randomlikeliness

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You've been turned into an animal

Spin the wheel to find out which

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It takes 2 to get from 8 to 10 and 7 - 2 = 5, therefore 8 + 2 + 5 = 15

Then 2 + 4 + 1 = 7

75.

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I am reading scholarly works about Jane Austen and having hearteyes about obscure details in the Pemberley chapters of P&P that indicate Mr. Darcy’s sustainable land management praxis.

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😳 <- this emoji but without the blush or romantic connotation. im not blushing im staring you directly in your fucking eyes

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The Green Gown (detail), Thomas Edwin Mostyn (English, 1864–1930)

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Harrison Ford Smashes TV by Blu Lydia on YouTube.

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An appreciation post for all the coffees & teas I’ve lovingly consumed this year. There is something so healing about taking a small moment to enjoy a warm drink, especially when it feels like a hug in a mug. ☕️🤍

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2025.1 Goals

Since I can't trust Tumblr not to eat this blog too (yes, I'm still bitter about it), this year I wrote my long list of goals somewhere else and will post just the short version on here.

The theme for this year will be "I might as well try". I have big ambitions, but always try to moderate myself because what if I exhaust myself, what if I can't do everything. But the other day I stumbled upon this video, The Wonyoung Mindset and the message is basically: "yes, working towards your goals is hard, but isn't it even harder not reach your goals at the end of the day? Might as well try hard." Which to me makes sense. Also, I'm old enough to know how much I can take on my plate so it will be fine.

So this year I'm maximizing my goals! I'll go for it and get it!

Write a novel and publish it on Amazon. Even if it's terrible and a total flop, who cares. Let's start my author career!

Complete my writing challenge to show to myself how committed I am to writing

Graduate cum laude in July from my master's! + find a job

Do yoga every day

Have 10k on my savings account at the end of the year (level impossible unless the novel becomes a smashing success)

Visit my friend D in her home country

Be ready to start preparing for TOPIK II level 5 by the end of the year.

Pass a Goethe-Zertifikat B1 or B2 during the second half of the year

Read 5 books from my physical TBR list so I can give them away and make some space in my library

Watch 12 Italian films (1/12) cause how is it possible that I know nothing about my own country's pop culture?

By the end of the year, I will be able to do at least 10 classic push ups. Right now I can barely do 10 wall pushups to it's a long road but I will make it!!!!

I've already set up a habit tracker to help me with all this. I'm sure the enthusiasm will vanish soon, so I plan on checking in every month and re-evaluating my goals every quarter. Hopefully I'll reach some of them sooner than expected and be able to add more (for example, it wouldn't be a bad idea to publish more than one novel).

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First goal of the year reached! I just finished watching all 14 available Korean Short Stories (Intermediate) by 몰힙한국어 Immersion in Korean.

I really like the format (the same short story is repeated in 3 different ways or povs) and it included some useful idiomatic expressions, so I think I will keep following the series.

But now it's time to move up one level! Since my goal for this first quarter of the year is to start (and finish) listening to Choi Susu's intermediate podcast, starting tomorrow I will listen to 10 min a day of her Stardew Valley series. The playlist is currently around 120 min long, so I should be done by the 25th but I'll give myself until the end of January to account for unexpected delays :)

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I've been watching so many language learning podcasts for German and Korean this last week that YouTube is now recommending English podcasts too.

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I'm at 1.900 cards on my me-made Korean Anki deck. Hehe. Onwards to my 4k cards by the end of the year!

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1/52 Flavours: the distant glitter of the January sun

(my masterlist)

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This is a Leonie story.

xxx

The distant glitter of a January sunrise as seen from the window of a train was a new experience. Leonie had never taken a train before leaving Patty Town and now here she was on the other side of the country.

The children were asleep, but she had been woken up by the Winter Bird in its cage. The children wanted to give it a name, but Leonie refused. She was going to sell it for its weight in gold, after all. It wouldn’t be practical to get attached.

