Second stage of grief...

~ Aiden didn't return to his room until much later that night. He was satisfyingly exhausted, wet from the rain that just kept coming, and, for one of the first times in his life, just a little bit drunk.
Unfortunately, he was abruptly sobered when he switched on the lights to find his cat and the dragon sitting on the table, apparently having just been interrupted from a deep conversation.
Aiden stood in the door for a bit, silently dripping, taking in the peaceful, if not common, scene.
"I thought you were leaving." There was no question to it, just resignation. Aiden closed the door, shed his coat and sat on the bed. He leaned forward, maybe swaying just a tiny bit. For some reason he suddenly got the impression that the dragon was sympathetic. It made Aiden a little angry. The dragon shook his tiny head.
"No, no I wasn't actually. Even if I'd wanted to though, how could I? You locked the door."
"There's a lovely balcony just outside that's perfect for jumping off of." Aiden muttered fiercely. ~
~ I made this.

It seemed so natural...

Benji asked me if there was anything that I really would just love to do with my life. My answer: "There's lots of things that I'd like to try." Like and try being the key words there. Devote and commit are both terms that I don't seem to be a huge fan of.
I realized that there are some things that I would actually really love to devote myself to. I would love to be a writer. Not like I am now, but a published writer. One making money. To that end, my goal for the moment is to continue working on Aiden's story and try to get that published. Of all my stories I think that that is the one that probably has the most potential as far as my ability to write goes, and has a relatively concise and complete plot line that doesn't exactly require time consuming research. Is it good enough to be published? I don't know. We'll see won't we.
Another thing that I'd love to keep doing is improv. Easy enough while I'm still in school but what about afterwards? Again, will I ever be good enough to really be considered for any kind of professional group?
Thing number three: I believe that I would love to have a coffee shop. Would I like to have to take care of the actual business aspects of it? Maybe not so much.

For now what I'm going to do is dedicate one evening a week to writing. Probably Thursday or Friday. I haven't really decided yet. That added to what I normally write in a week is not a bad amount. Not enough to make a living on obviously, but then I'm not trying to make a living, I'm trying to have a book published.
That being the case I will probably from here on out not be posting everything I write about Aiden. I'm sure I'll not stop entirely, but the things I do post may not necessarily follow one another.
Wish me luck.

A goodbye of sorts...

I found out Thursday that Roger Bennett, singer, song writer and pianist for Legacy 5, died on March 17th. It was a very strange feeling indeed. I believe that the world has lost a good man and an amazing musician. May his gain be as great.

Captain's log - Stardate: 682523573.954751...

As you will know, having read this site faithfully Faithful Reader, I have been using my entrance into class as acting practice. Some days the effort was rendered null by circumstances such as: Arriving to the room before anyone else. The days when I did take on a personality/character I immediately wrote down what I thought my level of success was and perhaps a couple of observations on the technique/audience. The following is an exact transcript of that log.

Thur 5/17 - Business-like - Successful, easy.
Fri 5/18 - Shy - Successful, not incredibly easy, hard not to make eye contact.
Mon 5/21 - Excited Little Kid - Hard to tell, not easy. Sitting down easiest part.
Tue 5/22 - Stealthy - Not very successful, hard to be stealthy in flip flops w/ noisy rolling chairs. However, great contrast from yesterday so still good.
Wed 5/23 - Bored - Moderately successful, drug feet, somnolent look on face, shoulders hunched, sat heavily. Hardly anybody looking!
Thur 5/24 - Confused - Successful, easy to do, paused often and just inside door looking around, took some time to "choose" my seat. The only issue, freaking people aren't looking much!
Fri 5/25 - Aiden - Successful, very easy, not extremely overt, but neither is he.
Thur 5/31 - Belligerent - Moderately successful, not easy. Banged things, stomped, wasn't sure what facial expressions to do. Got attention due to noisiness.
Fri 6/01 - Jared - Easy, mostly successful. Had to talk to someone and that encroached on the masculine believability.
Tue 6/05 - Librarian - Successful, easy. Carrying books, stereotypical walk.
Wed 6/06 - Edwin - Partially successful, easy, somewhat subdued for him.

There you have it peeps. I've not decided yet whether to continue this challenge into next module. We'll see I guess. I will say that it is a lot harder then you might think, but I believe that it is fantastic practice for improvisationalists or anyone involved with stage. The fact that you are not given the opportunity to talk and that you have such a short space of time to convey an impression in makes it crucial that you use every single action to the greatest extent in the endeavor. It is quite the experience.

He may never have seen me, but I had to explain it to everybody anyway...

Edit: Since I have gotten several comments from people thinking that this is a bit on the creepy side I have decided to write in a bit of an explanation for it.
This piece is not in any way meant to stand alone. It is actually part of a bigger scene in a much bigger story of which you regular readers know little, if any. The "I" in this story is not a stalker, she actually knows, and is in an intimate relationship with the man in question. This isn't the first time she's seen him butt naked. They will eventually marry, though in this scene that hasn't happened yet. The last line of the bit posted refers to the fact that no matter what happens (and it's a lot, believe you me) she will always remember him in that wild yet peaceful setting.
The reason this was posted as is rather then going into all that gory detail in the first place is because I have been lately trying to put special effort into creating not just a piece of writing, but inspiring a vivid picture in the reader's mind. I thought that this scene didn't do half bad in trying to attain that goal. It's very vivid in my mind at any rate.

~ I happened upon him as in a dream.

He lay on his stomach on the rock verge. His hair, lying in black curls against his neck, still damp from swimming, his clothes off to the side in a state of neat abandonment.

The afternoon sun, sifting through the lush canopy, splashed his body with yellow and green, glinting gold on droplets being pulled by gravity off the masculine contours. Slipping back to the earth from brown legs, caressing the smooth skin of back and arms.

Eyes closed, a look of infinite peace graced his lips.

Water turned gems hung on his dark eyelashes until they suddenly fell, losing their place due to some minuscule movement.

The smooth, sun-warmed stone seemed to cradle him, his lithe body fitting the surroundings so well that it appeared they'd been brought into existence together. They belonged to this place, quiet, savage, unmarred, wild, unknowably serene.

He began to stir and I backed into the protection of forest cover. I did not want him to know that I'd intruded.

He never saw me, but I'll always remember him. ~


~ From my world.

The lecture...

~ Jared, standing shoulders back and feet wide, a powerful scowl tightening his lips, was clearly in the midst of a good seethe. Just when Ally began to think that she might be able to walk away and perhaps he wouldn't even see it through the haze of red, he decided to respond.
"Well I'll tell ya how I feel about it. I'm infuriated! What the heck made you think that you didn't have to call?"
Allison came dangerously close to rolling her eyes. "I didn't think it would be that big a deal."
"Well I've got an update for ya. It's a huge deal." He paused to close his eyes and shake his head. "You know the rules and you decided to disregard them. You won't be going out again any time soon."
Ally looked absolutely scandalized. "How long?" She demanded.
"I don't know, I haven't decided yet. But rest assured it will be a good long while."
If looks could kill Jared would have done well to have had his affairs in order. His daughter stormed up the stairs and slammed her door with as much force as she thought she could get away with. ~
~ All mine

The falling out...

~ Wayne's face was getting redder in direct proportion to the escalating conversation.
"You're just jealous and you won't admit it!"
Ben, contrary to his usual composure during arguments, was remaining quite calm.
"What if I do admit it? That would prove you wrong."
Ben counted two beats of silence before Wayne seemed to decide that he'd actually heard right.
"What? How would that prove me wrong?"
"You said that I wouldn't admit that I was jealous, so if I did it would cast doubt on the rest of your argument as well."
This time there were at least four beats as Wayne glared at Ben's placid smile.
"No it wouldn't. That's stupid!"
Wayne turned on his heel and made for the door. Ben, always a fan of having the last word, murmured, "Says the loser."
He fancied he could see the carpet bunch up in front of Wayne as he skidded to a halt. He turned around very, very slowly.
"I'm going to walk out that door now and you're not going to say one more word because if you do I'm going to come back in here and I swear you'll wish I hadn't. Alright?"
Ben considered his options. Let Wayne go without finishing the argument in his favor or antagonize him further, possibly incurring the wrath of Debbie and making Wayne mad enough that he might not want to be friends anymore. Ben decided to let him go.
With at least a dozen rejoinders running through his head as he watched Wayne make his exit, that proved to be something easier said then done.
When the door was firmly shut and he had waited a minute for Wayne to leave earshot he reviewed his comebacks, chose the least mature of the lot, and yelled it at the empty room.
"Your mom!" ~
~ All mine

That's just ridiculous...

