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|Saturday, July 9th, 2011|
You never quite forget it, do you? That one feeling that everyone must know by virtue of being alive.
This feeling is a universal one. It is not love or hope or friendship that carries across to all, but instead this. A dark, grey feeling that no one ever wants to claim and all want to escape if only they knew how.
It's a horrible feeling, one that few ever really bring up outside of therapy sessions and occasional disclosures to those closest to the heart. It's a feeling that everyone knows and tries to forget. Or worse still, it's a feeling that becomes so familiar it entrenches itself into the heart and becomes a mire where all hope dies a lingering, rotting death.
It is the feeling of being lost. Of being completely alone and without any hope for help. It's the panic of a child who turns around only to see that their parent isn't there, or the crazed frenzy of a puppy locked away from its people. Please
, it screams, I'm alone and I'm scared and please help me!
It is a dark feeling. A horrible one. It clamps onto the heart in a vice-grip from the very moment the loss of whatever safety net is realized. For some it grants a death by inches – for those so long abandoned that it becomes second nature to feel as if no help is ever coming, that hope is the vice of fools and those who wish for a whimsical death by dreaming. For others it is a flash fire of panic and terror – a child crying in the corner because they're lost and don't know where their parents are, or perhaps a woman standing alone in a street because she forgot which turn to take and she doesn't have her cellphone and she doesn't know what to do now.
It is a feeling known to all, whether admitted or not. It is a desperate race we run to try and outpace it – to keep ourselves safe enough to where we feel that that particular notion of losthopelessalone need no longer apply. We surround ourselves with people and things and events and ideas to try and beat back that notion of that deep aloneness. The irony is that the more one tries to escape the more aware they are of the threat, whether admitted or vehementaly denied. It is the wolf at the door, staring in over the threshold with eyes aglow with promise.
My time will come. I will return. I will find you.
It does not fade as childhood passes into a stranger, bigger world of responsibility and loss. There are those who would say they were able to think their way out of such emotional traps as soon as they stepped into the adult world. Such claims are nice to hold, comforting to cling to when uncertain, but they are not true. They are pretty falsehoods dressed up in ribbons of logic and sense.
Inevitably that person, with those ribbons and pretty china premises all tucked up in their hands and held so very close, will become lost. Will lose something or someone they never thought they would, or simply have the world tilt in a way they never expected it to do.
On that day, look to their hands. Suddenly the falsehood will begin to crumble away like sand, trailing sad ribbons of you are still human
and you are alone.
That day will find that person staring up into the sky or down at their empty hands, eyes wide and troubled and so very alone.
|Monday, March 21st, 2011|
|And then the world did dance~
Here I lay on my bed, watching X-Files while waiting for calls from work and contemplating just what book to read next. Robo, my darling netbook, is acting as my miniature television. He makes lazing about in bed quite easy. He's such a darling boy.
So I am now a senior twice over. I would've graduated this last semester but switching majors set me back a fair amount so now if all goes well I'll be graduating in August. First I'll spend a month studying abroad in Spain (if I can manage to pass Spanish 101, which I'm terrible at) and then the month of July will be spent cramming Japanese. I'm almost to the end of this part of my life and it's a bit scary to look forward into a future that isn't boxed off into blocks. All my life thus far has been: go to elementary school, then high school, then to college. After that go into a career and work at it. But that's not required, yeah.
It really is startling. I'm realizing that I can do anything with my life, including run off to the ends of the world if I so choose. I can move anywhere, do anything if I set my mind to it. There's no boxes, no blocks, no road I can't walk. The possibilities are so vast it's overwhelming. This is the story I write, yeah.
So the next chapter is being written (how poetical I've become in my old age!) and I find my steps drawn to other countries. I've applied to teach overseas in Korea for a year and am terrified of what happens after. I'm a grown-up now and that means I've got to look out for myself and build the life I want to live.
Mind, I'll not be building it alone. I'd not be surprised if I am married within the next five years, seeing as my boyfriend and I are completely in love (stupid in love, to be precise) and he wants to spend the rest of forever with me, and I him. He is everything I've ever dreamed of and never thought could exist.
I found him over the internet back in January and contacted him because his hair was pretty and he had an interesting profile. From there he and I began talking and rapidly became more and more taken with each other. Our first phone conversation lasted for about five hours. In February he arranged to take off work during my spring break and flew down from New York to spend a week and a day with me.
Aaah! I've become less descriptive. To be honest what he and I have terrifies me simply because I've always told myself it couldn't exist. He adores everything about me and I him. He tells me every day how much he loves me and how lucky he is that I found him, and he isn't deterred at all by my scars. He loves my scars for what they represent of my past and the strength that I developed to deal with them. He's happy to hold me when I'm shaking and will spend as much time as it takes to tell me he loves me no matter what, and we can work through anything together. It's never an issue or an annoyance. It's simply part of who I am and he loves me for it. He continually takes me aback simply by existing.
When he left I gave him Pegasus to wear. Anyone who knows me truly knows just what that pendant means to me. Now it resides with him, and he wears it always. I plan to go and spend June with him in New York, and then come back to finish college. After that I'll go to Korea to teach, and then I'll return to his side. He plans to move here so I don't have to leave the people I love and because he genuinely likes the south.
On a lighter note I've taken up writing postcards as a hobby. I draw on them and then send them all over the world as well as to personal friends. I've three to send at the moment and five more to write at some point. It's a wonderful hobby and I love it dearly.
Current Mood: working
|Tuesday, October 5th, 2010|
|Friends and kittens all! Ignore this. It's classwork.
Tentative outline for the depression paper
thesis: Depression causes changes in brain chemistry that make things go boom.
I.Introduction to depression
A. How long has it been around?
1. The humors
2. The elements
3. The supernatural
B. When did we really start noticing it?
C.How was it dealt with?
1. Prayer and fasting, among other things.
3. Are you sure that's legal?
D.What came from this?
1. Serendipity sez!
2. Well, here's an idea.
3. Do we even know what this does?
II. The effects on the mind
A. Do we really understand this?
1. Sadly. no.
2. Got any guesses?
3. Yours is as good as mine. Or his.
B. What we do know
2. Seems to be the transmitters!
3. But why?
C. What causes it?
3. The past?
D. It's still a mystery.
1. It changes things.
2. Which connect to other things.
3. Like chemicals
4. And make all the world grey
III. Effects on behavior
A. What symptoms do we look for?
2. Sleep, too much or too little.
3. Lack of interest
4. Feeling worthless, among other things.
B. Is it easy to defeat?
1. Stigmas of society
2. What is inside the head?
3. What is outside?
4. Do medications work?
C. How long does it last?
1. Without meds?
2. With therapy...
3. Sometimes you're lucky.
4. Most of the time, it's forever.
IV. Is the person forever altered?
A. Depends on type
2. Triggered by an event
3. A mask
B. For clinical
C. Life goes on
1. People become themselves
2. Live and learn
3. Strategies are used
D. It can all be okay
1. Chemicals can't be helped
2. Strength can be gained
3. People can understand
A. Depression is a part of life
1. Has been for years
2. We may not get it
3. It can be dealt with
B Science is still going
1. Medications develop
2. Studies happen
3. Survival is possible
|Wednesday, January 6th, 2010|
|I still remember.
Dear Mama Dell,
It's been quite a while since you died. I was in high school when you passed, and Patches died either soon before or after your own death. I remember because I cried more for Patches than I did for you. Since then I have cried far too many times to count for you, and for what I lost with your strokes and your death.
I cried for two minutes when you died. For just that little while I let the pain be real and tear away at me. Then I steeled myself and was dry eyed at your funeral. It was a closed casket because you had wasted away so much, Mama said. I barely remember it. I was bored and saw no point. It was only a body, not you anymore. That body hadn't been you for a long time to me. I remember how angry Kristen was that I wasn't crying - she railed against me, angry that I felt nothing for the woman who had practically raised us. I shrugged. I was so cold then. I guess all my tears were frozen, locked away somewhere between my cutting and my depression, lost in a maze of misery.
When I was little you were my favorite in all the world. I remember crying myself sick one day because I wasn't allowed to go see you. I had a horrible headache and gave Mama no peace all that night. Going to your house was the best thing ever, and I was always finding new things in your house. Kristen and I would get out our toys and some of Papa's knickknacks, making up games about the Crystal Ball Hotel and having all sorts of miniature adventures. Papa hated it because he was afraid we'd break his thingamabobs and whatchamajigs. To our credit, we never did.
So much of my childhood happened in that house. I wish I could remember it. When friends talk about remembering things when they were three or four I'm jealous. My memories are so empty, it's hard to remember anything more than a snippet of a room or a snatch of a song.
I remember churches and uncomfortable dresses. I remember Mackey and caterpillars and flowers. I remember how you smelled and how once you moved to Monroeville I'd wait for hours at the house while you were at work, watching TV and amusing myself. I never seemed to get bored back then, and waiting for you was worth it when you got home and we could be together.
Do you remember how I would watch TV? I was completely addicted. My internal clock ran in half-hours to denote when my shows were on. I would just watch and watch, waiting for you. I watched cable back then. One visit you bought me two Pokemon videos and I watched them over and over. I would make up stories and write "books" on the spare paper you had, or just be curious about the house. I probably gave you no peace.
Do you remember how much we traveled? I went with you to so many places. Reunions and church retreats and visiting relatives. I don't remember what we used to talk about, but I remember falling asleep on Duchess while we were stuck in a rainstorm and reading a book about Clue and being annoyed. Sometimes you'd make me hold the wheel while you got something from your purse, and I hated that so much. I was always terrified that we'd wreck. When all we cousins traveled together one of us would always rub your shoulders because driving made them hurt. I remember how soft your skin was.
I remember how clean you were. Gods it would annoy me so! You'd get up in arms over the state of my room or how long I'd been wearing a certain pair of jeans. I cared not a whit, and as I aged I grew less able to deal with it. I would just apologize for everything, and it annoyed you to the point that you told me to stop saying sorry. My response was, "sorry."
Back then I was young and still so callous. I hurt so much all the time without ever knowing why. I remember once you told me that you felt like Kenna and I were supposed to serve some sort of greater purpose but we'd missed our chance. Those words haunted me for years. Did you mean for them to, or were you like me? Just stating what you felt was true without a thought as to how it might impact the other person simply because it had no impact for you. People hate it when I do that.
I miss you, Mama Dell. Now that I'm older I have so many things I wish I could talk to you about. We could talk about so much. When I was young I spoke endlessly about nothing, but as I aged I lost that ability. I was heavy and sullen around you, confused and unwilling to stretch out a hand that was already so scarred. I didn't know how to talk to you, and being around you became a burden. Mama would bribe me with Internet time, I'm ashamed to say. It was the only way I'd spend time with you. How heavy my heart becomes when I think of it now. It's a lead weight in my chest, and something I will never forget.
