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Brenna, the Anti-Invictus (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} brennalarose) wrote,@ 2009-01-06 12:47:00 |
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[Feb. 24th, 2004|04:58 pm]
[
mood
|
aggravated
]
ARGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!
Okay! Mardi Gras. Went to restaurant with French class. Won prize for costume. Was feeling good till comp acted up!
[Feb. 24th, 2004|05:26 pm]
I am a SUPER GEEK!
...but I forgot my score...Dang!
1001 yellow daffodils begin to dance in front of you, oh dear...
[Feb. 25th, 2004|04:45 pm]
[
mood
|
hungry
]
[
music
|
Norah Jones-"Sunrise"
]
It's been a crazy day. I'm exhausted. Lent begins today, so I am officially a vegetable-tarian for the next 40 days. Oi. Furthermore, I have amended my fasting so that I can have caffein and sugar...in SMALL doses. Decaf Tea and Coffee, the occasional soda and honey in most everything. Erg...not overly fond of honey. I intend to find a sugar cookie reciepe that uses honey instead. Would that then be a honey cookie? Must investigate.
Didn't have lunch, so my stomach is complaning. What a day...
ARRRRRRRRGH!
[Feb. 26th, 2004|04:45 pm]
[
mood
|
infuriated
]
[
music
|
Jason Mraz- "The Remedy"
]
Last night, I got an application (took them long enough) from WorldCon for the writing contest. I said a few things about possibly not applying this year. Then I said I wish they'd sent notification of my prize sooner, in case I'd won. They must not have heard that, because they all told me that if I didn't write, I wouldn't get notifyed of anything!
The problem is this-
WorldCon has a young writer's competition. You write, they judge and prize. Winners get paid memberships to that year's con and a banquet with the guests. Now, the Con is usually in August or September. I never get notified of my winning or losing until long after the Con. THAT was what I was complaining about! And Ken insisted they wouldn't listen!
I feel like crying now.
Arglefraster
[Feb. 27th, 2004|05:49 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
The sounds of an empty house
]
Ken's in the hospital. My mouth is a mess and I need a dentist, quick. Chris, the equinox is not happening.D*** district competition. Festival my great aunt Sadie!
owowowowowOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!!!
[Mar. 1st, 2004|04:36 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
Jason Mraz- "The Remedy"
]
My mouth still hurts. Also, Have just realized I won't be able to go porn shopping with Lysy and Joon this summer because my b-day is in September. I have several choice words for the Norns if I ever lay hands on them.
The library smells of burnt popcorn...
[Mar. 2nd, 2004|04:51 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
All-American Rejects- "Swing Swing"
]
Oi...I have such a headache. But I've joined Gaia and already met somebody on personals. Not getting much money though. I am contemplating some trading except I don't think people would want to buy a peasant dress.
A little help from my friends...
[Mar. 2nd, 2004|07:51 pm]
[
mood
|
thoughtful
]
[
music
|
Law and Order on TV (You tell 'em, McCoy!)
]
Trying to decide on a name to use for self in Amtgard Roleplay. Would appreciate help.
Ryoushi ("hunter")
Alishandra (no meaning, think it sounds pretty)
Arthandra (vague mix of Arth- for "bear" and -Ander for "mankind")
Sharra (no meaning)
Blackstar
Ravenstar
Yukiko ("snow child")
Branwen ("white raven")
Ick
[Mar. 4th, 2004|09:59 pm]
[
mood
|
stressed
]
[
music
|
Good ol fashioned Silence
]
Catching a cold, Gaia Personals Mod scolded me. If I were more rebellious I'd ignore it. But she had a point. Throat feels ooky, Head feels ooky, have french class in the morning, and my eardrum itches.
Roseanne: I'm sorry you're unhappy. Wish I could say more, but it would seem...awkward.
Alysya or Rini: Who's Sylvia and for why does she wiggle?
*beating head against a wall*
[Mar. 5th, 2004|08:44 pm]
[
mood
|
bitchy
]
[
music
|
silence
]
Ya know, for someone who just got out of the hospital, Ken's spending an AWFUL lot of time worrying about MY health. Grrr...
Rargh
Heather: Still can't get into that section of the Coalition. Have you talked to the mod? Can you send me the bits I have to read?
I'm not the weird one anymore...
[Mar. 6th, 2004|05:43 pm]
[
mood
|
lethargic
]
[
music
|
Gorillaz- "Clint Eastwood"
]
I have no problem with the idea of a "toy" with a name. It's just that I think Alysya may have me beat in the weird department. Oh well, maybe I can take my title back by buying The Tribe dvd Boxed set. Of course I'm also getting up early to watch Power Rangers. So I guess I'm still pretty odd.
Thinking about college...
[Mar. 10th, 2004|04:52 pm]
[
mood
|
distressed
]
[
music
|
The ringing in my ears (stupid ear infection)
]
I think I've decided. I mean, I'll take just about anywhere, so long as it's single sex and somewhere nearby. But Sweet Briar has just about stolen my heart. Great Major choices, beautiful campus, horses, a radio station, an artist's colony, horses...
But money will be a serious issue. I'm going to try to get a job this year to start earning up. But I'm really worried.
Sigh.....
[Mar. 11th, 2004|05:09 pm]
[
mood
|
high
]
[
music
|
Outkast- "Hey Ya"
]
According to the doctor, I might have a hyperactive thyroid. Which explains it all. That and I'm recovering from an ear infection. My ear is ringing SO DANG LOUD, I'm almost deaf on the left side. But OH the loverly things they gave me for it. Topical Anesthetic eardrops, codein, amoxicillin horsepills. Sigh... I will now go home and eat my weight in strange delights.
Looks like Morning in your eyes...
[Mar. 12th, 2004|07:01 pm]
[
mood
|
calm
]
[
music
|
Norah Jones- "Sunrise, Sunrise"
]
Saturday should be a day for relaxing. But I have a REALLY busy day. Oh well, I'll have Wednesday off.
Not much to spout about.
ANNA-MAE PATTERNS UPDATE:
Have finally seen real generic boys school uniform and girls gym uniform. The bloomers REALLY ARE that short. The jackets are cool though.
[Mar. 12th, 2004|07:18 pm]
Chris: If you spot the girls, ANY OF THEM, tell them to stop blocking off the good parts. I could use a bit of cheering up. And wrangle Snowstar this way if she's there. Although, knowing her, the fluffy old bat is probably wherever the most snow is.
Laugh if you will, but I still think Jason David Frank and David Yost are hot!
[Mar. 13th, 2004|12:11 pm]
[
mood
|
awake
]
[
music
|
nothing
]
Anime Personality Quiz
Quiz created by Sharra
That surprised me.
Paint the sky with stars...
[Mar. 17th, 2004|01:59 pm]
[
mood
|
determined
]
[
music
|
Enya- "Storms in Africa"
]
Now, how in the heck did THIS happen?
Your a Guradien Angel! Guardien Angels are also
knows as Warrior Angels, because they are the
army of God. Not always meaning that they are
in war, simply that their job is to protect
unwary humans from dark dragons, or other evil
demons. Warrior Angels are not always friendly
with humans, but they will watch over them all
the time. Humans say that when a miracle
happens, thank your guradien angel.
What Kind of ANGEL are you? (For Girls only) This Quiz has amazingly Beautiful Pictures!
brought to you by Quizilla
It's gotten me thinking. If this is my final incarnation, and I'm to ascend when I die (hopefully very old with spades of kidlets and grandkidlets), what will I do with myself? I mean, life hurts and all, but I'll have to do something with myself. I want to protect people. Like that commercial (for what I can't recall). With the little cherubs flying along with the car to protect those inside. But I don't think I'd want to be a toddler. If I could choose what I look like, I'd be stronger and healthier-looking, but friendly. Someone a kid could play with. But, woe to anybody who'd try to hurt the child. I'd suit up in kick-@$$ armor and go in, flaming sword swinging and zaghareeting like Xena. NOBODY touches the kid I defend! Sure, the kid would experience what he or she needs to, but I'm not going to let anything ELSE happen.
Quiz results
[Mar. 17th, 2004|02:12 pm]
[
mood
|
thoughtful
]
[
music
|
Enya- "Marble Halls"
]
This doesn't surprise me.
You are the Goddess of Air. You are very
intuaitive. You inspire other Goddesses since
without you nothing would exist. Your make sure
you are always intuned to your spirtaulality.
Your most definatly one of the most Wisest and
highest consciousness of the Four Goddesses.
Other Air Goddesses Aradia, Arianrhod, Athena,
Nuit, Urania
Which of the Four Elemental Goddesses are you?(With Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a normal angel. Innocent and pure. Full of
light and hope. You love to be around others,
and really know how to have a good time. You
enjoy hanging around with mortals. You like ti
sing, which you are great at, and like to have
others near you. People are naturally attracted
to your bubbly personaliy, and love to be
around you. Normal angels are always popular,
and have lots of fans. You are happy go lucky,
with an interesting out look on the world.
Though you have experienced pain, that is all
behind you now. You see the bright side to
things, and are always there to help a person
in need. You are quite pretty, with a childish
air, though you know more than others think.
You are a really friendly person. But can be a tad
selfish at times.
You are bright and full of energy.
Better get my shades!
