Because one life at a time isn't enough

From Twitter 10-07-2009

2009-10-08T10:05:52Z

01:51:55: New regular blog feature: absurd and/or crazy headlines! Today's: "Why a Text-Based 'Grand Theft Auto' Would Suck"
02:09:56: just voted "Lesbian Woman" on "Show us Twitter's Sexual Diversity!" vote too ➔ http://bit.ly/W14YS
02:11:00: ...not that this is news, I just wanted to represent. XD

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

How to Make A Class You Generally Dislike Seem Actually Rather Pleasant

2009-09-15T05:40:29Z

Discover you do, actually, have a packet of much-needed painkiller in your bag!

clover_elf_kin @ 2009-09-06T18:51:00

2009-09-07T02:11:50Z

I've started writing again! I looked at my stories, picked one that had something resembling an actual, workable plot, and got a good few paragraphs. It's everything a first draft should be--an opening that catches potential readers' attention, brings up questions that will only be answered later, and hints at things to come.

It also SUCKS, but like I said, everything a first draft should be. XD

Hopefully I'll pull off NaNoWriMo again this year; it's kind of debatable, but the one year I did it, I figured out the secret, at least for me: write 30 or so scene ideas in advance to have something to go on. I also got something to help--now I have my own Alphasmart! (For anyone who doesn't remember the first one, scroll down a few entries.) I just prefer typing to writing, so I'm hoping it'll help... despite its many, many shortcomings. ^^ The worst one at the moment is lack of transfer cord; it's not the same as the one I was lent, and I can't find any that work with it. Still, it was totally worth it--the Alphasmart itself was all of $4.26, tax included. ;-) I LOVE thrift stores.

-headdesk-

2009-04-28T13:34:09Z

Once again, it is WAY too early to be awake. My body suddenly deciding "okay, that's enough sleep!" at 5 am isn't completely unheard of (which makes NO sense, given that most of the time I'll sleep twelve hours straight if given half the chance), but I didn't manage to get to sleep at ALL tonight.

If it were virtually any other day of the week, fine, whatever, but Tuesday is one of my long days... internship (at a Housing Aid office), then a night class. I don't want to look like a total flake by not showing up for the internship, since I only started TWO WEEKS AGO, but I've already missed three classes, the teacher is not always terribly reasonable, and in a once-a-week class that IS a lot. Plus my grade is probably not what I'd like, to say the least... ARGH!

I think I know the culprit--just started on ADD meds again to see if they help this time, and it IS a stimulant. It doesn't help that I stayed up until 4 am because I'm an IDIOT, either... maybe I'll go to the internship with said medication on hand just in case. ^^ Hey, when I started the other stuff (which also kept me awake at first), I ended up operating on three hours of sleep the next day and I felt fine! On the one hand, THAT was only four hours total, and I did collapse that evening, but on the other it involves chasing seven-to-nine-year-old special ed kids around for most of it. Then again, staying on my feet likely helped... sitting at a desk for three hours? If I can't get to sleep in the next hour I think I'm calling in sick. T_T

More Reasons I Don't Miss My Cable

2009-04-16T07:53:48Z

I just happened to glimpse an ad that had me nearly choking with laughter.

From Executive Producer Justin Timberlake

What would you do to win $50,000?

T HE P H ON E

...I have no words.

Yay small accompishment?

2009-03-05T04:18:11Z

I've been working on cleaning my room, yet again; you can tell because it looks even MESSIER than usual. T_T The new bookshelf I figured out how to cram in should help me actually keep the place clean... once I have the floor cleared off enough to get it in. On the plus side, I also realized I can fit in even more shelves if I just move my bed to the other side of the room! Of course, it isn't exactly on wheels...

I've also been trying to work on my usual craft projects, especially since some of them are for friends, but... argh, I have more than enough time, not nearly enough motivation. Even when the friends in question know I'm working on things for them! (One friend does not. The present in question is ALMOST done, but I keep getting discouraged by little screw-ups and such.)

My walkthough also just informed me that from here on out, Tales of Destiny is largely mazes. And so far I've been getting attacked more often than I EVER did in Final Fantasy 9. If ToD2 is anything like this, I'll stick to the manga, thanks...

Happy Candy Day!

2009-02-14T20:45:36Z

No date this year, as usual, but I woke up to find a bag of candy outside my bedroom door, so I'm happy. XD (My stomach, however, will be protesting shortly.)

Most amusing memory of this time of year: I used to work Foothill College's GSA's "Ye Old Safe Sex" booth around this time of year. We didn't sell anything, just had a bunch of condoms/info sheets/etc up for grabs.

Once when a guy came up to the table to look, and I have no idea where this came from, I said "Happy Singles Awareness Day. Would you like a Good Vibrations flier?"

I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it!

Random Ramblings (or, updates are a lot easier when stuff is actually happening!)

2008-10-09T04:20:29Z

There's something either ironic or fitting about standing up to one of the people in charge at Disabled Student Services to assert that you don't need to take a class on... how to be assertive enough to get what you need. XD Backstory: It's required at my college that people registered with them take certain classes. However, when I took the learning-assessment test to see if I'm learning disabled and could get any accommodations (see early 2007 entry), the class didn't yet exist; the one that I did have to take was on how to use a special help-with-studying program.

Which I didn't use nearly as much as I had to claim to in order to pass the class, never used again after it, and IN class I got myself kind of in trouble when I finally burst out that the advice on the assignment sheet re: effective studying was the most patronizing thing I'd seen in a workbook since middle school. (I was smart enough not to say what I was really thinking, which was "How can you get to college and NOT know this?!") So... somehow I don't think taking another class offered by their department would be of much benefit. Honestly, I know what to say already, but I freeze up when someone's being a jerk; I really couldn't do more than sputter when my Bio teacher, last year, said to my face that arranging my testing accommodations is a pain. (Well... I could think of a few things, but telling him "All you have to do is drop off a copy of the test in the next building over, suck it up and deal," wouldn't have gone over very well.)

Besides that, I said exactly what I was supposed to when one of my teachers this semester pointed me towards someone to talk to about copying their notes for me... that she's supposed to make an announcement to the class regarding that, and she's not supposed to say who needs the notes copied, but that they should go to Disabled Student Services to arrange everything (and get a gift card for the campus bookstore at the end of the semester). The guy in question actually couldn't help, so when I told the teacher this--and the whole thing about being anonymous--she CALLED ME INTO THE HALL FIVE MINUTES LATER TO TALK TO THE PERSON WHO HAD AGREED. Okay, yes, us being able to talk is useful, but a) I hate being put on the spot, b) I'd just told her she's not supposed to do that! It's not just my preference, it's the policy that she's not supposed to!

The irony: the class she's teaching is on the legal system, and ethics are important enough to be the subject of the textbook's second chapter.

At least I have a label to put on said learning disability now? After I finally found a doctor who would LISTEN to me (and, incidentally, coming prepared with a filled-out checklist) I had my suspicion confirmed--I'm autistic! Well, okay, if you insist on being specific I have Asperger's Syndrome, but still. This really explains a hell of a lot! ^^ The obliviousness isn't so fun, but having Spock Speak as a native language is coming very much in handy--reading legal documents isn't taking much time to get used to. XD Plus, in legal matters one is supposed to be super-precise to avoid misunderstandings. I like this concept. (Of course, I already had to be a smartass in one assignment and comment that I had to wonder why a legal textbook was only implying that we were supposed to elaborate on our answers instead of just saying yes or no!)

In more randomness, last night in class we ended up watching the presidential-hopeful political debate; I really liked Obama's answers, but aside from that I was pretty bored (and occasionally enraged). Which would be why my mind went in the direction it did... at one point it was mentioned that they had a question from the internet. I cracked silently that I would love said question to be "do you liek mudkips?"

In happy news, I discovered I can study for decently long periods of time without wanting to explode/throw my textbook at the wall/go watch paint dry instead; the trick is have something to listen to instead of having something to read. I just need to record myself reading the textbook and I'm good! Though, as anyone who's met me IRL knows, I can't pronounce things for crap... case in point, I got something from the SFSU Alumni Association and wondered aloud what the heck they were contacting me for, at which point Mom had to correct me on the pronunciation. Turns out "alumni" and "aluminum" only look alike. ^^ This combined with the fact that I think I sound like a six-year-old should hopefully add in some amusement factor, considering the text I'll be reading!

clover_elf_kin @ 2008-08-07T20:20:00

2008-08-08T03:34:55Z

So, with the job market as horrible as it is, and me feeling like I have no job skills anyway, I'm back in school. In an effort to NOT procrastinate until the last possible minute, I looked up and ordered my textbooks today.

...at least, the ones I actually could. One of the ones I needed but couldn't quite find on Amazon is listed as "CHILDHOOD & ADOLESCENE". This does not inspire confidence in me!!