~ Aiden paced the room compulsively. The dragon watched him. Adrasteia watched the dragon. Aiden knew well and good that he'd never had control of his life, lately though he could feel the tenuous resemblance of a grasp that he did have slipping out of his hands at an alarming rate. He halted suddenly, directly in front of the dragon.
"Why are you here? Why did you speak to me? Am I going crazy? Who sent you?" The dragon gazed at him seriously.
"You're a very lucky man you know."
"Lucky? Are you insane? Every bad thing that could possibly happen to me has!" The dragon raised one green, delicately feathered eyebrow."You're alive aren't you? Do you want to know why?"
Without a hint of sarcasm or bitterness Aiden guessed, "Because I'm to stupid to do myself in?" The dragon gave him a scathing look.
"No. You have survived thus far because, and only because I might add, Luck decided to mediate on your behalf. How could you not know this?"
If Aiden were not the type of man in possession of a good amount of seriously well-honed will power he would have rejoined with, "I don't believe in luck." or something else as deeply sacrilegious. It would have been honest, yes, but somehow he got the impression that it would also have been extraordinarily offensive to at least one individual present. That being the case, he kept his thoughts to himself. He'd never found the concept of luck all that compelling. The very foundation of it all insinuated that one would likely have good luck at some point in their life. That threw Aiden off right there.
"So luck mediated for me ey? How so exactly?"Aiden had always wondered if dragons could roll their eyes and for a second he thought he'd find out.
"Think Aiden! You were not in your house when it was razed. You were not is your last car when those two desperate bank robbers requisitioned it. You were not in the one before that when it was jerked into that wormhole." Aiden blinked. "You're family went on vacation the week the daycare had their gas leak. Mt St. Helens erupted one day, five hours and 13 minutes after you left the North face. You left early because you broke your leg remember? You had to wait 14 seconds for a urinal and consequently that power line fell on the car four places in front of yours. That was a plastic knife you stuck in the electrical outlet when you were two. That flight that you were bumped off of because it was full, causing you to spend Christmas in the airport, that flight was hijacked. Yes Aiden, all these years you've thought that the Universe was out to get you. Well you were right. But all these years Luck has been working night and day to keep you from shuffling off this mortal coil and you've not given him a second thought. What have you got to say about that?"
The dragon waited. Aiden simply stared at it, his expression as unreadable as bicycle assembly instructions to a sleep deprived drunk man. The moment stretched long. Suddenly Aiden began to laugh. Not a pleasant, friendly chuckle either, this was an abrupt, twisted, edging-towards-hysteria kind of laugh.
Aiden laughed for a very long time. He stopped, composed his features, wiped his eyes and said, "I understand now. It has all been made perfectly clear to me." The dragon looked pleased for just a moment. "I have finally gone off the deep end and you, my fine jade friend, are a figment of my imagination." The dragon looked hurt and scandalized.
"That's not true. I'm afraid mental illness would be the easy way out."
"Nevertheless I'm going to take it. It's about time I got to go the "easy way". I'm going to eat dinner now and I sincerely hope that when I get back you'll be gone. I've had enough."
Adrasteia and the dragon watched silently as Aiden gathered keys, coat and wallet and left the room without giving either a second glance. ~
~ I made this!

The things I take as goals...

During this 4 week module I am in a psychology class. Here's the funny thing about that class: When you walk in the door, people look at you. The seats are situated in such a way (tables in a horseshoe type shape set on graduating lecture hall steps) that when you come in the door at the back of the class everyone has a chance to look at you without turning their head more then 90 degrees. So they do. This fact inspired me to take it as a personal challenge to walk in that door every day for the remaining 3 weeks of class embodying a different persona. The day before yesterday I was business-like, that's not hard at all. Yesterday I was shy, a bit more challenging. I have begun to compile a list of the moods/personalities that I plan to take on. (If you have any suggestions do speak up.)
Here's the kicker: I basically have about 20 feet to convey these. A couple seconds after I get to my seat the game is over, first of all because people are no longer looking at you so it doesn't matter, and secondly because I'm not interested in trying to act different for 2 hours and 10 minutes when all I'd really be doing is sitting there.
My hope is that I will be good enough that anyone walking behind me would see a marked change in my stance/aura as soon as I open that door, and anyone watching me enter from day to day would be confused.
The irony of the situation? It's a class on stereotypes.

The tempest cometh...

~ The wind forced leaves, skittering and scraping, across the worn paving stones in big noisy gusts. It was these kinds of wind, you instinctively knew, that were the harbingers of great thunderstorms. The sky, clear blue just hours before, was rapidly growing dark. The pallid and reluctant sunlight had a gray-green tint to it. The scent of the air brought an unbidden and frightening thrill to the stomach.
The Tempest cometh. ~
~ All mine

I think most of you know that I love the internet. With the passion of a zealot. I love the access if gives me to resources that I'd have a hard time coming up with on my own otherwise. Wouldn't ya know then that my connection is down. Possibly due to some new and fantastically efficient breed of spyware which my poor computer just didn't have a snowball's chance of handling. This being the case I am now conducting all internet business that I have in a computer lab and am now going to try three different brands of virus scanner to see if we can't oust the little bugger. Oh technology, I hardly knew thee...

The dream quest...

~ Trepidation filled me as we neared the forest's boundary. I stared down the path, willing my eyes to adjust to the profound blackness within. Suspicion and fear lurked in shadow form.
I switched on my flashlight briefly, testing it. A short moment of reassuring brightness was followed by an almost imperceptible dimming. I didn't know who I was trying to fool, these batteries wouldn't last long.
The path dipped close to the water, well worn, but disconcertingly rutted. This had to be done.
I stepped into darkness's embrace. ~
~ From my world

A disturbing conversation...

~ "Master Diamon, a telephone call for you."
"Oh, thank you Phillip." Jacob took possession of the phone wondering if white gloves hadn't indeed gone out with the 30's. Not that he didn't like the staff to look spiffy, just seemed a bit starched. "Hello?"
"Jacob. What are you doing at Uncle Woodworth's? I've spent all day trying to track you down. Where are mom and dad?"
"Well it's good to hear from you again too Aiden!" The sarcasm dripping from Jacob's voice really should have been collected for the manufacture of artificial sweetener. "Come on bro, I haven't talked to you for weeks! If you must know right away, the pure and simple facts, unbuffered by any of the usual pleasantries or salutations, are these: I am staying at Uncle Woodworth's because he kindly agreed to put me up while I'm on holiday from university.
I couldn't reside at the family estate because mom and dad have leased it out while they are traveling to tour the Swiss Alps and taste beer in Germany.
You didn't know all of this sooner because I couldn't get ahold of you. I tried your house many a time."
Aiden contemplated what he'd been told. He vividly imagined a phone ringing heartily, buried somewhere deep in the midst of the decimated building materials that he'd called home for a short period of time.
Jacob, cheerfully oblivious, was the person to break that reverie.
"So listen, I'm gonna be coming to Mexico next week for some surfing, maybe I could nip back up to the States and hang out with you for a bit. Hey! I could finally see that house of yours! What's it been? A year since you moved in?"
There was a pause that must have been in it's second or third trimester.
"Jacob, have you talked to mom or dad at all in the last three days?"
"No, not since they left." Jacob admitted lightheartedly. "Why? What's up?" For the first time a tiny element of doubt insinuated itself into his voice.
"My house is gone Jacob."
"Gone? What do you mean gone? You sold it?"
"No...It exploded."
"My gosh! Are you alright? You weren't in it when it happened were you? Of course not, you'd be dead. I mean...My gosh."
"I'm fine. I was in the driveway."
A little shiver ran up Jacob's spine. Aiden sounded like he was talking about the weather. Sounded like he'd been expecting this to happen.
"Well what are you going to do? Where are you now?"
"I'm currently sleeping at a hotel. I'm going to wait for the insurance claim to go through and then I imagine I'll find another place to live."
There was another pause and Aiden wondered what Jacob was thinking. He found out soon enough.
"Well that sounds just bully Aiden. Creative as well. Totally off the wall really. However did you come up with that?"
"You've no call for sarcasm Jacob. Unless you have a better plan then mine. Do you?"
Aiden's voice was completely level, so level water would have pooled on it, but Jacob could easily imagine the irritated look on his face. It wouldn't be obvious. If you didn't know him you might miss it. If you did know him though, it would hit you like the proverbial ton of bricks. Jacob knew that Aiden was nearing his limit and so reigned in his shock and curiosity accordingly. Aiden was unflappable, yes. Immune to trauma, no.
"Sorry Aiden. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you need?"
"What I need you can't give me Jake, but thanks for offering."
Aiden sounded tired. Tired and alone. And he was. ~
~ Me again

Wanderings in the dark of the night...

Do you ever have a moment when you feel so connected to the world? That for a second the universe is completely surreal and either you have it wrapped around your little finger or it has you? When you can feel the heart beat of the earth all around you. The pulse of all humanity and nature throbbing beneath your feet. In that moment you'd believe in anything. You could fly if you wanted. You are a child of Gaea and she loves you.
Sometimes it induces introspection, sometimes the absolute abandonment of all things personal. Sometimes the moment is gone as quickly as it struck you.
They say that the sane are those who wonder if they're insane. What of those who embrace insanity?
In an infirm world the whole are the strange ones.

The unavoidable encounter...

~ When Aiden walked through the door Adrasteia was already alert. He'd brought something back with him.
Aiden pulled the dragon, once again still, from his pocket and set it on the table. Adrasteia leapt up, all business, wiry muscle and fluid iron determination. She looked it over carefully, sniffed it from all angles and gave it a push with one paw. Just as Aiden began thinking that maybe the decorative item would remain a decorative item, he heard the voice again.
"Peace Guardian Adrasteia, Sacred Keeper I mean your charge no harm."
Aiden's jaw dropped as he watched his cat consider the words, apparently weighing their honesty, glance at him, and then retire to the windowsill.
The dragon's talons made little clinking noises as it walked across the polished tabletop. For being made of stone it actually moved quite gracefully, Aiden realized. ~
~ All mine.