What Type Of Angel Have You Become?
brought to you by Quizilla
Designer-made Hell
[Mar. 20th, 2004|09:30 pm]
[
mood
|
exhausted
]
[
music
|
Funny Ladies of BritCom in background
]
Started the day with a dance rehearsal in HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES! Then had District Competition in MORE HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES! Came home, missed DinoThunder to go grocery shopping (at a REALLY nice new store, but that's beside the point), one got ONE JDF fix instead of two, will only get two this weekend instead of four. F***ing Digimon Marathon. Also, friend Anne is having an awful time of things. I feel horribly bad for her.
Sigh...
Sometimes, it isn't worth chewing through the leather straps.
[Mar. 21st, 2004|09:27 pm]
feel weird tonight. sick.
Feeling better...I think
[Mar. 22nd, 2004|04:51 pm]
[
mood
|
blah
]
[
music
|
J-Rock on the International Channel
]
Poor Roseanne. Really. These Journals are up for people to bitch at. Even if it feels petty or childish, the journal is where we can air out stupidity and feelings that would get bad reactions. She shouldn't feel bad about writing about feeling like crap.
Sword, Screwdriver, Sorrow...
[Mar. 23rd, 2004|04:25 pm]
[
mood
|
drained
]
[
music
|
Charmed Theme Song
]
They are all tools in a sense. What keeps me from picking up a sword to protect myself? Scruples? Not if I feel my life is threatened. Fear? Perhaps, but under the circumstances, I'm more afraid of the buttmunch getting ready to kill me than any jury. Weakness? If it's a light enough sword, I don't think that's the problem. What, then, prevents me from using a tool I have the power to wield? I don't know and it makes me angry.
Today, I was unhappy. A dear friend of mine--who is a bit naive but has her heart in the right place--told me I could choose to be happy. Could I? I tried, Lord knows, I tried. I reminded myself of the saying I have about it being impossible to be unhappy while wearing yellow. After all, I was wearing a new yellow sweatshirt that I had hankered after for months. Nothing. I bought myself a can of my favorite empty sugar drink. Nothing. I even got a bit violent with inanimate objects, which tends to help when I'm in a really ugly mood. Nada, zilch, zippo. Happiness was a tool. So why the heck couldn't I use it? Nothing was holding me back! This fact only made it worse, because, now, I was angry. My friend didn't understand. She kept treating me like I was escpaing the problem, patronizing me even. That sure as sh*t didn't help me, it just made me even more angry.
I don't want mental illness to be my scapegoat. I am my own bloody scapegoat (baa). But, the fact is, I don't behave like my friend. She is lovely and innocent and perfectly well-adjusted. I'm none of these. I adore her, but in order to make her see, I would have to take her on the grand tour of a world she shouldn't have to see. Everything that makes her who she is would come crashing down on her like it did me. I care about her too much. Her innocent joie de vivre is her shield and I fear what might happen if she saw what I have seen. I need help. I know I need help. Help that many of my friends have told me they wish I didn't need and have tried to aid me without it. But if I never ask for help again, I'll ask now.
Love took me by the hand, Love took me by surprise...
[Mar. 24th, 2004|04:38 pm]
[
mood
|
incredibly serene
]
[
music
|
Michelle Branch- "Heaven's Eyes"
]
Saw Rini's collage with pic of Silven. Now I want to do one for me and Tim, but don't have the tools. I only have one picture of the two of us and he's squinting anyway. Have to convince him to take a GOOD picture with me. Will probably use Michelle Branch lyrics. Somebody said I look like her. I guess I do, a tiny bit. Except she's skinny and has better hair. Darn her. All talented and keepin' it real and prettyful.
My friend and I cleared things up. She'd forgotten apparently that I'm a clinical depressive and can't control myself sometimes. I love her like a kid sister, but she's still very naive.**remembers the shade of pink friend turned at the homosexuality reference in French 2** But she's so loveabnle that way. And, no, Tim, we still can't show her, I confirmed that last night.
I think yesterday I got rid of a lot of excess steam and fury. At the moment, I'm at peace with the world. It sucks, it's depressing, there's death everywhere. But, that doesn't bother me. The eye of the storm's gotta come soon. Or maybe it has and the end of the storm is in sight. It's amazing how my whole point of view (point of you) can change so drastically in 24 hours. How I can go from sad and shallow to collected and ponderous in 24 short hours. Suddenly, I love the world and the world tolerates me.
Sorry, Yesterday's song was "Drop in the Ocean"
[Mar. 25th, 2004|04:21 pm]
[
mood
|
drained
]
[
music
|
PotC Score
]
YES! I will soon be writing for Chasing Realities. Oh, the steaminess! **feels the room get stuffier, hair begins to curl, pores open** And me, mopping up the drool.
BTW, I know Sweet means well, but if he wants his choir to be completely dedicated, he should try the local ladies pen. At least there they have little else to look forward to. The fact is, no matter how focused the teenaged girl, when you put them in a room with other teenaged girls of COURSE they aren't going to stay on task. And his joking and straying from the subject doesn't help!
Aiya...
[Mar. 26th, 2004|04:20 pm]
[
mood
|
crappy
]
[
music
|
Michelle Branch-"Goodbye to You"
]
I think I made Heather angry last night. I got home late and was trying to check mail. Then Tim called and Heather IMed, just as mom told me to go to bed. I was a bit terse with Heather, but I was panicking. She seemed upset and then just threw an away message at me.
Now I feel like a bitch.
High Ones, what a day!
[Mar. 27th, 2004|10:07 pm]
[
mood
|
beat
]
[
music
|
Last of the Summer Wine Theme (so purty!)
]
Saw Dad after dance class. Went to Silver Diner and then to the zoo. By the time we arrived, it was closing, but we saw a few animals. Including the cheetah who pointedly ignored EVERYBODY. When we headed home, we got on the blue line instead of the orange and ended up headed towards Springfield instead of Vienna. Had to do a bit of running around to get back.
So many ideas!
[Mar. 30th, 2004|04:47 pm]
[
mood
|
artistic
]
[
music
|
Vanessa Carlton
]
I saw a short film yesterday called The Gamers. V. amusing look into the lives and minds of Roleplayers with a nifty ending. Sadly, there were no girl gamers. That got me thinking...
Okay, seeing as I'm e-mailing this to other people too, I'll cut to the chase. I'm writing a script for a VERY LOW BUDGET film or radio play about chick gamers. There are about eight parts that need to be filled. Yes, there is room for guys. In fact, lots of room. But the "players" will play both their mundane faces and their pcs.
Parts:
Chrissy- Plays Alissandra the White, a paladin. A die-hard Hack-n-Slasher who isn't all that bright. Ends up crushing on...
Daniel- Plays Michael Ironfist, a fighter. The newest member and the ONLY testosterone in the room. Chrissy makes him slightly uncomfortable. But not as much as...
Brittany- Plays Morganel Starflower, a mage. Brittany is a feminist and has trouble dealing with a male in her path. But he'll grow on her. Kid sister of...
Beth- Plays Jewel the Light-fingered, a thief. Beth accepts Daniel and is trying to rein in both her sister and...
?(forgot her name, is written down at home)- Plays Corin Thunderpaw, a ranger/shaman. The only multiclasser and a real nut. She's a veteran gamer, having played since she was eight, and is the memory of the whole gang. She feels less respect and more indulgence towards...
Josie- the long-suffering Gamemistress. Josie has worked with the girls for months and now feels she can trust herself bringing a new player in. Now, she has to keep everyone sane and calm as well as ice down Chrissy's pants.
Comment if y'all are interested
[Mar. 30th, 2004|08:14 pm]
Missing name: Emma
Missing Part: Amber/Sheiva of Laughingcat, a bard and a wiseacre player
Grrrrgh argh grumble, darn muses...
[Mar. 31st, 2004|04:08 pm]
[
mood
|
stick a fork in me I'm done
]
[
music
|
"Sunrise"-Norah Jones
]
My muses are making noises at me again. For more RPGs. These guys have serious ADHD. Will consider the concept before I put it up and decide from there.
Oi...
Only 1 more day before Spring Break. I love living near a major highway. Means they kick us out early on major holidays. Hoody hoo!
[Mar. 31st, 2004|04:17 pm]
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
[Apr. 3rd, 2004|11:12 am]
[
mood
|
artistic
]
[
music
|
Butterfly
]
The muses are being good as gold now! I may actually finish the first bit of Full Circle! Oh, joyous day! I will post an update on the State of the Fic tonight!
Memories that Haunt
[Apr. 3rd, 2004|11:51 pm]
[
mood
|
accomplished
]
[
music
|
Red Dwarf
]
(Author's Note- Yes, I KNOW Billy and Trini were never an official item. I know Trini never got pregnant. I KNOW they didn't leave Earth together. It's my fanfic and my universe. No one said I couldn't tweak things to work best into a storyline. I've also twiddled the timeline a bit to accomidate the original character being introduced. I figure Tommy is younger than he lets on. Oh, and the Cuteness quote is courtesy of my best, if biased, reviewer, my Mama.)
Dr. Tommy Oliver stared down at the picture. There was something uncanny in the faces of the three young people that grinned back. There was nothing on their faces to suggest anything other than complete normalcy. It was taken eight months after they'd found out. Eight months after graduation. The pretty, willowy, girl with her angel's face and long black hair. The two rambunctious boys who were barely ready for the coming storm. They were too young for the responsibility. But, they knew what they wanted. She wanted to keep the baby.
He'd remembered the look on the father's face. That odd, nervous grin that was so happy and so afraid at once. Tommy wondered what his own face had looked like. He'd been asked to be the godfather. He vaguely recalled a sensation of dizziness. He was 18, he'd protested weakly. If anything happened, he'd be unable to defend the child. But the little yellow faced girl won his heart after his months of protest. All she had to do was crinkle her forehead and yawn.