At the beginning of their journey, crossing the country to meet Mr John Fogel had seemed like a brilliant idea. But as they got closer and closer and the money she would have used to pay rent, had she stayed, became a smaller and smaller sum, she felt unsure. What would happen if Mr Fogel laughed in her face just like the ornithologist?

Her mother used to tell her that big cities ate young women alive. With two children depending on her, was she still a young woman?

xxx

She paid for the inn with money she didn’t have but hoped to receive from Mr Fogel in exchange for the bird. She left the children in the care of the lady innkeeper.

The butler at Fogel House seemed skeptical but Leonie was finally able to convince him. He led her to a large room at the back of the house. It was furnished with great taste as a drawing room and it would have been spacious if it wasn’t for the infinite number of bird cages it was filled with. A wall made entirely out of windows let in the sunlight, showing a floor covered in dust and feathers. The smell was disgusting and the chirping overwhelming.

Tending to one of the cages, was an old man leaning on a cane. He was wearing a dressing robe and his hair were disheveled.

His eyes glossed over Leonie and looked in question at the butler, who went to whisper something in his ear. Mr Fogel nodded and then waved him away. Leonie and him were now alone in the room.

“My butler tells me you have something for me, Miss…”

“Adams. I heard that you are looking for a Winter Bird. I happen to own one.”

“And how did you happen to hear about my need, Miss Adams?”

“Your ornithologist, I forgot his name, came to our town looking for the bird. He told me that I should come to you directly to conclude our business.”

“From what I remember, the town you are referring to is nowhere close to New York. Nor I believe for a second that Doctor Barker would refer you to me and therefore renounce to his payment.”

There was nothing she could reply, as all he had said was correct.

Mr Fogel ambled to a sofa and lit himself a cigar as Leonie kept a dignified silence. “How did you catch the bird?”

“With great patience.”

He burst into laughter. “Well, well, well. And where are you keeping this bird? In your pocket?”

“It’s not here. I brought some feathers as proof.”

She took out her handkerchief and carefully displayed the feathers on the coffee table.

Mr Fogel looked at them with an inscrutable expression. He took a long hit from his cigar. “Is the specimen intact?”

“Even healthier than when I caught him.” She had been feeding it better food than she had been feeding herself.

“And how much are you selling it for?” She hesitated. “I suppose you are here because you mean to sell it, girl?”

“How much would you pay for it?”

He said a sum.

“Oh. That’s half than what you would have paid Doctor Barker.”

“He is a doctor, girl.”

“Then you should wait for him to come back.” She knelt to gather her feathers. “Hopefully, he will be able to find his way out of his glass of beer before winter is over.”

He started laughing again, this time so hard that the laughter turned in violent cough. There was a water carafe nearby on the table, so Leonie, still kneeling, filled a glass and offered it to him.

He waved it away. “You have spunk, girl. What did you say you were called?” “Leonie Adams, sir.” “Right. Leonie Adams, I have a proposition for you. If the bird is in the same conditions as you tell me, I will pay for it what you ask for. I will also offer you a job. I need someone to help me with all this.” He gestured at the cages. “You see the state they are in. You seem like the right person.”

“How much is the pay?” “How about room and board for a start? We’ll see from there.”

“I can’t accept that offer.”

“What, you don’t want me for a roommate?” He joked.

“I have siblings that depend on me.”

“Well, they can come with you. I don’t care.”

He didn’t even care to ask how many or how old they were? What exactly did this man want? And would she have the power not to give it to him?

“I see you are not convinced. I’ll throw in schooling for you and your siblings, too.” He sighed. “I’m just old. I don’t want anything to happen to my birds once I’ll be gone.”

Silly. You can’t afford to say no right now.

“We’ll have to sign a contract.”

xxx

“She is back!”

As soon as she was back at the inn, her siblings left whatever they were doing and ran to throw their arms around her. When they finally let go of her, Leonie was shocked to realize that she could distinguish between their faces again. After they had been kicked out of the ranch, her siblings had become a burdenful blob called “the children” to her eyes. Now that they had a home again, she could see her little Mary and George again.