Ironically enough, another book I was supposed to get (different class) is "English Simplified". I looked up a sample page, stared for a while, and tried to console myself with thoughts of an easy A... I suppose this is what I get for going to a junior college again. ^^

clover_elf_kin @ 2007-08-31T11:50:00

2007-08-31T19:33:37Z

Sometimes, I love my subconscious. XD Anime dreams that involve slash are fun!

I apparently walked into the theater late, so no idea if there WAS any context, but Ed Elric was standing at a second-floor window somewhere in his office building, having a conversation with Russell Tringham--in sign language, because Russell was outside and the window was closed. I could understand what they signed, even only some of it was actual ASL, but they were both kind enough to voice-interpret as well for most of it! Would have been a bit ironic if I'd needed subtitles for their speech as well...

Russell: "Are you getting off work soon?"
Ed: (smirking) "You wish."
Russell: (dryly) "I love you too."
Ed: (freezes, then signs slowly with no voice interpretation) "...I have to go." (turns and walks out of sight)

I'd write it out a little better, but hard to when it started mid-scene, there is virtually no way I can explain them knowing sign (any sort of military hand-signal code would likely not be complex enough for what they were saying), and Russell apparently thought nothing of the fact that he was looking up at Ed. XD

The really odd part? Winry was in the theater too (what, were we watching a security cam video?) and protested when Ed didn't voice the last part, because she couldn't understand it. I was just thinking, Go figure. It's a Bilingual Bonus! (Except it kinda wasn't...) But still, HA. I haven't woken up grinning like that in a while!

. . .

2007-04-20T06:39:58Z

Like most people right now, I think, I've been following news about the Virginia Tech shooting for the last few days.

Something about public safety in the face of violent nutcases must make people stupid, I swear, because oh my gods... from Yahoo news:

"In virtually every regard, Cho is prototypical of mass killers that I've studied in the past 25 years," said Northeastern University criminal justice professor James Alan Fox, co-author of 16 books on crime. "That doesn't mean, however, that one could have predicted his rampage."

...

...

WHAT THE HELL?!?!?

Okay, maybe he means it's just as likely he only would have killed one person, but the guy was a ticking time bomb.

Then again, this is the same news media that brought us, after every school shooting, "We don't know why they would do something like this! They were complete social outcasts, tormented mercilessly every day for years... how could they have turned out so disturbed?"

¬_¬ Gee. I wonder.

clover_elf_kin @ 2007-02-20T17:16:00

2007-02-21T01:19:22Z

Well, this has been an interesting last few weeks. I've had several interesting ups, downs, and "Errr... both? Neither?"

Probably most important, at least by most people's standards--I got tested for any learning disabilities I might have. Basically I got my head examined and they ~~found nothing~~ concluded that yep, something unusual's going on in there. I was hoping for a diagnosis, but nope, they just look long enough to determine if a student needs accommodations, and if so, what. The most I remember about the "okay, here's what we know" meeting is that... I have definite memory problems. T_T Yeah. Thanks, I kinda noticed that. Yet even though I ASKED, I don't get to use notes on tests! I do get extended test time, which would have been nice back when I had the occasional essay test... in my lone class now, Biology, it's almost entirely multiple choice. At least I also get to take tests in a "distraction-reduced" environment (I am my own distraction, but that's another story).

What really makes me wonder is that they said I don't read very well. Whaaaaat? I've been reading since I was three, and learned to read in Japanese without all that much trouble (that I remember...). Then again, I am just starting to realize that my reading comprehension is on the low side, so maybe that's what's being referred to. Whatever, I don't know... next month or so, I start using a screen-reader to help me study. Let's see if it helps. The problem with THAT is that apparently I have to take yet another class to learn how to use the thing... uh, yeah, I LIVE on my laptop. I think I can figure out a new program!

I also got lent an AlphaSmart to take notes on, since aforementioned laptop is awesome, but a bit heavy for me to actually carry around. For those who have NO idea what I'm talking about, it's pretty much a full-sized (or close to it) keyboard with a 1" x 6" screen attached. It displays all of four lines of text, but in about size 12 font, so it's fairly easy on the eyes... despite the green-and-black LCD display being slightly reminiscent of the original Game Boy. It has a spell check, which is nice, but you can't add words to its dictionary. Then again, it can only hold eight files of up to ten pages each--yeesh, how many KB of memory is that?! Obviously, it's pretty simple; to get familiar with it, I used it to type this entry! I was told they're like PDAs, but I don't know... for one, every PDA I've ever SEEN had more memory and functions than this by far. If anything, AlphaSmarts seem like a throwback to the original laptops, which looked and functioned pretty much exactly like this...

(Edited after transferring to my own computer: also, it transfers text at maybe twice the speed that I can type it. >_< Which is also reminiscent of the first-ever laptops.)

...I think I just wrote my longest nonfiction journal entry to date, online or off. If you're still reading, have a cookie! Anyway, the other thing I learned recently was that actually, I CAN indeed still draw! I can't do realistic-style to save my life, but anime-style is EASY. My comprehension of perspective is still lacking, but I can kinda get around it, and models help. I finally did use Sims 2 as a make-a-model program! All I have so far is line art, but I've done something like five pictures in less than 24 hours. For me, that's freaking AMAZING. I'll see if trying to color them gets me anywhere (I also suck at shading), and if not--anybody miss their old coloring books? ;-)

And Another Story!

2006-12-06T06:43:29Z

Yet another shameless plea for critiques - yep, this is for class. R&R? Please? ^^

For a change of pace, this is my attempt at a horror story, done as sort of a homage to Edgar Allan Poe. First draft and I'm not nearly as good as he is, nor what one would call experienced at horror writing, but hopefully it works well enough...

As a poor servant girl told time and again that my only purpose was to serve my betters, daily abuse of every kind was merely a fact of life, not worth being remarked upon. It was so for my first twenty or so years, and when I began to serve immortal masters rather than human ones, precious little truly changed. My masters still never failed to remind me that I was inferior to them, never mind that now I served vampires instead of mortals. My wishes did not matter. But after over a century of this kind of service, told that I was unable to live without them because my own immortality depended on if I regularly received their sustenance, I was brought to realize that no matter who you are, that which is not given willingly can still be taken by force.

Though the various clans that nearly all vampires belong to could scarcely be more different, they all agree on certain rules that must be followed to keep order. Though every house I have ever served in vowed to uphold them all at any cost, I came to see that it was as much a lie as their appearance; just as they look human but are no longer, the most important rule of all is an unspoken one: If no one knows about it, it may as well have not happened. My masters then, much as the mortal ones I served before them, were perfectly content to look the other way when one of their own broke nearly any of the rules they claimed to hold so dear. Only when a violation was in some way brought to their attention did they consider action. When I decided to do so, I was surprised at how easy it was to let slip in front of the right people what Master Wilhelm had done. Action was taken swiftly and firmly, and I never had to lift a finger to arrange for him and I to be isolated far from anyone who could help him.

It was only days after our exile that I saw my perfect opportunity to carry out the second part of my plan. Master Wilhelm had been in an absolute rage the entire time; his anger was such that all he could think to do was put me to work making our lodging presentable; we had been able to bring little, but the house we had been banished to was long abandoned and had accumulated the dust of decades. I wore a frock once considered suitable to one of my station, and when I began my duties it was black; some by the end of each night of work, it was gray from dust and dirt. Had I still been mortal, I would have collapsed from exhaustion with all that he made me do.

“Finished with the back rooms yet, have you?” Master Wilhelm said to me as I entered the room.. As I toiled to make the house presentable, he only sat in the dining room and twirled a goblet of blood in his fingers; he sipped from it occasionally, but not as often as he would have otherwise; as the blood wasn’t fresh, he thought it distasteful. “It took you long enough; we’ve been here for days, you realize.”

I brushed a dirty strand of hair out of my face; with all that he had set me to do, I’d had no time for bathing, and little enough for eating. “Yes, Master.”

“About time. What do you have left?”

“I’ve finished cleaning the main floor, but the ground floor remains untouched, as does the attic.”

“Hmm.” He pondered this a moment.

“I took the liberty of looking through the attic, sir. None of the furniture I was told about is suitable for use, and it will take a long time to dispose of it all. Until such time as I can do that, I can keep it locked up.”

“I see. Very well, you will clean the ground floor next.”

“Yes, Master Wilhelm.” I curtsied and went downstairs. I had no doubt that he would soon tire of staring at the faded wallpaper I had tried so hard to clean and come to terrorize me into working yet harder; from the time the accusations were brought against him to our first night in our new dwelling, he had taken most of his foul temper out on me. He acted as though what had happened was my fault; I put up with it partly because my plan required it, but also because the ordeal he was going through was partly my fault. But because I was well aware that he didn’t know what I had done, I added his continuing and additional cruelty to his list of crimes, and vowed to show him no mercy.

