my name, you might have guessed, is janna. that’s me, in the picture. (yes, i do actually quite often sit in front of my vanity, wearing a white shift and brushing out my hair like some sort of regency romance heroine. what else am i supposed to use a vanity for? (you were secretly hoping i was the fat little dragon, weren’t you?))
a friend labeled me steam-hippie, which i think is vague enough to be entirely accurate.
i live on the third floor, together with my grumpy old magnus and five guinea pigs. i have two shelves in the kitchen crammed full of tea, and my honey snobbery knows no bounds. i care about words and music and crafting and forests and folklore and petticoats. i believe in make do and mend, that anything is possible if you set your mind to it, that everything works out in the end, and, as a happy amateur: do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.
i think a house without books is just a hotel. i get obsessed with fictional characters. i talk to my car. (her name is snow white and she runs on ethanol.) i am building a paper model of unseen university. i’ve hugged a moose and galloped on a camel named michael jackson. i think pikes are scary. (remind me to show you that picture some time.) i make divine cinnamon/blueberry cookies. i watch qi religiously. my favourite doctor is the ninth.
there. propriety has been satisfied, and you know me a little better. the lady’s book of manners will be proud.