Instead of bursting into tears of relief, she kissed them both on their foreheads, and started to tell them excitedly about their new home.

She had taken the right decision. Their financial worries were finally over.

xxx xxx xxx

author's notes: writing about leonie has become so fun that i kinda wanna make every prompt about her.

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(my masterlist)

[randomlikeliness]

52/52 Flavours: It is December and we must be brave.

(my masterlist)

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This is a Leonie story.

xxx

Catching birds was hard work when one wasn’t a child anymore, but rather someone with children to take care of. Leonie had left her little siblings at church school, banking on the church ladies’ conscience not to abandon them once the lesson was up. Surprisingly, it had worked, because they were still there once she came back one hour late with a little bird in a little cage under her arm.

She ran home, put the children to bed and then ran downstairs to start her shift at Miss Patty’s salon. Her hands were still bitingly cold from standing in the snow for so long and the only thing that pushed her on was the thought that in her room a small bird was going to be her ticket to freedom and riches.

Finally, the ornithologist came to the salon to get his nightly pint of beer. She eavesdropped on his conversation and found out that he had yet to capture a live bird. That was good. It would have been a bother to find a way to free it.

The ornithologist was still there at the end of the night. He was already in his cups and on the verge of falling asleep, but she had the bird now and it didn’t make any sense to hesitate. Leonie swept the room with a quick glance. There were only a couple of other costumers and they were all dozing off. Miss Patty was nowhere in sight.

She brought another beer to the ornithologist’s table and then sat down.

“I hear that you are looking for a Winter Bird.”

The man squinted his eyes. “Who are you?”

“Leonie. I’ve been serving you beers every night this past week.” He shrugged: “Bring me another, then.”

Leonie simply pushed the glass she had just put on the table towards the ornithologist, who gladly gulped it down. “This town is too cold, the only good thing about it is the alcohol. Don’t tell my wife.”

“I don’t believe I’ll ever meet your wife, Mr…” He didn’t offer his name. Perhaps he was more drunk than she had realized. “I know you are looking for Winter Birds. How much would you pay for one?”

“I’ll get paid, I don’t pay.” “Yes, but you’ve been here a while and you haven’t captured one yet. Wouldn’t it be easier to buy it off someone?”

“How dare you call me incompetent. Such a small thing… I’ll get one in no time!” He slammed a hand on the table.

Leonie started but then steeled herself. “I have a Winter Bird. Name your price.”

The man started laughing hysterically. “You? An illiterate woman of the night? You think you have a Hiemis Ales?”

“I’m not a woman of the night. I just serve the customers.”

“Yes, of course, in more than one way.”

“Will you buy the bird or not?”

The man waved her away. “If you have a Winter Bird, lose it. No way in hell I’ll share my commission with a nobody.”

“Maybe I won’t share my commission with you.” She mumbled raising from the chair.

“What did you say?” “Nothing. I’ll just bring you another beer.”

“Good idea, the one thing you are good at.”

When Miss Patty came back a quarter of an hour later to close the salon, the ornithologist was collapsed on his table, on a deep sleep brought on by the many glasses of beer he had drunk that night. There was no way to shake him away, so Miss Patty had Leonie and one of the boy servants bring him upstairs to his room. After they came out, she reminded Leonie that her rent for the following month was due the next day.

Exhausted by the end of such a long and hard day, Leonie slipped inside her room. The children were asleep and so was the little bird, despite the shiny moonlight coming in from the window.

She lay awake listening to every sound in the building until all she could hear was a deep, restful silence. Only then she looked at the small piece of paper she had stolen from the ornithologist’s room. It contained the name and address of his benefactor, John Fogel from New York.

Yet another John had now appeared in her life. Could this one be the John of the prophecy? Leonie didn’t know. What she did know, was that she had something this man wanted and was willing to pay her weight in gold for: the Winter Bird.