"I told you, Tommy," Her mother had said, holding the baby, "Cuteness is a survival skill." He didn't answer. He stood there, awed by the power of a premature, bald, infant.
But, even a sweet face couldn't stop the fact that they couldn't take care of her. When they'd left Earth -- for what reason and where was unknown -- they'd put the little girl in a group home. With Tommy's name as the contact.
"Promise me one thing, Tommy." That last voice rang in his ears. "Never let her get the chance to lose her youth on the same thing we did. Don't let her have kids until she has a degree and don't let her... Well, you know."
Oh, he knew. He was doing it again anyway, along three of his brightest students. They were the ones wasting their teenaged years now, saving the world. He could make someone else's kids be heroes. But, he couldn't let his goddaughter so much as know. It helped that he hadn't seen her in years. Hell, he didn't even know where she was. He wished he did.
Dr. Oliver sat there in the cafe, the picture in his hand, his eyes focused on a distant thought. How old was she? She'd been born in September, it was March... 15, she was 15 years old. Old enough to be hell on wheels, but young enough to be unsteady on her feet. He couldn't even remember her name. Taylor? Amber? Something like that. His own goddaughter and he couldn't remember her name. He was ashamed of himself.
Conner, Ethan and Kira were sitting around one of the cafe tables, attempting to study. Dr. Oliver wasn't joining them that afternoon. Conner kept looking over his shoulder at the science teacher. He had been sitting alone on a couch with a beat-up photo of himself with two other people. He was depressed, it seemed.
"Conner, chill out already," Ethan said, "If Dr. O wants to be by himself, let him."
"Sorry," Conner mumbled, "he just looks so..."
"Depressed?" finished Kira, "It's not really our business, unless he lets us know what it is."
"Yeah, but--!" Conner began.
"Excuse me." Kira looked up. A young girl stood there, with a scrap of paper in her hands. She seemed lost and the dark brown ringlets hanging in her eyes gave her the appearance of some lost urchin. What caught Kira off guard, was the color of the girl's eyes. They were pale phosphorescent green, with just a hint of blue. "I've been all over town," said the girl, "and I was told I could find Dr. Oliver here. Do you happen to know him?" Her voice was a rich high alto, that had the potential to be strong and commanding. At that moment, it was soft and shy.
"Sure," Kira said, "He's over there." She smiled at the girl to try and make her relax. She did, briefly, before tensing again.
"Thank you," the girl whispered. She clutched the paper tighter in her hands and approached the couch carefully.
"Who's she?" asked Ethan. Kira and Connor shrugged.
"Dr. Oliver?"
For the first time in an hour, Tommy pried his eyes from the photograph. There was a young woman standing in front of him. She was old enough be one of his students, but her eyes were older. She wore a battered green shirt and a khaki skirt that, either by design or accident, were too big and made her appear smaller and younger than she must have been. Her curly, dark hair was escaping its knot, forming soft, frantic ringlets around her face and in her incredibly green eyes. The afternoon sunshine touched her freckled cheek, accentuating the roundness of her face. She was 19, he guessed. Or a very well-developed 14. A very scared, well-developed, 14. She glanced about nervously as she spoke. "Am I right? You're Dr. Oliver?" She was clearly worried she had the wrong person.
"Right," He said, "Can I help you?"
"Something like that," said the girl, "At least, that's what I was told at the group home."
Tommy sat up straight. Group home? Was it possible? "What did you say?" His question caused the girl to go rigid where she stood.
"I'm -- I-- I'm sorry!" She began to back away.
"No, wait!" He stopped her, "I didn't mean it that way. What'd they tell you?" He gestured to a seat behind her.
"They said you were my contact about my family," the girl said as she sat down, "It said you're my godfather. Here!" She unfolded a crumpled paper and handed it to him. "A copy of my birth certificate," She explained sheepishly, "Maybe, it'll ring a few bells."
The paper he now held was for a baby girl, 6 lbs. exactly, her length obscured by a careless stain. Her name was Kyler Verity Sakura. Her parents were -- . Tommy looked up at the girl. He remembered now. The face had barely changed. It gained definition where it had been flat, become freckled and taken a rosier tone. But it was still rounded, with a high innocent forehead, pointed chin, and the same eyes as her father. Kyler. That was her name. She looked frightened again. Her hand shot to her neck. "Kyler" drew from her shirt a silver rope chain. An amber shamrock dangled from it. It was Kyler.
"Kyler?" Tommy asked.
She smiled at him. Her smile radiated joy and relief. Tommy felt like he was doing the same.
A new kind of Vampire Movie, recruiting for RPGs...
[Apr. 6th, 2004|02:50 pm]
[
mood
|
calm
]
[
music
|
"The Memory of Trees"- Enya
]
Okay!
Item #1: I will post a segment of Duskfire, my vampire movie, up for perusal and critique this evening. Please note that this is not for tender eyes or anybody under, oh, say, 17, so careful who's around.
Item #2: I am recruiting for two RPGs of mine. One is already up, the other I will not make a group for until I know I can fill at least one team.
1. Checkmate: Queen's Gambit- 4 games in one, each connected by the same premise. 6 teams, based on chess pieces, are fighting to save their world from the fate of Atlantis. Game of Kings is set in a high fantasy world, Game of Champions in a steampunk world (think LXG/Van Helsing/Jules Verne), Game of Balance is in Modern times, and Game of Ages in the future.
2. Crystal Trinity- A Sailor Moon story taking place after Neo-Queen Serenity steps down. Five teams to choose from, Hordes of villan slots. Rather Girly Fluff, Diabetics be Warned.
Anyone interested, contact me. Please people! I'm desperate!Portion of "Duskfire"
[Apr. 6th, 2004|07:41 pm]
[
mood
|
creative
]
[
music
|
Evanescence- "Hello"
]
FLASH TO:
AFTERNOON, ELLA’S DINER, INT.
(A young woman sits alone at a table. She throws down a stained apron and removes her nametag. The tag reads: “KATRINKA”. Her bracelet reads: “TRINKET”. She looks like one, too. Strokeable blond hair, somewhat vacant blue eyes, rosy skin and barely enough meat on her tiny frame to cushion her if she fell. But something in her manner and the set of her jaw speak of a titanium will and a rapier wit. We see MICHAEL approach her and drop the book on the table in front of her. She eyes it, pulls her apron out from under it, and looks up at MICHAEL.)
KATRINKA:
(annoyed)
Whatever it is, you’re the one cops pay to figure this stuff out.
MICHAEL:
(sits)
And you’re the one who bitches about knowing these things and not being able to do a damn thing. So, here’s your chance.
KATRINKA:
How kind of you.
MICHAEL:
What are big brothers for?
KATRINKA:
(opens the book, trying to read it)
What’s your analysis?
MICHAEL:
The Black Arts, or a Hollywood ripoff thereof.
KATRINKA:
Hollywood. I don’t even recognize the script. Looks like pictograms, though.
MICHAEL:
Chinese?
KATRINKA:
Not stylized enough. And the diagrams look vaguely like they were ripped straight from the Necronomicon, the Emerald Tablet, and other texts I can’t name.
MICHAEL:
Can’t or won’t, Trinket?
KATRINKA:
Can’t. I don’t remember them and good luck finding them at the library.
(stops on a page)
Hello! What do we have here?
MICHAEL:
What?
KATRINKA:
Take a look at this!
(swings the book around for him)
(CLOSE UP of the pages. The righthand page is full of dark red pictograms, a few written in dark blue. It’s also been carefully illuminated with fading gilt, nearly rubbed away by centuries of faithful caresses. The lefthand page displays a diagram of a large disk displaying a bird, wings spread, against a sun. More pictograms scroll around it in dark red, and suddenly end in four purple pictograms.)
KATRINKA:
(cont.)
Where have we seen that before?
FLASH TO:
MICHAEL’S NIGHTMARE #1.
(Trees loom around and a circle of young people in golden robes move in a haunting circle dance, chanting. The vision goes red. FLASH back to the DINER.)
KATRINKA:
(concerned)
Mikey? Are you feeling okay? You look...spacey.
MICHAEL:
(shaken but steady voiced)
I’m fine. I just let my mind wander for a second.
KATRINKA:
You’re not exactly in a job that allows for that, you know. Even, if all you are officially is a writer. Speaking of which, how’s your history of the Golden Dawn coming?
MICHAEL:
Pitifully. None of my contacts will say “boo” to me anymore after the Rosicrucian fiasco.
(Over KATRINKA’s shoulder, we see a dark, handsome, man sitting at the counter. He is in his early to mid 40s and small boned. A gold hoop earring glitters in the ear turned to us. He eyes MICHAEL in fascination, like an astronomer staring at a new star. He twists a silver ring set with a blue stone on his index finger and signals for the check.)
MICHAEL:
Listen, Trinket, I’d love to stick around, but I should get home and get this started. I’ll pick up groceries on my way.
(rises to leave, pecks his sister on the forehead)
KATRINKA:
Stay safe, Mikey. Ciao.
(As MICHAEL leaves, he sees a folded paper napkin on the floor and the retreating back of our friend from the counter. He picks it up and attempts to follow the man. But the moment he steps out the door, the man is gone. He looks around for a car leaving, a silhouette walking away. There is nothing to indicate that he existed. MICHAEL looks down at the napkin and finds it has “MICHAEL MACALLISTER” written in hasty cursive across it. He opens it, to find a phone number--571-555-1313 the words “see me if you get stuck”.)
