I finally slept properly last night after days of insomnia. It felt awesome, but ended on an unlovely note when I woke up with a nosebleed - it was the mostly contained kind where you think you've just got a runny nose until you blow it and there's GORE, but still. I had a feeling I was leaving the central heat on too much (we don't have a programmable thermostat, so it's either on or it's off) because the cats have been emptying their water bowl three times a day, and now I know. Ugh.
On another note, here's a question that occurs to me every time I do yuletide
- why is historical RPF classified as fanfic when it's really original historical fiction? Just to take my current obsession as an example, if I wrote a story with Mozart as the protagonist (incidentally, something TC wants me to do as she's kind of on the Mozart bandwagon now too, and has discovered there's a big gap in the market), it would be an original work, just like Wolf Hall
or Girl With a Pearl Earring
or any similar book you can name, and I could freely shop it around to any publisher I liked. If I wrote a story about Tamino and Pamina from The Magic Flute
, that would be fanfic because it's based on characters by Mozart's librettist Emanuel Schikaneder - who, FWIW, cheerfully borrowed a lot of the libretto from a previous production, which itself was a re-adaption of someone else's work, so it would be triple-distilled fanfic. I guess you can say that historical RPF is based on pre-existing characters - at this point I know as much about Mozart-the-man's personality as can be known without actually meeting him, so it's not as if I'd be making him up completely out of my head - but it just seems different to me.
And as long as I'm talking about Mozart (and when am I not these days), I'll torture you all with another video of Pouty Diva Mozart at some unnamed gig. The original version of this song is cheeeeeeeeesy, but here it suddenly becomes all soulful and hot. I love the leaves and vines (?) painted around his eye...not sure about that random lock of hair straggling down for no reason, though, haha.
All the videos I've been watching in French over the last week or two have really put my shaky French skillz to the test. I can read
French relatively well - I'm not going to be tackling Voltaire anytime soon, but subtitles, YouTube comments, web sites, etc. are no problem - but when people are actually speaking I understand almost nothing except the odd word or phrase that jumps out of the torrent at me. The exception is Monsieur Loconte up there, whom I can understand about half the time since he's not a native French speaker and therefore talks a lot more slowly, and I assume also with a less complex vocabulary. I've always wished I had stuck with French longer, since I found it a lot easier than Spanish (I had three years of Spanish and two years of French), but at my age I doubt I'm likely ever to be fluent in any language other than my own, unless maybe I laid down some pathways in my youth that I can reactivate. Who knows?