Tuesday, March 2nd, 2004
12:13 p.m.
Good Lord, I need to clean house around here. I've
officially got four months on this page--twice my limit.
Ah, I'll do it later.
I'm only up this late because of a paper I
forgot to write (yes, again, and for the same class, too). I
don't know what it is about my media ethics class, but I always seem to
forget everything about it as soon as I leave the room. It's like
my brain only has enough extra memory to keep track of four
classes. Or it could just be that my math and history classes
have slammed me with way more homework than I'm used to, and I'm still
not entirely adapted to it. Or maybe it's the pressure of getting
part one of my novel finished by spring break (ten days away--w00t!)--I
don't know. Of course, it could just be that I was sick this
weekend when I should have been writing it, and therefore the whole
incident should be considered an anomoly. I mean, I've got
another case study for that class due next Tuesday, and I'm on the ball
with that one.
Speaking of sick--it's an incredible irony
that I was able to avoid catching walking pneumonia from my former
roommate, but when I had my room to myself I got sick as a dog.
'Course it's not really that
bad; it's just a cold, after all; but I spent all of Sunday feeling
like the poop, and although I made an apparent miracle recovery today,
the illness has moved from my head to my chest, so I feel like the poop
again. I've been chugging orange juice and taking vitamins--I
can't drink tea because I don't have any decaf, and the leaded stuff
keeps me up nights and puts me to sleep days, so that's absolutely out
as an option during the week. I would have made a pot on Sunday,
but I could barely get out of bed so it was kind of a moot point.
I don't think I'm going to get the light out
before two o'clock tonight (this morning?). I've still got to
shower (no I can't put it off until tomorrow), and I've got at least a
half hour of Bible reading to do. Speaking of which, last night I
just about tore a page out of Proverbs. It's only attatched for
about an inch at the top, and I can't tape it because the paper pulled
right out of the binding. Any ideas on how to fix it would be
greatly appreciated.
[comment]
Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
6:15 p.m.
First, a report on the paper: I got a C on it; apparently the
way I interpreted the assignment wasn't the way the professor wanted me
to interpret it. Considering that I followed his instructions to
the letter, I don't think this is quite fair, but I'm far to stressed
out with other things to push the issue. All my other classes are
going just swimmingly, so I'm not too worried.
I'm going to try something new here today: instead of ranting about
something for a page and a half without actually accomplishing
anything, I'm going to publish the prologue and little introductory
bits of my novel. Depending on how well that goes over, I'll put
up part of chapter one in a day or two.
So, here goes. Presenting, for the first time ever, a portion of
my as-yet-unnamed novel.
"Easily
could it be said that the golden age of the Amdhoran empire ended in
the with
the death of queen A'enthe sel Morcae, last of the great Morcae
dynasty, in the
491st year after the Great War. Known by
the kensae as "Heaven's Blade" for her prowess in battle and her
zealous
campaign against the Rynor En'asu and darkened kensae, she was killed
by an
assassin at Lythra, the palace in Sathsem.
It was whispered that Ameden himself had struck the fatal blow,
but the
idea was soon dismissed, and though she was mourned much by the people,
no
serious inquiry was ever undertaken. A'enthe
left no children, and for a time the throne stood empty as squabbles
broke out
over who should reign. Through a series of underhanded dealings and
secret
alliances, A'enthe's cousin by marriage, Stullris sel Cadna, finally
claimed
the position and ascended to the kingship.
After several purges of the advisors and upper ranks of the
army, it was
revealed that Stullris had sympathies with the Rynor En'asu, and they
gained
strength and support among the people.
Due to Stullris' belligerent approach to ruling, relations with
surrounding
nations began to sour, and it was not long before the empire collapsed.
Within only two centuries of her untimely
death, there remained hardly a trace of the strong, mighty nation
A'enthe had
led.
Not long after Stullris took the throne, the
population, stirred by the decline of the nation and urged on by the
monarchy,
began forcing the kensae out of Amdhoras."