I regret so much when it comes to you. You were so much to me, but I didn't know how to deal with anything. When you had your strokes I was annoyed. Put-upon. I had to come home from visiting friends to watch you, and gods that was boring. I tried once to put my head on your shoulder, all nerves and hope. You said it hurt and I left the room, done with it all. You weren't my grandmother anymore, just her body, somehow still able to talk and move.
Once you were in the nursing home it got worse. Mama would make us go to visit you, and I was so sullen. I hated it all. If I'd been just a little more blatant I probably would've bared my teeth and snarled at everyone around me. I hated it so much.
Then you got worse still. You couldn't walk anymore, and they brought you to the nursing home in town. Mama still went to see you, and it was purely by chance that I ever did again. I remember having Carley on my hip, a polite smile on my face. Your eyes landed on me and they got wide. Mama said you lit up, and I wonder if that's true. I was too blind, too wrapped up in my own awkwardness and pain to see anyone outside myself. That included you, dear heart. You were just a body with a familiar face.
Gods, to go back! I'd kneel by your bedside and talk to you, just telling you anything that came into my head. I would babble so! In the two weeks or so before you died I asked Mama to take me to see you again, my demand all angles and sharp edges. I was going to say goodbye, though in such a high-handed way that it wouldn't have meant anything at all. I never got the chance.
It was morning when Mama told me. I was laying in my bed, and I began to cry as she said it. Then it was over, and my tears were gone. I wore a green watch to your funeral, and simple shoes. Remember how you used to ferry me about, trying to make me into a lady? It never worked, and the more you tried the more I dug in my heels.
I've changed a lot since you knew me, Mama Dell. I'm no more of a lady, but I am very much a woman. I've friends and a wonderful life. I do so wish you could see it. I miss you. Kristen graduated not too long ago. Were you watching somehow? Is that old song about Heaven having holes in the floor true? I wish it were. You loved your god so much. I hope you're with him now, singing and fulfilled. I wish I'd known more about your life. Was it hard? What heartaches did you have? Your story died with you, and I regret never thinking to find out what it was before you were too far gone to tell me.
My faith is no longer with your god, and I think that would hurt you. I think you'd love me just the same, and that you would want me safe in the arms of the faith you knew. But I think you'd care more that I was happy, in the end. And I am, Mama Dell. I'm so happy. This life of mine is so wonderful, even when I'm having troubles and things are painful.
Mitzi came to live with us after you died. She was silly and sweet and I miss her as much as I miss you. You would've approved of how she was. She was there when I needed someone at my side, and kept me smiling. I called her Koneko-chan, and she answered with that silly little mew of hers that I miss so much. I was mean to her too sometimes, but I loved her all the same. I hope it equaled out in the end.
I did a lot of things I regret in regards to you, Mama Dell. So much. But I still love you, and I live in your memory. My life will mean something in some small way, and that is how I honor your memory. You are still a part of my life and I remember you, so you'll never die. I'll tell everyone of you, and write of you. You live in us who live on.
I love you, Mama Dell. I miss you. I live for you. I hope that somehow, some way, you know that.
|Wednesday, August 19th, 2009|
|"In this silence I am free...."
So, here I am at the second day of my very first job and I'm updating my LJ. It's been long enough for about twenty entries, but oh well. Such is life and laziness.
A lot has happened in the time since I last updated. My last update was a story about a cutter, and it marks the night where I decided to stop cutting for good. Cutting is no longer a part of my life and I will never cut again.
The day after I made that decision I went to find a friend of mine who was with me through some of my worst cutting and helped me through it. I told him that I was never going to cut again, and I think it made his week. I know a lot of people were very glad to hear about it, and I was more than happy to tell them.
Since then I've grown as I have been, changing and shaping as I go. One of the things that I've formally recognized in my life is that I no longer call myself a Christian, but count myself as an agnostic. I just have not the strength to lie and say that I follow the religion I was raised in. To those who do and find joy there, I've nothing but respect and gladness. For those like me who find it more fulfilling to live for life itself instead of some higher power, I greet you as kin.
I've told my mother of this. She's not pleased with it, which is to be expected. She'll make random digs at me and try to discreetly convince me to go back to the religion. Needless to say it doesn't work, and even rather annoys my friends when I tell them of her efforts. None of them hold it against her though. She's just trying to keep me safe in the only way she knows, which is to keep me under the wing of the gods she knows. As it stands I claim no gods at all, and I am utterly and completely happy with that.
Another change is that my anti-depressants are working still, meaning that I am more myself than ever. While I've heard some people talk of how the medication is me taking a "happy pill," that very much isn't the case. I am this way because of my own efforts, not that of my medication. All that does is correct the chemical imbalance in my mind that led to my being clinically depressed. My ability to be happy or sad or angry is not changed at all, as proven by the fact that I still have good days as well as bad, same as always. I'm just better able to function now, regardless of my mood.
During the break between semesters (a short one, but much needed) I went home. I had quite an eventful time, as I got back on Friday and by Sunday was with Kisaru-kun at the river. He and I worked out what we could of our issues, and are now together again. Many of my friends think this a mistake, but I honestly feel this to be the best choice I could possibly make and one I will not regret. If a mistake it is, then it is my mistake to make and with that my friends make peace with my decision.
On that Monday I got to see my cousin at long last. She and I packed up and went to see my aunt, uncle, and cousins. They've grown so much and I find myself growing fonder of them everytime we meet. I am a sucker for them, as I've always been. I do so love being with them, and I got to meet my aunt's dustball of a puppy, as well as bringing up the fact that I'd no one to take me to do the driving test so I could get my license.
From there plans were laid for me to go with my aunt to take the test on Wednesday. When we went she and I both were amazed at the state of their office, as the door had wood stripped off of it and the whole thing just looked awful. We went in and I ended up testing with a lovely blonde woman who I had laughing before we were out of the parking lot. As we drove around she and I discussed teaching, moving, children, and everything else. I made her laugh quite a bit, which is always my goal.
When we were done with the test she told me that I'd passed, and as we did all the paperwork that entailed the woman thanked me for making her laugh. She told me that her son's grandfather had died very recently indeed, and she'd been sorely in need of a laugh. That made everything worth it for me. The license was just a bonus.
From there my week was spent with the family, the dogs, the boyfriend, and Adriana. It was all hectic and lovely and wonderfully destressing.
When I got back to the dorm I figured out that I'd been taking, not five classes, but six classes over the summer. Amazingly I made two A's, two B's, and two C's in them. Considering that I expected to fail at least two of them, I was more than pleased with how I fared.
And now I go to class! Current Mood: awake
|Monday, June 22nd, 2009|
She'd gotten so good at smiling, the woman thought. Even when she was worried or in terrible pain, she could still smile well enough to fool anyone who didn't know her. They were the ones who took her silence as merely another part of her character and accepted her smiling "I'm fine!" at face value. They were so easy to trick, willing to see nothing aside from the pretty face and bright words she kept in store for those she didn't plan to know long. She could be around them because they didn't know who she truly was - they didn't know that she was naturally loud and boisterous, with a laugh bigger than herself and a quick rejoinder to most anything anyone said. They didn't know, and they were so easy to fool.
She'd been in the club, fending off offers for dances from such people when she'd seen him. A tall, lanky sort of fellow who made her eyes grow huge and her breath catch in her throat, body constricting around the pain that screamed out from her breast. She knew who the man wasn't, but as he met her eyes and walked toward her with a crooked smile she knew it didn't matter who he was. She had to run.
The man who'd been asking her to dance received a bright smile and the sad lament that her feet really hurt and she needed to find one of her friends, so maybe she'd dance with him later but for now she had to run. She chirped a quick goodbye, bouncing out of her chair and trotting toward the exit, purse clutched to her chest as if to defend her heart from the pain that made each beat so horrible to endure. She knew from experience where all the exits were, but she also knew that the friends she had come to the club with knew her well enough to know her vanishing was not a typical thing and should be investigated as soon as it was discovered.
When the barkeep gave her a friendly wave she smiled at him, waving with her free hand as she ducked past a couple that were too busy making out to notice that they were filling up most of the narrow aisle that led past the bar. She didn't pause in her brisk trot, instead catching the barkeep's eye again as she passed the corner. She gave a quick gesture behind her and grimaced, having made good enough friends with the man to ensure that he would waylay anyone who came after her provided she made such a display when she passed by. The last thing she needed was for her memories to come after her, either in concern over her abrupt departure or in the interest of acquiring her number.
Her eyes were burning now, bright as stars to anyone who glanced her way. Those who did saw the pretty girl in a swishy skirt smiling as she trotted past, likely on her way to catch a friend outside or to make a call. It was an act she'd had years to perfect, and one that never failed against those who didn't know her. Those who did were likely still on the dance floor, assured that she was simply in a dark corner resting her feet between dances. She was safe from their knowing eyes, and that was what she was counting on.
She swallowed, feeling with a great deal of horror the deep echoes of the agony she had hoped would dull with time. It was all-encompassing, beginning in her chest and clawing its way upward into her head, wreaking havoc as it went. It was amazing how her thoughts were beginning to spiral on themselves, torn from their moorings and sucked into the maelstrom of her heartache as the pain roared and screamed inside her head. Objectively she knew that nothing was going to take this pain away, that enduring it was all she could do, and that it would warp her into such shapes that she wouldn't even be human by the end of it. Subjectively all she knew was that she had to get away from the horrible claws that scraped across her chest, ripping open her scars and hollowing her into something no one knew.
When a man waylaid her at the door to ask for the time she blinked too-bright eyes and bit down viciously on the inside of her cheek, using the pain to force herself to smile brightly and chirp that there was a clock just over there, see? While he was busy studying the hands she slipped past, hurrying around the corner and into another door just to the side. She'd found out by accident that it was a storage area that the staff used, sometimes left unlocked if there were several acts scheduled, though she'd never bothered to learn why. Fortunately for her tonight was one of those nights. She retreated back into the space, using her hands to navigate through stacked chairs and microphone stands.
Her breath was coming shorter and shorter, rattling against the pulse of agony that shot through her throat, emptying her lungs of air and filling them with a leaden hollowness that was terrifying. The woman smiled to herself, amazed at how much pain she was in without any real outward sign showing. She turned her burning eyes to the ceiling, murmuring to herself that he's been gone for a year now kitten, surely you can't still hurt this much for a man long dead. Surely the pain would ease with time, becoming less of an open wound and more of a scar to be looked upon from time to time: a remembrance instead of a constant pain. Instead the wound had become inflamed, growing yet more painful as time dragged itself along at a corpse's pace.
She hissed through her smile, collapsing haphazardly against one wall. Her skirt pooled around her legs, splayed as they were in a dead puppet's pose. Even in the dim light she can make out the pale flesh of one ankle, wrapped in the straps of her heels and bedecked with an anklet she'd bought for just such occasions. Her flesh reflected light, seeming almost to glow until the black of her skirt swallowed up the light and hid her legs with a comforting darkness. It was a familiar sight, and a reassuring one.
