From abyssinia4077...
 
1) If I came to the UK to visit, where would you take me?

Well, hm. If I'd not learnt to drive by then, it'd probably have to be somewhere around London. There's the Science Museum, which rocks but is a bit obvious. Camden, maybe, to see Bast's headquarters on Earth. No, I'm going to assume I've learnt to drive, and we could go on a day trip to Oxford, with a stop at the White Horse at Uffington and Wayland's Smithy on the way. Oxford is one of my favourite places – it's a good example of what Britain does well: old and pompous mixed with life and knowledge and eccentricity and history. It's smaller and quirkier than Cambridge, and prettier than London, and it has... atmosphere. Plus lots of nice places to have cream tea by the river.

 

Eee. Well, I love painting, if we're talking visual arts (my favourite overall is writing). I don't do it nearly enough to be any good, but when I did, I used to get into a sort of zone, where I knew what I needed to paint, and how I wanted to apply it, and... it was weird and instinctual – kind of bypassing the rational parts of my brain. I loved that, so much. I love animation too, but it's more cerebral than instinctual. I'd like to do more of it, so I can get past the 'I know what I want to paint' bit, and into the 'I know how this will affect other people' thing.

 

And as a spectator... hmm, difficult question. I think I like specific artists, rather than mediums, because it can be dull and uninteresting or completely beautiful and inspirational, and that doesn't seem to depend on the 'how'. That said, I'm more interested in painting than I am in, say, theatre, because I have more knowledge of how it works. So, overall, painting.

 

Crazy habits? Moi? Okay, yeah. Um, I wasn't capable of sitting straight in a chair (I'm still not too good at it, to be fair). I'd sit upside-down, feet in the air, leaning over an arm, stand on my head... anything but feet on the ground and bum on the seat. *g*

 

Hm. I'd want to do something that is set in the present day, UK, perhaps North London, perhaps Wales, but with some sort of magical or science fiction element – maybe more magical than sci fi. And with historical elements, too – a link to the past, in some way. Old buildings with hidden corners. I'd want it to be a kind of magical version of the Secret Garden, where someone turns a corner, and finds a door, and through that is... magic stuff. But weird, elemental, not particularly friendly magic, based on the sort of stuff I read when I was a kid – Alan Garner, Susan Cooper, Diana Wynne Jones, that sort of thing. It'd be kind of a kids show, but not in a cute way – more... unsettling. Creepy, and full of unnameable fears, but also with the potential for anything to turn out to be true.

 

Starring... well, I always prefer shows with a cast of unknowns, to be honest. I don't like having preconceptions about what someone is going to do. I'd give Tom Baker a guest spot, though.

 

 

I felt the urge to answer in sort-of-fic...

 

It's not about the white picket fence (although freedom to visit the cabin whenever she wants is nice), or the 2.4 children (although she has been feeling a bit peculiar lately, but her periods have always been irregular, and anyhow the thought isn't so much "my life would be complete" as "OMGsheerterror"). It's not about the sex (although... explosive), or the kissing (although that's very, very nice, and usually leads to the sex, which... yeah). It's not about the way their eyes meet across a crowded bar or battleground or briefing table, and he gives her this look for which there aren't enough words, and she knows he's reading the same thing in her eyes – and sometimes he gives her a tiny smile and there's nothing that can stop her from smiling back; sometimes it's more wordless sympathy, or understanding, or an order to stay silent and not to give up, or a promise that this isn't how it ends; sometimes it's a look that she hadn't allowed herself to interpret, before, but now she can and does and has to forcibly remind herself that pouncing on him in public is still inadvisable, even if that's now only because they'll be laughed at. Although that's almost it.

 

Their happily ever after is in those moments, late at night or early in the morning, when his arms are around her and hers are around him, their legs tangled, and they're as close together as they can get, skin-to-skin, his stubble prickling through her hair... she lets go of a sigh that she feels like she's been holding back forever, and he echoes it with feeling. That's it. Right there.

From holdouttrout...

 

 

I'm short, but I like it. Occasionally I wish I could get things from high shelves more easily, but I've never seriously wished to be tall. I like being little. I think it's my reading history: the books I grew up with managed to successfully sell to me the idea of short = tough = heroine. I can't think of an example offhand, but I just remember the type to which I aspired was the princess who went out and had her own adventures, and she usually seemed to be short. Also, Scully was my favourite role model when I was a teenager.

 

Fishing. I'm with Jack on this. Fishing is the perfect end. It just... worked. It fitted with what had gone before, it made beautiful sense, it was poetic without being mushy, it left the possibilities open in our minds as to what happened next... Much though I love Cam and Vala, and much though I'd like them to go on making good Stargate eps for all eternity, I would have been completely satisfied if they'd ended it there.

 

 

I was extremely proud, once, that I managed to lure a man whose looks I liked by just staring at him, really hard. *g* I was intending it to be come-hither rather than scary-psycho, and I must've been doing something right, because he seemed to think so. He came over to me, and asked me why I chose him. To which I did a little internal "Yay! I'm totally a goddess!"

 

 

I tend to connect quickly with the people who remain friends. I'll be talking to someone, and there'll be this moment where I think, "Yes! I totally understand where you're coming from!" It can be about anything. I bonded with my bf over the equitably feeding of pigeons. We both felt compelled to try to feed the one at the back who wasn't getting any of the crumbs that the pushier pigeons at the front were getting, and we sat there and talked about that. So... quickly, I guess.

 

 

 

Actual books? Yes, I totally do, although I know it's not always going to be my final opinion. I'm completely a sucker for good presentation, though. I like something with a graphic-y style, and the texture of the cover is very important to me, for some reason. I love books that feel expensive – good, heavy paper, not glossy. I also love books that have been made to look older. Not too many cartoons on the cover, and no gold writing. Cutout covers appeal to me – anything with a novelty aspect – although I don't tend to actually buy those, but I will pick them up and play with them. I do find myself drawn to the kind of bookcovers as reviewed by linnet_101, the ones with the guys in tight leather pants and the girls in ripped bodices, standing in front of wind machines, but rarely have the nerve to buy 'em.

 

An example of a book I bought recently that I would have had to buy just for the cover, even if I didn't already know and love the author, is The Tent, by Margaret Atwood.