--The Chronicles of Taros Tykul
When a daughter of
the air
Meets the daughter
of a
king
When immortal dust
of
earth
Makes the ruined
temple sing,
When the silent
walls have
spoken
And the broken
light has shone,
Then will the
righteous rule
again
And
the exiles
claim their
own.
--From the writings of Shashu
Prologue
Yinae walked silently down the hall to
Jonas’ room. Her feet made no sound on
the rich, soft carpet, and her wrinkled hands silently worked the latch
and
pushed open the thick wooden door.
Jonas was sitting up in bed, bathed in
moonlight, black eyes staring blankly into the darkness.
His covers were tangled, and sweat shone on
his brow. Compulsively, his fingers
rubbed at a spot near the center of his chest.
He did not move when Yinae came in and seated herself on the
edge of the
bed. Her comforting blue light gently
illuminated the room.
“You are troubled, child,” she said after
a moment. Gently she took his hand,
holding it still. Jonas sighed and
leaned his dark head back against the carved wooden headboard, closing
his
eyes.
“Yes,” he said in a whisper,
“yes, I
am.” His fingers twitched a little. “They’re getting stronger.”
Yinae smiled and caressed his cheek, as if
he were a sick grandchild. “They cannot
touch you here; you know that.” His
fingers twitched again, and his left shoulder jerked a little.
"They're going to make their move
soon," he whispered hoarsly.
"They're going to move, and he's going to call me to him. I can already feel it, rustling about in the
back of my mind. I won't be able to ignore
it much longer."
Yinae pressed his fingers and looked very
grave. “You are safe here,” she
said.
“Safe from Them, yes.” He swung his
legs over the side of the
mattress and stood up, his lean form silhouetted against the moonlit
window. “But what about safe from
me? How can I feel safe and feel like
giving in at the same time?” He pulled
on a tunic and headed for the door. “I’m
going for a walk. Maybe the fresh air
will help.”
Yinae sighed as she watched him go. Lord,
En'lasi, he cannot go on like this, she thought.
It is
not a life; not what I would call a life.
She began straightening the sheets.
After all, he is only a man, not
one of us. She paused.
If he
leaves now, he may never come back.
She stopped and stood tall for a moment,
listening. Yes, you are right,
of course.
You know what is best for him.
But Lord, it grieves me to see him thus.
Must he go, now? He has shown
such progress. Another sigh. Thy
will, Lord, not mine.
[comment]
Monday, February 16th, 2004
9:49 p.m.
[Insert usual apologies for lack of updates here.]
It's been hard to think of anything to blog
about because 90% of my source material is gone with the wind (or
rather, gone to the room at the end of the hall). Either way,
it's gone, and I am at a loss.
I've had a lot of changes in my environment in
the past two weeks: Much-Afraid moved out, I got a fridge of my own,
and they installed new showerheads in the bathroom. I liked the
old ones better; the spray angled out so that it kind of wrapped around
you in a big, warm, wet hug. The new ones just spray straight
down, so the only way to keep from freezing is to stand directly under
the water, and then it gets in your eyes and it's impossible to shampoo
properly, and it's just a big ol' mess. The old ones didn't look
as nice, but they more than made up for it with their five-star
service.
I really should be writing a paper right
now. It's due tomorrow at nine-thirty a.m., and I've only written
half of it. It's a three-page deal, nothing fancy, and it should
be a breeze for me, but I just can't seem to get into the groove with
it. The words just aren't coming. I have a subject; I know
what the paper is about and what I want to say, but I can't seem to
find a way to say it. It's very disconcerting. But I'm not
going to bed until it's done; the way I see it, it's my own darn fault
for putting it off so long, and if the result is a lousy paper written
at two in the morning, then I've reaped my just reward. I'm
already taking a lesson from the whole situation, and am determined not
to let it happen again.