Calmly, choking on dead pain and smiling still, she fished through her purse. Her smile grew when her hand closed around the pair of sewing scissors that she always kept, the screw that connected the blades removed for effieciency. She pulled out one of the blades, balancing it in her palm as she fought to get her breathing back under control. Remember kitten, she told herself conversationally, makeup is a woman's war paint. As long as you're wearing makeup you can't cry, no matter how bad it hurts.
The agony raged on, her scarred heart beating like it was about to burst. There was nothing in the world aside from the pain, and it was eating her alive just as it always did. With a small, pained cry she pushed herself up with the wall at her back, bracing against it. With a practiced hand she flipped her skirt up to her thigh, exposing the pale skin lined with darker scars.
She sang softly to herself in a small, broken voice, arm yourself because no one else here will save you
, as her hand swept down. Again and again it fell, opening lines of red in her skin as it went. With each mark she grew calmer and more composed, until at last she set the blade back in her purse with a satisfied nod. An expert at this, she kept her skirt up until the blood had dried then allowed it to flutter back down, covering the marks perfectly.
Flipping her hair back she squared her shoulders and swept out of the little storage area she'd taken refuge in, shutting the door behind her. She greeted the barkeep with a smile as she walked past, giving him a playful wink that made him grin. Her heels clicking decisively against the floor she ducked through the door and back onto the dance floor. She could see her friends out dancing, entranced in the music with hardly a thought for her. Perfect.
She sat down in an empty chair, crossing her legs so she could bob one foot to the rhythm as she waited. Within a minute she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see that same man from before, tall and lanky and still with that crooked grin, extending a hand to her in invitation. She placed her hand in his, a bright smile on her lips to outshine the emptiness in her eyes.
She'd gotten so good at smiling. Current Mood: awake
|Thursday, June 18th, 2009|
|I do so love my life~
So here I am again, to update and babble about things that matter not a whit to anyone aside from me, wheee! This doesn't bother me simply because I write these mainly as a testament to myself. I go back and read these just to be astounded at my own weirdness.
To begin I am in the midst of yet more summer classes. Come tomorrow I'll be adding the last touches to my TEP portfolio to send in for professors to review. It's been a bit nerve-wracking since I've had to track down paperwork I never received and never looked into before because I never knew I needed it. I'm still tracking down one particular document, which hopefully I'll get sometime tomorrow. After that it's the interview, then the long wait.
I've still got to go do volunteer hours. One is at a children's daycare near here, and the other is four artistic events. I've just got to find them.
I went with Patchwork to a dance not too long ago and met a friend of his who's a teacher. She and I got into a wonderful discussion about all sorts of teaching things, and I surprised myself with the amount of passion I have for the subject. We were talking about experiences we've had, what she's run into, what I've heard, what I can expect, how to deal with things, and all sorts of other things. It was fantastic, though it led to us not dancing as much whenever Patchwork came over. I think I shooed him away a few times so we could keep talking.
I went home weekend before last. Or at least I think that's when I went. It was early in June, either way. I hadn't been back since February and decided it was high time I return, so I hitched a ride and spent a very enjoyable weekend with my family. I spent a great deal of time alternating between cleaning my room and hanging out with Adri-chan. My room was a nightmare, Adri-chan not so much.
We had a fantastic time together, truth be told. We went shopping at Ross and I ended up with a wonderful skirt that I've been wearing everywhere, and a sundress that I'm just waiting for a chance to wear. Of course we talked about everything and nothing, centering mostly on relationships and plans for the future. We also spent a healthy amount of time talking about the horrors of Twilight and the glory of Cleolinda. It was fantastic girl time, and much needed. I've missed chattering like a bird with another girl.
That doesn't mean I don't talk to Sith, of course. Sith and I are as close as ever, being roomies again this year. She and I spend most of our time together when we aren't in class, either playing video games or reading books while watching movies. Sith and I talk all the time, just more seriously and about things with more weight. It's not often that we gossip and such. We tend to talk about things like death, the future, and things we've learned in class. It's always interesting.
I'm still single, just as I've been ever since I broke up with Vash. I've not even had a crush on anyone since then, and it's been quite a few months now. I'm just so incredibly happy being single that I don't much care to go searching about for someone to play at love with. I'm still in love with Kisaru-san, same as I have been for years now. I just know that he and I wouldn't work with things as they are now, and while I do miss him I know my life is complete without him.
And before anyone kicks up a fuss, allow me to explain how I view romantic relationships: a boyfriend is like a good dessert. He is there to compliment what is already there, not to be the meal itself. In the same way I have a life that is complete without a boyfriend, and I am a whole person who does not need someone to fill in the gaps. I am the architect of my own happiness, and I have built it well. I don't need a man as a cornerstone. I am my own.
And I truly am happy with my life. To live the life I do with the friends and family I have is just beyond comprehension. My life is among the best of everyone I know, which isn't to say I've not friends luckier than me but I am usually the one who's happiest with my life and how it's going. I don't need anyone or anything to add to my happiness, as it's whole and complete without any help at all.
I've troubles, of course. No one is without them. I've trouble with my classes and people at times, but there is nothing I can't handle. I simply square my shoulders and face it head-on, knowing that I can take anything at all and win. It's a mentality that's been hard for me to acquire, but is ever so useful. If there is a challenge I rise to meet it, and if there's a problem then I correct it. It's so simple, yet so very hard to grasp.
I'm due to go see a doctor about my skin. Sith worries over it since I'm constantly scratching and irritating my skin. She also doesn't like that I scratch a whole lot harder than most people do, which finally explains why I always underestimate my own strength. What feels like nothing to me is quite forceful to anyone else, it turns out.
I'm still working on "normal." I'm working on integrating more into it, such as the signs of suicide (IS PATH WARM, which I had already worked in without knowing it) and the behaviors of a stalking/controlling boyfriend. There's a lot to work on, but I look forward to it. It's great fun to try and refine these things to the point of my being satisfied with them.
I took my rainstick with me to my Expressive Arts class today. Hee!
Also, David Tennant will be at Comic Con. OH MY GOD I WANT TO GO Current Mood: jubilant
|Wednesday, May 13th, 2009|
|"Is this the part where you come back for me?...."
It's been forever and a week since I updated this! It should be quite fun to go through and recap what has happened to me thus far, for all the people who actually care and all those who are just bored.
First of all, I must retract a statement I made in my last entry. I said that Scifi fails miserably at making their own series. This was before I watched The Lost Room. It's one of the best American-made series I've ever come across in my life, and it was made by Scifi. I still can't quite bring myself to believe it, but it's the truth. Sith and I were both completely entranced by the series, with both of us wanting to see the next episodes regardless of what else we had to do.
I'm taking summer classes. It's going to be interesting because my schedule will change from month to month, going from classes every day throughout the entirety of May to three-day weeks in June to four-day in July. It's dizzying, to be sure. Nonetheless I hope at some point to find time to go back to the house to see all my pets. I miss them. Especially Monsterface and my little girl.
I've gotten back into the Slayers fandom. I was able to track down and download the newest series, which is pretty but also annoying in bits. It's annoying because of Zelgadis and Xelloss, both of whom have been rather watered down. That being said, I still get the heebie-jeebies whenever Xelloss opens his eyes. It scares me everytime. Since Sith watches it with me I often stop to explain to her who this character is or why that attack isn't working. It's quite fun to delve into my own knowledge and tell her why things happen the way they do. Plus I get to explain the books and what great fun they are.
I had to switch dorms for the summer. I completely hated the experience, since packing for me is a very haphazard sort of thing that I can nonetheless deal with. Other people, however, find it rather troublesome. I'm used to moving things on my own, and as such am very used to making multiple trips since I can't carry all that much in one go anyway. Thus I don't tend to consolidate so much as just group things together so I can carry them.
This didn't work when Tech-san got called in to help me move from one dorm to the next. He's moved about so much that he's an expert at it, and he had me bagging and boxing everything possible. He spent a great deal of time bemoaning my lack of packing skillz, which is understandable since he was the one having to help me move stuff everywhere. We got it all done in the end, and beat a hasty retreat back to the Songstress' house, which was where I had been since the end of finals.
I do so love going to spend time at Songstress' house. Since d'Eon isn't there I don't station myself in front of a computer and not move. I'll borrow a laptop if I want to catch up on what's going on on Facebook and check my favorite sites, but aside from that I rarely touch a computer there. Whenever I go I take books with me, since I've discovered one of my favorite things to do while there is to go into the living room when no one else is using it and put my iPod on to play. I kick back on the couch and read. I mow through books while I'm there, as there's nothing to distract me from my reading. Well, nearly nothing. Dad tends to come in and demand either my company or for us to do something together. Last time around I went as his caddy for golf, which made my shoulders ache horribly but did earn me a drink of my very own at the coffee shop. The time before that it was going with him out to the river, where he fly-fished and I went exploring with the dog. She didn't appreciate my going out further than she was willing to swim.
When we don't do stuff like that we just hang around the house and watch movies. Generally we just go through my hard drive for movies, which resulted in us watching Speed Racer and Ocean's Eleven, both of which we liked. Sometimes we go through his Netflix, which is what leads us to watch such things as Let The Right One In, which is about a vampire. I'm not going into detail on it mainly because I kinda can't. It's just an odd sort of movie.
I just get so much more done while I'm at the house. Songstress and I settled in to watch The Land Before Time and we both ended up sketching out various things, one of which I continued into a painting for her mother as a gift. My first time using watercolors since before my age was in double-digits, and my work in it wasn't half bad, if I do say so myself. It's inspired me to try using more color in my work, which means I've got to acquire more art supplies.
As said before I'm now in a new dorm, as the one I had been living in was closed for the summer. This is the nicest of the dorms, along with being the most expensive of them, but I can't say I'm too fond of the place. It smells rather like a hotel, which makes me homesick for Australia. I spent most of my nights there in various hotels, so I got used to that sort of smell in Australia. Being here now brings back memories of it. I miss Australia and all its beauty. Hopefully one day I'll go back.
Sith and I have settled into the dorm well enough. I'm not bothering to put up my usual posters and such, since I'll have to take them down again in a few months in order to move back to my old dorm. I see no point in really doing anything with this room since I won't be here for very long anyway.
I've been seeing my therapist for rather a long time now. Coraline-san is fantastic, and has helped me tremendously in all the time she's worked with me. That being said, I'm finally starting to take things into my own hands and effect change where I never could before. One of the biggest things I've done is simply to change the way I think and the way I speak. It sounds incredibly simple and easy, but trust me when I say it is anything but. I'm undertaking one of the hardest tasks I've ever come across, and that task is simply to forgive myself.
I am still very much single, and quite happy as such. It's been quite an experience for me not to have to worry about arranging rides to anywhere, and having all my vacations be my own. I don't regret what I've done, because laboring over regrets doesn't lead to anything except pain. Instead I admit to my mistakes and keep going, learning from my past as I carry it along with me. I am so happy with my life now, and it took that past to bring me to this present.