I set myself to work cleaning, just as he had asked, but kept an ear out for signs that he was coming to once again take his temper out on me. He was truly in one of the most foul moods I had ever known him in over his exile; that he truly was guilty of most of the crimes he was accused of mattered not at all to him. As I had predicted from long years of experience with him and his kind, he soon slammed his wine glass onto the table, nearly breaking it, before storming downstairs to make certain I was working.

I had by then worked my way into a certain back room, the house’s basement. When I heard his angry footsteps, I couldn’t help but remember the hundreds, perhaps thousands of times I had heard the very same and wanted to hide; it would take him some time to find me there, and out of long habit, for a moment I wanted to stay there. Instead, I ran, and towards him. I knew I looked frightened; after decades of service to vampires, I could produce the expression effortlessly. “Master Wilhelm!” I stopped just in front of him, barely, and looked into his eyes with a desperate expression.

“What the blazes is it, girl?” he snapped.

“The basement—there is a trapdoor, I think. I know the boards there were not so loose when I came in there before, and dawn is so close—I think someone’s come for you. Please, come see.”

His eyes narrowed, and he pushed me aside so roughly I fell to the floor. “We shall see how easily I go down if they wish to try.”

I struggled to my feet—I was genuinely weary from lack of proper food and rest over days, and if he had not been as well I would likely have been injured—and hurried to follow him. By the time I got there, he was ripping up the floorboards, to reveal nothing but hard-packed earth.

Master Wilhelm turned to me, eyes blazing. “Damned useless fool. The boards were loose—have you never seen it before? I should turn you out to age into dust—don’t expect sustenance of either kind today, girl.”

Before he could take so much as a step towards me, I acted—I simply flipped a switch, attached to something I had installed the day before. Master Wilhelm appeared not to notice the light flickering on for a moment, but could only double over as searing pain ripped through his body. He tried to bolt away as only a vampire can, but the UV rays of the lamp zapped his powers as he had likely thought only the sun could. He fell to the floor, screaming. “Mabel! What is this?”

“It’s called electricity, Master Wilhelm,” I replied. “The light is from a sun lamp.”

“Impossible!” He tried to curl up, to cover himself with his clothes, but nothing he wore would be nearly sufficient protection.

“It’s not as strong as the sun, no,” I said. “Do you remember what the sun feels like?” I walked to his side and took his hand. Though already weakened, he resisted, likely thinking I planned to expose him further to the light’s deadly glare. I simply leaned down and clicked a padlock on a loop of chain closed on his wrist; both were wrapped with thin silver wire to minimize any attempts at struggling. The other end was similarly locked to a support beam in the center of the room, too thick and sturdy to be pulled down by a vampire who would never again be at full strength. He tried, of course; I stood there and watched, to ensure he couldn’t. After only moments he stopped and curled up in another attempt to protect himself.

Though even the best UV lights can’t fully mimic the full effect of the sun, after a few minutes I saw that he was beginning to smolder; I went back to the switch and turned the light off. Wilhelm stayed huddled into himself for a while before seeming to realize that the deadly light was gone; slowly, as if afraid, he turned his head to look at me. “Why do you not just kill me?”

“Had I wanted that, I would have staked you while you slept,” I replied. “It has been decided that you’re more useful to us this way.”

“Why?” I could see that he was trying to seem strong, but being exposed to even an imitation of the sun’s rays for so long had weakened him; he could sit up, but no more than that.

I leaned down to look him in the eye, as servants are instructed never to do. “Because, as you said—I’ve become accustomed to immortality. However, I’ve also grown tired of begging for the sustenance of vampire blood that keeps me from aging; so, I decided it was time to take it for myself. Rest assured, you’ll be fed—some. Likely little more than pigs’ blood, but it will keep you ‘alive’, if either of us can be called that.”

He stared at me. I waited, expecting him to speak; when he did not, I turned and walked away. When I had reached the door, he cried out, “What is to become of me?”

I remained facing away from him. “You’re valuable as you are only because your blood is a gateway to power.”

“And if you somehow capture another, who is more powerful than I?”

I smiled to myself, and simply walked out of the room.

As a young girl, a child servant, I once saw my master rebuke his large hunting dog, a creature large enough to take down horses. Though he used only words, however harsh, the dog stood there with its head down and tail between its legs as though he had whipped it. Puzzled by this, I asked him, “Why does it listen to you, who is without fangs like it has?”

My master told me, “Because it doesn’t know that I don’t,” and smiled, showing his teeth; indeed, only the canines were sharp.

It may seem like a strange thing to tell a servant that was almost a slave, but he said it with confidence that I was too stupid to comprehend. And I was, because I was young, and it was actually a long, long time before I understood. But when I finally did, it was a lesson I took to heart.

Story Excerpt! (ETA: second half added!)

2006-11-13T10:04:19Z

For those who aren't aware, November is National Novel-Writing Month, aka the Month of Insanity for those of us who decide to attempt it! In short, participants are challenged to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. That's about 1,667 words a day, every day, all month. I missed a day ONCE and I'm still behind (thankfully not by much, anymore). It's brutal, to say the least.

The award for finishing? A nifty graphic.

Yeah, good thing for us writers that being insane goes with the territory, right?

Anyway! Twelve days of frantic writing later, I'm actually doing pretty good - and think I've improved at it. NaNoWriMo emphasizes quantity over quality ("editing comes later"), but I've somehow gotten to the point that I like what I've written, mostly... ignoring the filler scenes I did at 2 a.m. for the sake of inflating my word count and nothing more. Tonight I did something new, too - I wrote my first real battle scene. It isn't done (it's late, I did my quota for the day, and I ran out of steam!), but I think it's good - at least for a beginner. So, here it is for your reading/critiquing pleasure! (Seriously, if you have suggestions I want to hear them. Unless the suggestion is to stop rambling. XD)

Second half now added, so hopefully it makes a little more sense!

Tentative book title: Rise From the Fire
Rating: who the hell knows, but safe for work/school
Warnings: completely unedited and incomplete rough draft

Though this fort didn’t have visibility as good as she would like, Sefira stayed in her quarters until the first ward went off; they were set far enough away so the enemy shouldn’t be able to do a thing to them until at least the second ward. Besides that, she just didn’t feel up to patrolling the parameters for hours on end; the alarms would alert them to any enemy presence long before she could.

“There you are,” Janar said when she came up the center stairwell, spyglass in hand. He knew better than to ask where she’d been; he knew. Because Sefira was the Living Legend, she knew he wouldn’t dare reprimand her even if he’d outranked her; even those that did never said a word. And why should they? I still lead us to victory, even when I only come in at the last minute. Time after time after time.

She simply nodded and looked through the lens. “I can’t see anyone yet, but I see something… a spell aura, but that’s all I can get at this distance.” That was undoubtedly the longest unprompted speech she’d made in days, at least.

“That’s still more than the rest of us got,” a man said. She knew he was one of the war mages under her, but they’d been introduced only briefly and she had no idea what his name was.

“Always is, from our general,” Janar replied.

Sefira turned to them. “In brief, we know nothing?”

“A few of us tried to send sky eyes to spy on them,” the other mage said.

She just nodded; as useful as sky eyes could be, they were all but worthless against nearly anyone who knew magic; spells to effectively blind them were plentiful and easy. Scholars theorized that countless people had spent years of time and energy ensuring they couldn’t be used against anyone that didn’t want them around. More practical people said that that conclusion was too obvious to even be called a theory. Regardless, she sent out a pair of her own; she had no hopes or even intentions of discovering anything about them directly, but instead intended to see what bits and pieces she could make out.

From the scenery, natural landmarks and magic markings, they were between the first and second alarm wards; that in itself wasn’t news, but the fact that she could see their surroundings to begin with said they weren’t being as careful as some other battalions had been. Turning to try to scout out the group itself, she found that she could see only a blur where they marched, as though she was trying to look at them through fogged-over, poor quality glass. She could make out colors, though; flashes of metal armor, the dark gray and forest green of their army’s uniforms, the browns and blacks of warhorses. It was all very vague, but as she could only be looking at so many things that helped narrow it down considerably. Years of war experience had given her fairly impressive accuracy; she couldn’t tell how many were in a company save by size, but she could pick out archers and mages from the common soldiers with the best of them.

Not that it does any good to know that they have archers or more than one mage—how often do they not?

She ended the spell after a few minutes and turned to her unit. “They’re not using very much effort on the anti-spy spell; I could see a lot more than just a shadow on the grass. I saw a few mages, but obviously not well enough to count them. Still, I think they’re not focusing much on the magic angle this time; it looked like they had more archers than usual.”

“Idiots,” another mage said. “Do they think you’re on vacation somewhere?”

“Pray that they do,” Janar said, tightening his sword belt. “Word has it this is a smaller force than we usually face; let’s show them why that’s not a good idea. When they get here, we’re to end it sooner than we ever have.”