CLOSE UP:
MICHAEL’S HAND
(He shoves the napkin into his pocket. Then, he walks away quickly.)
My muses are evil.
[Apr. 7th, 2004|01:34 am]
[
mood
|
frustrated
]
[
music
|
Alysya's voice
]
All right then here's a better section.
FLASH TO:
SLEEPING PORCH, INT.
(MICHAEL sits on an overstuffed sofa as ROMAN moves about clearing up a bit. The book sits on MICHAEL’S lap. The cat has entered and is curling around his feet, quite pleased with herself and this new human. POLLY, a tall, dark, girl in an orange and yellow sundress, carries a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. She sets the tray on the table and starts to leave.)
ROMAN:
Go get a glass for yourself, Polly. You’re included in this.
POLLY:
(quietly delighted)
Yes, sir.
ROMAN:
(as she leaves)
My niece and apprentice, Polly. She lives here when school’s out.
MICHAEL:
She looks about my sister’s age. How old is she?
ROMAN:
18 on the 21st. If she lives that long, it’ll be a miracle. Now, let’s see this little troublemaker.
(MICHAEL places the book on the table and opens it)
ROMAN:
(cont., whistles)
Well, well, well. The past comes back to haunt us all.
MICHAEL:
What?
ROMAN:
(oblivious)
Yes, yes, now it’s all clear. Roman, you clever bastard, they can’t see over their own noses.
MICHAEL:
What’s clear?
POLLY:
(off-camera)
No use talking to him when he’s in the zone.
(MICHAEL turns and sees POLLY in the door with a empty glass in her hand. We see her now in all her exotic splendor. The way the sunlight hits her should make her glow. She should seem like some dark goddess, rich and strange.)
POLLY:
(cont.)
He’ll be back to his usual sociable self in a moment or two.
(sits)
MICHAEL:
I take it, this is hardly a rare occurence.
POLLY:
He’s a fortune teller. When he sees something that needs attention, he pays it double. He’s been trying to teach me all about concentration and knowing the paths into a person’s mind that show you fate and memories. I guess I just fidget about too much to be good at it.
ROMAN:
(looks up)
Don’t let her sell herself short! She just needs a little mental discipline. Nothing a martial art or yoga wouldn’t clear up!
POLLY:
You make it sound as simple as acne.
ROMAN:
Child’s play, I can assure you.
(looks back down)
Well, now isn’t this interesting. Polly, tell me what you know about vampires.
POLLY:
Which ones?
ROMAN:
The real ones.
MICHAEL:
Whoa, hold it! Vampires? Real vampires? I’m sorry, I was under the impression you could give me some actual help!
ROMAN:
We can. If you’re open-minded enough to sit still through a stern jester’s ravings and see the blood-eyed lady.
MICHAEL:
What?
POLLY:
Uncle Roman, is this the time to get all dramatic and esoteric on people?
ROMAN:
Well, hell, it worked for Blavatsky!
POLLY:
(to MICHAEL)
Mr. MacAllister, please, don’t leave yet. My uncle knows what he’s talking about. So do I.
MICHAEL:
(exasperated)
All right. Nowhere to go but forward.
POLLY:
Well, There are two basic kinds of vampires in this world. There are energy vampires and true vampires. From what I’ve read in the papers, you really aren’t looking for the energy vampires. You have to watch out for the ones who feed on blood.
MICHAEL:
So, what are we looking for? Goths? Dracula look-alikes?
POLLY:
Possibly. But a vampire’s best defense is camouflage. They walk in the shadows people are least likely to look in. Just about anybody could be a vampire. Some people don’t even know their vampires until they lash out at the people the care about.
MICHAEL:
No warning signs at all?
POLLY:
There are warning signs, just not ones that people pick up on. Chronic nightmares or vivid dreams, feelings of deja-vu in destructive or stressful situations, unexplainable hunger pangs at night, cravings for non-edible things like sand, rocks, wood. But, we’re obviously looking for awakened or created vampires. They know what they are and probably enjoy it.
MICHAEL:
Created vampires? What do you mean?
ROMAN:
There’s two ways to become a vampire, to be born one or to be made one. Sometimes it’s a fast process. You drink vast quantities of vampiric blood and take a long, deep, nap. Some people might even mistake you for dead. When you wake up, you crave blood and have
ROMAN:
(cont.)
superhuman abilities. Your body just forgets a bunch of its limitations and keeps going. It even forgets it can die. But it hurts like hell for about 48 hours. But that’s just the fast way.
MICHAEL:
The slow way entails...?
ROMAN:
I’m getting there. Vampiric blood is addictive. If you take a little bit at a time, you get there with less pain and less drastic effects. Except, maybe for the hallucinations, you just gradually get healthier, stronger, faster. Some imbecile I knew even suggested it as a cure for cancer and MS.
MICHAEL:
Wait. You said it causes hallucinations.
(pause)
My god, could it be that bloody simple?
ROMAN:
Even if you arrested every drug dealer on Earth, it wouldn’t solve your case. These are vampires you’re dealing with now, not your run-of-the-mill gangbangers.
MICHAEL:
How can you know for sure? Someone’s got to--Oh. Yes, you’re right.
ROMAN:
I know because my family has been waiting centuries for this. Quietly preparing. We’ve trained every generation for this. I always wondered what we do with ourselves if the prophecy never came true.
MICHAEL:
Now, you’re weirding me out.
ROMAN:
No, not yet I’m not. It’s going to get stranger. Polly, go take out your contacts and come back with the box under your bed.
(POLLY nods and leaves.)
ROMAN:
(cont.)
You see, the Falco family has been tailing a hive of vampires--.
MICHAEL:
Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but “hive”?
ROMAN:
Vampires are all interconnected to other vampires related to them by birth or creator. They can see through a connected vampire’s eyes, they call it hive mentality. So, it’s a hive. In any case, we’ve been tailing this particular hive for centuries. It’s one of the only reasons we didn’t stay in Europe. The hive came to the Americas, we followed. And all because some skinny little kid saw the future in his granny’s mirror. He saw that his girlfriend and countless other close to the Falcos would be killed or worse by this hive. Unfortunately, one of the hive members was a very influential man in the church and had the kid run out of town as a heretic. He ran away to Scotland, where the Protestants would hide him for a while and met up with some guy named Alistair, living out in the middle of nowhere. He had another vision, saying that a decendant of Alistair’s would carry a relic that could kill the Hive Lord--the head of the hive--for good. Turns out Alistair was a magician and a silversmith. So he hears this from Falco and makes a special little medal with symbols on it that most vampires consider painful.
MICHAEL:
Holy symbols really can hurt vampires?
ROMAN:
If a person considers something sacred, they can use it to cause the vampire pain or at least hold him at bay temporarily. If a devout Catholic garotted one with a rosary, it might even kill the bastard. In this case, he used a phoenix against the sun and an equal-armed cross.
(MICHAEL takes out his pendant, never looking away from ROMAN.)
ROMAN:
(cont.)
That’s right. WE’ve been waiting for you, Michael MacAllister. You are the descendant of Alistair. You are the one we’ve waited for.
POLLY:
(off-camera)
Uncle Roman?
(We see POLLY in the door, holding a long box. Her eyes are now a brilliant shade of red.)
Emotions are confusing
[Apr. 7th, 2004|01:02 pm]
[
mood
|
indescribable
]
[
music
|
"Life Goes On"- LeAnn Rimes
]
I'm not sure whether to be happy because I'm going to see Tim tomorrow, or sad, because my friend's mother died suddenly last night.
It's a good thing I look good in flared skirts...
[Apr. 10th, 2004|12:57 pm]
[
mood
|
horny
]
[
music
|
"Du Hast Mich"-Rammstein
]
Okay, I have found really cute outfits that I want to wear. The Gothic Lolita look is so cute (unless of course it's a REAL CHILD, in which case some pervo is asking for a butt-kicking). Unfortunately, the outfits are made in Japan, which means they don't carry my size. Anybody know where I can find some little girl type size 22 patterns? Frills are a must.
Somebody pinch me...
[Apr. 10th, 2004|08:48 pm]
[
mood
|
loved
]
[
music
|
"The Reason"-Hoobastank
]
Ladies and Gentlemen, I would make an announcement. On this day, Friday (Freya's Tag, Norse Goddess of Love), April 10th, 2004, Miss Brenna Milagros Graciella Beattie and Mr. Timothy Allen Palmore became engaged. The date of the wedding will be schedualed for four to five years from now. Vivat!
Sigh...
[Apr. 13th, 2004|05:10 pm]
[
mood
|
crappy
]
[
music
|
Black Eyed Peas- "Where Is The Love?"
]
Lexie has Mono, poor thing. Her parents are so worried, she's not even allowed on the phone. I'm worried, too.
Lysy: tried that free-writing... Bradan could do better. It was illegible, made no frelling sense and made me feel oddly uninspired. If I'd thought about it, I'd have saved it for you. But I deleted it in a fit of disgust. Think I'll stick with my old, albeit unorthodox ways.
And now, for a random arguement with the muses...
Kyler: So, when do I get kidnapped?
Me: Not yet, this is a delicate process.
Kyler: F*** delicate processes. Get me kidnapped!
Me: WHY did I have to make you such a rebel?
Kyler: Because you d*** well felt like it.
Me: And why did you develop this salty-arse vocabulary on your lonesome.
Kyler:...
Me: Go pester your Uncle to give you super powers. There's a pork sandwich waiting for me.