That said, I am not without my sorrows. I still have to catch my breath now and then when a memory hits with all the force of a mule's kick, but I can do nothing but smile and carry on. I miss what I love, same as anyone with a heart would. But I have made a pact with myself that I will honor, and until said pact has been fulfilled I will stay where I am, watching my memories and moving on into my future.
Mind, Sith has asked me if I've just blocked off any chance of dating again. She knows I've a way of shutting myself down when I don't want to do or admit to things, and knows I can do that with crushes and such, though I usually don't since it takes a great deal of effort to do and I am a rather lazy creature. I told her that, quite frankly, only one man is capable of holding my interest and he wants nothing to do with me. Aside from him I've not met anyone I truly liked, and that being the case I don't intend to go scurrying about with men I've no real interest in. I will spend great quantities of time with my friends, but not any doing as others I know do: throwing themselves out into the world in hopes of catching someone in the process. I've no energy for such endeavors, and quite frankly can't muster up enough of an illusion to make such a thing work.
Long and short, I am happy being single. My life is fantastic and my friends are wonderful, as they've always been. I am happy with this life of mine, and exalt in who I am becoming. I am starting to grow up, a little at a time. I am so glad for my scars, and what they have let me become. I wouldn't be who I am without them.
I'm currently quite taken with the song "Didn't You See the Movie?" by Kari Kimmel. I found it by accident, but love it. It embodies so much of how I feel that it's just astounding. It very nearly made me cry the first time I realized just what it was saying. It's beautiful to me.
I got my ears pierced again today. This is the final time I plan to have them pierced, as I'm not that big into body-modding. The furthest I would go would likely be a tattoo, but that's very iffy indeed. Mind, I already know what I'd get and such. I'm given to thinking of odd things at random times, that being among the topics I ruminate on in my spare time.
I'm still working my way through editting "normal". It's a more difficult task than I thought, since when I read through the story again I realized that I'd given one character far too romantic a spin when in reality what he'd done to the other characters was horrible. So now I'm having to go back through and completely rework those bits, which involving restructuring a great deal of the rest of the story so it all keeps flowing and making sense.
I bought a few prints at AWA that are the same size as regular photographs. One of them is a character covered in hearts, and she's in a frame on top of my computer. Next to her is a little figurine of Lust from Full Metal Alchemist. I put them together without thinking about it, and only later realized with a laugh that I've got Love and Lust both displayed on my computer. I find it delightful, though I have to explain my amusement to anyone who doesn't know who Lust is.
I recently got a library card, and have been going rather nuts with it. Every time I visit the library I come back with a stack of books to read through and a whole lot of giddy glee. It's all the joy of shopping but with none of the sorrow of paying. Kinda like a credit card.
I've not had the urge to cut for quite some time now. My friends are all glad of it, since I've been struggling more than usual through this past year. I've still got scissors in my room. I had them hidden from everyone, but one day just came out and told Sith where they were. She then told me that she'd known where they were for quite some time, but hadn't hidden them from me because she knows full well I have to have some measure of control over such things. She's a fantastic friend.
My summer semester has started with a class in the May term. This class is an extremely condensed version of the regular class, lasting two hours a day, five days a week. It ends on the twenty-ninth, and promises to be quite a challenge.
None of that I really mind. I tend to just take things as they come and deal with it, as I've not the energy to get all het up over such things. My problem with this class is that I seem to be very much alone in it. There is no one else there who thinks like I do, and I keep seeing girls that look alike. They all have blonde hair that's straightened, bangs to one side, and tans. I'm always away and apart from most everyone else in the education program, and it's beginning to trouble me. What will they do when they find me asking for admission into the program? Will they let me in because I think so differently, or refuse me for the very same?
I find myself to be a repository of stories. I collect and remember the stories my friends tell, storing them away for whenever I can use them. I know so many stories that when I decide to list them off I astound even myself with how many I can name. I think other people find it dizzying when I decide to reel off the stories I know.
I told someone about the fact that I've not the patience to straighten my hair, and she responded knowingly that I'd never had a boyfriend. I quickly corrected her on that count, telling her that I had indeed had a boyfriend for rather a long time and I hadn't straightened my hair on a regular basis then either. It rather annnoyed me that she assumed my reason for not doing my hair was because I'd no man to impress. I don't do it because I see no reason to do it. I don't even have a straightener. I get up early enough to eat and get to my classes, and aside from that not much else. I don't see any point to it.
That being said, I am getting much better at fast makeup. I still do my full-out eyeliner from time to time, but usually I just stick with doing the top bit of my eyes and going. It's enough to satisfy me, so nyeh to whoever thinks it not enough.
I've now seen the new Star Trek movie twice. I had no plans to see it until Sith told me that it was amazing, an opinion that was then supported by Tech-san. I went to see it and was completely enthralled within the first five minutes. It was one of the most amazing movies I've seen in quite some time. I didn't need to know anything about Star Trek to understand the movie, and it completely swept me away.
I rather want to see it again! Current Mood: Hurray life!
|Monday, March 9th, 2009|
It was a strange feeling, to be standing at this door after so many years had passed. The whole experience had something of a surreal quality to it if she were being honest with herself. If she tried hard enough, she could almost make herself believe that she was still at home, snuggled in bed and afoot only in dreams. She'd had dreams like this before. Dreams where she'd stood in front of this very door and all sorts of things had happened that reality would have scoffed at and scrapped within seconds. As much as part of her wanted to believe that this was indeed just another of those dreams, the butterflies inhabiting her stomach and the restive energy that filled her were more than enough proof that this was the waking world. It was the proof that she was indeed standing where she was and about to do precisely what she thought she'd never do.
Hesitantly she raised her hand, pausing in a painful second of indecision. Screwing up her courage and squashing the butterflies with a fierce sort of determination, she squared her shoulders and knocked against the door. The sound of her knuckles rapping against the wood sounded almost hushed. It seemed that all sound had slunk away, leaving silence to stand watch. Slightly unnerved by these thoughts and feeling just a mite melodramatic for them she snorted, blowing air through her nose in a horsey sort of way.
Almost nervous, the woman shifted her weight, running a hand through her hair before knocking again, this time a little louder. A few seconds of eternity passed and she was about to give in to the growing urge to pound the door until it fell down when it opened. It was then that she saw who it was that stood just past the threshold. She smiled up at the man before her, warmly amused by the surprised expression he wore. Aside from a few lines on his face, he hadn't changed a bit from their high school days, though she knew the same couldn't be said for her. Distantly she wondered if he recognized her. Just as she was about to ask he breathed, "It's you...."
"Indeed it is. I am no one except myself, as per usual," she laughed lightly.
He smiled, "I would know that jacket anywhere."
Glancing down at the enormous leather jacket that functioned as her purse, she spread her hands in an expansive shrug. "Since I doubt you would've recognized me otherwise, I'm glad I wore it."
Seeming to suddenly realize that keeping a person outside the door was bad manners, he stood back in the doorway and motioned her inside. As she walked past him she noticed that he was still a good measure taller than she was, despite the heels she was wearing. She smiled softly at the spike of nostalgic envy the observation evoked, comfortable amusement tilting her lips.
He noticed her smile. "What's so funny?"
She turned to face him, clasping her hands behind her back with a grin and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You're still taller than me."
"You haven't changed at all," he observed with a wry grin, waving her to a chair nearby while he took the one across from it.
"Are you sure?" she questioned quietly, curiosity and a gentle amusement shining in her eyes as she looked at him sidelong from her seat.
He became quiet as his expression saddened. She could see him searching her face for something, but whether or not he found it she couldn't tell. He glanced aside then sighed, "No. You've changed a lot since high school."
A small smile graced her lips. "Fourteen years is a long time." She tilted her head, regarding him with something faintly sad in her eyes. "How have you been?"
He slumped forward in his chair in a way that made her chest ache with memory, elbows braced against his knees and hands clasped. "I've been doing okay. I work with a company that designs video games now. It's a pretty good life. What about you?"
She sat straight in her chair, posture at attention even when at ease. "I've been designing clothes, oddly enough. I make costumes and such mostly. It's like when I would draw up those crazy designs during high school. Do you remember?"
He grinned lopsidedly, "Yeah. They always looked way too complicated for me."
"Anything aside from a T-shirt and jeans were too complicated for you, darling!" She laughed, a deep laugh that was even bigger than she was. He joined her, and the room was filled with a sort of carefree joy that both had thought died years ago.
Too soon the laughter faded, and silence descended. The two retreated into their thoughts, staring at each other without realizing it. This continued for an eternity of seconds, then he spoke.
"Your eyes are different."
She tilted her head with a smile and murmured, "How so?"
His gaze lowered to his hands, brows furrowing as he searched for words. When he raised his head, she was bemused at the way his eyes seemed to have softened, a sad smile tilting his lips. "You look more peaceful. Calm. When I knew you, you always looked.... scared." His eyes flickered to his hands, which had tightened as he spoke.
"It comes with age, darling. As you get older you find there is less reason to be afraid," she said with a smile, voice soft and gentle in a way it had never been when he had known her.
He seemed to struggle with himself for a second, bowing over his tightening fists as if he were gearing himself up for a fight. She blinked in bemusement as she watched him fight himself. The tension in his body was high when he lifted his head and looked her dead in the eye. "Are you happy?"
She laughed lightly, sadly. "Happy with my life now? Happy with how you left? Happy with how it turned out?"
He winced at her words, though her tone had stayed sad only, never once turning venomous. "I shouldn't ask, sorry."
"I always said I liked it when you asked questions instead of me, didn't I? That hasn't changed. Ask anything you like, and I will answer as best I can."
She turned her head slightly, looking at the photographs he had hanging on the wall closest to her. Her eyes were drawn to one that looked rather familiar, and she smiled when she realized that it was one of their high school class. If she looked hard enough she could spot both of them in it, positioned almost directly opposite of each other at the sides of the photograph. She was young and mad, grinning like a lunatic and waving at the camera, and he was staring at it with a purposefully dumb look on his face, mouth open and eyes blank. She gave a small laugh as she commented, "I remember the day that was taken." When he looked confused she gestured toward the photo and continued, "It was a week before graduation, and I was so hyper. We ran around wreaking havoc all day!"
He glanced at the picture, smiling crookedly. "Yeah."
She turned to face him, her eyes kind and her smile sad. "And I am happy with how my life is. You broke my heart when you left, but that's what let me meet my husband so I am happy with how it all turned out."
He looked down at his hands, seeming to study them. At length he spoke, voice hesitant and quiet. "Your husband.... what's he like? Do you have any kids?"
She smiled happily, clapping her hands as she answered, "He's a wonderful man. He loves to laugh, but he's forever acting serious just to annoy me. All my friends say we're hilarious to watch because we act like we're five all the time." She sighed, her smile turning sad as she shifted slightly in her seat. "We don't have any children. It turns out I'm sterile, of all things. We've been meaning to adopt for years now, but somehow we just never get around to it." She smiled, her eyes soft as her gaze shifted again to the photograph. "I never liked kids anyway."