Sefira didn’t even nod; a show of force would teach their enemy nothing. How many conflicts had they lost this year alone? The casualties only increased with every battle, with the enemy losing more than their side by far… but because they could afford to lose so much more than the country they were trying to defeat, they kept coming. If all it took to make them surrender was a demonstration of power, the war would have stopped by the time Sefira was twenty or sooner.

A chorus of bells rang in the mages’ heads, as well as that of the higher-ranked officers. Janar smiled, a little grimly; this was the first battle he’d heard them too. “Time for me to get into position. The best of luck to you all—may your aim be strong and true.”

“Good hunting,” Sefira replied. Compared to the soldiers on the ground, and even the archers on the walls, the mages had the luxury of knowing they had the safest positions of anyone in the battle.

He nodded to them all, and rushed off.

Despite her efforts to avoid it, Sefira found herself stuck waiting for nearly an hour after that; she knew well that trying to escape long stretches in which there was nothing to do but wait was impossible, but her patience for it was growing thinner and thinner. In younger years, she’d found herself wanting the battle to begin just to get it over with, but now it felt like waiting to be executed; the waiting was unbearable, but
the next event was even worse.

Finally, the other army came into view at the very edge of their range; Sefira snapped to attention and quickly glanced them over. “I see at least one shield with multiple layers, as well as metal ones. You,” she nodded to the most experienced mage of the group, “take it out with me after I break off the first part and try a few strikes against the next one. You,” she looked at the girl whose name she almost remembered, “wait
until the magic shields are gone, and then heat up the metal ones until nobody can hold them anymore. The rest of you, keep an eye out and block the other mages from getting to us. If you can, help anyone that needs it—put up shields of our own if they break around the archers, see if any of the knights need assistance that you can give, and above all make sure no one gets anywhere near the fort. Got it?”

“Understood.”

“Yes, General.”

“Understood completely.”

“I have it.”

She nodded and focused completely on the main shield the enemy army carried, concentrating on it until it filled her vision and she was sure she knew how it was made. Knowing that meant she knew how to take it down and out. It glittered slightly to her vision; she considered for some moments before she started a spell. Even if it didn’t have the full intended effect, it should tell her what she could use that would. It looked at least as tough as it was; shield spells weren’t meant to protect their bearers so much as wear out those trying to take them down. Sefira found them very tiring, but she had enough magic so that taking them out left her enough energy to last the battle.

Her first spell was actually a simple bolt, as fast and as devastating as a lightning strike. It was at its core a simple spell, one all the mages she was fighting with could do; the difference was power. It could be used in something as “light” as forcefully breaking open a container, or to bring down much bigger and stronger
things. Her first strike didn’t work as well as she liked, but the heat of it showed promise; she increased it in her next spell by holding the crackling, sparking ball of light longer and letting it grow bigger before letting it go. Magical shields didn’t usually crack, but when they weakened it showed; the color was starting to fade as its power did. A few more of those and the first layer was down, the second one already weakened a little. “Now!” Sefira ordered. There was at least two layers left and if they were going to truly finish this battle quickly, she did need help.

Working together, they wore away at the shields with noticeable speed. Sefira wasn’t flattering the other by asking his help; double-teaming against something one wanted to bring down worked more than twice as fast by not giving the object time to recover at all. In the brief seconds in which Sefira wasn’t actively casting a spell and so had some concentration to spare, she glanced down beyond the shields, where blade-to-blade combat had been going on for a while. She didn’t know as much about swords as she did sorcery, but it didn’t look as good as she would have hoped. She had no time to help them, though; the other mage’s spell struck his target with a loud crackling sound, and she had to cast her own. Barely two rounds of volleys later, the shield shivered one last time and broke into pieces that vanished before they hit the ground.

With that down, the other side’s mages were unprotected, but also free to really fight back. Sefira still bore scars from several confrontations much like this one when she hadn’t acted quickly enough to prevent strikes against her; older and wiser now, the second the shield was down she released a round of energy blades at them. As she’d hoped, one of her targets quickly tried to deflect rather than redirect them; they burst like shards of stressed, overheated glass, injuring everyone in their path. It was unlikely to kill any of them, but it would hurt and distract them at least long enough to get in a few spells that would.

Power and timing were, as always, the key; most magic spells could be blocked or dodged, and all but the fatal ones could be recovered from if the victim was given time; the trick was making sure they didn’t get that time. Spells like fireball were anticipated, but still not easily defended against with all their shields gone. Sefira followed an unpredictable and devastating pattern she’d been taught; there were a hundred combinations of spells that did considerable damage compared to individually, and Sefira had at one time known them all. She had never written what could be called spells of her own, but she had enough raw power to sometimes do things with spells that most others couldn’t.

In this case she was doing nothing special but a quick succession of spell blasts; some of the other side’s mages—if they were still standing, Sefira hadn’t really looked since the shields came down—could likely tell seconds in advance what she was about to throw at them, but mere seconds was not enough to cast anything in their defense. They all carried staffs, as was common among the other side's magic users, but while the staffs were good defense weapons in themselves—they were most likely specially made and enchanted for that purpose—they were only good for the protection of one. Even worse for them, Sefira had long ago learned how to cast spells that were at least as deadly when deflected as when they hit a target straight on. Not even thinking, just acting, she hit them all, if they were in the vulnerable front lines or not, with a barrage of rapid-fire spells. Lightning to stun them too soundly to dodge anything for at least a few minutes, ice to freeze them firmly in their tracks, and then fire to simply burn them. The fire-then-ice combination was especially destructive; frozen objects heated too fast tended to crack. Like swords, or bows and arrows, or armor. Or unprotected fingers.

Only after Sefira’s vision began to blur from the overexertion of casting so many strong spells in a matter of minutes—making sure they were given no rest meant she got none, herself—did she really look at the battlefield. Her long years of experience trying to determine what she was seeing through a partially blocked sky eyes spell or similar meant she could look at battle scenes without really seeing them, but still get a good idea what was going on. Or at least good enough. It was easier, really, to determine what was going on in a battle scene; all she needed to know was who was on what side, and how many of each were still moving. And things seemed to be going… well enough, as battles went.

She only allowed herself to “rest” (a joke, no one could get anything of the sort during battle) for likely a few minutes, but it felt like a few seconds at best. While she tried to recover enough to cast another round of spells, the other mages were taking turns being the active spell casters, as well; they had enough so nobody, including Sefira, had to try to be casting something without pause from the beginning of the battle to the end. Having enough mages wasn’t usually the issue; what they really needed was more high ranking magic users than they had. While she did that, she finally realized that she was hurt; her upper left arm had a long cut that was dripping blood. It was all running onto the floor rather than her hand, so she’d had little cause to notice it; her adrenaline was running high enough so the pain was still easily ignored. She remembered seeing at least one spell coming her way but thought she’d launched her own in time to double as a defensive spell; she was at least reasonably certain the spell that hit had been a magic arrow of some kind; some of those had nasty aftereffects. I’ll have to try to remember to mention that to a healer after this is finally over. If it even mattered; they were trained to sense those things. Soldiers came back unconscious, or in too much pain to report what had gotten them, or sometimes didn’t know what had hit them. Regardless, she rarely passed out completely after battles; she’d tell the attending healer what she could once she’d gotten through this.

If I get through this.

When she stepped forward to start the next round of offensive spells, she gave the battlefield at least a quick glance; her vision had cleared enough so that was sufficient. There were pockets, more than anything else, of soldiers still left fighting; fewer targets meant she needed to be more precise in her aim, but spell casting wasn’t like archery. Unless the masses of fighters she was aiming at were very close to the fighters she didn’t want to hit, precision was only a small concern. By that point, it was a matter of picking her targets, and then picking them off group by group.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur; a confusing, noisy, exhausting blur, but she comprehended no more than she needed to and remembered even less. When she thought, finally, that it might have ended, she looked for a long moment before reaching for her spyglass to check—had they taken their victory?

A two-note whistle sounded throughout the fort; yes, the battle was over. Sefira let out a long breath and leaned against the wall; one of the other mages, probably the newest, collapsed to her knees. The man Sefira had spoken to first sat next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and murmuring something, probably words of omfort. Sefira found herself vaguely wondering what; she couldn’t fathom what would comfort someone unused to this. All she wanted after battles was the quiet seclusion of her own quarters.

Two healers rushed in then, and both went straight to her; she waved them off, a little irritably. She knew when she was badly hurt, and the cuts and burns she’d received this time weren’t likely to be urgent. She had no such assurances about the others, so they should be checked over first.

Nobody was taken down to the hospital wing; in some ways, a good sign, since it meant they weren’t too badly hurt. In others it wasn’t so good; one of the mages was bleeding badly enough to need a quick sealing spell to stop it, and the healer just cleaned the wound up and did it right there. It meant less blood loss for the mage, but also meant that the hospital wing was very busy and didn’t need extra patients in there.