A fortuitous talent...

~ As men go Jacob Diamon was noticeably unspectacular, a talent that he'd used to his advantage many a time, particularly as a young schoolboy.
Unknowingly aiding towards those same ends his older brother Aiden was all to noticeable, accentuating Jacob's "blendability" just that much more. With the trouble Aiden had had in school, Jacob's reliable B and C record and habit of, in general, simply staying under the radar was something of a relief to their parents.
It wasn't that Aiden was slow or intentionally disruptive. He had always carefully maintained his position at or near the top of the class. Always been respectful and undemonstrative. No, it was more the case that everyone, fellow students and teachers alike, were disturbed by his unnaturally calm, imperturbable air. That, and things always happened around him. Strange things. Unexplainable things.
Jacob, and in fact most of the people surrounding his big brother, never once actually believed that Aiden was responsible for the unusual goings on, you couldn't help but wonder after the correlation though. Who else had bike tires, completely new ones, that went flat every single day by the time class was out through the entire 4th, 5th and 6th grades? As with everything else Aiden met this with unfailing resignation. He carried a tire pump in his backpack. ~
~ I made this!

Something no smart housewife should do without...

..."What's that?" you're no doubt wondering. Well I'll tell you. But first, have you seen the music video for the song "Satisfaction" by Benny Benassi? No? Well then hurry and crank up that sound and click this link man! There's no time to waste! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDfR0aQaINc

There. You like that? I've no doubt. Leave those speakers turned up! Now click on this link. Don't ask questions! Just do it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqkASIHemeA

Yeah! Now we're talking ey!? Probably the best video to hit the tubes of the internets since sliced bread right? I concur without equivocation. I bet you're wondering who all those sexy men are aren't ya? They're friends of mine and members of an awesome group called the Ship of Fools.

Mad props to all of them for bopping about campus during Grand Prix weekend to film this, but especially to Stu for the idea of the production in the first place and his direction thereof and to Alex for his stellar editing work (was that sound syncing not flawless?). Love you guys!

Congratulations reader! If you've followed all instructions to the letter you have been inducted into the proud and vast ranks of those who have been witness to "Foolish Satisfaction" something that, indeed, no smart housewife should do without. Do share the experience with all your friends and relatives, you know they'll love it. Or be offended by it. A win/win situation really.

As Oscar Wilde wrote...

..."I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train."
Last night when I couldn't sleep I flipped to the very front of my journal (this one started, completely by coincidence, on the first of the year) and began reading through it. First off I was surprised to find that I have a few scenes, a couple of them quite short, that I had forgotten about writing but actually have some, in my opinion, quite good lines in them. Hopefully some time in the near future, now that they have been brought to my attention, I will tweak a few of them into a final draft and post them on here.
Something that I have wondered about is what will become of my journals once I kick the bucket, should they still be in existence. They are not exactly something that I would want just any Tom, Dick or Larry perusing, but I believe that I would like someone to read them. I think we all want to leave a legacy right? Hopefully that won't be the extent of mine, but you know, just in case.
I don't know that they will mean anything to anyone else, but I do hope that they will be treated like what they are, a window into my mind. I also hope that my writing is by now good enough that when someone reads the entries they will hear my voice.
A thought is quite a sacred thing at times.

Things don't go as I plan...

...Which is great cause today was crazy awesome and it was nothing whatsoever like I had planned.
While I was at work Benji messaged to suggest taking advantage of the gorgeous weather and playing outside for awhile. I was hip for that and as it turned out he met me when my shift ended and a short while later we rendezvoused with several of the Fools in Memorial Mall for a bit of frisbee throwing. Tripod is surprisingly good at that. Me and Cowboy also got a chance to showcase our spectacular disk throwing and catching prowess. We've got some crazy moves! The one I'm best at is known in the pro circles as "Missing the frisbee". It's pretty fantastic!
When we'd had our fill of that, we trooped over to the Beering fountain to get wet. And we did. After that it was decided that while we were at it we may as well hit the Engineering fountain as well.
During all this the desire for smoothies spread throughout the group like bubonic plague in Eurasia and hence we made our way across campus to satisfy that urging, thankfully not getting sniped on the way. Something can be said for keeping a constant lookout. Smoothies in hand we ran around the corner for some Subway because they not only allow you to eat fresh there, they encourage it.
After delicious sub sandwiches we parted ways, all satisfied, most still damp at the least, flush with the pleasure of spending three hours in the company of great friends.
Crazy awesome day!

"It's all a problem with body image. My ultimate image is a skinny, geeky, pasty white boy and I have attained that. I am a god in my own eyes!" ~ Tripod

"I'll take what's behind bachelor number two." ~ Kamikaze

Perhaps tonight I'll sleep again...

~ Each night sleep evades me. I lie awake in the dark and contemplate my exhaustion.
Each afternoon I lie down for a short rest. I read for awhile and when my mind grows sluggish and heavy I pull the cool, sun splashed linen over my head and slip away.
I drift between shadow and light. Floating in and out of dreams mixing with reality.
I wake and worry that I'll not rest tonight either. Worry that this is becoming an addiction of the worst sort.
In my dreams I see shadows of the past. People that I haven't seen for a decade and couldn't name to save my life. A place that I left behind long ago.
My dreams make no more sense then at night, but they are laced with disconcerting familiarity.
Is there reason behind the visions? I wake, not pleased by the joy I take in my mind's vivid chaos, but disturbed by unseen auras and hidden meanings.
Perhaps tonight I'll sleep again. ~
~ Me again

The fine line between sanity and chaos...

~ Aiden did not visit Hannah Larson often. His consultations with her could be likened to the average person's view of colonic irrigation. Not something you'd want to do everyday, but when you're severely constipated it starts to seem like not such a bad idea.
Aiden had never once elected to come by for a cup of herb tea and a bit of gossip. He was driven there by life events. He was seeing her increasingly often these days. Of the news he'd come to her with in the past, his house exploding was definitely the most exciting. At least more so then the spontaneous combustion of his computer or the disappearance of his car.
Aiden didn't really know why exactly he kept coming here. It's not like she ever did anything that really helped the situation, but she did know what was going on at least. He'd been convinced through his teen years that she had something to do with it. Had some control over what was happening to him. He had thought about murdering her. She'd sent him a letter via a strong gust of wind, telling him it wouldn't do any good. Aiden hadn't slept for a week after that.
Aiden clung to her and despised her all at the same time. And now her incense burners were talking to him.
Aiden didn't spend much time in idle speculation but he took a moment now to wonder what it would be like to find out that his entire life up to this point were actually a dream and to wake up normal in a world where jade dragons remained frozen and inanimate, and the universe was nothing more then a benign, abstract concept.
He realized to late that he had once again missed everything that the dragon said. He saw movement behind the beaded curtain and was aware of someone making their way down the dim, narrow passageway, probably, to collect him.
Without pausing to actually think it through Aiden came forward, leaned over the shelf and hurriedly gestured to his pocket. He was a little surprised when the dragon actually seemed to understand and jumped unquestioningly into it just as Ted Patterson reentered the crowded shop front and beckoned silently for him to come along.
Aiden felt his stone companion, heavy and cold, move about against his chest, finally settle himself comfortably, and then lay still.
Aiden followed Mr. Patterson into the dark. ~
~ I made this!

Recognize the beauty...

~ Closely guarded, fraught with doubt.
She waltzes through time with indefinable joy.
A breath of lavender, the colors of wildflowers.
Afraid of the future, glad to leave the past, she makes her way.
She touches with unbreaking loyalty, she questions with the heart of a child.
She laughs like she's never felt pain, she looks to herself for strength.
A good life is made up of tiny moments of pleasure.
The past isn't everything.
Recognize the beauty. ~
~ From the mind of Renee

Yes, men can fake it...

~ "You know, as much as I love your mom and the touchingly co-dependant relationship you two share, I'm gonna have to turn you down on the dinner offer. You see I've got this thing. This motto if you will. It's "Start fraternizing with crazy people and you'll become one too." Sorry, I make no exceptions, though if I did...well, I still wouldn't go out with you, especially if that old bag that you, to put it delicately, sprung from the loins of, was around. Now if there's anything else I can help you with, anything at all, you just be sure and give me a jingle, ok? I'm serious now, don't you hesitate, just pick that phone right up and call me, I'll always have time for you in my life."
Leanna stared at Jared for a moment. "Are you finished then? Good! Now you listen here! I don't care what the heck you say, you are going with me to that dinner and you will pretend to like me. Goodness knows I've done enough for you, the least you could do is give up one afternoon for a friend!"
Jared stood gazing down at her, expressionless. She didn't move, her face still thrust within inches of his. There was a very long, very pregnant pause.
Jared finally broke the silence with a bored sounding monotone. "I hate you."
"That may well be, but you'd best start brushing up on your acting. I expect you to be completely convincing. It's not to much to ask. I've faked liking you enough." ~
~ All mine

A timely exit...