Kyler: **biiiiiida** nyeh!
[
mood
|
aggravated
]
ARGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!
Okay! Mardi Gras. Went to restaurant with French class. Won prize for costume. Was feeling good till comp acted up!
[Feb. 24th, 2004|05:26 pm]
I am a SUPER GEEK!
...but I forgot my score...Dang!
1001 yellow daffodils begin to dance in front of you, oh dear...
[Feb. 25th, 2004|04:45 pm]
[
mood
|
hungry
]
[
music
|
Norah Jones-"Sunrise"
]
It's been a crazy day. I'm exhausted. Lent begins today, so I am officially a vegetable-tarian for the next 40 days. Oi. Furthermore, I have amended my fasting so that I can have caffein and sugar...in SMALL doses. Decaf Tea and Coffee, the occasional soda and honey in most everything. Erg...not overly fond of honey. I intend to find a sugar cookie reciepe that uses honey instead. Would that then be a honey cookie? Must investigate.
Didn't have lunch, so my stomach is complaning. What a day...
ARRRRRRRRGH!
[Feb. 26th, 2004|04:45 pm]
[
mood
|
infuriated
]
[
music
|
Jason Mraz- "The Remedy"
]
Last night, I got an application (took them long enough) from WorldCon for the writing contest. I said a few things about possibly not applying this year. Then I said I wish they'd sent notification of my prize sooner, in case I'd won. They must not have heard that, because they all told me that if I didn't write, I wouldn't get notifyed of anything!
The problem is this-
WorldCon has a young writer's competition. You write, they judge and prize. Winners get paid memberships to that year's con and a banquet with the guests. Now, the Con is usually in August or September. I never get notified of my winning or losing until long after the Con. THAT was what I was complaining about! And Ken insisted they wouldn't listen!
I feel like crying now.
Arglefraster
[Feb. 27th, 2004|05:49 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
The sounds of an empty house
]
Ken's in the hospital. My mouth is a mess and I need a dentist, quick. Chris, the equinox is not happening.D*** district competition. Festival my great aunt Sadie!
owowowowowOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!!!
[Mar. 1st, 2004|04:36 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
Jason Mraz- "The Remedy"
]
My mouth still hurts. Also, Have just realized I won't be able to go porn shopping with Lysy and Joon this summer because my b-day is in September. I have several choice words for the Norns if I ever lay hands on them.
The library smells of burnt popcorn...
[Mar. 2nd, 2004|04:51 pm]
[
mood
|
sore
]
[
music
|
All-American Rejects- "Swing Swing"
]
Oi...I have such a headache. But I've joined Gaia and already met somebody on personals. Not getting much money though. I am contemplating some trading except I don't think people would want to buy a peasant dress.
A little help from my friends...
[Mar. 2nd, 2004|07:51 pm]
[
mood
|
thoughtful
]
[
music
|
Law and Order on TV (You tell 'em, McCoy!)
]
Trying to decide on a name to use for self in Amtgard Roleplay. Would appreciate help.
Ryoushi ("hunter")
Alishandra (no meaning, think it sounds pretty)
Arthandra (vague mix of Arth- for "bear" and -Ander for "mankind")
Sharra (no meaning)
Blackstar
Ravenstar
Yukiko ("snow child")
Branwen ("white raven")
Ick
[Mar. 4th, 2004|09:59 pm]
[
mood
|
stressed
]
[
music
|
Good ol fashioned Silence
]
Catching a cold, Gaia Personals Mod scolded me. If I were more rebellious I'd ignore it. But she had a point. Throat feels ooky, Head feels ooky, have french class in the morning, and my eardrum itches.
Roseanne: I'm sorry you're unhappy. Wish I could say more, but it would seem...awkward.
Alysya or Rini: Who's Sylvia and for why does she wiggle?
*beating head against a wall*
[Mar. 5th, 2004|08:44 pm]
[
mood
|
bitchy
]
[
music
|
silence
]
Ya know, for someone who just got out of the hospital, Ken's spending an AWFUL lot of time worrying about MY health. Grrr...
Rargh
Heather: Still can't get into that section of the Coalition. Have you talked to the mod? Can you send me the bits I have to read?
I'm not the weird one anymore...
[Mar. 6th, 2004|05:43 pm]
[
mood
|
lethargic
]
[
music
|
Gorillaz- "Clint Eastwood"
]
I have no problem with the idea of a "toy" with a name. It's just that I think Alysya may have me beat in the weird department. Oh well, maybe I can take my title back by buying The Tribe dvd Boxed set. Of course I'm also getting up early to watch Power Rangers. So I guess I'm still pretty odd.
Thinking about college...
[Mar. 10th, 2004|04:52 pm]
[
mood
|
distressed
]
[
music
|
The ringing in my ears (stupid ear infection)
]
I think I've decided. I mean, I'll take just about anywhere, so long as it's single sex and somewhere nearby. But Sweet Briar has just about stolen my heart. Great Major choices, beautiful campus, horses, a radio station, an artist's colony, horses...
But money will be a serious issue. I'm going to try to get a job this year to start earning up. But I'm really worried.
Sigh.....
[Mar. 11th, 2004|05:09 pm]
[
mood
|
high
]
[
music
|
Outkast- "Hey Ya"
]
According to the doctor, I might have a hyperactive thyroid. Which explains it all. That and I'm recovering from an ear infection. My ear is ringing SO DANG LOUD, I'm almost deaf on the left side. But OH the loverly things they gave me for it. Topical Anesthetic eardrops, codein, amoxicillin horsepills. Sigh... I will now go home and eat my weight in strange delights.
Looks like Morning in your eyes...
[Mar. 12th, 2004|07:01 pm]
[
mood
|
calm
]
[
music
|
Norah Jones- "Sunrise, Sunrise"
]
Saturday should be a day for relaxing. But I have a REALLY busy day. Oh well, I'll have Wednesday off.
Not much to spout about.
ANNA-MAE PATTERNS UPDATE:
Have finally seen real generic boys school uniform and girls gym uniform. The bloomers REALLY ARE that short. The jackets are cool though.
[Mar. 12th, 2004|07:18 pm]
Chris: If you spot the girls, ANY OF THEM, tell them to stop blocking off the good parts. I could use a bit of cheering up. And wrangle Snowstar this way if she's there. Although, knowing her, the fluffy old bat is probably wherever the most snow is.
Laugh if you will, but I still think Jason David Frank and David Yost are hot!
[Mar. 13th, 2004|12:11 pm]
[
mood
|
awake
]
[
music
|
nothing
]
Anime Personality Quiz
Quiz created by Sharra
That surprised me.
Paint the sky with stars...
[Mar. 17th, 2004|01:59 pm]
[
mood
|
determined
]
[
music
|
Enya- "Storms in Africa"
]
Now, how in the heck did THIS happen?
Your a Guradien Angel! Guardien Angels are also
knows as Warrior Angels, because they are the
army of God. Not always meaning that they are
in war, simply that their job is to protect
unwary humans from dark dragons, or other evil
demons. Warrior Angels are not always friendly
with humans, but they will watch over them all
the time. Humans say that when a miracle
happens, thank your guradien angel.
What Kind of ANGEL are you? (For Girls only) This Quiz has amazingly Beautiful Pictures!
brought to you by Quizilla
It's gotten me thinking. If this is my final incarnation, and I'm to ascend when I die (hopefully very old with spades of kidlets and grandkidlets), what will I do with myself? I mean, life hurts and all, but I'll have to do something with myself. I want to protect people. Like that commercial (for what I can't recall). With the little cherubs flying along with the car to protect those inside. But I don't think I'd want to be a toddler. If I could choose what I look like, I'd be stronger and healthier-looking, but friendly. Someone a kid could play with. But, woe to anybody who'd try to hurt the child. I'd suit up in kick-@$$ armor and go in, flaming sword swinging and zaghareeting like Xena. NOBODY touches the kid I defend! Sure, the kid would experience what he or she needs to, but I'm not going to let anything ELSE happen.
Quiz results
[Mar. 17th, 2004|02:12 pm]
[
mood
|
thoughtful
]
[
music
|
Enya- "Marble Halls"
]
This doesn't surprise me.
You are the Goddess of Air. You are very
intuaitive. You inspire other Goddesses since
without you nothing would exist. Your make sure
you are always intuned to your spirtaulality.
Your most definatly one of the most Wisest and
highest consciousness of the Four Goddesses.
Other Air Goddesses Aradia, Arianrhod, Athena,
Nuit, Urania
Which of the Four Elemental Goddesses are you?(With Pics)
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a normal angel. Innocent and pure. Full of
light and hope. You love to be around others,
and really know how to have a good time. You
enjoy hanging around with mortals. You like ti
sing, which you are great at, and like to have
others near you. People are naturally attracted
to your bubbly personaliy, and love to be
around you. Normal angels are always popular,
and have lots of fans. You are happy go lucky,
with an interesting out look on the world.
Though you have experienced pain, that is all
behind you now. You see the bright side to
things, and are always there to help a person
in need. You are quite pretty, with a childish
air, though you know more than others think.
You are a really friendly person. But can be a tad
selfish at times.
You are bright and full of energy.
Better get my shades!
What Type Of Angel Have You Become?
brought to you by Quizilla
Designer-made Hell
[Mar. 20th, 2004|09:30 pm]
[
mood
|
exhausted
]
[
music
|
Funny Ladies of BritCom in background
]
Started the day with a dance rehearsal in HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES! Then had District Competition in MORE HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES! Came home, missed DinoThunder to go grocery shopping (at a REALLY nice new store, but that's beside the point), one got ONE JDF fix instead of two, will only get two this weekend instead of four. F***ing Digimon Marathon. Also, friend Anne is having an awful time of things. I feel horribly bad for her.