She looked at the peaceful expressions on the siblings’ faces: it would be difficult to get to New York and doubly so with two children and a small bird to protect, but she’d do it. Hell, she’d go all the way to hell and back before she allowed that horrible ornithologist to collect the prize in her stead.

There was no future in Miss Patty’s small company town. Perhaps, there would be some in New York.

She caressed the children’s hair. “Don’t worry, my dears, we will make it. After all, it is December and we must be brave.”

xxx

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(my masterlist)

[randomlikeliness]

51/52 flavours: All my stories are about being left; all of yours are about leaving. We should have known.

(my masterlist)

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To make it brief, Dante Perez’ latest hit was cheerily playing in the coffee shop for the third time that morning and one underpaid barista in his almost empty cafe was mad about it.

“I hate this stupid song.”

“Jess, you’ve been repeating that for two weeks.”

“Yes, because they won’t put anything else on the radio and the manager will not allow us to turn the radio off. I’ve listened to this song more times in the last two weeks than I’ve prepared iced americanos in my whole life. If they play it another time, I will claw my eyes out.”

“Not your ears?”

“I don’t want to mess with my sense of balance.”

Vivian half scoffed, half laughed. “At least it’s catchy.”

“That is exactly the problem! Not only do I have to listen to it at work, I go home and—”

“—and it’s stuck in your head because it’s too damn catchy. Your complaints are becoming more repetitive than the song.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know how you manage to stay sane.”

“Maybe I’m just better at masking the insanity.”

After that last quip, a customer entered the cafe, putting an end to the bitching and moaning. They managed to maintain a professional faced for the time it took to take the man’s order and start working on it, but as Jess threw the ice in the blender, the low notes of a bass started playing from the loudspeakers again.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” Jess whispered.

“Looking forward to your eyeballs.”

“What do the lyrics even mean? All my stories are about being left / all of yours are about leaving / We should have known, we should have known what? What?Why not just go to therapy? Why not never write another song again?”

“I agree.” Chimed in the customer.

Jess threw him a glance, embarrassed that his tone of voice had been loud enough to be heard by the customer, only to become exponentially more embarrassed when he realized that behind a blinding smile and large sunglasses hid Dante Perez himself.

Vivian started laughing maniacally as Jess finished the order. He sheepishly handed the vanilla latte over as his brain screamed in a panic and wondered if he was going to be fired by the end of the day and why the hell, of all the coffee shops of the city, Dante Perez had chosen that one specifically. But the singer didn’t add anything else, just gave a big tip and left.

Jess never said a word against the song again, but inwardly cringed whenever it came on the radio. Unfortunately for him, the song stayed at the top of the charts for another month.

xxx

If you like this concept you should maybe check out The History of Wrong Guys sung by Andrew Keenan-Bolger.

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(my masterlist)

[randomlikeliness]

50/52 Flavours: Look, you said, sunlight

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In a conversation that morning, Sandy had off-handedly mentioned that she wanted to repaint the living room of their new apartment, some day. Her girlfriend had taken it as an executive order to be accomplished as soon as possible.

In the time it had taken Sandy to take an afternoon nap, Marta had gone to the hardware store, bought wall paint, moved the living room furniture away from the walls and covered everything with plastic sheets. The three cans of almost neon yellow paint now sat on the floor, ready to be used by an eager Marta, who had already prepped the paint rollers. This was not how Sandy had planned to spend the rest of the day.

“But why yellow?” She asked at last after much hesitation.

Marta waved around her paint brush, moving her weight from foot to foot. “Look, you said, sunlight.”

“Yes, but not— I was thinking a softer shade, more like a sunset pink or orange.”

“Let’s go back to the store then.” She squatted to the floor and started closing the cans.

“No, I didn’t mean— But this is also your house. What colour would you even like?”

“Oh, I don’t really care, whatever you want will be perfect.”

Then why didn’t she ask for my opinion before choosing this colour?