~ Jacob didn't actually mean to smash the vase, but he couldn't swear that it was wholly unintentional either. Looking back on it he could see now that it had probably been a bad idea either way. His uncle's butler was just rounding the corner. Jacob did a quick scan of the room to see if there was any scenery handy that he could melt into. There wasn't. There never is.
"Master Diamon, are you alright?" Jacob could see that the fake concern was just killing the man. He decided to roll with that.
"Oh my goodness! Phillip! I think I may have sprained my wrist trying to catch that vase. What a shame it was all for naught! Such a beautiful piece!"
Jacob added a couple of soft "tsk's" for good measure while he gazed down at the broken shards with as much mournfulness as he would if it had been a small, recently demised child. He cradled his left wrist gingerly.
Phillip raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Really sir? What a pity."
Jacob nodded his agreement and winced convincingly.
"Why don't you nip round to the kitchen and see if Mrs. Dalinger can't fix you up. I'll just clean up the remains of this 17th century artifact shall I?"
"That would be top drawer Phillip." Jacob went for his exit with good hustle, but no more then one might expect from someone belabored by a vase-sprained wrist. He silently congratulated himself. He was pretty good at this. ~
~S'all mine

Yes dear readers, in one fell swoop I have almost doubled the number of characters associated with Aiden! "How does she do it!?" You are no doubt asking yourselves. Well first you need a rubber glove, one of those seat belt protectors, some broccoli, one generic Claritin tablet, a lollipop and a gold anklet...
Wait just a minute, that's the recipe for complex plot line! Anyway, it doesn't matter, what I wanted you to know is that this is part of Aiden's story. So there you go. That wasn't so bad was it?

It was meant to be funny...

...So at some point (fairly recent) in the long and sordid history of Purdue improv someone made reference to a room in the math building (816 to be exact) which has a perfect view should you want to assassinate our current president, the honorable Mr. Jischke. Joking of course! Fun fact, it started as a different room, possibly 815, until my friend Jamie, who has intimate knowledge of the inner workings of the math building, pointed out that most odd numbered rooms are interior and thus don't have windows, which would make them slightly harder to aim a sniper rifle out of.
Anyway, I was partaking in a bit of IM'ing with Jamie and he mentioned that he didn't know the person currently utilizing that office, one Chin-Yi Jean Chan, a visiting professor. When I heard that bit of info I messaged Jamie right away with what I saw when I thought of how it would be going down that fateful day...

~ Chin Yi closed the door. He'd been planning this day for months now. Setting the black violin case on his desk he flipped open the clasps with what can only be described as relish. He pulled the rifle out and caressed the cold blue steel. Now was the time. Today was his day. He went to the window. The view was perfect... ~

For those of you who don't know, Jamie started a wiki for the Ship of Fools http://scratchpad.wikia.com/wiki/Category:SoF-pedia
On it are a variety of member bios, inside joke explanations, and assorted bits of Fool Lore. On the page for MATH 816 Jamie published my mini story. I think that that is my very first time being published, unless you count my own blog. Either way it's pretty cool. I can't wait for the royalty checks to start rolling in! Does anyone know of a bank that accepts Monopoly money?

So I'm walking along...

...deep in thought, eyes trained on the ground, meandering to my next class which I have half an hour to get to. I am aware of a presence behind me but think nothing of it. After all, this is Purdue, there's always somebody walking near you. My mind wanders to the dream I had last night featuring all the Fools, Benji's family, fireworks, the ROTC training grounds, a Sergent, a store/restaurant and a girls locker room.
Suddenly I receive quite the shock. Right in my ear, without preamble:
"Little girl!"
To my credit I did not physically jump. My heart skipped a beat or two is all.

To sum up:
Benji + unexpected + "little girl" = CREEPY

On a side note, obviously my power over the universe is growing. I thought of someone and there they were. I feel that the more I practice my mind control skills the better honed they will become. Soon, soon I will wield ultimate domination!


Exchange shouted across Agricultural Mall:
"Benji! I love you!" ~ Kamikaze
"I love you too!" ~ Hallway
"I'll see you again soon!" ~ Kamikaze
"Don't you worry, we'll get that disease cleared up!" ~ Hallway

One on one...

~ General Reed glanced Sam over with a critical eye. He didn't look any 43, he looked to be in his 50's. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing in this case. Hair already mostly white with a little of it's original light brown throughout. Average height, unassuming build. He looked like the type of man who could blend in if he wanted to. Expert in several of the martial arts, extensive Marine training in demolition, explosives, translating, and human intelligence.
"Mr. Brackshaw, you've been out of the Marines for 17 years. Why are you trying to get into the CIA?"
Sam tilted his head slightly and his lips spread in a rather curious looking smile.
"I'm tired of civilian life General. I want something more. I loved the Marines. I want what I had back."
Reed wasn't sure if that was a good reason or a bad one. At least he had more experience then the last 10 interviewees. All young bucks looking for excitement. If nothing else, Brackshaw seemed to know what he was getting into. His references and skills were better then any that Reed had seen for a while. What the hey, he'd have his assistant run the usual screens.
As soon as that thought passed through his mind, and before he had a chance to say anything regarding his decision, Sam Brackshaw stood and was now shaking his hand. Was the man psychic as well? Perhaps just really good at reading body language.
"Thank you for speaking with me General Reed." He seemed quite confident. Another plus for him.
"My pleasure, we'll call you with any news."
A psychic might come in handy to the bureau Reed thought absently as he regained his chair and watched Brackshaw disappear into the outer office.
He sighed noisily. It would save everybody a lot of time and trouble if Jared were just here to pick out his own partner. ~
~ Mine

Friends, Other People, lend me your ears...

...Today is our day! And by "our" I mean "The Fools". It's Fools Day! April Fools Day! Don't know why they listed the month. Perhaps it was the first in what was supposed the be the gradual phasing of all months into "Fool Months". Can't imagine why it didn't catch on...

Anyway! Big news rocked the improvising world this Friday and I, as a bona fide eye witness, am here to tell you all about it.
Our own beloved Sgt. Benji "Hallway" Milanowski, under the guise of a game of 3 things, proposed to his girl Corrie "Stancey" Golando!

I am highly honored to say that I got to have a small hand in it. I was commissioned to be the person to suggest "proposing" as the last "thing".
It was much better the the old skywriter or on-the-board-at-a-ball-game ploy, I'll tell ya that! Way to be Benji. As far as we know it was the first proposal to have taken place during an SoF practice. Very exciting for the rest of us!

So congratulations Stancey and Benji! May Wepwawet and Neith turn their eyes from you and your days instead be filled with the glory of Hathor as Atum and Ra shine favorably down on you and Imhotep, Isis and Wadj-wer watch over you and help you so that you and your blessed union might uphold and indeed become the very essence of Ma'at.

The moral of the story children: Insert felicitous Egyptian deities into your everyday conversations whenever the context allows.

They say that...

...time flies when you're having fun.
Now fun isn't exactly the word I'd use for the entire past year, but it certainly has gone quickly.
Yes, you guessed it. Or maybe not. But regardless, today marks the first birthday of this very web journal. I'm tired so this won't be long.
A lot has changed in the past year. Most things change so slowly that you don't really notice them. I was talking to my old friend Kim over break. Would I have imagined that this is where I'd be, and that I'd done the things that I have, back when we spent every evening mucking out stalls and carrying water together? No. Not in my wildest dreams. The future rarely turns out how I plan it. And I'm grateful for that.
Thank you to everyone (and I assume if you're reading this you know me in some way) who has been a part of my year. It may not have all been fun, but I'd most certainly say that the good times outweighed the bad.
Here's to the future!

And the moral dear children, those who live by the sword get shot by those who don't.

Who knew they talk...

~ Aiden took three rapid steps backwards and ran into a rack full of long dangling brass wind chimes, starting, what seemed to him, to be an absolutely deafening storm of clanging.
The tiny jade dragon, three inches high at the most, hopped off his wooden base and advanced to the edge of the shelf. It stared at Aiden for a moment as if trying to figure out his shock and then its mouth began moving again.
Aiden straightened and stared aghast back at the little thing. The chimes still clanged behind him, his own heart beat in his ears was doing it's level best to rival the actual thunder outside that was continually growing louder, heralding the approaching tempest. It was rather discomfiting to Aiden that, over all of that, he could still hear the voice of the dragon.
He hit the chime rack again when he realized that he was actually hearing the voice in his head.
The talking stopped once more while the dragon paused for another moment, this time with an obviously peeved look on his face.
"Are you listening?" he demanded.
Aiden wasn't sure that he should try to explain that he'd been to surprised to listen to the jade dragon. Instead he just opted to nod dumbly. He knew that in a minute he'd feel embarrassed about being so disconcerted.
And it was with this fact in mind that Aiden took a moment to regain his composure. Drawing a deep and calming breath, he took a step towards the dragon.
"Yes. Yes, I'm ready to listen." ~
~ From my world

The Waiting Room...

...The waiting room is made up of several numbered sections, cordoned off with short walls and glass dividers.
Small groups of people sit as far apart from one another as is physically possible.
Funny how the human race loathes contact but does not want to be alone.
Maybe they're afraid.
It is socially acceptable to bring light reading material.
The lady across from me reads a paperback.
The man next to her works a crossword.
Everyone makes the obligatory light conversation.
Yes, you wait in a waiting room, but it is also a separation room.
Away from the pain. And, if you're practiced enough in repression, away from the worry.

Things that I learned...

...on Valentine's Day:

People are vulgar that day because they are lonely.