"Liar." Her eyes flicked to him, shining suspiciously bright in the light. He just kept looking straight at her, his gaze hard but not unkind.
She turned her head away, blinking rapidly. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you had stayed?" she asked abruptly, startling him.
He frowned, eyes flickering to hers. She was still turned away, a strange grin fixed on her face as she fought her sorrow. "Sometimes."
"I've wondered that over the years. You were my best friend, you know? Those first few years after you left, I hoped that you would come back. I missed you." Her sad smile returned, sweet sorrow and forlorn dreams lending a strange beauty to her features. "But you never did," and her strength had been built on that sadness.
"Do you love him?"
She looked back at him again, her smile still sad but kind. "As much as I loved you."
"Does he know you're here?"
"He's the one that found you. He badgered me into coming, too," she sighed, amusedly exasperated. "If he hadn't I would have left you alone, as you asked me to those years ago." Her voice was peaceful, matching the hard-won wisdom he could still see in her eyes. He could remember when she had found that peace; he'd been one of those that had helped her find it.
Finally he asked the question that she supposed he'd been holding in since he'd seen her on his doorstep: "Why did you come?"
She stood, wincing slightly at the motion. In a no-nonsense, pure-facts tone she stated, "I am dying. I've been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I have less than a week to live. By the time they caught it it was just too late. And now I'm walking with my death at my heels." She moved until she was no more than a foot away from him, bending so she could look him in the eye, ignoring the horrified disbelief that colored his expression. "I ask this favor of you, my love. Please be with me when I die."
For a second or two he didn't reply, all the world racing through his eyes. Then he lifted his head to meet her eyes. "You're dying?"
"Yes, I am." She patted the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a business card and slipping it into his hand. His fingers fisted over it and crushed it, but she chose not to notice. "Someone will call you when my condition worsens for the final time, and I want you to be there with me when I die."
When she smiled softly down at him he couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you afraid?"
She laid her hand against his cheek, answering softly as her eyes met his. "I find there is no reason to be afraid anymore. I'm going to go home, after all. That's all I've ever wanted."
In one move he surged to his feet and crushed her to him in a tight hug, making her smile through sudden tears. His voice raw and broken he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Don't regret, dearest. Those aren't worth the time you waste on them." She murmured against his chest, enjoying the embrace a few seconds more before pulling back. He let her go, his expression tortured. She looked up at him with that soft happiness in her eyes, studying his expression.
"I still love you. I always will." She took his hand, pressing it gently between her own. "Be there for me when I die. It's all I ask of you now." Grinning she added, "And cry for me. You never could cry before."
He squeezed her hand, laughing at her outrageousness even in the face of his grief and her own death.
She smiled. "That's better." She gently slipped her hand from his grasp. "Goodbye, dearest. I love you."
Quietly, slipping past like a ghost, she left. He watched her go, eyes bright with sorrow. Four days later she lay dying, and he was there beside her.
On that day, he cried. Current Mood: accomplished
This is the updated version of a story I wrote back in 2005. Do let me know what you think!
|Monday, March 2nd, 2009|
|"It won't be the first heart that you break...."
It's been a hundred years since we met here, as they say. My life has been most interesting in the past few months, and I'm afraid I've not recorded much of it. I just don't have the drive to update much of anything anymore. But then I've said that before, haven't I?
Well, one of the things that has happened in my life was that Elric played through the entirety of Metal Gear for me. I must admit, I am now a fangirl for it. I even have the T-shirt. Oddly enough despite my fangirliness I don't read fanfics for it. There's no real romance in it for me to follow, and I'm happy with the games as they are. I love Snake and Otacon and the Metal Gear Baby. Plus it's so cracktastic that no fic could even come close to matching its insane plot. That being said, I was right about the baby-daddy in all of the games. This is because I would guess the most insane and unlikely pairings, and then turn out to be right. It made me cry a few times.
The fun bit (aside from the game itself, which is fantastic) is that while Elric was playing I'd come up with names for the people and things we came across, which included things like the Moo Gears, the Pretty Pretty Princess, the Gay Fairy Flip, and Nugget. I said them so often that Elric himself started to use the terms. The worst was the Moo Gears, which he still says as such despite his best efforts to call them by their proper names (Irvings). Some names I just plain got wrong, such as with Lady Fortuna (her name is actually Fortune, but thanks to a Doctor Who audiobook I always say Fortuna) and Sigint. I still to this day call him Signet, and Elric sometimes slips and does the same thing.
Mind, I still had a boyfriend while all this was happening, so it was sometime last semester that Elric played the games through for me. Kisaru-san and I have been broken up for about six months now, and Vash-san and I for about a week or so. It's an odd thing to be single again after so many years of being with someone. It's stretching my wings when before I never knew they were tied. I don't regret what I had and my time with either of them, but I realize now that there was a lot wrong with myself and my view on relationships that I need to remedy before I can even think of beginning again. I tried that with Vash-san and it crashed in a very nonchalant sort of way.
I've been very happy with my life lately. It's had its rough points, very much so, and I even started cutting again a few months ago. But my life of late has been much changed by the fact that I'm now on anti-depressants, and they've worked wonders. I've had clinical depression for such a long time that to be without it feels much like how Atlas would feel if ever he got to just set the earth down for a minute. It's amazing how much lighter everything is, and while I am very much still me my emotional reactions to things have evened out a great deal. I know because several things have happened lately that would've driven me to cutting if they'd happened before I was on this medication.
Sith has pointed out that I may be on medication for the rest of my life, considering that depression is an illness that may never right itself. So that's something I've just got to consider when figuring out my life. Mind, at this point my life after college consists of "Follow the Sith," as she and I both plan to stay in the city once we graduate. I really do believe that I can live my life without a boyfriend (or girlfriend) and be rather content with it all so long as I have my friends about. I've heard a lot of the people I know talk about how they want to leave this state as soon as they graduate because it's nothing to offer them, which really does confuse me. I love this city, but then I've the advantage of having grown up here, having family here, and having met some of the best friends I've ever had here. To me it's less of what the city has to offer, and more of who is in said city. If my failed relationships have taught me nothing else, it's that my friends are so amazingly important to me that it's well-nigh unfathomable to be without them. So if nothing else I will try my best to stay with Sith.
There was snow in our city on Sunday. It was fantastic! Sith woke me up to go look at it (she's the only person who I won't snap at for waking me up early) and we were both in awe of what we saw. We suited up and went out to play, dragging Galen along with us, but it all melted by the time it was late afternoon. Nonetheless, there was snow! I'd almost lost faith in its existence.
I've taken up looking into the Buffy fandom. I came across a Spike/Buffy icon that got me curious about it, so I followed it up. I am a Spuffy shipper, yey. I don't actually watch the show (I tried watching the first season on Hulu. I was disappointed with the ending of it, truth be told. It just felt so anti-climactic. I've now given up on it unless someone can do episode recommendations. Mind the reason I'm in the fandom is so I can hunt up more good fics to read. I get the feeling if I actually watched the episodes that involve Spike I would probably like him less for a while until the fact that he's British made up for it. I like British people!
So I've found my big brother again. Andy-kun and I fell out of touch for quite a while (we were pen pals during high school) but he and I recently renewed contact. It's so much fun talking to him because we're still very much attached to each other, and if I start sniffling over something he'll give in and agree to whatever I'm saying. It's so fun! I luhs mah bruvver.
Sith and I ran into a Jack Russel mutt named Jack today. He was such a player, and we loved him for it. Doggy!
My college hosts an International Bazaar every year that is utterly fantastic. Sith and I try to go, whether it be together or seperately. We're both huge fans of it because of all the exhibits and acts that come. This past one I had to go alone as Sith was doing nursey things (she's in nursing school!) and since I didn't have much time to browse (I had a doctor's appointment) I zipped about, gawking at the shinies. There were a lot of school kids there from wherever, and I tried to steer clear of them as best I could. I love small children, not big ones with attitude issues.
I found a man who was giving Vedic (Verdic?) massages, with the kids around him clamoring about how they were gonna go next and well you'll have to go after me then I'll go after him, not paying the poor man any mind as he tried to give a girl a massage. One of the boys looked at the girl and crowed at her (some kind of inside joke, I'm guessing) and I asked him if he was communing with crows. Upon receiving his look of "Are you crazy?" I elaborated by asking if it were perhaps demented roosters. I continued in this vein for a bit until he wandered off, shrugging off the fact that he was fully convinced I was insane.
I worked my way over to the side nearest the man giving massages and asked him a few questions, then asked if I could perhaps go next? He said yes and I was able to snipe the kids who weren't even bothering to talk to the man. As I was getting my massage (it was most interesting!) I heard the boy from before talking about me. I craned my head about, looked at him, and said quite pointedly that if he were going to talk about me he'd best wait until he was out of earshot. It's bad form to talk about someone where they can hear you if it's just malicious bits of gossip.
When my massage was done I got up and thanked the man before walking off to the other exhibits. I was getting a woman to write "chicken" in Igbo when I felt a tap. I turned around and saw the boy, eyes downcast, asking for my forgiveness for him having talked bad about me. I was astonished he even cared, but told him what I thought of him judging me so quickly without giving a thought as to who I really was. At the end I thanked him, gave him a hug, and told him to go forth and sin no more! That last bit at least got him to smile as he wandered off.
Weekend before last I went home for the day, dragging Elric with me. I was going to go through the box that Kisaru-san had left at my house right after we broke up. Elric went along to make sure I'd be okay, since I thought it would be an extremely painful thing for me to see whatever had been left. When I opened the box I saw things that I hadn't thought of in years. And oddly enough my first thought was, "My drawing was horrible back then!"
Mind, the Friday before I actually called Kisaru-san and we had a long talk. We were both very civil about the whole thing and despite the fact that I cried a few times and he got angry a bit, the call ended in a way that we were both happy with. It was a good ending, and with it I was finally able to close the book and finish the story between he and I. I love him, and I believe I always will. But that isn't the end of it all, because nothing ever ends. I'll always carry these scars, but I'm proud of them and proud of myself. I'm growing up.
I got to go to my friend Ossim's senior recital. She plays violin (most beautifully!) and invited me to come watch. I skipped my astronomy lecture to do so, and am quite glad I did. I was the entertainment for several of her relatives and got to spend time with Ossim herself, which is a rarity. I also spent time calling her boyfriend, who oddly enough looks exactly like Otacon and lives in Seattle. It was quite fun, especially when Chihuahua got involved.
Ossim and I met at my friend's Halloween party. She'd gone dressed as Quailman (same as Gaav, creepily enough) and she and I just looked at each other. I said, "I like you," and she responded with, "I like you too!" and we've been friends since. It's fun because she's still not quite used to my crazy, so I can throw her off in the best of ways. It's fantastic!
