The Toybox

Speak up about season five! Our own inexhaustible (does this girl sleep?) svmadelyn has started up a postcard campaign.

It's a--thing. Will it help? No clue. Will it change anything? Fandom brings back *dead shows* sometimes. We are exorcists. Sort of. In a completely non-creepy Exorcist way.

Or not. But it's something we can do. And yes, I will have *so little patience* if you don't do and then complain about how season five has managed, impossibly, to be worse than season four. Y'all, Lana has not *yet* been made into a goddess with omnipotence and there hasn't been mpreg. This show? Can scare us more. We love our show. We miss the plotlines that made sense. There can be improvement. We just need them to *see* it.

Read all about it here.



I want inspirational music. svmadelyn -- do we have a soundtrack yet?

A part of my adolescence ends sometime tomorrow, when I finish The October Horse by Colleen McCullough, culminating a series that I started reading when I was fourteen years old, picking up a paperback copy of The First Man in Rome at Wal-Mart. I got the last yesterday and am almost finished, with Octavian and Mark Antony joining forces and doing some really icky things to Cicero, proscribing (that concept blows my mind. I can't even wrap my mind around it), and I'm about fifty pages from teh end and it *hurts*. It's the last one.

Christ, that was over half my life ago.

But God, do I remember falling in love with Rome. And with genealogy as my chief hobby, a hobby I've sadly neglected for several years. But yes. Rome. Republican Rome, pre-Augustus, before Nero and Messalina, where the word king was anathema. It's also where I picked up my aversion to certain periods of history, because I didn't want to be *spoiled*. Beat *that* for being spoilerphobic! So today, I know how Cicero died, and yes, I knew how Caesar died, stupid Shakespeare, but now I know the names of all the men that did it. I also learned, in six books, the thousand horrific ways a man can kill another man. Cause whoa, the thing with swallowing hot coals? I just *wish* Shakespeare had imagined it.

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