An improv scene is neither created or destroyed. It can only be converted to audience energy and vice versa. Or something like that. I'm not really sure of the details.

FunDip is, by its very nature, fun. You can't deny that. It's like a fundamental law of the universe.

Responsible college students, when they have a packet of FunDip in their hands, undergo age regression and become very messy, giggly and immature.

Roses don't do well when exposed to sub-zero conditions.

It is generally acceptable for a woman to hit on her male friend's female significant others. Hitting on your female friend's better half is not necessarily smiled upon.

It is fun to walk with an entourage of 6 men on Valentine's Day. Notably when they are all singing "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego" in perfect harmony.

You get strange looks when you walk with an entourage of 6 men on Valentine's Day. Notably when they are all singing "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego" in perfect harmony.

If you are going to yell something out of the window of a moving car you should keep the phrase short, concise, and use good pronunciation.

I reached a conclusion today...

...Yes, yes I did. I'm sure you want to hear about it.
I've decided that I definitely want to have a mid-life crisis. You see, a woman in mid-life crisis might be expected to get morose and re-evaluate her life choices and relationships and accomplishments and stuff. A man might buy himself a sports car. That's definitely the direction I want to go with this.
"What prompted this conclusion?" You are no doubt asking yourself. Well I'll tell ya. I was staring out of the window and thinking about Stu's deliciously awesome car and that's when it came to me. The idea sprang into my mind fully formed (possibly out of the forehead of Zeus). Much like my funeral plans did that one time I was in the shower.
The things I won't think about when I should be writing a term paper!
So that's the plan people. Mid-life crisis here I come! But first I need to finish that term paper...

~ "I like how you grabbed my butt to get me in position." ~ Peace
~ "I'd grab your butt to get you into position any day, if you know what I mean." ~ Kamikaze

The undeniable anger...

~ Aiden stared out of the big dusty picture window overlooking the inky street in front of the shop. The wind had kicked up and the rain pelted the glass in furious spatters. The universe was angry, he could feel it.
Aiden turned his back to the window. Even if there was something he could do in the way of satiation, he very much doubted that he would expend the energy. He was tired of the game, the only problem was he didn't think he would be allowed to quit playing.
If it was possible though there was one person in the world that would have a chance of knowing how. Hannah Larson. If she didn't he doubted that anyone anywhere did.
The only problem with that was that Aiden was fairly sure of himself when he thought that if she knew of a way she would have told him about it long before now. She hated the game as much as he did. Perhaps more.
For the millionth time in Aiden's 27 years his soul pleaded with the universe for the answer to "Why?"
It didn't come this time either. Aiden hadn't expected it to. Answers to his questions didn't seem to be very high on the universe's priority list.
Aiden reached out and fingered a stick of myrrh in a basket on the nearest shelf. He jerked his hand back immediately and violently when he thought he saw the tiny dragon that decorated one of the incense burners blink at him.
Aiden shook his head and took a deep breath. He was cracking up. Positively cracking up.
And then it spoke. ~
~ From Renee's world

Oops, I did it again...

Actually it was intentional. I hosted SoF practice this week. Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise to me as well. Since my last time hosting I've had the thought that I'd like to give it one more go sometime, just because I think the first try was awful.
Now I could pick it apart and do some serious self criticism here but I think I'll try not to. (I'll save that for school work) What I will do is say that I am glad that I was willing to give it another shot. There is a ton of stuff that could be improved, but it's ok. The main thing that stood out to me was that I wasn't nervous and scared the entire time. What happened happened. I doubt I'll ever be a great host, but I'm ok with that. I really don't want to be. What I wanted was to be able to host without being paralyzed with fear and without feeling like a frightened bunny the entire time. A little bit of the time I'm ok with. That I accomplished.
And now on to the highlight of the evening!
As it happened the Crazy Monkeys, our improv "rivals", were having a show in the lecture hall next to ours. I got a kick out of that. But that's not the highlight! The highlight occurred after both of our respective shows.
We were sitting complacently at Applebee's awaiting our table when who should walk in? Did you guess a group containing several of the Monkeys? You're right!
I don't think that they saw us immediately, but ended up being seated across the restaurant (actually just across the abyss which is the bar area between the two raised dining wings.) Anyhoo, after we've been there a bit a waitress comes over (not ours) and asks who is 21 or up. A couple of us raise our hands, somewhat reluctantly. It seemed a bit odd. She says, "Okay, can I see some ID?" I kinda wanted to say no. After all, it's not as if I asked for this relationship, she instigated the thing.
Murmurs ran around the table about the Monkeys involvement in this. Could it be that they were sending over shots? I ask Benji if he had his lighter on him. Seeing as I wouldn't drink a shot I figured the least I could do is set it on fire and toast the Monkeys with the flaming glass from across the way. He didn't. And they didn't as it turns out.
What did happen is that Andrew (red hair, very funny guy if you ever have a chance to meet him) had their waitress send us over a pitcher of beer and four glasses for the four of us over 21. Luck would have it that only two of those four even drank at all and those two not in excess, but we still highly appreciated the gesture.
Right away ideas of retaliation began buzzing about. Ryan's idea: "Can we send them birthday muffins or something?" (I've never had a birthday muffin, but I would like to some day.)
We consult the waitress and she agreed to get a birthday dessert for Andrew (it wasn't actually his birthday, that I know of)(just thought I'd throw that in)(in case you hadn't figured it out yet) and let us know so we could go and sing to him. It was agreed that the emissaries would consist of the four of us over 21 and our Captain.
The waitress alerts us that our time is nigh. She has a birthday parfait (I've never had that either) with balloons festively tied to the handle. We grab up our beer glasses and troop in a line behind her to the other side of the restaurant, stand in a line by Andrew's table, sing happy birthday to him (all the while swinging our beer glasses like so many drunken Irishmen) and then turn and leave.
I believe that before we walked away he said thank you and we thanked him back but that was the extent of the conversation.
Like a well trained SWAT team we had swept in, done the job quickly and efficiently and gotten back out with ease and finesse.
According to the people remaining at our table they had applauded our singing and a table near ours had joined in. Either it was so bad that they felt pity, or they just got caught up in the comedic joy of it all.
At any rate, it was spectacularly awesome.
Andrew took his balloons with him when they left.

~ "We're pirates damn it, not beatniks!" ~
~ Ryan "T. Rex" Garwood, Captain of the Ship of Fools

It was the best of times, it was the not-so-good-but-still-kinda-fun-in-some-respects of times...

So some of you may be asking yourselves, "I wonder what activities Renee engaged herself in on this past Wednesday afternoon..."
Well, I'll tell ya.
Since the Great Snowstorm of 2007 my car had been lost to the world. Buried under a frozen mass. Trapped in an icy wheel lock.
Actually it just had a huge drift behind it. (Massive snow drift brought to you by your friendly neighborhood snowplow driver and your friendly neighborhood guy-who-parked-next-to-me-and-then-dug-out-his-car-and-piled-all-of-that-snow-behind-my-car-thus-making-the-problem-worse-for-me-but-allowing-him-his-own-selfish-ends.) And in front of it. Yes, there was no moving that baby without some serious quality time with a shovel. I needed groceries, but I didn't need them that bad. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself.
The milk ran out first. I knew it was coming, but it still shocked me. There's no preparing for that. One day you have some left, there on the door of the fridge, and suddenly, one cup of Suisse Mocha later, it's gone. Forever.
The bread held on longer, the end coming more slowly for him. He just seemed to fade away, a bit at a time. Almost like someone was taking slices out of his body...I have an alibi.
After that things just went downhill.
I'll not impose the gory details on you, suffice is to say that by Wednesday I had come to terms with the fact that the rations wouldn't hold out for much longer. Up to this point I'd been hoping that the snow would just melt off. In fact, it did, to some extent. About half to my estimations.
I knew what had to be done and I set out with determination in my heart and a stubborn glint in my eye.
After some eye drops and blinking about 50 million times I finally got that blasted glint out and was able to get to the job at hand.
My initial plan was to try to edge the car around the bulk of the drift (since the two adjoining spaces were empty) and avoid any burrowing. As it turned out even though I got it edged mostly into the next space it still ended up getting stuck on some ice anyway and I had to go in search of a shovel for a trivial amount of ice moveage.
God bless the Hawkins tool lending system.
I got it out.
The end.

On the road again...

Some of you may know that this weekend was roadtrip time for the Fools. "Where'd you go?", you ask, edging to the front of your seat. Well, I'll tell ya.
We drove up to SOG's hometown Hammond to do a show for the Towle Theatre.
It rocked!
It was a real theatre. It was our own show. It was not West Lafayette. People were paying to see us.
This is what I wrote about it on the drive home:

~ We're escorted into the back and down a long hallway. Shown where our dressing rooms are. We're then pulled immediately to see the stage. We're in a theatre.
The night is ours.
He adjusts the lights to our liking.
Back downstairs for warmups. We're nervous and jumpy. We're excited and scared. It's almost time.
We stand on the stairs waiting for our entrance cue.
Run Play 5.
An eternity.
We hear laughter from the audience. My captain looks over at me, grinning. He whispers, "Klaus is here, I'd know that laugh anywhere."
We're on. ~

And that's not the half of it! It was awesome. Our audience, though initially quiet and more mature then our usual lot, gave us good energy and good suggestions. The group really acted as a team. We got a standing ovation. It was amazing.

