The West Wing is my favourite television series ever, and no amount of trying to convince me that Breaking Bad is better will ever work. I’m not interested in objectivity when it comes to stuff like this – The West Wing isn’t perfect, but it’s still my favourite. I don’t want a reboot because I don’t think it could ever live up to the original, and what’s wrong with just returning to the DVDs when you need a Bartlet-administration fix? The only way I’d accept a new series would be potentially with an origins-story-style prequel, and I’m not even sure I’m here for that.
I’m a Slytherin, apparently. When I first got sorted at the start of Pottermore, I was sorted into Gryffindor, but then the second time round I got Slytherin. Of course, it’s all nonsense, but I’m clearly a Ravenclaw.
I’m not sure why I still blog, except that it’s been a part of my life for a long time, and when I remember to write something, I really enjoy it. It’s a hobby, I suppose, and while I don’t suppose for one moment that I’m changing the world, there’s something reassuring about being able to read lots of words that I’ve written over the years. That being said, it’s probably time to prune a few of the old posts on here.
I hate whales. Or rather, I’m sure they are lovely, but I have a weird phobia/fear of them that means I can’t watch them on television, or think about them, because they make me feel tiny and that makes my arms go tingly. I’ve written about it before, but it’s a vastness thing – they are too big, and my brain struggles to comprehend my relativity to them (the big ones obviously; I’m fine with orcas and the like). I’m similarly affected by really tall trees and space.
I’m a real fan of podcasts, and my time spent listening to them is the reason that my book totals for the past few years have been so low. I have my favourites: Wittertainment, The West Wing Weekly, Serial, Casefile etc. But I’m always, always up for discovering new podcasts, and I love finding something I can binge. I’ve tried to start a regular podcast post here on the blog, but I have managed one post so far. As is the case so often with series that I start on this blog.
I don’t subscribe to the theory that to love books you have to own books. I have a lot of books, but my house isn’t big enough to have beautiful bookshelves full of hundreds of books. Nor do I really have the money for that either. So I make extensive use of the library, and I try only to buy books that I will want the authors to sign. Maybe one day I’ll have a house that will fit more books in, but if not, I won’t mind too much.
I come in pretty handy in any situation where knowing lots of trivial facts will be an advantage. This is mostly just pub quizzes or quiz nights, though if you need someone to obnoxiously shout answers at the television during a quiz show, I’m your girl. I know that this is true of many, many people, so it’s kind of annoying, but I just have a head full of facts. I wouldn’t call it useless information, as such, because let’s face it, most information is useful and will come in handy at some point or another, but I do think it’s important to note that what I possess is not necessarily intelligence, it’s more a propensity for retaining information.
I’ve fractured the same wrist twice. The first time, I was 12, and ice skating for the first time. I was on the ice for about ten minutes before I fell, put my hand down to break my fall, and instead, broke my wrist. The second time, I was 34 (and 364 days), and I was roller skating with my friends for a birthday celebration. I fell over, put my hand down to break my fall, and instead, broke my wrist. It turns out that skating is most definitely not for me, and I will never, ever be doing it again.
I spent a semester of my university time abroad, at the University of Connecticut in the USA. It was an experience, and one that I look back on with slightly rose-tinted glasses, but the truth of the matter is that I was miserable for most of my time there, because I was so homesick. This was in 2009 – not a million years ago, but certainly before I had a phone in my pocket that I could use to just say hello to the ones I loved when I fancied. I had to Skype them, which was fine, but not always the most convenient thing, and everyone just felt so far away. I had some amazing experiences while I was there, but there’s no point dressing it up; by around two weeks in, I was already counting the days when I could come home.
A semi-regular series in which I share a fact or three about myself.
I’m one of six children; chronologically I come fifth, though intellectually, I’m obviously at the top. (Just kidding, any siblings who might be reading this.) We’re three boys and three girls, and that many siblings mean that I’m an aunt many times over (five nieces, five nephews, a great-niece, two step-nephews, a step-niece, and a step-great-niece). I love being part of a big family, and I can’t imagine it any other way.
I once made the statement: “I never wear lipstick.” (It was swiftly followed by “Sometimes I wear lipstick,” which has gone on to become one of those things that my friends repeat with much hilarity due to how overwhelmingly ridiculous it is.) Pretty much since that day, I’ve found that wearing lipstick is a really good way to lift my confidence. This is not news; it’s been the way of the world for many years, but it took me a while to cotton on. Now, you can usually find at least two lipsticks in any bag I own, and I’ve bought the same MUA colour about sixteen times (without using any up first).
I really like my name. I never, ever find it on personalised things like bookmarks or pencil cases, but I’m mostly OK with that. I like that it’s a bit of an old lady name because it means that I rarely meet people of my own age with the same name. I like that it’s one syllable because it can’t be shortened but it can be lengthened. I’ve been known as Janey and Janus in the past, though mostly now I am just Jane.