I hate my astronomy lab. Just thought I should mention that.
I went to a Lindy Hop workshop over the weekend, and it was so much fun. I got a workout and some humble pie as I failed time and again to follow the lead. I was laughing all the while, and making people vastly uncomfortable by being myself, which is always fun! I ended up being spirited away to a dance two hours away, which was also great fun. The only trouble was the ride, which had me in the front as entertainment for the driver. This turned out to be quite fortuitous as I was the only one still awake on the ride back. I kept both myself and the driver entertained, and made it back home to the dorm in one piece and with a possible comrade for the cause of french toast.
Today didn't start out very well. I woke up grumpy (first time that's happened since I started my medication), went to math class to retake my test and made a lower grade than I did last week. Even better was that the night before I'd thrown together a Powerpoint presentation on child abuse and neglect for my education class (we work in groups) only to get an e-mail saying someone else had done a presentation as well, and since mine was kinda plain it'd be compared against hers to see whose would be used. I rather liked mine so was rather annoyed at the haphazardness of it all.
So I went to meet my group before the class only to find the other two working away, excluding me without even trying. I asked about the Powerpoint, saw hers, and admitted that it was better. Nonetheless we reached a sort of tacit agreement that mine would be used since it was my contribution, and went upstairs to class. It wasn't until we were called on and I shot a quick question to one of my group that I was told that we would in fact be using hers instead of mine, cutting me out of it completely and using none of the material I'd found.
And I'm not kidding about that last bit. I'd been tasked with answering the question of how teachers can tell a child has been abused, what they can do, and resources they could use. Those slides, save the last which had two of the links I'd found, were completely absent from her presentation. I even said as much, as we are all supposed to present a portion of what was being displayed and I was completely excluded by virtue of my slides being gone.
Then at the end of class the professor called me aside and told me that my group had complained of me to her, saying I'd contributed nothing to the presentation we'd done before. Meaning I'd gotten zero points for it. The professor asked me if I'd prefer to work alone, and I told her quite frankly that my group found me to be useless. They could do it all on their own, and I ended up being cut out by that same fact. At the same time I felt compelled to add in my own defense that I had indeed done the Powerpoint and contributed to the paper, whether they wanted to admit to it or not.
In the end it was agreed that I'd work on my own from then on. I left the class laughing at my own uselessness, and at how silly it was that my group had skulked behind the professor's back instead of addressing me themselves. It was especially interesting because I was actually rather friendly with one of my group, having shared a class with her before. It just astounded me that they'd done that instead of come to me.
And to add to my resulting funk, it seems I'll likely be alone for Spring Break. Sith will be leaving out come Thursday, and the people I usually stay with will certainly have plans of their own. Nothing makes one feel like an outcast and unwanted like knowing there's nowhere that wants you over holidays. It's silly I know, but I don't much like being so alone.
My little girl is growing up! She's a full-fledged mare now, and has come into her own. She's still very small for her age, but she's more assertive now and stands up to Tai when he messes with her. I'm so proud of my little girl!
Seriously. Ask me anything about her and I'll end up sounding like Maes Hughes talking about his daughter. I love her that much. I'm weird, I know.
I've taken to editing "normal," which is very interesting. I printed out a copy of it last semester and took it with me to my classes, reading over it between classes and marking things as I went. It's a very effective way to proofread. Now I've got the stack of papers in front of the keyboard and randomly go through and make corrections. It's a slow process since I've been finding new fanfics, but it's going along well enough. I've also tasked myself with going through and fixing my AMV folder, which has gotten rather messy of late.
And, lastly, let it be said that SciFi isn't good with making its own material. Srsly. Tin Man. Cleavage monkeys. 'nuff said. Current Mood: cheerful
|Thursday, January 29th, 2009|
|Writer's Block: Robotic
Who (or what) is your favorite fictional robot?
I would have to say it's the Metal Gear Mk. II, affectionately referred to as Nugget or the Metal Gear Baby. It's cute, spazzy, and ever so useful.
Though WALL-E does run a close second.
|Monday, January 26th, 2009|
|Hurray remedial classes.
So, one of my education classes is telling me that I have to write a descriptive story. Like it's hard. I feel my intelligence is being insulted.
Also, I'll likely write of Mitzi's death. Just to be mean to both them and me.
And yes, I will update properly sometime soon. I'm feeling rather productive. Current Mood: apathetic
|Wednesday, August 20th, 2008|
|Courtesy of teh Songstress~
Jesus is my Bellhop, I shall not want.He takes my baggage and lays me down in the presidential suite at the Doubletree with the free minibar. Current Mood: amused
|Thursday, July 10th, 2008|
|All the silly, stupid, useless things...
The girl, nameless and shapeless in the depths of her mind as she wandered down corridors of thought, unconsciously twisted one of her earrings, staring into space and her computer screen. Twisting her earrings was an old habit, born from her paranoia about letting the earring scab while the piercing healed. It was something she did without thinking, testing to see if she could feel an infection setting in and how bad it was if she did have one. She had a way of gauging such things just by the sound of her pain.
She grinned at herself, amused by her own thought processes. The sound of pain sounded rather like the name of some sort of emo song. For her, however, it just meant what sort of pain it was. High and bright, low with a steady beat, low with a fiery undertone, or simply low and dull, with many other variations popping up along the way. Each one went with a different type of injury and the infections that could attach themselves to each. She knew the tune of them all, and could judge each with a fair level of certainty. It was just another one of her quirks, picked up over time and added to the collection she had accumulated over the years.
The girl turned her eyes to the candle by her left wrist, burning uncertainly amongst the cinnamon sticks that had been sealed into the wax itself. It wasn't a candle that was meant to be burnt, instead to be used as simple decoration. That hadn't stopped her younger sister from having her merry way with it though, and it had wound up burnt into itself with barely a hint of the wick left above the wasted remains of the wax. Being a minor pyro herself, the girl had rescued it (along with several other random candles she'd found around the house - no one claimed them so they were fair game) and was burning it to the bottom, enjoying the scent and having quite a bit of fun draining the wax when it rose to claim the wick again.
Her eyes going a bit dry from staring into the candle, she blinked absent-mindedly. Her thoughts drifted, jumping like the flame she stared into. She'd needed the candles, she recalled, because of the dogs. The three of them stayed in her room during the day, smelling very much like dog and transferring that scent into her carpet and furniture with great fervor as they play-fought and slept. She smiled ruefully at the thought of how her boyfriend probably suffered from the smell, having a very sensitive nose himself. She wondered briefly if he could smell rain before her thoughts jumped again, turning to less happy topics.
Twice. It had been twice that her family had commented on the smell. She'd become immune to it over time. No one else had. Her brother and father both had come in her room just to comment about how horribly it smelled - her brother had even tried to close the door on it, trapping it in with she and the dogs. They hadn't offered to wash the dogs, or watch them for her. They just talked about how badly her room smelled. If she asked what she ought to do with it, snapping acidly that she was the only one who cared for the poor things during the day, so why should she deny them the right to be near a person? then she'd be answered with a simple response of "Leave them in their crates until three or so."
When she'd heard that first she'd goggled at it. Leave them? When someone was home? Leave the dears trapped in their crates when she was up and about, simply because it was more convenient for her? Oh she'd had quite a rant about that one - this family made the choice when we chose to take in three dogs, and you know they're not here for our convenience, and I notice no one is offering to bathe them or care for them in my place! She'd caught flak for that one - confronting her father angrily when he'd said he'd be happy to be rid of them and back-handedly accusing her of being a bad owner when in truth she owned none of the dogs but cared for them where their owners wouldn't.
She sighed, rubbing her sore neck and wincing when the motion pulled at the corresponding ache in her arm. Ah yes. Yesterday. Her eyes turned inward, again staring through her screen, noting absently her Naruto background and the torrent she had going. Seventy-two percent, good.
Yesterday had not been a good day. Getting woken up at eight by her older sister who needed a favor, and again at eleven by her brother who'd wanted to disconnect her Internet so he could play Halo online had not put her in the best of moods. She'd woken up with the Chihuahua burrowed into her side and a flea crawling across said dog's back, one of many. As the day progressed she'd gotten online to do all the usual things, having to connect the wireless router again when her brother went outside to ride the four-wheeler, forgetting that he'd disconnected an essential wire. Not for the first time she'd cursed the fate that had decreed the modem and router be stationed in his room - the imbalance of power was quite overwhelming.
Before too many hours had passed she'd settled on watching Doctor Who. The finale of season four had come out a week or so before, and she was watching the episodes over and over to catch every nuance she could. Plus the Doctor reminded her quite strongly of her boyfriend, whom she rather missed.
Her little sister had wandered in, complaining of a headache. After giving the child an ibuprofen (she kept a personal stock - college had taught her to keep her headache medication close, especially during finals week) she'd offered to let her watch Doctor Who. The little girl had agreed, climbing onto her sister's bed to watch from above. When their brother came in asking for thirty minutes to play Halo she didn't quibble about it, agreeing to thirty since they were watching Doctor Who anyway.
They watched the finale, a supplementary behind-the-scenes episode, and then she happened to look at the clock. It was nearly three, so she put on her ugliest hat (bright green with "Hard to Kidnap" written across the front - her boyfriend hated it) and went outside to work with her horses. It hadn't gone badly, with her able to work with her two while keeping the third at bay. Her gelding had only spooked once, though he'd been on edge the whole time. Hopefully working with him would smooth that out, she remembered absently.
Things had been alright until she'd come back inside. By then several hours had passed from when her brother had asked for those thirty minutes. As she passed by his door she knocked, letting him know that he ought to hook her router back up now since she was inside. She didn't get an answer, but she didn't really expect one. She busied herself making a bit of lunch, annoying her baby sister in the process, and munched on it before going back for seconds. On each trip she knocked on his door, reminding him that she'd be needing the Internet shortly so he'd best hook the router back up.
It wasn't until she'd finished her lunch and gotten back to her computer that she realized that he hadn't done as she'd asked. Quickly becoming exasperated with the whole thing, she walked into his room and hooked the router up herself, noting that he was still playing Halo. While her knowledge of the game was scarce (she was more of an RPG sort of girl) she was willing to bet that he could've exited before that moment and been fine. As it stood she shrugged and walked out of the room, only to see her brother get up and unhook the wire she'd just reattached.
She sighed, eyes going to the flickering candle at her wrist. Her shoulder ached and her arm wasn't faring much better. Her thoughts wandered farther still, opening those doors she knew would soon be scarred open and left to fester.
She had told him then that she'd give him five minutes to finish. She stood by the desk, counting down the minutes using the computer there. She'd been hunched up, highly uncomfortable, but willing to give him his time. As a gamer she knew that saving was a high priority in any game. She'd even told him as the minutes counted down, sure this time he'd respect the limit and give her the 'net.
Then she'd plugged the router back in. And he unplugged it again. Then she knew. Oh, she knew.