Sefira was last to be checked over, a decision she had quickly come to regret; she knew better than to leave before she’d been looked at, but all she wanted was to be alone. Finally, though, the more senior of the healers gave her a quick scan. As predicted, she asked, “Do you know what this is from?” as she brushed fingers near the long gash on Sefira’s arm.

“Some kind of magic arrow, I think. Maybe a bolt.” Sefira looked at the blank stone wall of the fortress as she spoke.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s embedded anything…” she kept probing it with her magically careful touch. Sefira felt little more than a slight tingling. After a few more moments’ searching, the healer just sealed it to stop the bleeding; immediately healing it risked completely knocking Sefira out. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but I advise resting for a while.”

Sefira nodded and just walked out. Her quarters here were luckily on the top floor; she wasn’t nearly as bad off as she had been sometimes in the past, but she didn’t like the idea of trying to navigate stairs. An all-consuming ache had taken hold of her once the adrenaline had faded, and nothing sounded so good as her bed right then.

Once at her door, she fumbled with her key so badly she nearly dropped it, several times. I didn’t think I was this tired or hurt. She looped the key’s ribbon around her wrist just to be safe—she loathed the idea of having to bend over to pick up something so small—and managed, finally, to unlock her door. The lock also opened with magic, but she was too tired to even consider trying it.

She had no intention of getting completely undressed, but she at least tried to take off her boots. The buckles just would not come undone, and at last she gave up; it was too warm to get under the sheets anyway, and she could get someone to clean the outer blanket later. She lay down and closed her eyes; she was hurting badly enough so sleep wouldn’t come for a while, but just lying down like this felt good enough so she could live with it. Exhaustion would eventually win out over pain, and then she would sleep.

It was the middle of the night before Sefira woke up again; she’d have liked to just sleep until morning or longer, but she was so hungry by then that she had no hope of drifting off again until she’d eaten something. She dragged herself out of bed and first just checked the hallway hopefully; nothing had been left by her door. It would have been nice, but it made sense; no use putting out hot food for a person who was unlikely to get it before it turned stone cold.

She’d recovered enough so that she could walk down the stairs without worry; she held onto the railing to steady herself a little, but she made it without stumbling much at all. The mess hall sounded fairly busy despite the hour; she wasn’t the only one who wouldn’t be able to wait until breakfast to get some nourishment.

Some highly practical mess hall worker had set trays of food out on a table near the kitchen door; each had a bowl of soup and chunk of bread. There were different kinds of both, but Sefira honestly didn’t care; she took a tray, sat down, and ate as quickly as her body would let her. She didn’t want to make herself sick, so it was maybe even a good thing that her movements were stiff enough that she couldn’t just gulp her food down and bolt.

She was just finishing when someone called out, “General Dovan!”

Sefira looked up to see a man she was certain she knew; after a moment, she nodded to him and said, “Lieutenant Tamas.”

“Has anyone given you a report on the battle yet?” He had something of a heaviness to him, but this little time after a battle, it wasn’t unusual.

“No. I’ll get one in the morning.” She didn’t want to hear anything of the sort just yet; even she needed time to recover, and then she could deal with the aftermath.

“I understand. Good night, then.”

Sefira nodded, standing and picking up her tray. “You as well.” She took a step, then paused and looked at him. “How’s Janar?” He was always courteous enough to ask after her; she could do the same once, even if it wasn’t directly to him.

He hesitated—never a good sign. “So you didn’t hear… he was killed during the battle. Wasn’t even found until after. Sword to the chest, so it was quick enough.”

Sefira stood very still for a moment; she expected to feel sorrow, at least, because she had known him. Instead, she felt nothing. Finally, she nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll… see you in the morning.” She left before he could answer.

WTF? Moments

2006-09-04T03:29:32Z

Yeeeeeeah, I should post more... I might have some real entries once in a while if not for how pretty much everyone who reads my blog actually knows me. ^^ Leaves me a little uncertain of what I should write here...

Oh, well. School started again, so maybe I'll actually get some writing in! Watch this space for random new fiction.

For ~~this month's~~ today's entry, I just had to share some really, really crazy stuff I've stumbled across in the last few days.

Seen at a pharmacy: "UltraSoft" Lancets.

From a legal-type sheet regarding hormonal birth control, that must be filled out to attain said birth control: "Do you currently want to be pregnant?"

From a Dear Abby column: "I just can't believe he is gay. I am heterosexual (when I get the chance)."

Girlfriend, over the phone: "Remember when you said you cut yourself recently?" (We'd been discussing shaving accidents.)
Me: "Yeah?"
Girlfriend: "How'd you say you stopped the bleeding?"
Me: O_o

Please, feel free to add your own. I think I'm going to spend this week taking notes just so I can add more of MY own. XD Comments are fun.

New story!

2006-02-06T10:08:49Z

I wrote this in about two hours after a fanficrants entry, um, inspired me. XD I only just started the game, so don't kill me for any OOCness!

Title: Bottle Blond
Genre: Complete and utter crack.
Series: FFX
Timeline: I have no idea. Presumably sometime during the game.

Man, I forgot how hot Besaid gets. Tidus hadn’t even walked all the way around the village and he was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He could have tracked Yuna down, but she was out catching up with people, some of whom were less than fond of him. Since she didn’t currently need every single one of her Guardians at her side, he was free to join his team here for Blitzball practice—which thankfully came a little later in the day than high noon. In the meantime, he was sprawled on the spare bed at Wakka’s place, mindlessly staring at the ceiling in utter boredom.

Their location, combined with his and Yuna’s separate schedules, might have left Tidus worried that he wouldn’t see her at all until they left again. Sensing his concern, however, Yuna had suggested they go for a swim together when he was done practicing with the team, knowing he wouldn’t want to get out of the water anyway. Her exact words had been, "I know a little cove no one else ever seems to go to; want to go there, just the two of us?"

Thinking about that later, Tidus had to grin like an idiot. The weather had been so hot Rikku complained that she didn’t see why people bothered wearing clothes—and Yuna had agreed. Maybe she wanted Tidus alone so they could do a little skinny-dipping?

He realized he’d have no time to clean up after practice, so he’d better make himself look presentable now. He got up, reluctantly, and went to find the public washrooms. The showers here were set up to wash clothes as well as people, so the shower stalls were nicely spacious and always well-stocked. He grabbed a towel from his own bag and headed out.

In the washroom, Tidus studied his reflection; his hair was going to get messed up during practice, no help for that, but he should make sure it wasn’t getting too long or anything. After a moment, he concluded that nah, he wasn’t due for a trim yet, but the darker roots of his hair were too obvious. He checked the laundry supplies and was pleased to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide; he stripped off his shirt in case of drips and neatly applied the peroxide. It took a while to work, so he spent the time alternating between his plans for practice and for his . . . date with Yuna. Thoughts of swimming with her still made him grin a little every time.

When it was time to wash the peroxide out, Tidus decided he might as well shower completely while he was there. Leaving his towel by the door, he undressed and piled his clothes on a nearby shelf. With the temperature as high as it was, he might as well not bother drying off before dressing again; summers here were just that bad.

He was just about to turn the water on when he caught a glimpse of his reflection and frowned a little. With such a fresh bleach job, the hair on his head was at least as blond as usual, but his hair . . . elsewhere was still an obvious dark brown. He wasn’t trying to hide that this wasn’t his natural color, but somehow it didn’t look right; hair should match. Tidus debated, then picked up the bottle again. "Wish I’d thought of this sooner." To get the same color in both places, he’d have to leave the peroxide on for the same amount of time, which meant at least another twenty minutes in here. It wasn’t exactly a hardship, though, considering that practice wasn’t for a while longer and he got to stand around in no clothes at all in weather that definitely called for it.

Tidus turned on the showerhead just long enough to rinse out his hair and splash water over the rest of his body, then turned it off and got the peroxide back out of the laundry cupboard. Just a dash of it ought to—

The moment after he applied it, his eyes got very, very wide and it was a tremendous effort not to scream. The stuff he’d been using for years on his head unexpectantly BURNED LIKE HELL on a different body part. Unable to stop himself from whimpering, he limped back into the shower and turned the water on full blast to just get the stuff OFF as fast as possible.

It was several very, very long minutes before he even thought he’d washed it all out, and he was still whimpering under his breath by the time he turned the water off. As far as he knew, hydrogen peroxide was mostly water—what had caused that?! Nerving himself to look down, he saw that the skin there had already turned red and irritated. Blitzball practice—hell, walking—was not going to be fun that day . . . and any swimming with Yuna should probably be with clothes on.

Giving a soft moan, Tidus hobbled over to his clothes to get dressed. Hopefully he had time to huddle up with an icepack somewhere. Where nobody would ask.

