November 16th, 2006

find x

This month's enigma

Well, the new issue of Prospect was out today - huzzah! I got last month's enigma right (would have been a little worrying if I hadn't), and have done this month's, though it took me a good half an hour to figure out the best way to approach it. Once I'd ditched the trigonometric ratios idea and leapt onto the wonder of basic Pythagorus and algebra, it was all fine, though I did have a ridiculous number of variables bopping around (had to use a, b, c, d, x, h, and z, which I personally feel was a tad excessive). But yay for the solving. I feel almost intelligent.

In other news, I have written my article about Grizel, although it needs some fiddling, and I need to actually *look* at a CS book in order to get the odd bit of supporting evidence. It might help. Speaking of, can anyone remember a bit in one of the last books (post Reunion, at any rate) where Grizel is being snippy with people? I know there's a bit somewhere (I think it may be when she's convalescing after childbirth or something) but I haven't a clue where exactly. Any help gratefully received.
cs kill bill

Squeenie's Drabble Challenge #1

::as requested by athersgeo and katie__pillar::

Grizel lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, and, having done so, inhaled deeply. She leant against the door frame and gazed out over the featureless scrub that passed as her garden. She was struck, not for the first time, with a longing for home – not England, not where she had been so unhappy – but… and Grizel realised, with a bitterness so familiar it had ceased to burn, that she had no home. Poor little orphan girl. Not that she was a girl these days; not any more. Somehow most of her life seemed have been and gone, and she had scarcely noticed. She passed a hand through the short curls that here and there were threaded with grey, and glanced at the slip of paper on the kitchen table.


Maybe it was time for something new. Her stepmother’s presence had, one way or another, loomed large over Grizel her entire life, and now she was free. Perhaps she could find a home, find a place for herself. Perhaps it wasn’t too late.
glee sue sylvester

Squeenie's Drabble Challenge #2

Captain Darling
::as requested by r_scribbles

“Kevin Darling,” said Doris, drawing out the syllables as she darned a stocking, and ignoring the inevitable snicker that her fiance’s name brought forth from her younger brother. Stanley didn’t like Kevin, which, Doris had to admit, wasn’t *entirely* a personal thing and more to do with Kevin’s inevitable habit of treating Stanley as if he was something that should be kept in an outhouse. Kevin, Doris had long ago realised, was an acquired taste. And it wasn’t a taste that many acquired. Doris’s elder brother, Jeremy, couldn’t stand him, and, last time he had been home on leave, had kept muttering something about the Women’s Auxiliary Balloon Corps, but Doris didn’t pay him any attention.

Doris didn’t care about masculine honour. She didn’t care that Jeremy turned his nose up because Kevin worked for a general behind the lines. She didn’t care one bit, because all she cared about was getting him home safe and sound, so they could marry, and have children, and she could volunteer with the Girls Guildry, and Kevin could keep wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen. That was all she wanted.

In the end, though, even Jeremy couldn’t say anything. He had been home when Doris had the telegram, and he hadn’t said anything, even when Doris had cried and shouted at him, “Are you happy now? Is he all right with you now?”

Doris would much rather Kevin Darling had been a coward and lived, than gone over the top and died.
glee sue sylvester

Squeenie's Drabble Challenge #3

::as requested by athersgeo::

Dawn had never really decided whether she was real or not. Most of the time, she didn’t even think about it. She just led her life, the same as every other eighteen year old girl (well, not exactly the same), and the fact that she was really a ball of ages old green energy faded from her mind.

She never quite shook it, though. It’s not the sort of thing you can. Maybe it’s not the sort of thing you should. So sometimes, at night, she would lie awake and wonder.

Then, when she was nineteen and at college, Dawn decided to take Philosophy 101. She wasn’t quite sure why, though yes, as her friends pointed out, the professor was a total hottie. But anyway, philosophy. It wasn’t too bad, actually, and she quite enjoyed it.

She read Descartes. At first, she thought it was kinda weird. Then she wondered if Descartes had known more about the whole supernatural underworld thing than he had probably let on, because malicious demons? So her kind of thing. But the thing about philosophy is that it makes you think. And Dawn thought. And she realised that it didn’t matter how she had been made. It didn’t matter what she had been made for. All that mattered was that she was.
glee sue sylvester

Squeenie's Drabble Challenge #4

::as requested by bookwormsarah::

Sacha Lebenyev was such a bully, and it wasn’t any surprise that Miss Nashvili had kept him in, announced Susan, as she skipped to keep up with her elder brother. Just because she had done better than him in their Maths test – and Maths is so easy, Ganya, really it is – he had tried to trip her over. But Miss Nashvili had seen, because she sees everything, Ganya, really she does, and had made him sit in the corner, and he had been so mad, but he couldn’t do anything except glare at Susan, like she cared about *that*! And Mama had given her cheese in her sandwiches again, because maybe she forgot that Susan doesn’t like it, but it was OK, because Natasha-from-next-door had tuna, and they had swapped, so it worked out.

Ganya didn’t really talk much to his little sister, because, man, she was sorta cute and all, but details of daily life in kindergarten were not the most fascinating thing in the world to an eleven year old, and Tomi had told him that he had the new Fighter Pilot X game, and Ganya could play it if he wanted, which did he *ever*! So at the corner of the street where the Ivanov family lived and the street where Tomi’s family lived, Ganya cut Susan off in mid flow, and pushed her towards their house.

“Go home, Suzotchka,” he said firmly. “I’ll be in later, you tell Mama!”

Susan nodded and headed towards home. She had heard about Tomi and Fighter Pilot X (which sounded really fun, but Ganya had said she was too little, and anyway, girls didn’t fly fighter jets) and had figured she might be walking this bit by herself. She sang part of a song that Miss Nashvili had been teaching them in class as she skipped up the steps and pushed her hand against the plate on the door. It swooshed open, and Susan ran through the house into the kitchen.


But the kitchen was empty, and everything smelt sort of funny. Susan wrinkled her nose, because it was the bad kind of funny, and not the good. She remembered it, that smell. Her father collected old coins, and once she had held one in her hand for eversolong, and then her hand had smelt like this, and she hadn’t liked it.

Susan pushed open the door of their living room, and stopped. Everything stopped. And it didn’t seem to start again for a very long time.
find x

Squeenie's Drabble Challenge #5

::as requested by katie__pillar, mardy_bum and balooky::

Hello. Hi there. I’m Joy. My name is Joy Kelleher.

It wasn’t right. It didn’t *feel* right. It shouldn’t matter, logically. Brennan was confident that Zach would be able to point that out to her. And he would be quite right; there was no logic in letting yourself be defined by a name; an arbitrary label attached to you at birth – or later, as the case might be. It was, after all, just a label – something that could be taken on and off at will. It didn’t matter.

So, maybe she didn’t mind if her name was Joy Kelleher and not Temperance Brennan.

Angela would point out that logic didn’t come into it. A name was given to your by your parents; it has an emotional connection that you can’t ignore. Anthropologically speaking, Angela was correct. Names did matter. Giving – or denying – a name was a crucial part of forming familial and tribal bonds. Her parents had chosen to deny her true identity

Maybe Brennan did mind.
Hello, I’m Joy Kelleher. Hi, my name’s Temperance Brennan.

Brennan stared at herself in the mirror, saw the same face she saw every day. Saw the same person. And she smiled, and it was bittersweet.

At least she’d always be ‘Bones’.