Something else I wrote on the drive back:

~ Have I met you before?
I feel like I've known you forever. You are exactly how I expected you'd be. Can the man and the myth exist as the same being? You laugh. I love it. It isn't cheap. It's the real thing. You feel authentic. I'd trust you implicitly. You are you.
I feel honored to know you. ~

And now I must be off. Ladies.

"I hope you enjoy your foods very muchly." ~ T. Rex as Rigaldo, the effeminate German waiter

Who'd have thunk...

...that getting pied could be so much fun?

So I'll admit it. I was skeptical when I was told that the SoF were going to use a "pie fight" to get the message of healthy alternatives to drinking across to the Recess with Rowdy crowd for the Student Wellness Office. (For a full report on this and other activities of the 9th please see Benji's write up. Yes, I'm to lazy to construct a complete overview for myself.)
I will point out some highlights though.
1) Toilet racing. ("Once this baby reaches 88 mph...")
2) Having my picture taken with Purdue Pete, even though his blank plexiglass stare and little football pad clad legs creeped me out just a bit.
3) Yelling "Supplies!!!" when Peace and Cowboy came back with our shaving cream (only to have to leave again when it was discovered that a bag had been left at Wally World.)
4) And finally, the actual pie fight. Let me tell ya, if you plan on getting into a pie fight, might I suggest having a loader along? I'm serious.
You have your paper plates in one hand and your can of high quality shaving cream in the other. You have to take a moment to actually make a "pie" before you can fight with it. During this moment (and the moment during and just after you pie a comrade) you are relatively vulnerable. Chances are you are going to get one in the face at this time. When you get one in the face you really have to take a moment to at least clear your eyes, if not your nose (breathing is a plus generally.) When you've got that cleared up (no pun intended) you are ready to start flinging again. But there is a problem. You are bereft of flinging stuffs. You have to take the time to make another pie!
If you had a loader (the equivalent of a semiautomatic) you could shave (haha, now that pun was intended) off valuable seconds, thus giving you the upper pie fighting hand.
In short it was a heck of a lot more fun then I thought it would be. I can feel your doubt. Try it. Get a few friends together and have at each other for a minute or two. It's awesome.

Speaking of awesome. Please, please, for the love of all that is good and holy, read this article by the Ship of Fools own Scott "Klaus" Parker. I swear it is one of the most hilarious things I've ever read. And be sure and click on his links. Cause they may be the punchlines to jokes.
http://www.citizenparker.com/articles/15

~ "Come on kid, get out of the way!"
Thunk!
"I warned you!" ~
~ Peace as World's Worst Zamboni Driver

More on Aiden...

~ Hannah Larson was old. She'd outlived her friends and husband. She'd outlived her son and daughter. She was getting close to outliving her grandson. Nobody really remembered her actual age, but it didn't matter. Hannah Larson was old. Very old. And she knew things. She knew things about The Boy.
In some small way she hoped that once he had served his purpose, and thus she served hers, she could finally die. Her grandson had never married. Once he was gone she'd have no one. No one in the world. She doubted that there was a person alive that could handle that.
Hannah Larson knew why God had created man. Because He was lonely. ~
~ I made this!
A Selfish Production

The donor...

~ ...The questionnaire, though only 2 pages, seems long and arduous.
Have I been to Africa? No.
Am I on any medications? No.
Have I had sex with a man who had sex with another man since 1977? No.
He takes my blood pressure. The worst part in my book. I always feel like my head is going to explode.
I complete the survey and scrawl a signature. I'm immediately escorted to the interrogation cubicles.
Put this under your tongue. I'm doing a finger stick, it might sting.
I'm given a t-shirt. Cotton for blood. Seems like a fair trade.
It's not initially obvious that my levels of iron are normal. I'm forced to wait while my tiny blood sample is centrifuged.
The ok is given and I'm put in The Chair.
Squeeze this three times, hold on the third. Good vein you have there.
I perpetually expect this to be the time that I don't flinch and tense. The needle goes in. This is not the time.
Squeeze every 5 seconds.
I always find that disconcerting. I feel the needle move as I flex. I am expressly aware of the blood leaving my arm. It causes a bit of a strange dull ache. The nurse distracts me with small talk. It goes quickly. I have good veins.
Yes. A positive.
Go have a cookie.
Don't lift anything heavy.
Leave the bandage on for half an hour.
I am the only student there at the moment. Just about the entire 6 man crew address me by name by now. They seem inordinately concerned with my well being. Perhaps I appear pallid. I assert my autonomy.
No thanks, one juice is plenty.
I'm feeling fine, but thanks for asking.
After the obligatory refreshments I rise to leave.
Part of me stays.
45 minutes well spent. ~

Yes, if you haven't guessed already, I gave blood today (and got a surprise free t-shirt!).
I encourage all of you who are eligible to take the time to give blood. I realize that my description of it makes it seem worse then it is. That is because I have the habit of taking an everyday occurrence and writing it in as dramatic a way as possible just to exercise my literary skill. It's not that bad.
It really doesn't hurt, it really doesn't take that long, and it really could save someone's life. And you get a cookie for it.

His ghosts surrounded him...

...He walked through the halls of his house. It wasn't small, it wasn't that big, but it was most certainly empty. He heard creaking, he heard doors shut, he heard laughter. He heard another life.
He went outside for an armload of kindling and caught the slow creak of chain on wood. In the deeper twilight underneath the large maple tree the ancient swing swayed gently.
He sat in front of his fire, his chair pulled up close. The flames cast jagged shadows across his face. He moved closer. Closer to the warmth, closer to the light, farther from the shadows.
They say that no man is an island. It's not true.
His head slumped forward. He dreamt of peace.
His ghosts surrounded him...

Back during break...

...I had a dream. Like mine are most the time, it was incredibly vivid. When there is emotion in my dreams I usually wake up feeling them as strong as I would if the thing had happened in real life. That can get irritating if I can't exactly remember the dream, let me tell ya. But anyway, back to the story.
I won't tell you all about the dream. Suffice is to say at the end of it I was floating on my back in the water. My eyes were closed, I could feel the water gently lapping against the sides of my face, caressing my arms. There were no sounds to speak of but the whisper of the tiny waves. My entire attention was focused on that liquid.
And then it was gone. I have never in my life been so abruptly jerked from a dream. There was no gradual pull of consciousness. No juxtaposition of reality and specter. One moment I was in the water, the next I was completely aware that I was lying in bed on my side. I wasn't totally awake yet, but the dream was gone completely.
It was disconcerting. I didn't want to leave that other universe.

In other news this is my 100th post so, booyah.
If you learn just one thing from this blog I hope it's:
~ Never play leapfrog with a unicorn. ~

Continuation...

~ It wasn't as stormy out as he might have hoped, but at least it was decently dark.
Aiden strode up to the doorway of the tiny shop with a kind of disconcerting carelessness. As always the place looked sinister. It had nothing to do with the weather, it just had an aura of the diabolical about it.
Aiden kept waiting for the day that he would fling open the door and be silhouetted for a brief moment by a timely flash of lightning, the rain blowing in around him, his long coat waving about his legs. But, unfortunately, the conditions had never been quite right and Aiden would rather it didn't happen at all then for it to seem slipshod. Yes, he could give the elements all the time they needed to get their act together.
With this in mind Aiden rang the bell rather then kicking in the door.
As you would expect, a wizened old man answered it. Aiden greeting him in a not unfriendly manner.
"Hello Mr. Patterson, I'm here to see your grandmother."
"Oh sure sonny, sure. Come on in, I'll let her know you're here."
In his prime he would have been a good head shorter then Aiden. Now it was at least twice that. He didn't have that much hair left, but the few courageous strands that had held their ground were swept across the rather large bare patch in the middle. The last outposts.
He left Aiden in the front of the shop while he hobbled to the curtain guarding the entrance to the tiny home beyond.
"Nana, The Boy is here to see you." ~
~ I made this!
A Selfish Production

So I grew a set...

...Well not so much grew a set as found a set on the sidewalk. That's right, you heard me correctly. I have balls now. Sit down, let me tell ya the story.
Last week I found a set of balls on the sidewalk. They are black and hairy. In all likelihood fallen from those goofy boots that girls wear with the little bits of fur hanging off them. When I saw them I got quite a kick out of the immediate thought "Oh! Someone's lost they're balls!" but left them there as I continued on to class.
Later that evening I told Jenny the story. She brought up the fact that I should have touched them. Then I could say that I grabbed somebody's hairy balls that day. At that moment I began to seriously regret my previous lack of action and determined in my heart to look for the balls when I passed that point the next day.
And I found them! My balls were still there, though a bit dirty and huddled in the snow off the edge of the sidewalk. I will not make any reference to shrinkage here. Oops, to late.
So anyway, I am now the happy owner of a fine pair of balls! Let me tell ya, I couldn't be more proud!

~ Never hit a man with glasses. Hit him with your fist! ~

I'm happy, I swear it...