O_o

2006-01-05T07:46:19Z

Last night I was trying to get to bed early (for me), so I left a few things around the kitchen to take care of later. I knew I'd left the silverware rack on the counter, but what I didn't mean to leave was the open dog food can, 3/4th full after giving the dog her evening treat.

In the morning I found it on its side on the floor, empty except for a few globs in the very bottom. Ivy's a German shepard who's too big and old to even THINK about jumping up to grab something off the high counter, which leaves the cat; Tarius likes Ivy's food too, but there's no way he could have eaten a nearly full can by himself.

Which means that they teamed up to get the can down to the floor and scarf it down before anyone could stop them. I knew they're friends, but damn! What really boggles my mind is where on the counter I left the can - behind the silverware rack. I have NO idea how Tarius got it down off the counter and past the rack. I'd also love to know how he got it to the floor without accidently dumping it into one of the two open drawers just below the counter...

I didn't scold them; it was a little late by the time I found the can and realized what had happened. Besides, after an escapade like THAT I'd say they earned their treat!

shows off holiday icon one last time

2005-12-29T02:18:01Z

Been meaning to sit down and, gasp, write another entry for a while now. May as well start with the usual holiday tradition of squealing over my loot. XD I got books, a bunch of knitting stuff (that was a surprise, now I just have to learn how!), a scarf, and an FMA keychain I need to take apart with pliers to sew the symbol onto a hat. I also got books 2 and 3 of Gouhou (Legal) Drug, which is a GREAT series - CLAMP finally gave up on the subtle gay and made it obvious! I read the entire 3rd book to Aya over the phone... had to hang up after I'd finished because my voice was gone, but it was fun to die laughing with a friend.

And with all this great new stuff, I spent the day... playing Final Fantasy VII. Still. I spent at least ten minutes running around in the forest trying to find Yuffie, and when I finally did I shrieked in joy... to the unhappiness of everyone else in the living room. ^^ Recruited her on the first try, since my walkthough gives you the responses she wants. In other game news, Yuffie is probably the one Cloud will be dating after my most recent talk with Aeris... she was going on about her birthmother and being an Ancient, and asked Cloud what he thinks of her. I flinched when the answer I had to give (since I'm aiming to not date her) was "nothing much". What Cloud actually said wasn't quite THAT bad - something like "I don't know, I haven't really thought about it." Typical... but Aeris actually got mad, snapped that she can't believe him, and said to leave her alone; she kept repeating the last part when I tried to talk to her again. Congrats, Cloud, you're a moron.

Anyway, after Christmas dinner, most everybody stayed in the kitchen talking (although I have no idea where my brother went and I was, uh, fighting my way through a cave), and Grandpa called out to me rather randomly, "Ever heard of this website called Google?" Me: "....yes, I'm quite familiar with it." -dies- At least he knows what e-mail is...

Three days after Christmas, and I still have something like five presents to finish. I was SO not on top of things this year. T_T At least most of the presents I got for my friends are ones they should like (I failed miserably in getting good stuff for my parents, although I tried; my shopping luck just didn't hold this year). If anyone wants to help me out, know any fairly simple World of Warcraft symbols? Or where I can get the NES font? ^^

Happy what's left of the holidays, everyone!

-dies-

2005-08-16T03:39:08Z

Never posted one of these before, but I just HAD to when I saw the results . . .

If You Ruled the World: by oomarilynmonroe
Username
national religion
Type of Government
How you take over
You would name it
You would overthrow	sherina
Your second in command would be	jz_smith
Your sex slave is	oniko
Commander of the military:	arianna_kathryn
Put to death for insubordination	limyaael
Figure head in the puppet government	babykangaru
You are overthrown by	alcira

Quiz created with MemeGen!

limyaael, I'm really, really sorry, but at least whatever you did to deserve it was probably very creative and unexpected! XD Everybody else . . . Bwahahahaha.

Because I can . . .

2005-06-21T05:03:54Z

Update: new extended edition!

Posting because I have a few friends in Hayward (-pokes them-) who'd probably get a kick out of this.

Again, it's something I wrote for class; of everything I wrote this month, this was by far my favorite.

I lost my left leg below the knee when I was thirteen, after being hit by a car when I was six. Yeah, you’d think it wouldn’t take them seven years to figure out they can’t save it, wouldn’t you? But they wanted to spare me the trauma of losing a leg. So instead, I got subjected to the trauma of repeated ankle surgery and being pretty much confined to bed for weeks on end. The hope was that my ankles would heal with as little range-of-motion loss as possible and for me to pretty much be able to forget the whole thing ever happened.

That would’ve been nice, but no such luck. I don’t even really remember the next couple of weeks, but Dad’s definitely told me about it enough times. With both legs in casts past my knees, and in so much pain I was taking drugs for it, well . . . according to him, newborns are less trouble. All I remember is being really irritable, bored, in pain, and crying a lot.

Lucky for everyone’s sanity, a little over two months later I had healed enough for lighter, smaller braces to be put on instead. I still couldn’t put any weight at all on my left leg, but the right was healed enough for me to use crutches.

. . . Then I fell trying to use them and nearly broke my arm. To my credit, I kept trying, but after a few days it became painfully obvious they were not going to work for me. A friend of the family got me a wheelchair instead, and it helped a lot. I was really happy just knowing my parents weren’t going to have to carry me around anymore. Looking back, it was a big relief for them, too! I gave them a lot of trouble around then. It was actually a little worse for them after I got the chair, but since I was finally happy and mobile instead of whining and throwing fits from pain and boredom, they were happy too. Which, come to think of it, is probably one of the only reasons Dad had for not strangling me after most of what I ended up getting into that year.

I was seven by the time I was back out of the wheelchair full-time, so obviously caution wasn’t really in my vocabulary. My left ankle was still sore sometimes, but since it didn’t hurt, I was fine. After what I’d been through, I wasn’t going to complain about a little ache! Mom worried some, but knowing about any little twinges I was having wouldn’t have helped . . . and she wasn’t about to wish I’d start complaining again.

Another break was probably inevitable, but I sure didn’t know it. The first re-break was at a party; I was running around on someone’s lawn with friends, and the ground wasn’t very even. Predictably, I tripped, and was wailing before I even felt any pain—when my left ankle broke again, I heard it.

It could have been worse, but lucky nobody actually tried telling me that at the time—I already knew how well a leg cast works as a weapon. Back in the wheelchair, back to the only part of the playground I could access from it. My friends stayed with me to cheer me up, at least, and everyone assured me it could’ve happened to anybody, this didn’t mean I should get depressed. My friends all made it a point to tell me stories they knew of people breaking bones for even dumber reasons; my favorite is still Justine’s cousin who broke her wrist falling off a dollhouse. The whole experience really wasn’t as bad as it felt, that second break was minor, but my only consolations were knowing what to expect and that this wasn’t nearly as bad as before.

That time, I could at least try to convince myself that it was only a fluke, like everybody said. I wasn’t even eight yet when it happened again—so much for that illusion. Not only was the break a lot worse than the last time, but it happened just because I jumped off a platform on the playground, playing around with friends again, and I landed wrong. So did Laura, but she just fell down; I broke my ankle again. I knew the sound of it way too well by then. I was pretty much inconsolable for days; I knew what to expect, all right. I knew this was going to keep happening again and again, which was one damned depressing thought.

I don’t know if I got over it so much as adjusted. Barbara, the family friend who got me my wheelchair, helped a lot. Since she’s a paraplegic, I didn’t really feel like I had the right to complain when she was around. She taught me all the tricks to getting around in a wheelchair and pretty much taught me to play the hand I was dealt. Sometimes I couldn’t walk, but I could still stand. And if I didn’t care about looking undignified, I could crawl or hop.

Things actually got worse for me as time went on—even when I was supposed to be all healed, it usually hurt my left ankle to walk. That was the one that usually got broken or sprained, but not always. Even worse was damaging both at once. It never got to me as much as it did in the first year, though, so I managed not to throw much in the way of pity parties when I broke or sprained one ankle or the other yet again, as happened about every couple of months. What bothered me the most was the near-chronic pain I was in by then; human bones are not meant to take that kind of damage over and over again. Even that usually didn’t get too bad, though . . . I was lucky enough to have a doctor who made sure to keep me stocked up on nice, usually non-addictive prescription painkiller. I still have friends of my parents calling me to ask what I think of such-and-such drug. I have way too many medications’ effects and side-effects memorized—I actually had to correct an intern once. Let me tell you, if you’re trying to get an opinion on how to find the best balance between semi-comfortably numb and unconscious, I’m your man.

Anyway, over seven years of too many procedures, I finally ended up in the hospital for treatment. That was actually a first—I’d been an inpatient there for surgeries before, but after a little observation they usually just sent me home to recover. I knew something a little different was happening, since I’d been using my wheelchair even around the house for almost five months, but when the doctors said my ankle was refusing to heal after the last break and surgical correction, I said something like “What else is new?” The latest surgery not working at all was new, actually, but I didn’t really get it. Just a slight variation on the same old routine.