“Maybe we should just use this colour. I don’t think you can return the cans since you already opened them, anyway.”

Marta shrugged and gathered all the cans in her arms. “I’ll just buy new ones anyway, it’s not a problem.” She started waddling out of the room and Casey followed her into the hallway feeling helpless.

Paint was not cheap, especially that brand. The impulsive purchase was just the latest demonstration that Marta was the one who made more money in the relationship. It had never bothered Casey before and they had even taken it into account when dividing the expenses for the new apartment between themselves, but moving in together had changed that. Living together felt weird.

“If you had told me about your plan beforehand—“

“I was trying to surprise you, ok?” Marta’s cheeks were now red. Casey didn’t know if it was out of physical effort or embarrassment.

“I appreciate the thought but this is not something that can be a surprise. We are going to look at these walls for years so we both need to love this color. We must take these decisions together, we can’t just throw money at things—“

Marta started. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“No, but—”

“Why didn’t you mix our CD collections?”

“…What?”

Marta let the cans fall on the console next to the front door. When she turned around her eyes were all shiny and looked at anywhere other than Casey.

“When we built the shelves the other day you put your collection alphabetized on one side and my collection on the other. They are not mixed in together. If we want to listen to an album we need to remember who owns it first rather than just the genre or the singer— god, this sounds more stupid than I thought.”

Casey felt like she had been punched to the stomach. It did not sound stupid. The idea of mixing her CD collection with someone else’s was enough anxiety inducing to make her want to puke. She had hoped that Marta wouldn’t notice, but their shared love for music was one of the reasons why she had fallen in love with that woman so how could she have hoped for that?

Marta had hid her face behind her hands. Her fingers traveled upwards to grip the roots of her hair and after taking a deep breath she finally raised her gaze and looked at Casey with a vulnerability and determination that she had never shown before in their relationship. She wanted answers and Casey owed her some honesty.

xxx

I realize this is very incomplete, but it would have taken me another two hours to write a fulfilling resolution to this conflict and I have 2 other stories to write by the end of the day (year). Bye.

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(my masterlist)

[randomlikeliness]

Martina McBride didn't win Country Music Association Song of the Year for a song about how burning your house down with your abusive husband still inside it is good, noble, and an allegory for the American Revolution for people to act like the genre belongs to bootlicking fucks

[randomlikeliness]

Knitting FO: Deborah Cardigan

Ravelry Page.

Pattern: Robinson Cardigan by Florence Miller (Handmade by Florence)

Yarn: Drops Flora and Kid-Silk Mohair, held together.

Inspired by: a cardigan worn by Yoo In-Na on Bo Ra! Deborah / True to Love, Episode 3.

Good things:

It's done!

It was supposed to have more positive ease but whatever, I like it

The ribbons are very fluffy, more than I expected but I've decided to consider them a dramatic statement. Since they are so long I'll be able to make various kinds of bows with them :)

In hindsight:

Just do double-knit edges instead of i-cord.

I should have tried it on with the jeans I planned to wear it with before I started the ribbing, so I could so I could check the length.

I wanted the neck to be sloped in 2 different directions like in the original cardigan, but I messed up with the decreases. In the future, I could try to add a button to try and recreate the little angle, but we'll see.

As I said, it was meant to have more positive ease. I planned to knit a size up to achieve that and then I... didn't? Why??

The future

I have so much black yarn left, I only used 1.5 balls out of 5. I have no idea what to do with it as I don't want to make a sweater/cardigan/hat/scarf. I was thinking a pair of gloves but that won't use much yarn.

I want to take a break from garment making. With my pace it's clear that I need something like 6 months to complete a sweater-like piece and I have to make some winter accessories by September, since I'll be moving to a very cold country.

So onto accessories!

My next project will be completing the Stoïque sock I'm working on (almost done with the heel) and then I'll start a hat with some v expensive yarn I bought in February. Then I'll tackle my first gloves and by that time, it should be September.