She had never had the best relationship with her brother. Mutual antagonism and seething insults were what the two traded, her his better with words and he superior in strength. It was not the safest of battles at any given time, and even less so without a parent at home.
She walked over to the TV, turning it off after having stood in front of the screen. If he was going to needle her, she'd do him one better. She'd played this game for so much longer than he had. That was when he'd shoved her out of the way. That was when she returned the favor with a kick. He responded in kind, and war was declared.
Circling, hissing, fighting her way against what amounted to a large dog against a housecat. He was her superior in weight and height, but by God no cat worth her salt went down with leaving some scars to be remembered by. She laughed at his blows, returning them with clawing nails and quick blows. When he threw her to the floor in his door, smashing his door closed against the leg she still had in the room (breaking it in the process and kicking vainly at her leg when he realized that fact) she laughed ever so smugly, asking if the little boy was having a bit of trouble? Did he need to call for help?
Oh he hadn't appreciated that. She hadn't meant for him to. This was war.
She clawed him, and he clubbed her upside the head, catching her across her scarred ear. She laughed, high and shrill. She bound him to her with a fist twisted in his collar, ripping the shirt to bits as she snarled at him for being so very human and yet so hollow. About how he didn't want to co-exist, didn't want to live with her! Of course he didn't, he wanted her gone, he said back. She pulled back her lips, baring her teeth at him.
She ended up in her doorway, laughing at her silly brother. He closed his broken door, cracked around the knob he'd stolen off her own door when she'd left for college. She'd always meant to steal it back, if it hadn't been such a futile effort. He was the power in that house. He was the god to be appeased, the force to remain unstirred. It was just easier for her parents like that, and well she knew it. He was back to playing Halo, to complain to his friends about his sister and his own version of the story.
How she hated it. He had the power, and she had nothing except her hollow laughter. But what weapons she had she always kept close.
She returned to her room, hearing her sister calling for their mother over the phone, having seen the fight and screamed for them to stop. She knew soon she'd get a call, and everything would come to pieces around her again.
Figuring she may as well alert her boyfriend as to what was going on, she began texting him. Her hands shook horribly as her body came down off its adrenaline high, making it so difficult to type. Then halfway through her mother called and with a groan she answered the phone. It was exactly what she'd expected, right down to punishments and what-I'll-do-when-I-get-home.
Without waiting for her mother to finish, the girl stated that she could talk to her sister or she'd hang up. She was coming down off a high and didn't want to deal with her mother at the moment. Numb and burning, she handed the phone to her sister and concentrated on an episode of Doctor Who, trying to calm herself down. Her hands refused to stop shaking.
Her memory skipped, bucking like a maddened bull against her will and throwing her head-first into the remembrance of when her mother had gotten home. Oh what fun that had been!
Lips pulled into a grim line she pulled her scissors from a pencil case at her side, closing her fist around it and pressing hard, ignoring the pain the action caused. Staring down at her hand, the blade it contained, and the memories that wouldn't leave. They never left.
Her father had come home first, demanding that she shut down her computer. Her computer, that she'd paid for. She'd stared at him like he hadn't a brain in his skull (sometimes she did wonder, cruelly, just what diabetes had done to him) but turned it off. She hadn't wanted to see what he would have done to her poor boy if she hadn't.
Her mother had brought in her brother's sunglasses, shattered now behind hope, and a red shirt torn to bits. The cost of the fight, she said, calling to mind that she'd paid a hundred dollars for those sunglasses (the girl had laughed at that - how stupid of anyone, to pay that much for sunglasses!) and that the shirt had come from the fourth and couldn't be replaced (she had felt sorry about that, if only for her grandmother, who'd been the one to get them the shirts), oh and by the way your brother has claw marks down his face. Care to explain that?
She'd grinned bitterly, remarking that she had been trying to take a plug out of him. She wasn't going to sugarcoat it. She'd been trying to hurt him, and she rather hoped she had. The sunglasses she wasn't sorry for, the shirt she was, and sorry that she didn't have any bruises. Next time she'd aim to get a black eye, so as to garner some sympathy for her side of the story.
Her mother, as always thrown just that little bit off-stride by the girl's combatively sarcastic yet innocently bitter defense mode, had replied that it hadn't been that long ago that the girl had been sharpening her nails to points just to try and inflict damage on people (the girl had interrupted with a laugh that that was how many years ago? Come now, can you even tell me a number? You can't! That's how long ago it was!), that she herself had paid over a hundred for the girl's glasses (you mean my prescription
glasses? That I need to see where I'm going? I'm sorry, were those sunglasses prescription? No? I didn't think so.) and that she wanted to get the girl scheduled to see a therapist in town so she could be prescribed mood-stabilizing drugs.
The girl's fist tightened convulsively before she put the scissors back, draining the candle of its excess wax instead. The little plastic container she'd been using to pour all the wax in was well-nigh full. She held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply and smiling at the scent. Her smile faltered only slightly as her mind ploughed on through the memories, insisting on reliving the whole thing. The memories were fading, but a dull blade just hurts more when it pierces skin.
She'd laughed at her mother, reeling off a list of drugs she wanted. When her mother had asked why on earth she'd named all those drugs off (Xanax, Valium, Loratab, Oxycotin....) the girl replied that if she was going to be put on drugs they'd best be ones of her choice, and ones she could make a mint by selling. And since it didn't seem to matter that she was seeing both a therapist and a counselor at college, she figured she may as well be compensated for the annoyance since her mother wanted her to be drugged up anyway.
Her mother had snapped back that her daughter had been on ADD medication and hadn't taken it for a long time and she was doing worse for that. The girl grinned madly, pointing out that she'd cut the most when she was on medication - it helped her concentrate, after all!
Her mother scoffed: What, you're so much better now?
The girl snarled: Do you see any fresh marks here?, brandishing her scarred lower arm. The skin was smooth and unmarred by anything recent, an obvious statement.
In the end the punishment for it all was exile from the Internet, in an attempt to make the girl and her brother reconcile. A stupid plan if the girl did say so herself (and she did), but one her mother advocated. She couldn't handle the stress, so she'd remove the problem. With a bitter laugh the girl had denounced the plan, pointing out that her brother would be going to a friend's house that night, so even if she wasn't allowed on the web at home he'd still be able to get on XBox Live from wherever he was, and wasn't that just a little unfair?
So she'd won herself the Internet for a night, against her mother's disgust and behind her father's back. What a hollow victory - a battle won but with all soldiers lost. Just like every other fight.
God, she was so tired. So, so tired....
She curled her hands around the candle that was still burning beside her. It was never meant to be burnt, but she'd done it anyway. It smelled crisp and warm, not as good as vanilla (her favorite) but still pleasant and welcoming, like a refreshingly cold autumn afternoon when one's played in the leaves, knowing that hot chocolate and warm blankets await inside the house for after.
Her friends had rallied to her that day, saying the sorts of helpful things that she loved them for. Her boyfriend had called her as soon as he'd been able to after he'd gotten her text, supporting her even as her breath hitched and her voice trembled. Her best friend had called as soon as she was off work, concurring with the girl's boyfriend in that drugs weren't what was needed, it was family therapy that was called for. The dogs had come to her, tails wagging and eyes kind as she'd wrapped her arms around the neck of the largest, pressing her cheek to his ruff and whispering a thanks.
The day following hadn't been pleasant on her. Having the net hooked up, but only for as long as her brother stayed absent, hadn't helped her mood or stability. It was like a crippled horse finding itself amongst a pack of sleeping hyenas - anything could set off a bloody chain of events that there would be no escaping from, and no way of predicting. She'd enabled her screensaver password again, setting the timer to a measly minute as a precaution that she hated having to employ.
She had developed only one bruise, an odd one shaped like an X on her upper arm, but had quite a few stone bruises and aches that had lasted the day and well into the night. Moving her arms was a task that made her hiss a breath between her teeth. and tentative probing with her hand had unveiled several sore areas along the length of her legs and even on one of her thighs. Moving wasn't something she enjoyed that day, no indeed.
Someday, she mused, turning the candle in her hands so it warmed her fingers, I will come home and it will be home again. This place will be what it was. Surely it will. Surely....
She smiled sadly, wryly. No dearest, she thought, talking to herself in lieu of having another person there, that will never happen. So long as this family is what it is, you will never be welcome here. Your only allies here are horses and dogs, and the former barely trust you while the latter have to run to you for shelter. You have nothing and no one here that would miss you, save perhaps one little girl who grows farther from you by the day.
The girl tilted her head back, remembering back to what she'd had at her home, once upon a time. Cats and dogs, horses and people. Come and gone, come and gone. The only thing left was her memory, and the dusty mementos that decorated her shelves, arranged in intricate patterns that only she could discern.
She picked up the container of wax, contemplating the patterns the wax had hardened into when she'd poured it in. It looked like a map, all ridges and curled edges, terrain laid flat for perusal. No one but her would have kept the thing, pointless and useless as it was. She cradled it in her hands, turning it slowly in her grasp. She could still remember the days she'd made "candles" from the excess wax of other ones just like this, burying beads and trinkets in the wax as she went and using ribbons as wicks. It had been a silly, pointless thing to do, but she had so loved it. Those little candles had joined with other trinkets up on a shelf in her closet, a record of the silly little things that made up her life.
In the end, she reflected, smiling sadly at the clump of cinnamon-scented wax in her hands, perhaps that was all she was as well. A silly, stupid, pointless thing that was still cherished by those who saw value in her odd ways and strange mannerisms. Full of strange twirls and whirls that would make anyone go crazy trying to fathom the meaning of, but that could also delight and astonish if one would just join hands with it and spin with all the abandon of caring not a whit what the world thinks, laughing all the louder for it.
She smiled a small, content sort of smile. She could live with that, even if her family couldn't.
|Tuesday, May 27th, 2008|
|"Thunderbolt and lightning, very very frightening!"
Never underestimate the power of a good lapdog. Theraputic little buggers, those. Just look at Momo - she's a professional lapdog. She's perfectly capable of running around the house like a mouse on crack (which is what she resembles when she decides that she can take on the big dogs) but instead she chooses to spend the majority of the daylight hours curled up beside me in the armchair I claimed for myself. It must be said that she does prefer the arm of the sofa to my lap, but that's just because I shift around quite a bit.
So, I am now home and have been for some measure of time. It's nice being home, but I do miss the dorm and all my college friends. I'm not used to being away from Cait Sith, so that's the weirdest part of it. I keep wanting to go to Hungry Howie's and have to stop myself from calling her to see if she wants to go with me. I also miss the dorm's internet connection, as this one feels so very slow. It wouldn't be so bad if I were still using Val since he was slow anyway, but I'm on d'Eon. This little guy's got some power to him (thank you Gaav~) and so I really notice when things are slow. My torrents go relatively fast though, which I am thankful for.