Until we found out the bones refusing to heal in my left ankle were infected. They put me on antibiotics, intravenously, so my chances of going home soon were shot for at least two weeks. I finally got depressed over that, because, well, the hospital sucks no matter how you’re feeling, and now my mobility was being restricted again. If I wanted to get out of bed and into my wheelchair I had to transfer the IV bag from the bed’s IV pole to the one we put on my chair. Which isn’t anything like a hospital wheelchair, so we had a hell of a time getting it on—Mom actually found a way to tie it on. I spent the first week terrified it would fall off and rip the needle out of my arm.

Sometimes I look back on that stay and call it my war story. It kind of fits. For one thing, the doctors who were supposed to be helping me finally had to show mercy . . . and that was when they amputated my left foot. The antibiotics were very obviously not working, and if they didn’t do it right then I might lose most of the leg. A bunch of x-rays, consultations, meetings with my parents, and star-chart readings later, they amputated my leg, something like six inches above my ankle. Yeah, I freaked out over how much was gone when I woke up . . . I knew what was happening, but I wasn’t expecting them to take off that much.

Don’t worry, though, I got over it. I’m not any Pollyanna, but it was a big improvement over before—no more pain, and I was actually walking again with my first prosthesis by the end of the week. I impressed the physical therapist by getting to the end of the parallel bars, letting go, and walking to the wall without falling on my first try. Anything to avoid being given crutches—I was walking again, and I wasn’t going to chance screwing up my other ankle! I’m still doing my best to keep at least my right leg intact, and so far it’s okay. It’s been eight years since the surgery, and I’ve only broken my right ankle . . . what, three times? Yeah. Kind of sad that that’s an improvement, isn’t it?

ETA: anyone know how to make an LJ-cut tag that's more than one word?!

This journaling stuff is easy!

2005-05-16T01:57:36Z

Okay, turnabout's fair play! Pick a few quotes from this list and attribute them to your favorite (or not-so-favorite) anime characters. It's funny and it's great icon fodder.

My examples that started this mess in the first place:
- Chaos, panic, & disorder -- my work here is done. (Lina Inverse)
- Mommy, I wanna grow up to be a neurotic bitch just like you. (Yuki... or Kyou... or Momiji...)
- I can't remember if I'm the good twin or the evil one. (Kamui)

- Well, this day was a total waste of makeup.
- Well, aren't we just a ray of fucking sunshine?
- Make yourself at home! Clean my kitchen.
- Not the brightest crayon in the box now, are we?
- A hard-on doesn't count as personal growth.
- Don't bother me. I'm living happily ever after.
- Do I look like a fucking people person?
- This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.
- I started out with nothing & still have most of it left.
- I pretend to work. They pretend to pay me.
- Practice random acts of intelligence & senseless acts of self-control.
- I like cats too. Let's exchange recipes.
- If I want to hear the pitter-patter of little feet, I'll put shoes on my cat.
- Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?
- I wish for a world of peace, harmony, & nakedness.
- Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
- Let me show you how the guards used to do it.
- And your crybaby whiny-assed opinion would be...?
- I'm not crazy, I've just been in a very bad mood for 30 years.
- See no evil, hear no evil and date no evil.
- Allow me to introduce my selves.
- Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
- Whisper my favorite words: "I'll buy it for you."
- Better living through denial.
- Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
- Do they ever shut up on your planet?
- I'm just working here till a good fast-food job opens up.
- Are these your eyeballs? I found them in my cleavage.
- I'm not your type. I'm not inflatable.
- I'm trying to imagine you with a personality.
- A cubicle is just a padded cell without a door.
- Stress is when you wake up screaming & you realize you haven't fallen asleep yet.
- Here I am! Now what are your other two wishes?
- Back off! You're standing in my aura.
- I can't remember if I'm the good twin or the evil one.
- Don't worry. I forgot your name, too!
- One of us is thinking about sex... OK, it's me.
- How many times do I have to flush before you go away?
- I have a computer, a vibrator, & pizza delivery. Why should I leave the house?
- I just want revenge. Is that so wrong?
- It's sick the way you people keep having sex without me.
- I work 40 hours a week to be this poor.
- You say I'm a bitch like it's a bad thing.
- Can I trade this job for what's behind door #1?
- Okay, okay, I take it back! UnFuck you!
- Macho Law prohibits me from admitting I'm wrong.
- Nice perfume. Must you marinate in it?
- Not all men are annoying. Some are dead.
- Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
- Just smile and say "Yes, Mistress."
- Chaos, panic, & disorder -- my work here is done.
- Mommy, I wanna grow up to be a neurotic bitch just like you.
- A woman's favorite position is CEO.
- Ambivalent? Well, yes and no.
- You look like shit. Is that the style now?
- This is a mean, fucking cruel world & I want my nappy & medication right now!
- Everyone thinks I'm psychotic, except for my friends deep inside the earth.
- Earth is full. Go home.
- Is it time for your medication or mine?
- Aw, did I step on your poor little bitty ego?
- Did I mention the kick in the groin you'll be receiving if you touch me?
- I plead contemporary insanity.
- And which dwarf are you?
- I refuse to star in your psychodrama.
- I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.
- How do I set a laser printer to stun?
- It ain't the size, it's... no, it's the size.
- I'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert.
- I majored in liberal arts. Will that be for here or to go?
- Gene Police!!! Get out of the pool!!
- When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you.

clover_elf_kin @ 2005-05-06T22:55:00

2005-05-07T06:08:58Z

Well, so much for my cunning plan to get reviews/comments.

Not that that's going to stop me. In my continuing plan to get accused of plagiarism (I've only been graded on a few of these thus far . . . at least I have turned them all in!), this is a story I wrote a few weeks ago when I managed to misunderstand an assignment. Oh, well, it was fun to write. Comments/criticism welcome, of course.

Special note to Aya: YOU better read this, at least!

Summary: just working on certain craft projects on a slow day.

Erika sorted through her closet until she came to the skirts at the back; they were all way too small, but she’d loved them too much to throw away. She took out the ruffled ones and just looked at them woefully for a moment, then took up her scissors and snipped at each hem, then ripped them off the rest of the way to save time and what was left of the scissors’ blade.

It took some doing, but she arranged the ruffles artfully on her new skirt and pinned them in place. The tops of each strip were raggedy, as could be expected, but it actually looked so awesome she decided it was better not to hem them. You could still see the cloth of the intact skirt between each ruffle, and she’d made a diagonal line of sorts where she’d snipped the ruffles open to fit the skirt. She was left with a lot of uncovered fabric, though, so she did another snip-and-rip. Short skirts were more her thing anyway.

Setting that aside for now, she looked at one of the shirts she’d set aside for ornamentation. The fabric she’d just ripped off the skirt should actually make a nice decorative stripe . . . wait, didn’t she have something colored a lot like that? Erika dug through her top drawer to check, and in a moment triumphantly held up a fistful of ribbon; the one she’d been actively seeking, the dark blue lace, should be just enough to circle the upper arms of the sleeves with. With a little fiddling, she had a nice diagonal stripe from hip to shoulder on both sides of the shirt, and matching ribbon on the sleeves. I like! she declared mentally, grinning.

She took a moment to check the pants and skirts she’d already painted; most were nothing fancy, just lines of fabric paint in patterns she liked, although she’d attempted a pointillism picture across the rear of one skirt cut down to a mini. Of the pants, she was still working on one pair. Made of obviously high-quality, expensive cloth, she’d been careful with them as much as possible, cutting the slits in the sides instead of ripping them, actually putting in hems to keep the cloth from fraying, and lacing embroidery thread between the slits to mimic a look she’d seen in stores already and really liked. She’d gotten a little too fancy and messed up attempting to paint Celtic knots along the sides, as well; she had an idea how to fix it, but the paint needed to dry first, and it wasn’t really there yet.

Considering, Erika picked up a shirt she wasn’t sure what to do with; it had a sewn-in fold on the back that made it hard to paint pictures over without looking horrible. Well . . . there were front pockets . . . snickering slightly, she snatched a marker and a book of obscure Chinese characters. After some searching, she scribbled down a phrase in tiny but legible kanji—“if you can read this, you’re too well educated.” In standard Japanese, she added “and stop staring at my boobs!”

She capped the marker and wrinkled her nose a little, waving her hand in front of her face. When you could taste the marker fumes in the back of your throat, it was time for a break; besides, she’d been working all day, a lot harder than she usually did on school holidays. I need the break, anyway; Mom’s going to be leaving for work soon, and I need to use the sewing machine while I can. Erika snickered quietly; she preferred being grounded for life after the new school year had started, and she might as well wait to be killed until then. This is what comes of shopping for my clothes for me, Mom. You think she’d learn to let me at least have a say . . . oh well. I still end up with clothes I like . . . and hell, alteration is fun!