...So I was thinking today about the enigma of relationships. I'd just like to say that there are some people in the world that are not diatomic. Quite frankly I think humanity in general would be better off if they weren't so absolutely absorbed in finding someone "to make them happy." If you are not happy with yourself, you'll never meet someone that will make the world bright and cheerful for you. And it bothers me when people think that they will find that.
Being someone who has been pressured many times to form romantic relationships, simply for the sake of saying that I have one apparently, I take offense. (If I just wanted to say it I would you know. I do routinely make things up for fun and profit.) I resent the idea that the general public would try to deny that I can be perfectly happy while single. I am, in fact, pretty darn perfectly happy.
Do I like complete isolation? No. But they did invent friends for a reason you know. (And guys, I value that more then you'll probably ever know. But that's another post.) I'll tell you what I do like. I like the fact that I am capable of enjoying solitude. I like the fact that my happiness doesn't depend on another human. I like the fact that beside me I have pieces of graph paper that have the plans that I have drawn for a house that I would like to build for myself someday. It has one bedroom. I imagine myself in it. Alone. And it's beautiful.
I'm happy, I swear it...

Beautiful Desolation...

He hands me a flower. A daffodil. The nymph of spring. I can't keep playing my part in this charade. Is there a time when you have to be true to yourself at the cost of forsaking others? Does he know that this is a farce? Does he know that this has to end? Does he know that life is too short to waste?
He hands me a flower. A peace offering. He knows. He is not angry. He's walked this road. He feels the same.
He hands me a flower. A remembrance. I shall not forget you. You've given me joy.
He hands me a flower...and walks away.


This picture is from www.deviantart.com. The photographer is yourworldasiseeit. I wrote what is beside it. Peace showed me the picture to try and prod some inspiration into life. I wrote what the picture made me think of. If the picture was mine I'd name it what I named this post. Beautiful Desolation. You can check out more of this artist's photography by clicking here.

Well guess who doesn't...

...completely suck at bowling! No not David Duchovny!* Me!
I went the other day with Kara (second time in my life) and played two games. My top score was 101! Prior to that my top score was 74. At this rate I'll be bowling 300's in no time. Of course I have absolutely no form, but that's ok as long as I win right?

*I actually don't know if David Duchovny is a good bowler or not. What I do know is that he is gosh darned good looking (I mean the man is fine!) and a good actor besides. (That man can cry to break your heart. Don't believe me? Watch the first 10 minutes of Return to Me.)

An act of God?...

~ The insurance agent went to stand next to Aiden on the driveway.
"Yup, she doesn't look pretty." He confided knowingly.
Aiden looked askance at the short balding fellow. For the love of all that was good and holy! Not another one! He knew that somewhere, somewhere on the planet earth there must exist an insurance agent that was not irrevocably drawn to stating the moronically obvious. He turned to fully face the man.
"You know those are the exact words that I said to myself. Exactly."
"Uh, really?" The man looked at Aiden again. Aiden looked dead serious. But how serious could he be? He had a small tabby sitting in the front seat of his car. But then, she looked rather serious too. The insurance man stifled a laugh.
"Anyway, the inspector hasn't found any signs that there was structural instability, there were no quakes or tremors the day this happened. Fact is, your house seems to have just...exploded."
"You don't say?" Aiden tried to look thoughtful and speculative.
The insurance man peered at him closely, like you might do to a questionable black speck in your tapioca pudding.
"We're going to have some paperwork you'll need to fill out." ~
~ I made this!
A Selfish Production

~ "Hello and welcome to the 7:45 news, I'm Buttly Nightwax." ~
~ Peace

Something old, something new...

~ Jared lay on his stomach completely still; his slow ragged breathing the only sound. The world began to take on an ethereal focus. The sweet, rusty taste of blood penetrated the fog when he tried to wet his cracked lips. Mist still shrouding his half conscious mind, he felt the cool, rough concrete beneath his cheek, the rest of his body achingly hot. Somewhere in the depths of his mind logic was still functioning and he thought that maybe his fever was breaking. What time was it? What day was it? He fought silently to try and rouse himself at least enough to see if he was still in the same room. It was a losing battle. He grappled against it but the black weight pressed in again, slowly, unrelentingly dragging him down. He finally gave in and the dead silence took him over. Back to the underworld for another night. ~
~ By me.

In May there will be a group of students accompanied by a couple professors going to Egypt for 20 whole days. They'll be touring the country, viewing history from the Ancients up to modern day. They'll get to visit the Valley of the Kings. Cruise the Nile. Visit Cairo and the Great Pyramids. They'll get to go into several tombs.
I am beside myself. That would be so inconceivably awesome! It would be amazing! It would be Egypt!
It's a bit over 4 grand to go though, and even though it would be worth 3 credits that's an awful expensive 3 credits.
Am I envious? Yes, yes I am.

Is surrender an option?...

~ The first thing Aiden saw upon entering his room was Adrasteia napping at her new post. On top of his pillow.
And the phone was ringing.
Aiden set down his foil encased steak au poivre and the phone silenced. His cell started two seconds later. His father. Aiden didn't pick up.
Adrasteia stood and stretched. Aiden set the little bowl of cream that the thoughtful maitre d' had included for his "leetle pussy cat" on the floor and called her over. Like any self-respecting feline she took her time and made sure that it looked like coming to Aiden was her idea.
Aiden sat on the edge of the bed and watched her lap at her little treat. His eye drifted to his duffle bags. The bellboy had set them up on the luggage racks as carefully as any matched, monogrammed leather set.
Aiden knew that, to plagiarize, resistance was futile. You can run but you can't hide. And running pretty much just insures that you die tired.
Aiden hadn't run from his fate since he'd been a boy. He'd always known it would be this way. Always. That didn't make it any easier for a child to accept though. ~
It's all me!
A Selfish Production

So far today...

...I've seen a grocery bag and a napkin go flying by my window. What with living on the 5th floor and all that's not really an everyday occurrence. It's rather reminiscent of the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy is looking out the window of her tornado ravaged house. Various pieces of debris fly past, then a chicken or two, then a cow, and finally the horrid Mrs. Gulch. And, while I am not expecting to see Mrs. Gulch cycling past my window at any moment, I have to say that I wouldn't be entirely shocked if she did either.

"There's no "i" in team, but there's also no "i" in post some crappy footage of yourself on the web." ~ Brett Erlich

Care to sniff the cork sir?...

~ Aiden rang his insurance agent as soon as he and his tabby were checked into the hotel.
Yes, yes his house exploded. No, it wasn't burned down. No, he didn't know how it happened. Yes, he was sure it had exploded. Yes, he knew an investigation would be necessary. Yes, tomorrow would be fine.
He gently returned the phone to it's cradle and immediately it rang.
Aiden was expecting it.
Hello. Yes mom, he was fine. No, she didn't need to fly in, as he'd said in his message. Yes, he'd let her know as soon as he'd heard anything from the insurance. Oh, that's room service at the door. Gotta go.
Aiden sat on the bed for a bit. He went into the bathroom and unwrapped some little soaps. He reentered the bedroom and ate the mint that some hardworking, kindhearted housekeeper had left on his pillow. He untucked the sheets from the foot of the bed.
Aiden had rather claustrophobic feet.
Adrasteia sat observing from the window sill, her languid attention divided between Aiden and a tiny bird hopping about on the balcony, blissfully ignorant of how ridiculously thin the sheet of glass holding back it's feline predator was.
Adrasteia's tail twitched.
Aiden considered really calling room service. It was, after all, nearing lunch time. He rose decisively and strode into the hall, shutting the door with a satisfying click.
Aiden's gung-ho attitude only lasted through the appetizer.
The hotel dining room's authentic French maitre d' hovered over him like a nervous butterfly.
Aiden picked at his food noncommittally.
Was everything alright with Monsieur's entree? Yes, it was fine. Would Monsieur like a coffee instead of wine? A cup of coffee would be delightful.
Aiden was still bitter about not having his morning coffee.
Must the universe take everything from him?
But alas, he knew that there was no point in asking that question.
Aiden sipped at his coffee, and burned his tongue.
Aiden realized that he was what you might call upset. He thought though, that it would probably be difficult for anyone to come to terms with their house exploding, no matter their past experiences.
He lifted the delicate china creamer and noticed that his hand was shaking.
Aiden asked the attentive maitre d' if he could have his food wrapped. ~
~ Mine, gimme.
A Selfish Production

And he's back...

~ Aiden fished his cat out from under the holly bush and carried her to his car, placing her on the front seat beside his brief case.
Time to hit the hotel.
Aiden made his way around the remnants of his house to the small shed in the back corner of the yard. He pulled off the padlock and opened the door. He pushed his shiny, green lawn mower out of the way and reached for Adrasteia's carrier and the blue duffel bags that had been kept there since the day he'd moved in.
Naturally the universe could have taken out the shed as well, but this time it hadn't.
Aiden was used to keeping most everything of value to him on or quite near his person. His laptop, bankbook and personal documents traveled to and from work with him everyday. He insured everything.
He re-locked the shed and carried his bags to the car, placing them neatly in the back seat along with the carrier. Adrasteia watched calmly from atop his briefcase. For now he left her there as he went in search of a jump.
As luck would have it his blackberry thicket owning neighbor was using their paper boy's fantastically bad aim as an excuse to scope out Aiden's interesting predicament.
When he saw Aiden strolling toward him he put more energy into his supposed paper search.
A jump? Why certainly. Thicketman would be glad to give Aiden a jump.
Aiden found it incredibly amusing to watch Thicketman trying to come up with a way to ask him why his house was unusually flat this morning. Why he had overnight bags and a speculative looking tabby sitting in his Honda.
Unfortunately he was unable to come up with that particular conversation starter before the Honda was resuscitated.
His cables were disconnected, his hand shaken warmly. He was thanked politely for his assistance and given an unspoken, subtle, tactful and utterly unmistakable dismissal.
He got his car back to his own driveway and was making his way inside, paper completely forgotten, when he turned to look back at his neighbor.
Aiden, cat, Honda and duffel bags were gone. ~
~I made this!

