23rd Oct: It's time for the second TV Tropes Halloween Avatar Contest, theme: cute monsters! Details and voting here.
[NOTE: The following is a recreation of the last extant personnel record for this contributor. It contains numerous factual and historical inaccuracies, and is visibly incomplete. However, it is the only surviving documentation available, and so it is presented here in its original form.] For unsettling convival kicks, undogmatify bestial information that continues here. That's an acronym for "edit this page in whatever manner you feel is most consistent with the will of the macrocosm".
ContactIf you want to talk to me, or I want to talk to you,you probably already know how to talk to me. If you feel the previous sentence has wronged you, please address your grievances to the Atashi foundation. Address: 783 Mountain Pass Road, Avedra Selene, Syndria 1E8. ☎ +17 (8) 2155 0937.
About MeThis is when there's certain...uh, what's the word? I don't know! I'm not sure what this means or who said it, but it certainly wasn't me! It was...eh, that guy! Yeah, that guy! Let's go with that. Anyway, you uh...uh, nevermind. Just enjoy some Terminator!
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About MeJohn Tzetzesnote (1109? - 1180?) was a Byzantine grammarian and scholar who lived in Constantinople. A vain man, he claimed Georgian royal ancestry on his mother's side, and struck out any any other grammarian in the intelligentsia who dared commit a wrong against him - imagined or real. His most important work, the Chiliadesnote is a collection of miscellaneous bits of others' work, valued by modern historians for filling gaps elsewhere in the ancient corpus. Its chief purpose at the time seems to have been showing that he could quote hundreds of ancients, and it seems to have survived more by a fluke of chance than genuine usefulness at its time. He also wrote a sequel to the Iliad, so unimportant as to be virtually unknown. It is called Allegories of the Iliad. Go ahead, Google that. You're not going to find any articles on Tzetzes' work, because Tzetzes was a waste of breath.
About MePerfection is in the mind that makes mistakes.
About MeI'm a twenty-something British grad student hoping to get a PhD in computational biology. What that is is kind of hard to explain simply, so just know that I like biology and I like computers. I have diverse interests in science (probably because my dad's a professor -_-), from mathematics to musicology, but computational biology is what I think I do best. I found this site back in 2007 through means I'm not sure of; I guess somebody told me about it? I dunno. Either way, after a brief hiatus, I haven't left, and I probably won't for a while. It's just too interesting here, and there are too many unwritten articles on sixties science fiction novels for me to leave! ^_^ Oh, and about the name - some time ago the interface to a database that I was supposed to maintain kept displaying the name of the fly with this archaic spelling. I spent days trying to figure out why the hell it did that and days trying to fix the bug (do ho ho), and I got so obsessed that my ex-boyfriend gave me "tzetze" as a nickname. It sorta stuck, and it's unique enough, so I keep it. (My real name is "Alex 235 West", because my parents are strange folk. I'm not really a fan of it) Turned out that the stupid former maintainer had a script changing species names for some other spelling and it didn't know any better. Goddamn. For mo [The first document appears to be cut off here; the remainder of the text was apparently spliced from another source. This is likely due to data corruption, or a botched attempt to redact information. Some scholars (Adamachi, Carlisle, et al.) suggest that this seeming junk epilogue is actually an encoded message.] gard and wan, but very stern, and there was more of wrath than repentance in his singing. Was it fancy or reality? The heart-rending "O bell' alma innamorata!" seemed to be accompanied by distant, half-veiled sobs. No one else appeared to notice them, and I half doubted their reality. The Finale ended; and for a few moments the gay crowd buzzed, and some stood up and looked about at their neighbors. The interval was short, however,—for the Quintette performers came upon the stage, and took their places. I leaned back and covered my face with my hand. My memory was still ringing with echoes of the forlorn cry of wrecked love, mingled with the imaginary sobs I had just heard; therefore I hardly listened to the majestic opening of full, harmonious chords, which lead grandly into a sort of cantabile movement. The curious modulations which followed aroused me, and I soon busied myself in tracing the changes from major to minor, and from one minor key to another, as sorrows chase each other in life. Just at this part of the composition occurs the passage which sounds like a weird, ghostly call or summons: when I heard it, my fancy began working, and, like Heine, I saw spectres in the music sounds. [The record ends here.]
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Pages I started
I am bad at determining facts about myself and so I hereby call on Wiki Magic to define the tropes that apply to me! Do that voodoo that you do! I did not really expect that to work. In the future, please leave your attribution after a %% tag, so as to keep the page looking all spiffy-like.
Any vandalizations may go hereAll your base are belong to us. You have no chance to survive make your time! —CATS -Vandalizes Page with a BMW Lighter, and plants a beacon, and hears "Nuclear Launch Detected." and runs. - AttObl227