Sigh...
Sometimes, it isn't worth chewing through the leather straps.
[Mar. 21st, 2004|09:27 pm]
feel weird tonight. sick.
Feeling better...I think
[Mar. 22nd, 2004|04:51 pm]
[
mood
|
blah
]
[
music
|
J-Rock on the International Channel
]
Poor Roseanne. Really. These Journals are up for people to bitch at. Even if it feels petty or childish, the journal is where we can air out stupidity and feelings that would get bad reactions. She shouldn't feel bad about writing about feeling like crap.
Sword, Screwdriver, Sorrow...
[Mar. 23rd, 2004|04:25 pm]
[
mood
|
drained
]
[
music
|
Charmed Theme Song
]
They are all tools in a sense. What keeps me from picking up a sword to protect myself? Scruples? Not if I feel my life is threatened. Fear? Perhaps, but under the circumstances, I'm more afraid of the buttmunch getting ready to kill me than any jury. Weakness? If it's a light enough sword, I don't think that's the problem. What, then, prevents me from using a tool I have the power to wield? I don't know and it makes me angry.
Today, I was unhappy. A dear friend of mine--who is a bit naive but has her heart in the right place--told me I could choose to be happy. Could I? I tried, Lord knows, I tried. I reminded myself of the saying I have about it being impossible to be unhappy while wearing yellow. After all, I was wearing a new yellow sweatshirt that I had hankered after for months. Nothing. I bought myself a can of my favorite empty sugar drink. Nothing. I even got a bit violent with inanimate objects, which tends to help when I'm in a really ugly mood. Nada, zilch, zippo. Happiness was a tool. So why the heck couldn't I use it? Nothing was holding me back! This fact only made it worse, because, now, I was angry. My friend didn't understand. She kept treating me like I was escpaing the problem, patronizing me even. That sure as sh*t didn't help me, it just made me even more angry.
I don't want mental illness to be my scapegoat. I am my own bloody scapegoat (baa). But, the fact is, I don't behave like my friend. She is lovely and innocent and perfectly well-adjusted. I'm none of these. I adore her, but in order to make her see, I would have to take her on the grand tour of a world she shouldn't have to see. Everything that makes her who she is would come crashing down on her like it did me. I care about her too much. Her innocent joie de vivre is her shield and I fear what might happen if she saw what I have seen. I need help. I know I need help. Help that many of my friends have told me they wish I didn't need and have tried to aid me without it. But if I never ask for help again, I'll ask now.
Love took me by the hand, Love took me by surprise...
[Mar. 24th, 2004|04:38 pm]
[
mood
|
incredibly serene
]
[
music
|
Michelle Branch- "Heaven's Eyes"
]
Saw Rini's collage with pic of Silven. Now I want to do one for me and Tim, but don't have the tools. I only have one picture of the two of us and he's squinting anyway. Have to convince him to take a GOOD picture with me. Will probably use Michelle Branch lyrics. Somebody said I look like her. I guess I do, a tiny bit. Except she's skinny and has better hair. Darn her. All talented and keepin' it real and prettyful.
My friend and I cleared things up. She'd forgotten apparently that I'm a clinical depressive and can't control myself sometimes. I love her like a kid sister, but she's still very naive.**remembers the shade of pink friend turned at the homosexuality reference in French 2** But she's so loveabnle that way. And, no, Tim, we still can't show her, I confirmed that last night.
I think yesterday I got rid of a lot of excess steam and fury. At the moment, I'm at peace with the world. It sucks, it's depressing, there's death everywhere. But, that doesn't bother me. The eye of the storm's gotta come soon. Or maybe it has and the end of the storm is in sight. It's amazing how my whole point of view (point of you) can change so drastically in 24 hours. How I can go from sad and shallow to collected and ponderous in 24 short hours. Suddenly, I love the world and the world tolerates me.
Sorry, Yesterday's song was "Drop in the Ocean"
[Mar. 25th, 2004|04:21 pm]
[
mood
|
drained
]
[
music
|
PotC Score
]
YES! I will soon be writing for Chasing Realities. Oh, the steaminess! **feels the room get stuffier, hair begins to curl, pores open** And me, mopping up the drool.
BTW, I know Sweet means well, but if he wants his choir to be completely dedicated, he should try the local ladies pen. At least there they have little else to look forward to. The fact is, no matter how focused the teenaged girl, when you put them in a room with other teenaged girls of COURSE they aren't going to stay on task. And his joking and straying from the subject doesn't help!
Aiya...
[Mar. 26th, 2004|04:20 pm]
[
mood
|
crappy
]
[
music
|
Michelle Branch-"Goodbye to You"
]
I think I made Heather angry last night. I got home late and was trying to check mail. Then Tim called and Heather IMed, just as mom told me to go to bed. I was a bit terse with Heather, but I was panicking. She seemed upset and then just threw an away message at me.
Now I feel like a bitch.
High Ones, what a day!
[Mar. 27th, 2004|10:07 pm]
[
mood
|
beat
]
[
music
|
Last of the Summer Wine Theme (so purty!)
]
Saw Dad after dance class. Went to Silver Diner and then to the zoo. By the time we arrived, it was closing, but we saw a few animals. Including the cheetah who pointedly ignored EVERYBODY. When we headed home, we got on the blue line instead of the orange and ended up headed towards Springfield instead of Vienna. Had to do a bit of running around to get back.
So many ideas!
[Mar. 30th, 2004|04:47 pm]
[
mood
|
artistic
]
[
music
|
Vanessa Carlton
]
I saw a short film yesterday called The Gamers. V. amusing look into the lives and minds of Roleplayers with a nifty ending. Sadly, there were no girl gamers. That got me thinking...
Okay, seeing as I'm e-mailing this to other people too, I'll cut to the chase. I'm writing a script for a VERY LOW BUDGET film or radio play about chick gamers. There are about eight parts that need to be filled. Yes, there is room for guys. In fact, lots of room. But the "players" will play both their mundane faces and their pcs.
Parts:
Chrissy- Plays Alissandra the White, a paladin. A die-hard Hack-n-Slasher who isn't all that bright. Ends up crushing on...
Daniel- Plays Michael Ironfist, a fighter. The newest member and the ONLY testosterone in the room. Chrissy makes him slightly uncomfortable. But not as much as...
Brittany- Plays Morganel Starflower, a mage. Brittany is a feminist and has trouble dealing with a male in her path. But he'll grow on her. Kid sister of...
Beth- Plays Jewel the Light-fingered, a thief. Beth accepts Daniel and is trying to rein in both her sister and...
?(forgot her name, is written down at home)- Plays Corin Thunderpaw, a ranger/shaman. The only multiclasser and a real nut. She's a veteran gamer, having played since she was eight, and is the memory of the whole gang. She feels less respect and more indulgence towards...
Josie- the long-suffering Gamemistress. Josie has worked with the girls for months and now feels she can trust herself bringing a new player in. Now, she has to keep everyone sane and calm as well as ice down Chrissy's pants.
Comment if y'all are interested
[Mar. 30th, 2004|08:14 pm]
Missing name: Emma
Missing Part: Amber/Sheiva of Laughingcat, a bard and a wiseacre player
Grrrrgh argh grumble, darn muses...
[Mar. 31st, 2004|04:08 pm]
[
mood
|
stick a fork in me I'm done
]
[
music
|
"Sunrise"-Norah Jones
]
My muses are making noises at me again. For more RPGs. These guys have serious ADHD. Will consider the concept before I put it up and decide from there.
Oi...
Only 1 more day before Spring Break. I love living near a major highway. Means they kick us out early on major holidays. Hoody hoo!
[Mar. 31st, 2004|04:17 pm]
|
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
[Apr. 3rd, 2004|11:12 am]
[
mood
|
artistic
]
[
music
|
Butterfly
]
The muses are being good as gold now! I may actually finish the first bit of Full Circle! Oh, joyous day! I will post an update on the State of the Fic tonight!
Memories that Haunt
[Apr. 3rd, 2004|11:51 pm]
[
mood
|
accomplished
]
[
music
|
Red Dwarf
]
(Author's Note- Yes, I KNOW Billy and Trini were never an official item. I know Trini never got pregnant. I KNOW they didn't leave Earth together. It's my fanfic and my universe. No one said I couldn't tweak things to work best into a storyline. I've also twiddled the timeline a bit to accomidate the original character being introduced. I figure Tommy is younger than he lets on. Oh, and the Cuteness quote is courtesy of my best, if biased, reviewer, my Mama.)
Dr. Tommy Oliver stared down at the picture. There was something uncanny in the faces of the three young people that grinned back. There was nothing on their faces to suggest anything other than complete normalcy. It was taken eight months after they'd found out. Eight months after graduation. The pretty, willowy, girl with her angel's face and long black hair. The two rambunctious boys who were barely ready for the coming storm. They were too young for the responsibility. But, they knew what they wanted. She wanted to keep the baby.
He'd remembered the look on the father's face. That odd, nervous grin that was so happy and so afraid at once. Tommy wondered what his own face had looked like. He'd been asked to be the godfather. He vaguely recalled a sensation of dizziness. He was 18, he'd protested weakly. If anything happened, he'd be unable to defend the child. But the little yellow faced girl won his heart after his months of protest. All she had to do was crinkle her forehead and yawn.