A PS to my regular readers (doesn't that sound snazzy? Regular Readers...) I am sorry for not updating for almost the entirety of break but I have been quite busy. It's been a hectic time for me. Look for me more once school starts again.
Oh, and it's my birthday! And I'm gonna party like it's my birthday. Cause it is. I'm also going to take 21 fake shots. I do a pretty good fake drunk and I'd figured that I could then get fake alcohol poisoning and make a fake run to the emergency room. We may not have time for the last two activities but you can bet the farm that 21 fake shots are going down tonight.

Adrasteia the Great...

~ A question we should all ask ourselves is: What would be the first thing I'd do if my house exploded?
Aiden had not considered that event and so was at something of a loss. It struck him that, despite a house being suddenly obliterated in it's midst, the delicate gear work of the neighborhood seemed to continue operating as usual.
Aiden wondered if he was, in fact, delusional. If his house was, in fact, still whole and unharmed. If he was, in fact, sitting on the grass beside a holly bush in front of a completely normal house.
No. He disregarded that theory. Aiden's mind wouldn't dare cop out on him and his, up to this point, fairly well-groomed life.
His house had really gone without much of a fight. Not a lot of noise or scattering of debris. The wreckage was fairly well contained. No flames. Not even a bit of dramatic spouting water. It had just exploded.
Aiden figured that he should call the insurance at some point. He knew that after the long and arduous investigation the explosion would be written off as an "act of God". What else could they call it?
There really is no place to hide when the universe is out to get you.
Aiden's cat came strolling around the corner of his wreckage and toward him across his neatly trimmed lawn. She did not look surprised either. After 5 years with Aiden maybe she'd gotten used to inexplicable events. Or maybe she was just acting like a cat.
Her name was Adrasteia after the nymph who raised Zeus from a babe. Aiden had called her this with a touch of irony. It means "she whom none escapes". Nothing like a cat to protect you from the universe. Aiden looked under the holly bush at his protector. She was nonchalantly chowing down on a twitching grasshopper.
No wonder she'd thrown up on his carpet. ~
~ S'all me baby

And then things got worse...

~ Aiden hit the steering wheel with the flat of his hand (as if the car needed to be punished) and drove the thorn he'd picked up rescuing his Tribune deeper into his palm. Aiden had always hated blackberries.
He clambered out of his car and stood on the driveway glaring at the world. He'd call Linda. Linda might be able to pick him up on her way in. He bristled at the thought of asking back-stabbing Linda for a favor. It might take a bribe or two, but he had to get to work somehow.
Aiden pulled out his cell phone and stalked over to the big holly bush in his front yard. The only place, he'd discovered long ago, he could get service on his property.
Aiden kicked leaves impatiently while Linda's phone rang.
And then his house exploded.
Aiden was not shocked by this. This would be the morning his house exploded. It occurred to him that his cat should feel very grateful that he'd exiled her outside after she'd thrown up in his living room.
Linda picked up.
"Hello...Hello?"
"You know what, never mind." Aiden hung up.
He sat down by his holly bush and looked at the mass of splintered wood and unidentifiable refuse that used to be his house. He had to admit, the universe had definitely won this round. ~
~ I made this!

Mama said there'd be days like this...

~ Aiden woke up with a splitting headache.
And then things got worse.
This would be the morning his cat threw up on the carpet.
This would be the morning his paper was flung deep into the wild blackberry thicket his neighbor so humorously called "a hedge".
This would be the morning he locked himself out of the front door and almost had a coronary before discovering that he'd left the back door open.
This would be the morning he was out of coffee.
Aiden wanted the universe to grind to an agonizing halt.
It didn't.
He gulped down a glass of cran-cherry juice with his (naturally!) burnt toast all the while cramming folders into his briefcase. With all the time he'd spent excavating his newspaper and scouring the kitchen for a few java beans he was already behind schedule.
Where are the keys!? Where are the blasted- Oh, there they are.
Aiden finally made it to his car, only slightly the worse for wear, and buckled up. He turned the key. He was rewarded with a sickeningly dead grinding noise. Aiden looked at the dash.
Headlamps: On
Aiden cursed the universe creatively in several languages... ~
~From Renee's world. (Her mama never said there'd be days like this...)

Nothing like a new pastime...

...to make you feel alive!

So I've taken up card manipulation, also called trick shuffling, for a new hobby. It's delightful.
I know several tricks by now and mainly I think I need to work on my flexibility and consistency. There are instances when I'll do the scissor cut flawlessly several times in a row and other times that I drop half the deck each try I give it.
I did get a deck of bridge cards which are slightly narrower then your normal poker cards to help me "work up" to some of the moves. Let me tell ya, your hands can be sore after practicing this stuff for a while.
I would like to learn a cool ace production move before I see Josh (cause you know that I'm going to casually show off my moves when we sit down for a game of poker or blackjack) but I doubt that I have time for that.
Speaking of blackjack, funny thing, I brought my cards with me to practice with before both of my exams today.
First exam: I met Stuey outside and we ended up playing blackjack on the back of a book I had with me (Hilariously entitled "To Play The Fool"), and ultimately drawing several innocent strangers into the action.
Second exam: Sitting there practicing the fan and scissor cut and the feller next to me ends up talking to me and saying "We've got five minutes til we start, count me in." So I deal him a hand (is it called a hand in blackjack?) I think the house won the majority of those rounds. To bad we weren't actually betting.
Overall I found it quite amusing.

So I've given up the series idea. You all know that I moved Saturday and most of you know what went down Friday. Those of you who don't can hear it from me personally on break. That way you can watch my lips move too!

For Peace: "It's quite quiet out today. Quit shushing me Quinn and take the quill!"

~ "Do you go to sleep at night and wake up in the morning? Then you need to buy our product!" ~
~ Cowboy

When the going gets tough...

...the smart call in the dem team.

Oh boy do I have a lot to talk about! I think it may be time for another series. Let's start with yesterday and work our way back to Friday shall we?

Sunday I went on a date. A date with my Schloozy Poo. Schloozy Poo is also known as Kara.
So Kara and I went to a concert that the Purdue Symphony Orchestra was putting on over in the beautiful Long Center Theater in Lafayette. It was fantastic!
They played Tchaikowsky's Fifth Symphony, Bach's Concerto for Two Violins and a piece called Samurai by Michael Schelle.
I believe that the last was my favorite. Like good writing, I admire music that inspires emotion and Samurai definitely did that. Something I found interesting was the last movement. Only after it was over did I read in the program that it was called "Prayer with Thunder" which is exactly what I was thinking of as it was played. We had great seats just a couple rows from the stage. There were times that I more felt the music then heard it. The mental images that it conjured were utterly incredible!
I did find myself irritatingly distracted by thinking though. And I found that closing my eyes and concentrating hard on the music and feeling the waves of vibrations washing off the stage was quite hypnotic.

It was wonderful and at the end of the day I got to cross something off my TTDBID (Things To Do Before I Die) list. I do believe that I will be going to another one or two next semester if at all possible.

~ "The passage smelled rather like perfume and Cheerios." She added absently... ~

I'm a mover and a shaker...

...well a mover at least...and if I had a money tree I'd probably try giving it a rattle or two...but anyway! I'm a mover. Today I am moving to my new, fresh, single, solitary, haven of rest from the universe, sanctuary of peace and solace, and totally my own room. Peace has kindly offered to come give me a helping hand with boxes and fridge and such. Right thoughty of him really, right thoughty. I've got all the junk that I'm going to pack packed and am prepared to move two flights down and a wing to the east. This change's official name is The Migration. Or the TM if you prefer.
This in mind I may not be updating for a bit. As I understand it my ResNet connection (aaahhhh, cable, I love it!) may not be up for a couple of days in the new digs. Those that I email will still get responded to for there is always a computer lab. Those I AIM with may not have as much luck (it may be a blessing, for you I mean, it all depends on how you look at it.) That and the fact that it is the weekend before finals week.
On that note I shall just say that last night we had an excellent End-of-All-Time-Until-Next-Semester show! It was a blast and it ended with 5 wet men on stage. More on that later.
That and yesterday was Benji's birthday. Benji, you'll always be a birthday princess to me!
I also need to say: Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy, Cowboy otherwise I think the mafia was going to come and break my knee caps or whack me or something. And I want to keep getting Cowboy's blogger love.
And that folks will be my very last post from this room!
Oh and if you are a person that has my old and wants my new phone number then either email me, AIM me when I'm back, or (if you're reeeeaaaaly important ;) I'll try to call you with it before you get the chance.

"Hey, get Tripod's attention for me will you?" ~Cowboy
"Tripod!" ~Peace
"Tripod!" ~Kamikaze
"Tripod!" ~Brian
"TRIPOD!!" ~Kamikaze
"Star Wars." ~SOG
"What?" ~Tripod