Hiei is wearing a halter, finally. Now I just need to attach a leadrope to it and see if she can figure out that she has to stop when she steps on the rope. I have no idea how this will teach her anything, but that's what Mama did with the other horses we halter-trained so I may as well. And it'll only perhaps last until Cait Sith tells me the super special magical horse-training methods that she learned from the Mustang Monks of Outermost Tibet. They're totally her BFF's.
I'm slowly but surely redecorating bits and pieces of my room. By doing that I move stuff around so I can have better access to the posters and such on my walls, which is how I'm getting myself to actually clean my room. Kinda.
And since I've got free time, I'm now looking into seeing if I can find an agent who'd feel up to the challenge of getting my works published. Thus far all I've got is a desperate need for people who love tearing stories apart in pursuit of perfection. Beta-readers are glorious things, but rather hard to find. Like badgers, really.
Yes I've been watching Eddie Izzard. Why? >_>
Mama found an old CD of songs that she used to play for big sister and I when we were little. Like, third or fourth grade kind of little. Considering I'm now in college, that's tiny indeed. On it are such hits as Bruce Springsteen's "Chicken Lips and Lizard Hips," Sting's " Cushie Butterfield," and Elton John's "The Pacifier." The thing is, I remember hearing these songs and not being too fond of them. Of course my memories of the time also include finally getting up the courage to try my hamburger with ketchup. I was a daredevil back then.
I've put up some of my posters, which make my room look different in odd ways. There's a lot more white than there used to be, but some of the stuff is dark enough to blend rather well. Plus my door is now graced with a sheet of Japanese calligraphy that could very well be saying horrible things, but I'll never know. The glory of foreign writing! Nevermind that I can read hirugana!
I skipped learning katakana. Aheh.
Dad went out and bought a used pool table, of all things. The sewing room is now where it resides, but the only people I hear playing are Dad and baby sister, who likes trying to school me in the art of pool. I just grab the pool cue and whack. Apparently that's not the proper method, but I like it much better.
I recently(ish) went to see Ironman with boyfriend and Mitzi (as I am naming his best friend, since she reminds me of my family's pet cat. The one who didn't know what to do with mice). It was a fun trip, as I was wearing my leather skirt and heels both, rendering me a rather different person than when I'm wearing my usual. Seriously. Talk to me when I'm wearing my boots and have my skirt. Totally different girl.
Ironman was, in a word, awesome. I talked to my geek friends and they've confirmed the opinion. And if you can't trust the geeks, who can you trust?
I'd say this is pretty good for my first update in forever. Let's see if I can keep it going! Current Mood: cynical
|Tuesday, April 8th, 2008|
Intro: Meet my daughter, Hiei.
1. What she is
2. What could happen to her
Cause: No one notices - it's a silent plague.
A. When was the last time you heard about it? Ever?
1. An average person may know the plight of fur-animals, but not of horses
2. Only horse-people know, not the general public
B. Horses that are sent to slaughter are useless anyway
1. People tend to think that only old nags and worn-out geldings are those slaughtered
2. If they're useless then it doesn't matter what happens to them
C. People think that the horses are fairly bought, same as cows
1. People don't think of how horses are acquired for slaughter
2. No one raises a fuss because of the above
Transition: Perhaps this doesn't concern you at all. After all, I doubt there are many here who own horses or are invested emotionally in them. So let me tell you why this is a concern, even if you don't have a daughter such as mine.
Effect: The dangerous practice continues.
A. Since no one says anything, the regulations aren't followed
1. Horses are dehydrated and starved while waiting to be slaughtered
2. The horses have chemicals going through them that are extremely dangerous
B. The horses that are sent to slaughter are actually useful horses
1. PMU foals - the mothers are impregnated to harvest a chemical, then their foals are sent to slaughter over and over
2. Show horses, pleasure horses, walkers, theraputic - all kinds are sent to slaughter
C. Horses are stolen to be sent to slaughter
1. No one asks any question except for the horse protection agencies, so nothing is done
2. Since people think they're bought they assume that the slaughter houses follow the other standards as well
Closing: My daughter is in danger. Expound and summarize.
|Thursday, February 21st, 2008|
|and so it ends
She stared into the sky with a smile so bright but eyes so empty, her hand slowly stroking over the back of an old stuffed toy, ragged and worn but so loved. Her empty eyes ran across the stars, seeing everything she would never see again as broken facets of light caught in the edges of her eyes.
She drew the toy to her chest, empty eyes still on the sky. Dipping her head, face still upturned, she whispered, "And now I know that love doesn't conquer all." Current Mood: Watashi wa hitori desu.
|Sunday, February 10th, 2008|
As I'm sure you guys know, the name Kantama is the one I use the most around the web. A few of you have asked about the name and were given the bare bone explanation of it being the name of a character of mine that I made up a long time ago. Well now since I have some free time and a request for more information I think I shall detail, as best I can, just what Kantama actually is. The explanation of him is rather piecemeal but that's because this is how he appears in my stories. His history is never completely known since Kantama himself can't talk.
Kantama's full name is Kantama's Blade - not Kantama Blade, but Kantama's. However that's an odd way to address anything, so he's just called Kantama, because calling him Blade just sounds silly. No one knows who named him that or how it is that people know it, as he simply appears without any explanation. He was never born in the conventional sense - he's a created being, though no one knows why. One would think he was created as a weapon, but given his disposition it seems rather unlikely.
He is usually described as a blade-cat. This is because he is entirely covered with "blades," though they are actually serrated spines or scales. As he never sheds or loses any of them, no one can examine them well enough to figure out exactly what they are. He's covered with them, whatever they are, though to varying degrees. He doesn't have an inch of skin that doesn't have blades on it, but they can lay flat so he's able to lay down and do what he likes. It also substantially changes his outline and size depending on how he has them. People have debated on how sensitive his scales/spines are, considering that he has "whiskers" in the form of spines that he can make stand out from his face, and he can swing them forward in much the same way a cat does when it sees something interesting. The one blade that he can't move, aside from the line of curved blades that go down his spine, is the one on his forehead, which is backward-sweeping and serrated.
He has "wings" made up of venomous spines, the only ones on him that are actually poisonous. He can't fly with his wings, as they're shaped more like hands than anything else. It doesn't help that he's far too heavy and can barely even jump, let alone fly. Their actual purpose is part of what is perhaps one of his oddest traits. Kantama has the ability to roll himself into a ball and propels himself along the ground by pushing with his wings. When curled up all his limbs are folded, and his tail is wrapped along the line of his spine. The blades on it keep it from being crushed under his weight, as otherwise I'm sure that would hurt quite badly.
His eyes have three slit pupils each, which may or may not be able to focus separately. No one is entirely sure if he can focus them separately, but it is known that sneaking up on Kantama from any angle is well-nigh impossible. His eyes are also extremely hard. Even though he does blink, his eyes are covered by transparent scales the same way a snake's eye is. Tapping on them would have no effect on Kantama at all aside from making him slightly annoyed. Having one's eyes tapped just can't feel good.
His ears are large, especially considering his make. They resemble donkey or rabbit ears more than anything. His hearing seems to be quite sensitive, which simply adds to the fact that Kantama is very hard to take by surprise. He also has the ability to close his ears, as it were. He can manipulate the scales inside his ears so as to close the opening during a fight. He can do the same thing with his nose. No one is sure for how long, as it has been speculated (but never proven) that he's able to breathe through his skin.
His feet are another oddity, as they're rather unlike paws and not at all like talons. He has three toes, each ending in a long claw that's more for jabbing than scratching. He has a sort of thumb, set back and away from the other two toes. He can pick things up with his paws but it's extremely awkward for him, especially since he has to rear up on his hind legs to do it. Considering how heavy he is, he doesn't do this often and is usually irritated by the end of it.
His face isn't actually all that catlike in its build, but he's referred to as a cat because his overall build is much like that of a large panther or leopard. He's a big boy. And on that note, he has no actual gender. Kantama is just referred to as a he, but he is in fact an it. He has no genitalia of any kind, and no way of reproducing. This is what led to most of the speculation of him having been created specifically to fight, as having any sort of sex drive would just detract from his concentration during a fight and add complications for his keepers/owners/users later on down the line.
His diet is also rather odd. It's metal. When the question was raised about why he doesn't just spend his life away from humanity, the discovery of his diet answered it very neatly. He can't go into the wild and live out his days away from humanity - he requires metal to live, and metal isn't found in great abundance out in the wilderness. This leads to some conflict since he isn't built for stealth. He usually haunts junk yards by night and makes friends with any guard animals there. Though he seems to prefer staying in one place his eating habits force him to roam about, as finding old cars and such torn apart leads to people looking around for whatever is doing it.
How he digests metal is an absolute mystery. So far as anyone can tell he melts the metal in a pouch in his throat (if one were to press on the scales just above it then the heat seeps through), but from there it's a mystery. There's a theory out that the byproducts from digesting metal is excreted out through his skin and into his spines, which may be why they're so very tough. This theory also explains why it's a bad idea to be injured by his spines - one can never know precisely what odd chemicals will be in them at any given time.
Given both his size and the fact that he's covered in spines, he's not the fastest creature you'll ever come across. Once he gets going then he's fast enough to outrun a human, but he has no hope of outrunning a horse or vehicle. For that reason he usually just saunters about in the shadows, as his dark coloring helps him to blend in. Otherwise he just waits out whatever is happening around him - as he's nearly impossible to hurt, he has no idea what it is to fear or be spooked by anything. If there's a continual pestilance that he can't outrun then he'll resort to rolling. When he does it's extremely fast and he's very well able to manuevre himself about. Why he doesn't just roll everywhere is an ongoing mystery.
He is an extremely docile creature. Given that ticking him off would be a very, very bad thing, his disposition is a Godsend. In the same way that a Shire is laid back, so is he. He seems not to care about most anything except the few beings he's ever taken a shine to. In a battle he'll try to protect them as best he can. Outside of that he is very nonchalant about most everything, up to and including gunfire and people tapping on his eyes. Riling him up would take monumental amounts of effort, and isn't a good thing to begin with. Of course he may just be lazy. No one's really sure.
His intelligence is a matter of debate. He never really gives signs of being too terribly smart, but at the same time is canny enough to keep out of trouble. The general thought is that, if he was made to be a weapon (which is the popular theory as to how he came about) then middling intelligence would've been given to him. There's no proof of it, either way.
It is possible to pet him, after a fashion. If he likes someone enough then he can smooth down the spines on his neck so that they can be patted, though outright petting is not a good idea. He doesn't seem to desire much contact, so mostly he keeps to himself.
And that, my friends, is Kantama's Blade. Next on the list of monsters is the Hikari no Yuniko! Wheee!
Oh, and don't steal Kantama. I've got stuff on him dating back years, so it wouldn't end well should someone try to use him in their own work. Plus it would annoy him, and that's bad.
Moving on! Current Mood: Haha!
|Wednesday, January 30th, 2008|
|Wednesday, January 2nd, 2008|