I went home for the weekend--my mother fixed
MEAT, bless her--and had a wonderful time. We watched Secondhand Lions on Saturday, and I
liked it even more this time than when I saw it in the theatres back in
September. My parents had never seen it, and they loved it.
My mom especially liked the dogs, and the fact that the film actually
stood up for things like justice and honor and courage and true love,
instead of running them into the ground like so many people do these
days.
ARGH I'm about ready to start banging my head
on the desk. Maybe that'll knock the paper loose and it can flow
down into my fingers instead of staying up in my brain muttering "Five
more minutes, Ma, pleeeeze?"
I think I'll catch up on my comics. That
usually gets the juices flowing. And if that doesn't work,
there's always sweet, sweet caffeine. Either way, I'm not going
to bed until I finish this paper. I can sleep tomorrow.
[comment]
Sunday, February 8th, 2004
1:02 a.m.
Well, crap (sorry Mom). I've just lost the very element
that made my blog so allegedly amusing.
My muse, as it were, has flown the coop.
The thorn in my side that drove me to greater
heights has suddenly been plucked away, and the wound salved.
I am at a loss; I am without inspiration; I am
left lonely and bereft of the spark of genius.
Much-Afraid has moved out.
It came as a complete surprise to me. I
was all set to enjoy a weekend by myself: I had some Jeeves and Wooster
novels, I had very little homework, and I had been to Wal-Mart to buy
some eatables and a pair of shoelaces. I rode the bus back to
campus, I made it to my room without slipping on the ice, and lo and
behold! What do I see but my roommate's possessions scattered
around the room in various stages of packedness. It looked like
her usual weekend packing gone a bit overboard, so I didn't think to
ask what was going on until she told me "Oh hey, just so you know, I'm
moving out."
I paused to clean out my ears.
"Tonight?"
"Yeah." She stuffed some more clothes
into a gym bag. "The room at the end of the hall across from the
bathroom is empty, and my mom bought if for me as an early birthday
present."
"Oh. Oh! So, you're moving out?" I
asked stupidly, barely understanding and hardly able to contain my
glee.
"Yep."
"Cool!" I chortled. "I mean, I'll miss
you and all that, but cool!"
I got the impression that she was just as glad
to be rid of me as I was to be rid of her. I didn't care.
Her parents came today and took down her loft
(I helped so that they would leave more quickly), and she walked out
the door for the final time. Praise the Lord, and Hallelujah to
whoever left that room vacant! Plus, they had left some stuff
behind (in an obvious "I don't want this anymore" kind of way) so I got
myself a cool lamp and a string of blacklights out of it, too. So
all in all, I've lost most of my blogging material, but I got some room
accesories for next year, and now I've got my own room again!
Woohoo!
Maybe I'll start posting excerpts from my
fictional endeavors. I've been meaning to do that for a while
now; perhaps this will be the catalyst that gets the ball
rolling.
[comment]
Thursday, February 5th, 2004
12:16 p.m.
Much-Afraid's grandmother is in the hospital, but I'm finding
it increasingly hard to feel sorry for her. Granted, she feels so
sorry for herself that there really isn't any need for me to add to it,
but it is only the barest shreds of human compassion that keep me from
lashing out at her. If, when she cried on the phone, it was
sincere grief and concern for her grandmother, I wouldn't have the
least problem with it. But no; instead she whines about how hard
it is for her, how much she is affected, how hard it is for
her to be here instead of
there and as a result out of control. She is completely
self-centered, and seems to carry a mentality of "It's just not fair!" Well, I've got news
for her: LIFE ISN'T FAIR. There have been many things that I
wished I could have been home for--school plays, my sister's senior
banquet, frappin' heart attacks--but
the fact is that I'm stuck up here, and that's all there is to
it. She's not the only person on campus with ill, elderly
relatives; she's not the only person on campus who misses her family;
but she acts like she is, and it's really starting to get on my last
good nerve. I have very little patience with people who dissolve
into quivering lumps at the merest hint of rain on the proverbial
horizon. Let's face it: this development is just the cherry on
top of the annoyance sundae. What with her emotionally abusive
fiancè and her stupid talking computer games and all the noise
she makes eating and the habit she's developed of giving a little cough
about every two to three mintues, it's all I can do to keep my mouth
shut. I know I'm supposed to love my neighbor as myself, but love
isn't always sunshine and happy roses. Plus, I have the feeling that
her cough would go away if she'd quit guzzling pop like it was water
and actually drink some water!
