2. I will respond by asking you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
That LLY asked a lot of folks questions---see here for her entry, and follow links to everybody's answers. I'm gonna. I wanna know about, say, one of fearfuloptimist's hottest sexual encounters.
1. Please tell me about your rock collection.
I love rocks. It probably goes back to family vacations in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Once, though, our car broke down outside Drummond, Montana, where we had to camp in the city's park for three days awaiting a new water pump. I spent much of that time in Roy's Rock Shop. Roy must have had some patience for kids.
I have lots of kinds of rocks. Not all of them make every move with me, but more do than many folks would probably consider reasonable. I have a few hunks of petrified wood & marble that might have a certain economic value, but I can get excited about something like a hunk of I-don't-know-what that looks uncannily like a russet potato. And speaking of I-don't-know-what, despite my "science" project once being a display of rocks with labels of what they are, I don't know what's what that way. Fossils interest me, too, and I'm not averse to a polished stone, or to something sculpted, like a little skull I have with a swirl of color looking like it's running through its brain.
I still ask people to bring me a rock when they go some place. Not everybody looks at me like I'm crazy.
2. When did you first consciously call yourself a feminist?
Immediately after the first time I heard the term, I reckon! I still have a real fondness bordering on reverence for our lesbo-femmo foremothers, despite the foibles (and genuine damage) we now attribute to some aspects of the "first wave." In my early 20's I relied more than I realized at the time on the local women's bookstore to grow into a comfortable way of being female. I sometimes say I didn't discover women until I was 18, and it's true---and not just cuz that was when I discovered sleeping with them, and being close friends with 'em: until then I hadn't gotten to square one on how I could reconcile belonging to the gender and its apparent place in the world.
I can hardly believe what connotations "feminist" has come to have in the dominant culture. It boggles my mind how women I know can say they're not feminists, but they believe [insert list of core feminist principles here]. Not that I don't know why they might want to distance themselves from some scary evil-dripping monster word, but c'mon.
3. Have you trained on any musical instruments?
Snare drum. That's it, apart from "Teaching Little Fingers To Play" and part of the 1st level John Thompson piano book in, like, 1970---but my piano teacher was my mother, who taught kids in the neighborhood & was all too willing to let her own kids quit at the drop of a hat. I regret now that there seemed to be something uncool about taking lessons from yer mom. Later I was part of the cutting edge kazoo-based Truncated Octopus, with other band geeks. We were largely inspired by the success of the Flying Lizards, who appeared to have even less talent than we.
I did take music theory in high school---one of the few real academic challenges my school offered. The rules of four-part harmony à la J. S. Bach were my favorite thing. Very mathy. It was my main education in notes that "go up and down," as I liked to say, after learning to read drum line rhythms very well, but not anything involving intervals. It's laughably typical (of my character) to me the way, after this background, I now come at making up songs: a strange base of the verbal (it all starts with words) & the analytical ("hunh---that's the IV chord"), yet coming out in my atonal emotional spew, and doing for me something that the analytical & the verbal on their own do not.
4. With no $, geographic, or metaphysical constraints, please describe an ideal dinner.
The romantic in me comes out here, as the first thought that occurs to me is the company. I'm imagining the backyard court of some urban bistro on uneven old bricks inside tall, weather-worn wood fencing, with little white lights haphazardly in a few of the little sparsely-leafed trees coming up through iron grate coverings here and there. It's dark, and a little cool. The tables and chairs are black metal, but not heavy-wrought---and no arms on those chairs, of course. There's been, or is about to be, a salad with pears in it and we're nibbling on some esoteric appetizer I've never seen before & couldn't think up in a million, cuz my lover is an adventurous diner too, of course; who knows what entrées we're vaguely expecting but would have to think to recall ordering, as we're enjoying our conversation & the atmosphere so very.
There might be wine & there might not. It doesn't matter. I hope there'll be coffee, and I prefer to think we'll have room for dessert. This eatery is probably more modest in portion size than yer usual American box restaurant, after all.
Is it in New York? It feels as if it is. It might be in L.A., though, believe it or not. I ate in one great out-back spot in L.A. once. NB: had my ass been to Europe by now, my answer would quite possibly be taking place in France or Italy, or somewhere else entirely. Main point: it's the company and the atmosphere for me every doggoned bit as much as the food. Hell, MORE than the food. It could be set in my own home, too, or someone else's, but that's not what first pops to mind.
5. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
In elementary school I once told a teacher "nuclear physicist," all deadpan, just to see her reaction (just more puzzled discomfort with a tinge of fear---what I usually inspired in adults). I meant it a bit more when I told another teacher I wanted to be a writer. (NOT an "author"---ugh.) Truth is, I just wanted to be somebody who wasn't so bloody confused about how things work. As it turns out, the daily life of a writer runs counter, in a way, to my preference for being around and interacting with people regularly, daily. I still love words and the ways they work together, though. And I still think "nuclear physicist" sounds cool.