"I told you, Tommy," Her mother had said, holding the baby, "Cuteness is a survival skill." He didn't answer. He stood there, awed by the power of a premature, bald, infant.
But, even a sweet face couldn't stop the fact that they couldn't take care of her. When they'd left Earth -- for what reason and where was unknown -- they'd put the little girl in a group home. With Tommy's name as the contact.
"Promise me one thing, Tommy." That last voice rang in his ears. "Never let her get the chance to lose her youth on the same thing we did. Don't let her have kids until she has a degree and don't let her... Well, you know."
Oh, he knew. He was doing it again anyway, along three of his brightest students. They were the ones wasting their teenaged years now, saving the world. He could make someone else's kids be heroes. But, he couldn't let his goddaughter so much as know. It helped that he hadn't seen her in years. Hell, he didn't even know where she was. He wished he did.
Dr. Oliver sat there in the cafe, the picture in his hand, his eyes focused on a distant thought. How old was she? She'd been born in September, it was March... 15, she was 15 years old. Old enough to be hell on wheels, but young enough to be unsteady on her feet. He couldn't even remember her name. Taylor? Amber? Something like that. His own goddaughter and he couldn't remember her name. He was ashamed of himself.
Conner, Ethan and Kira were sitting around one of the cafe tables, attempting to study. Dr. Oliver wasn't joining them that afternoon. Conner kept looking over his shoulder at the science teacher. He had been sitting alone on a couch with a beat-up photo of himself with two other people. He was depressed, it seemed.
"Conner, chill out already," Ethan said, "If Dr. O wants to be by himself, let him."
"Sorry," Conner mumbled, "he just looks so..."
"Depressed?" finished Kira, "It's not really our business, unless he lets us know what it is."
"Yeah, but--!" Conner began.
"Excuse me." Kira looked up. A young girl stood there, with a scrap of paper in her hands. She seemed lost and the dark brown ringlets hanging in her eyes gave her the appearance of some lost urchin. What caught Kira off guard, was the color of the girl's eyes. They were pale phosphorescent green, with just a hint of blue. "I've been all over town," said the girl, "and I was told I could find Dr. Oliver here. Do you happen to know him?" Her voice was a rich high alto, that had the potential to be strong and commanding. At that moment, it was soft and shy.
"Sure," Kira said, "He's over there." She smiled at the girl to try and make her relax. She did, briefly, before tensing again.
"Thank you," the girl whispered. She clutched the paper tighter in her hands and approached the couch carefully.
"Who's she?" asked Ethan. Kira and Connor shrugged.
"Dr. Oliver?"
For the first time in an hour, Tommy pried his eyes from the photograph. There was a young woman standing in front of him. She was old enough be one of his students, but her eyes were older. She wore a battered green shirt and a khaki skirt that, either by design or accident, were too big and made her appear smaller and younger than she must have been. Her curly, dark hair was escaping its knot, forming soft, frantic ringlets around her face and in her incredibly green eyes. The afternoon sunshine touched her freckled cheek, accentuating the roundness of her face. She was 19, he guessed. Or a very well-developed 14. A very scared, well-developed, 14. She glanced about nervously as she spoke. "Am I right? You're Dr. Oliver?" She was clearly worried she had the wrong person.
"Right," He said, "Can I help you?"
"Something like that," said the girl, "At least, that's what I was told at the group home."
Tommy sat up straight. Group home? Was it possible? "What did you say?" His question caused the girl to go rigid where she stood.
"I'm -- I-- I'm sorry!" She began to back away.
"No, wait!" He stopped her, "I didn't mean it that way. What'd they tell you?" He gestured to a seat behind her.
"They said you were my contact about my family," the girl said as she sat down, "It said you're my godfather. Here!" She unfolded a crumpled paper and handed it to him. "A copy of my birth certificate," She explained sheepishly, "Maybe, it'll ring a few bells."
The paper he now held was for a baby girl, 6 lbs. exactly, her length obscured by a careless stain. Her name was Kyler Verity Sakura. Her parents were -- . Tommy looked up at the girl. He remembered now. The face had barely changed. It gained definition where it had been flat, become freckled and taken a rosier tone. But it was still rounded, with a high innocent forehead, pointed chin, and the same eyes as her father. Kyler. That was her name. She looked frightened again. Her hand shot to her neck. "Kyler" drew from her shirt a silver rope chain. An amber shamrock dangled from it. It was Kyler.
"Kyler?" Tommy asked.
She smiled at him. Her smile radiated joy and relief. Tommy felt like he was doing the same.
A new kind of Vampire Movie, recruiting for RPGs...
[Apr. 6th, 2004|02:50 pm]
[
mood
|
calm
]
[
music
|
"The Memory of Trees"- Enya
]
Okay!
Item #1: I will post a segment of Duskfire, my vampire movie, up for perusal and critique this evening. Please note that this is not for tender eyes or anybody under, oh, say, 17, so careful who's around.
Item #2: I am recruiting for two RPGs of mine. One is already up, the other I will not make a group for until I know I can fill at least one team.
1. Checkmate: Queen's Gambit- 4 games in one, each connected by the same premise. 6 teams, based on chess pieces, are fighting to save their world from the fate of Atlantis. Game of Kings is set in a high fantasy world, Game of Champions in a steampunk world (think LXG/Van Helsing/Jules Verne), Game of Balance is in Modern times, and Game of Ages in the future.
2. Crystal Trinity- A Sailor Moon story taking place after Neo-Queen Serenity steps down. Five teams to choose from, Hordes of villan slots. Rather Girly Fluff, Diabetics be Warned.
Anyone interested, contact me. Please people! I'm desperate!Portion of "Duskfire"
[Apr. 6th, 2004|07:41 pm]
[
mood
|
creative
]
[
music
|
Evanescence- "Hello"
]
FLASH TO:
AFTERNOON, ELLA’S DINER, INT.
(A young woman sits alone at a table. She throws down a stained apron and removes her nametag. The tag reads: “KATRINKA”. Her bracelet reads: “TRINKET”. She looks like one, too. Strokeable blond hair, somewhat vacant blue eyes, rosy skin and barely enough meat on her tiny frame to cushion her if she fell. But something in her manner and the set of her jaw speak of a titanium will and a rapier wit. We see MICHAEL approach her and drop the book on the table in front of her. She eyes it, pulls her apron out from under it, and looks up at MICHAEL.)
KATRINKA:
(annoyed)
Whatever it is, you’re the one cops pay to figure this stuff out.
MICHAEL:
(sits)
And you’re the one who bitches about knowing these things and not being able to do a damn thing. So, here’s your chance.
KATRINKA:
How kind of you.
MICHAEL:
What are big brothers for?
KATRINKA:
(opens the book, trying to read it)
What’s your analysis?
MICHAEL:
The Black Arts, or a Hollywood ripoff thereof.
KATRINKA:
Hollywood. I don’t even recognize the script. Looks like pictograms, though.
MICHAEL:
Chinese?
KATRINKA:
Not stylized enough. And the diagrams look vaguely like they were ripped straight from the Necronomicon, the Emerald Tablet, and other texts I can’t name.
MICHAEL:
Can’t or won’t, Trinket?
KATRINKA:
Can’t. I don’t remember them and good luck finding them at the library.
(stops on a page)
Hello! What do we have here?
MICHAEL:
What?
KATRINKA:
Take a look at this!
(swings the book around for him)
(CLOSE UP of the pages. The righthand page is full of dark red pictograms, a few written in dark blue. It’s also been carefully illuminated with fading gilt, nearly rubbed away by centuries of faithful caresses. The lefthand page displays a diagram of a large disk displaying a bird, wings spread, against a sun. More pictograms scroll around it in dark red, and suddenly end in four purple pictograms.)
KATRINKA:
(cont.)
Where have we seen that before?
FLASH TO:
MICHAEL’S NIGHTMARE #1.
(Trees loom around and a circle of young people in golden robes move in a haunting circle dance, chanting. The vision goes red. FLASH back to the DINER.)
KATRINKA:
(concerned)
Mikey? Are you feeling okay? You look...spacey.
MICHAEL:
(shaken but steady voiced)
I’m fine. I just let my mind wander for a second.
KATRINKA:
You’re not exactly in a job that allows for that, you know. Even, if all you are officially is a writer. Speaking of which, how’s your history of the Golden Dawn coming?
MICHAEL:
Pitifully. None of my contacts will say “boo” to me anymore after the Rosicrucian fiasco.
(Over KATRINKA’s shoulder, we see a dark, handsome, man sitting at the counter. He is in his early to mid 40s and small boned. A gold hoop earring glitters in the ear turned to us. He eyes MICHAEL in fascination, like an astronomer staring at a new star. He twists a silver ring set with a blue stone on his index finger and signals for the check.)
MICHAEL:
Listen, Trinket, I’d love to stick around, but I should get home and get this started. I’ll pick up groceries on my way.
(rises to leave, pecks his sister on the forehead)
KATRINKA:
Stay safe, Mikey. Ciao.
(As MICHAEL leaves, he sees a folded paper napkin on the floor and the retreating back of our friend from the counter. He picks it up and attempts to follow the man. But the moment he steps out the door, the man is gone. He looks around for a car leaving, a silhouette walking away. There is nothing to indicate that he existed. MICHAEL looks down at the napkin and finds it has “MICHAEL MACALLISTER” written in hasty cursive across it. He opens it, to find a phone number--571-555-1313 the words “see me if you get stuck”.)