Oh yeah! I have a journal!

2005-05-06T05:45:05Z

Yay, finally an update . . . er, sort of. I thought I'd take advantage of the closest thing I have to a website and actually post some stories, because . . . . well, I can. ^^ This one is for those nice folks at little_details, who helped me out when I needed it.

Summary: not everything can be shared by those you love.

Jia-Li, more commonly known as Jia, checked her hair one last time in her rear-view mirror; it looked fine, still perfectly brushed into place. Her makeup was tactfully and lightly applied, and her dress was still unwrinkled . . . she finally checked the clock, for lack of anything else to look at. 12:43; there was little chance anyone would still be eating lunch. She finally took her purse and got out of the car, walking the ten feet to her daughter’s family’s house; no more delays. It was time—past time.

Kasia, her daughter’s adoptive mother, greeted her at the door with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you . . .” she managed, trying to return the smile and hoping she didn’t look too nervous.

“Come in? Jewel’s almost ready—lunch took a little longer than planned.”

Jia followed her in, taking a moment to remember she could leave her shoes on. “It’s okay, no hurry.” Believe me. “What time should I have her home by?”

“Oh, around eight tonight,” Kasia chuckled. “Or sometime before that if you’d prefer.”
Jia managed to smile a little more genuinely; she loved being with Jewel. “I don’t think we’ll be out that late.”

“I know. She’s just thrilled to get to go out with you today.” She led the way into the kitchen, where they found Jewel sitting on a high stool in front of her father, who was trying to finish fixing her hair.

“Jewel, hold still,” Devin said for probably at least the fifth time. “You’re meeting your birth mother’s parents, it’s important we make you up to look nice.”

Seven-year-old Jewel sighed and sat up straighter. “Aren’t you done braiding yet?”

“This bow is tricky . . .” he made one more adjustment and then tugged it into place. “There.”

She jumped up and ran to Jia. “Look, Mom and Dad bought me a new dress!”

Jia laughed and dropped to her knees to hug her. “I’ve missed seeing you grow up so much.”

“You’re done with college now, right? So you can visit more?”

“Right, sweetie. Now we can see each other more than every few months.” She ruffled Jewel’s hair—just her bangs—and stood up. “Thank you for letting me borrow her for the day.”

“We’re happy to,” Kasia answered honestly. “We’re very glad she has a relationship with you. So many other adopted children grow up just wondering about their other families. Jewel’s grown up knowing.”

Devin told her, “She’s not the only one that’s missed you.”

She blushed a little. “You’ve raised her better than I ever could have.” She reached down and took Jewel’s hand. “If we’re going to be back late, I’ll call. We might go out for dinner.”

“Ready—Mama?” Jewel asked, a hint of shyness in her voice for not just calling her birth mother by her name.

She squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Come on, Jewel, let’s go out to my car.”

“Bye Mom, Dad!” Jewel called as they left.

Jia had to marvel at how much their little girl had changed even since the last visit. She was definitely too big for a car seat, she didn’t say “Mommy” or “Daddy” anymore, and she was much bolder than she had been. She’d need it for this trip.

“Do you live with your mom and dad again?” Jewel asked as she buckled herself in.

“Yep, that’s what Chinese families do. I’m not moving out for good until I get married.”

“Will I do that?”

“Your family’s not Chinese, just you are, so I guess you can decide that for yourself when you’re old enough.”

She nodded and looked out the window for a while as they drove. Finally she asked, “Do your parents call me Ting?”

“Well . . . no, they don’t.” They didn’t call her anything, they only talked about Jia’s birth daughter when she brought the subject up.

“Jewel, then?”

“Right.”

“Does anybody call me Ting?”

“I could if you wanted me to.” She glanced over. “It was what I named you when you were born, but when your parents adopted you, they named you something else, so that’s your name now.”

“Okay.”

~*~

When they got to the house, Jewel was excited, but when she started to say something to Jia she clearly saw that she didn’t feel the same at all. “Mama?”

“I’m a little nervous. I’m okay.”

Jia let them in and helped Jewel take her shoes off before calling in Mandarin, “I’m home!” There was no answer; frowning, she led Jewel on a rather inadvertent tour of the house.

“It’s pretty.”

“Thanks. I’ll show you my room in a minute. Mama? Papa?”

This time a man’s voice answered, still in Mandarin. Jia took a deep breath and followed the sound into the backyard, where her parents were working in a garden that had a lot of little wooden structures and even a little bridge. As they entered, she said as cheerfully as she could, “Nihao!” Jewel echoed it, adding, “Hi.”

They stopped their work and looked at the two of them. Jia moved Jewel in front of her and stood with her hands on her shoulders. “Mama, Papa, this is Jewel. I wanted her to meet you.”
The only answer they gave was silence. Jewel added, “I was Ting when I was born. Chang Ting. I’m seven and in second grade.”

Finally, Jia’s mother looked at her and said, “Why did you bring her here?” At least she said it in Mandarin, although Jia doubted it was from a desire to spare Jewel’s feelings.

Her grip tightened slightly on Jewel’s shoulders as she said, in English, “Because I want her to meet you,” barely keeping her tone polite and respectful. She was not going to speak to them in Mandarin in front of Jewel; it was rude, and she refused to leave her out of this conversation.

There was another long silence before her father said (in Mandarin, of course) “You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

Jewel looked at them both, then up at Jia. She didn’t understand the words, but their expressions, their tones, and their body language told her a good amount. For now she looked simply puzzled, not upset, but even that made Jia furious. “Why?” she asked tightly. “She’s my daughter too, and that makes her your granddaughter.”

Jia’s mother replied flatly, “No child of uncertain heritage is our grandchild.”

Anger so sudden and fierce it turned her stomach flared up inside her. Jewel’s presence was the only thing that kept her calm long enough to lean over and whisper, “Go to my room, okay? It’s down the hallway, just past the kitchen. My door has a little yellow wood and wire sign.”

“Okay, Mama,” she said softly, squeezing her hands before slipping away.

She managed to wait until Jewel was out of sight before saying, in a barely controlled voice, “How can you say that? He was Chinese enough for you when you met and liked him.” Jia spoke in Mandarin too now that Jewel wasn’t there, and so if she was still close she couldn’t eavesdrop. “If he does have non-Chinese in him, it’s not from a recent generation, and we don’t know if he does or not. And I don’t care. Jewel is still my daughter too, no matter what she is. I love her and I always want to be a part of her life. And I want you to be part of her life too, because if you like it or not, she comes from our family and deserves to be a part of it!”

Jia’s father snapped back, “That child is our family’s shame!”

She stared at him. “How can you reject her, your own flesh and blood, just because I was young and unmarried when she was born?”

“Jia-Li, you have to see she isn’t yours anymore,” her mother said. “I’d have preferred it if you just forgot her.”

Somehow that drained all her anger, and all her energy. She couldn’t even form a reply, or look at them; finally, she turned and walked back into the house without another word.

Jia found Jewel waiting quietly in her room, just as she’d been told to. She was sitting on Jia’s bed, looking through a comic book; it was in Mandarin, which of course she couldn’t read either, so she was just looking at the pictures. She looked up when she heard Jia come in, but she just said “What’s this?”

“A comic I like,” she replied softly.

“What’s it about?”

Jia came to look at which one Jewel was examining. “About a battle for the end of the world.”

“I see a lot of those,” Jewel said thoughtfully.

Jia had to chuckle slightly and sat down next to her. “Really?”

“Yeah. There’s a lot of stories about the world almost ending.”

“I can imagine.” She gently ruffled Jewel’s hair again.

She looked up at her. “Are you taking me home now?”

“Not just yet.” Jewel looked a little puzzled until Jia added, “Want to get a treat? Ice cream, maybe?”

“Okay!” Jewel smiled, slightly cheered.

Jia’s heart nearly melted. She tucked the book into her purse, in case Jewel wanted to keep looking at it, and hugged her. Jewel hugged back, then stood and took Jia’s hand. Jia squeezed hers back gently and led her out.

This is only the first draft, so feedback welcome. (It's getting ~~torn to shreds~~ workshopped next week.)

clover_elf_kin @ 2004-10-06T00:47:00

2004-10-06T07:51:34Z

When my running mental commentary degenerates into netspeak, it's time to go to bed.

Watashi wa Kita!

2004-02-02T01:14:56Z

Well, here I am again. My second journal, and I'm still a total newbie to LJ. ^_^;;; Somehow screwing up my registration last time, and therefore not being able to comment in others' journals, means I'm still learning all the HTML and the like . . .

This is also going to be mostly my RPG journal, meaning . . . basically that this is the name I'm using to join all those kickass communities I spend far too much time on. Who knows, maybe I'll actually post in this one. :-P

Icon created by me; lyrics from Key the Metal Idol's closing song.