Happy Second Tuesday; or Missing My Second Blogiversary

Yes, I’m terribly late to the party as usual, but Happy New Year to all.  Welcome, new subscribers and viewers to this blog.  I’m always amazed by the traffic here even when there’s nothing new to read.  Thanks for coming and do feel free to look through the archive.   Also, thank you Dear Readers for your encouragement and steadfastness.  Your patience will be rewarded with more posts soon.  In fact, it’s on doctor’s orders.  Seriously.  But more on that later.

Since the end of November, ArmitageWorld has gone from famine to feast, a glut actually.  It’s provided a cornucopia of subjects to discuss.  There’s still the review of The Hobbit, and a second (and third) look at Thorin.   Then, there’s the epic Richard Armitage report card.  Truth be told, settling on criteria for assessment has been giving me fits, but it’s beeen sorted.  I’m binding and gagging Inner Fangurl, and aiming for the most fair and impartial perspective view possible.  Well, as impartial as an anti-fangurl can be. (Yes, I’m still searching for how to really describe myself).  I’ve also altered the focus from his performance at the NZ premiere to the entire Hobbit tour.   The emergence of RA on the world stage has been too fascinating not to cover in entirety.  Later on, I’ll discuss who I think he is, or isn’t.

Speaking of fascinating, I’ve also been observing fandom’s reaction to the film and tour.   As this blog’s title states, I enjoy watching people.   Even though I’ve been in fandom’s for 20 years, I’ve never had a chance to observe firsthand, a fandom’s response to a crush’s rapid ascension to potential stardom. It’s been quite interesting.  I might get run out of fandom on a rail, but you’re get my unvarnished opinions on my perception of ArmitageWorld after 2+ years, the changes occuring within it, and where I see it heading. 

This all reminds me: my 2nd blogiversary passed on December 28, 2012.   A lot has happened in these past two years personally.  I’ll explore what it has meant for me, where I am currently, and hope to be in the next year.  You’ll see more short stories with my inner trio, Jada, Jodi, and Quiet One (let’s not forget Patty the pom and Dr.G.); the conflicted muses (Sir Guy vs. Thorin?); excerpts from a possible mystery; The Man; and anything else escaping from my fevered imaginings. 

Does that sound like enough to kick off 2013?  Stay tuned.

Oh, and have pic.

Richard Armitage in 2004 photo shoot, courtesy RichardArmitageNet.com

Richard Armitage in 2004 photo shoot, courtesy RichardArmitageNet.com

Surreal Saturday – London Calling

I dream I move to London.

After 10 days of a hormonally induced nosedive, nightmares, and creative paralysis, the grip breaks finally and I dream of moving to London.  I don’t enter a lovely row house in a leafy green village of my fantasy.  Instead in a chain of four consecutive dreams, I dream of the moving process in linear time.  Bright and early on a sunny morning I indicate to shadowy movers what furniture to take from my parents’ old house and from my condo-but-not-my-condo. In a blink, we shift to the London car park of my new home.     We realize Something Has Been Stolen, but not a car because I don’t drive.  I need to call the police.  Meanwhile, my relative-but-not-my-relative commandeers the process and they bustle quickly, eventually getting away from me.  I am angry to lose control.  They have my keys and I’ve never seen my new place.  Suddenly, I am there in my new bustling mid-rise, The Ritz (but not that Ritz),   moving determinedly up four flights and across a short passage until I reach a silver matte door, unit 1617A in bold embossed numbers.  I push open the door, and there is my relative-but-not-relative arranging my furniture before an empty stone fireplace.  I note to light the fire and admire in the foyer the funky retro silver wallpaper with a black and white trellis of vines.

Then I’m pulled away to a hotel room in the building, to a mystery of Twilight Zone proportions that must be solved as night falls. The Doctor is nowhere in sight.  Suddenly it’s morning.  My shadowy movers and I hug, having Saved the World.  We decide to play a game on ice that’s not hockey.  I sit it out because I don’t skate.  The not-hockey-puck flies and knocks a spectator out cold.  Woops.

It’s a surreal celebration.

Happy belated New Year!

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