at a stranger whose face was reflected in a small looking- glass. "Jesus, 'tis myself, behind that beard." A three-weeks' beard: with his sunken, emaciated face, it gave him the look of an El Greco, without the length.

                                                    - Desolation Island

I edited it slightly to make the eyes paler, and this was my choice!



Yes he is cos-playing as a Trinitarian monk don't judge he can do whatever he wants at the weekend.

Extra-special mention in this post goes to proskynesis , who is a pedobear for El Greco hands.

Title: The Return of the Son of the Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Rating: PG13
Fandom/timeline: Buffy, s3: "Amends". Except Dawn is in it.
Word Count: ~1700
Characters: Buffy, Faith, Giles
Disclaimer:: The characters belong to Joss, yada yada.
Warning: ***Shameless national stereotyping.***
Summary: It's Christmas in Sunnydale, Angel has been talked down from the hill and awww, isn't all that snow pretty. That can't be a bad thing, can it? I mean, this is Sunnydale, where the supernatural is always helpful and it's not like magical snow instantly covering the entire town could possibly herald the arrival of... FLESH-EATING ZOMBIE SNOWMEN?!?

Awake, you scary great old ones, let everything dismay
Remember, great Cthulhu shall rise up from R'lyeh
To kill us all with tentacles if we should go his way
Oh, tidings of madness and woe, madness and woe
Oh, tidings of madness and woe!
- The Arkham Carolers

Chapter 1: It Came Upon A Morning Clear

Chapter 2: Stalkin' In A Winter Wonderland

Chapter 3: Now I Have A Machine Gun, Ho Ho Ho

( Now that's what I call a Christmas cracker )

Hey, while you're waiting for the next chapter of the snow monster thing (probably due tomorrow), here's two drabbles, one silly BtVS and one sad-ish Doctor Who since I'm doing a little pre-Christmas-special rewatch.

For open_on_sunday's "candle" challenge:

( Willow/Tara, season 5-ish )
And since I just watched "Gridlock" yesterday:

( Novice Hame and the Face of Boe, pre-episode )