CLOSE UP:
MICHAEL’S HAND
(He shoves the napkin into his pocket. Then, he walks away quickly.)
My muses are evil.
[Apr. 7th, 2004|01:34 am]
[
mood
|
frustrated
]
[
music
|
Alysya's voice
]
All right then here's a better section.
FLASH TO:
SLEEPING PORCH, INT.
(MICHAEL sits on an overstuffed sofa as ROMAN moves about clearing up a bit. The book sits on MICHAEL’S lap. The cat has entered and is curling around his feet, quite pleased with herself and this new human. POLLY, a tall, dark, girl in an orange and yellow sundress, carries a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. She sets the tray on the table and starts to leave.)
ROMAN:
Go get a glass for yourself, Polly. You’re included in this.
POLLY:
(quietly delighted)
Yes, sir.
ROMAN:
(as she leaves)
My niece and apprentice, Polly. She lives here when school’s out.
MICHAEL:
She looks about my sister’s age. How old is she?
ROMAN:
18 on the 21st. If she lives that long, it’ll be a miracle. Now, let’s see this little troublemaker.
(MICHAEL places the book on the table and opens it)
ROMAN:
(cont., whistles)
Well, well, well. The past comes back to haunt us all.
MICHAEL:
What?
ROMAN:
(oblivious)
Yes, yes, now it’s all clear. Roman, you clever bastard, they can’t see over their own noses.
MICHAEL:
What’s clear?
POLLY:
(off-camera)
No use talking to him when he’s in the zone.
(MICHAEL turns and sees POLLY in the door with a empty glass in her hand. We see her now in all her exotic splendor. The way the sunlight hits her should make her glow. She should seem like some dark goddess, rich and strange.)
POLLY:
(cont.)
He’ll be back to his usual sociable self in a moment or two.
(sits)
MICHAEL:
I take it, this is hardly a rare occurence.
POLLY:
He’s a fortune teller. When he sees something that needs attention, he pays it double. He’s been trying to teach me all about concentration and knowing the paths into a person’s mind that show you fate and memories. I guess I just fidget about too much to be good at it.
ROMAN:
(looks up)
Don’t let her sell herself short! She just needs a little mental discipline. Nothing a martial art or yoga wouldn’t clear up!
POLLY:
You make it sound as simple as acne.
ROMAN:
Child’s play, I can assure you.
(looks back down)
Well, now isn’t this interesting. Polly, tell me what you know about vampires.
POLLY:
Which ones?
ROMAN:
The real ones.
MICHAEL:
Whoa, hold it! Vampires? Real vampires? I’m sorry, I was under the impression you could give me some actual help!
ROMAN:
We can. If you’re open-minded enough to sit still through a stern jester’s ravings and see the blood-eyed lady.
MICHAEL:
What?
POLLY:
Uncle Roman, is this the time to get all dramatic and esoteric on people?
ROMAN:
Well, hell, it worked for Blavatsky!
POLLY:
(to MICHAEL)
Mr. MacAllister, please, don’t leave yet. My uncle knows what he’s talking about. So do I.
MICHAEL:
(exasperated)
All right. Nowhere to go but forward.
POLLY:
Well, There are two basic kinds of vampires in this world. There are energy vampires and true vampires. From what I’ve read in the papers, you really aren’t looking for the energy vampires. You have to watch out for the ones who feed on blood.
MICHAEL:
So, what are we looking for? Goths? Dracula look-alikes?
POLLY:
Possibly. But a vampire’s best defense is camouflage. They walk in the shadows people are least likely to look in. Just about anybody could be a vampire. Some people don’t even know their vampires until they lash out at the people the care about.
MICHAEL:
No warning signs at all?
POLLY:
There are warning signs, just not ones that people pick up on. Chronic nightmares or vivid dreams, feelings of deja-vu in destructive or stressful situations, unexplainable hunger pangs at night, cravings for non-edible things like sand, rocks, wood. But, we’re obviously looking for awakened or created vampires. They know what they are and probably enjoy it.
MICHAEL:
Created vampires? What do you mean?
ROMAN:
There’s two ways to become a vampire, to be born one or to be made one. Sometimes it’s a fast process. You drink vast quantities of vampiric blood and take a long, deep, nap. Some people might even mistake you for dead. When you wake up, you crave blood and have
ROMAN:
(cont.)
superhuman abilities. Your body just forgets a bunch of its limitations and keeps going. It even forgets it can die. But it hurts like hell for about 48 hours. But that’s just the fast way.
MICHAEL:
The slow way entails...?
ROMAN:
I’m getting there. Vampiric blood is addictive. If you take a little bit at a time, you get there with less pain and less drastic effects. Except, maybe for the hallucinations, you just gradually get healthier, stronger, faster. Some imbecile I knew even suggested it as a cure for cancer and MS.
MICHAEL:
Wait. You said it causes hallucinations.
(pause)
My god, could it be that bloody simple?
ROMAN:
Even if you arrested every drug dealer on Earth, it wouldn’t solve your case. These are vampires you’re dealing with now, not your run-of-the-mill gangbangers.
MICHAEL:
How can you know for sure? Someone’s got to--Oh. Yes, you’re right.
ROMAN:
I know because my family has been waiting centuries for this. Quietly preparing. We’ve trained every generation for this. I always wondered what we do with ourselves if the prophecy never came true.
MICHAEL:
Now, you’re weirding me out.
ROMAN:
No, not yet I’m not. It’s going to get stranger. Polly, go take out your contacts and come back with the box under your bed.
(POLLY nods and leaves.)
ROMAN:
(cont.)
You see, the Falco family has been tailing a hive of vampires--.
MICHAEL:
Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but “hive”?
ROMAN:
Vampires are all interconnected to other vampires related to them by birth or creator. They can see through a connected vampire’s eyes, they call it hive mentality. So, it’s a hive. In any case, we’ve been tailing this particular hive for centuries. It’s one of the only reasons we didn’t stay in Europe. The hive came to the Americas, we followed. And all because some skinny little kid saw the future in his granny’s mirror. He saw that his girlfriend and countless other close to the Falcos would be killed or worse by this hive. Unfortunately, one of the hive members was a very influential man in the church and had the kid run out of town as a heretic. He ran away to Scotland, where the Protestants would hide him for a while and met up with some guy named Alistair, living out in the middle of nowhere. He had another vision, saying that a decendant of Alistair’s would carry a relic that could kill the Hive Lord--the head of the hive--for good. Turns out Alistair was a magician and a silversmith. So he hears this from Falco and makes a special little medal with symbols on it that most vampires consider painful.
MICHAEL:
Holy symbols really can hurt vampires?
ROMAN:
If a person considers something sacred, they can use it to cause the vampire pain or at least hold him at bay temporarily. If a devout Catholic garotted one with a rosary, it might even kill the bastard. In this case, he used a phoenix against the sun and an equal-armed cross.
(MICHAEL takes out his pendant, never looking away from ROMAN.)
ROMAN:
(cont.)
That’s right. WE’ve been waiting for you, Michael MacAllister. You are the descendant of Alistair. You are the one we’ve waited for.
POLLY:
(off-camera)
Uncle Roman?
(We see POLLY in the door, holding a long box. Her eyes are now a brilliant shade of red.)
Emotions are confusing
[Apr. 7th, 2004|01:02 pm]
[
mood
|
indescribable
]
[
music
|
"Life Goes On"- LeAnn Rimes
]
I'm not sure whether to be happy because I'm going to see Tim tomorrow, or sad, because my friend's mother died suddenly last night.
It's a good thing I look good in flared skirts...
[Apr. 10th, 2004|12:57 pm]
[
mood
|
horny
]
[
music
|
"Du Hast Mich"-Rammstein
]
Okay, I have found really cute outfits that I want to wear. The Gothic Lolita look is so cute (unless of course it's a REAL CHILD, in which case some pervo is asking for a butt-kicking). Unfortunately, the outfits are made in Japan, which means they don't carry my size. Anybody know where I can find some little girl type size 22 patterns? Frills are a must.
Somebody pinch me...
[Apr. 10th, 2004|08:48 pm]
[
mood
|
loved
]
[
music
|
"The Reason"-Hoobastank
]
Ladies and Gentlemen, I would make an announcement. On this day, Friday (Freya's Tag, Norse Goddess of Love), April 10th, 2004, Miss Brenna Milagros Graciella Beattie and Mr. Timothy Allen Palmore became engaged. The date of the wedding will be schedualed for four to five years from now. Vivat!
Sigh...
[Apr. 13th, 2004|05:10 pm]
[
mood
|
crappy
]
[
music
|
Black Eyed Peas- "Where Is The Love?"
]
Lexie has Mono, poor thing. Her parents are so worried, she's not even allowed on the phone. I'm worried, too.
Lysy: tried that free-writing... Bradan could do better. It was illegible, made no frelling sense and made me feel oddly uninspired. If I'd thought about it, I'd have saved it for you. But I deleted it in a fit of disgust. Think I'll stick with my old, albeit unorthodox ways.
And now, for a random arguement with the muses...
Kyler: So, when do I get kidnapped?
Me: Not yet, this is a delicate process.
Kyler: F*** delicate processes. Get me kidnapped!
Me: WHY did I have to make you such a rebel?
Kyler: Because you d*** well felt like it.
Me: And why did you develop this salty-arse vocabulary on your lonesome.
Kyler:...
Me: Go pester your Uncle to give you super powers. There's a pork sandwich waiting for me.
Kyler: **biiiiiida** nyeh!
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