[comment]
Tuesday, February 3rd, 2004
6:51 p.m.
She's on the phone again.
I have yet to see (hear?) her lower her voice without being
asked, and am therefore subjected to her soap opera life, her friends'
soap opera lives, and the soap opera life of some guy she met two years
ago in another state and had a fling with, but I know from experience
that if I so much as make a move towards asking her to quiet down a
little, she will be miffed, and may God help us all if she gets
miffed. Have you ever had a cat be angry with you? I don't
mean ticked because you stood up and dumped it off your lap; I mean mad. We're talking glaring,
insane, I'm-going-to-kill-you-while-you-sleep furious. Have you
ever even so much as been in a room with a cat in that mood? It's
not fun, is it? Now imagine that the cat was an engaged-eighteen
year old girl with the emotional maturity of a seventh-grader, and you
see my problem. I'm about ready to pick her up and throw her
right out the window. Wouldn't do any good; our window is only
about three feet off the ground, but doggone if it wouldn't be
satisfying there for just a few fleeting seconds. In any case, if
she doesn't quiet down on her own I'm going to gently suggest to her
that she keep her voice down please, miffishness be hanged.
Apparently she and her fiancè are in
fact back together, even though she's said, quote, "We both know it
won't last" end quote. I complained in an earlier entry that I
would be pretty ticked off if I had let her keep me up by crying over
him without complaining,
only to have her get back together with him, and trust me, I am ticked
off. It'll be a wonder if I don't explode at her before the end
of the year. And yet, it's just so obvious that she's been
hurt in so many ways by so many people that I find myself, while irked,
to be more likely to pity her than anything. It's almost a
morality tale; something along the lines of "There, but for the grace
of God, go I." Let's just say that there's a reason I call her
'Much-Afraid.'
[comment]
Sunday, February 1st, 2004
12:03 p.m.
I have been remiss; I'll be the first to admit it. I have
neglected my faithful reader(s). So now, I issue a formal
apology.
Sorry, Mom.
There, now that that's out of the way, I can
get down to the business at hand; namely, blogging. It doesn't
take to great a stretch of the imagination to guess what I've been up
to that has kept me away from updating my Web site; this is, by far,
the busiest semester I have had to date. And yet, it is one of
the least hectic. I have finally organized myself, following the
pattern I set in high school: one year bad, half a year good, then half
a year bad, one year really bad, and then finally one year really
good. The difference here is that instead of years, I'm counting
by semesters. Therefore, logic dictates that from here on out, I
shall reap the fruits of hard and diligent labor as I stubbornly set my
shoulder to the grindstone and all that.
Why yes, I have been reading upper-class
British literature; why do you ask? Anyway, I now sleep the sleep
of those no longer worried about their grades. Also, I should
like to mention that the gym class which I was so sure of failing last
semester has somehow redeemed itself with a final grade of between
eighty and ninety percent, otherwise known as a 'B'. How and why
this happened, I shall probably never know, but I'm not one to argue
with nice surprises. Suffice it to say, my grade point average
has raised itself another tenth of a point to a whopping 2.7, and I
have no doubts that if I continue in my present frame of mind, it shall
only continue to do rise. And now, dearest companion(s), since it
seems to be luncheon time right exactly on the nose, I shall avail
myself of the nearest eating establishment, and leave you with a hearty
"Adieu!"
No, I haven't been skipping any medications,
why do you ask?
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