One lifetime is long enough
Is long enough to wait
The rain like silver in my ears
Fat nothing on my plate
A bucketful of Babylon
A belly full of hate
Go to sleep my one true love
And may your dreams be sweet

Then we'll be running

See it's face beneath the glass
It murmurs on the breeze
Like a long black Cadillac
It passes 'neath the trees
What is it you're waiting for?
Sweet love is on it's knees
Go to sleep my one true love
And find your heart's release

Then we'll be running
Afraid of nothing
Yeah we'll be running

Silence is golden
Here I am
I ain't afraid of nothing
Silence is golden
Here I am

The sun above the cotton grass
Is sinking down like lead
The seagulls know the truth of it
And scream it overhead
Hold on to St.Christopher
The sky is murderous red
Go to sleep my one true love
Our glory lies ahead

Then we'll be running
Afraid of nothing
Then we'll be running

Current Mood: pensive

The problem with trying to show you're not quite as spiteful as everyone thinks on a place like LJ is that everyone who still considers you to be a shallow husk of a human being gets to use it as a platform for their uninformed righteous indignation.

I'm reminded now why I didn't use this site much before, and why I will stop now.

Current Mood: irritated

DR: ST
Part 29

10:38 p.m.

The door opened quickly. I put the orange juice on the counter before turning toward the front door. Silver came into view. It was as natural by now as any other thing my body did when my heart sped and my stomach grew warm. I hurried as casually as I could to the front door, stopping just as fast when she turned in my direction. I could tell from her face that she was determined, but happy. Something had finally given her focus, and it looked like she couldn't be more pleased at having a goal.

"Hey," I said, smiling.

She slipped the blue-and-white tennis jacket off and tossed it onto the rack by the door before responding.

"Hey."
"I thought you had today off," I said, "You said you were going out for a quick few matches at the courts."
"Yeah, I did. It went well." She slipped out of the tight white sneakers and left them by the door. "Then I ran into-"

She stopped and turned back to the jacket hanging behind her. It was a full few seconds before she looked back at me. She was smiling almost as wide as the last time she had convinced me to try and dance at Weapon.

"I ran into this other player. He was great. We kept the court lights on as long as it made sense, but we finally decided to call it a draw. We'd been going back-and-forth on wins. The bastard had my style down, I don't know how. Anyway, we hung out for a while trading style secrets. It was a good night."

Something in my rear of my mind grew. It was almost a physical pain, something important trying to put the right words into my conscious mind. But my reflexes weren't tightening, and the longer I stared at her dark-on-light eyes, the more relaxed I felt. I stepped over and put my hand on her shoulder. It was funny how, despite Hun, despite the fact that there was a sniper cursing that I wasn't within sight of a window, Silver always reminded me that I had a life to live. My realizing that there will always be some small thing to enjoy in life will forever be a credit to her.

"I'm happy to hear you had a good night. Everyone's been worked pretty hard today, so we were thinking about me mixing for everyone and us popping in Burn After Reading."

Her eyes widened and she looked quickly up the stairs, then back at me. "Not tonight. I'm sure it's good, but I'm pretty worn out. If it's as good as you said, you wouldn't mind watching with it with me another night? Just us?"

At first I was disappointed that she wouldn't be with me on the couch for the movie, then I pictured the two of us curled on our bed, watching the same scenes, and the wait seemed perfectly worth it.

"Sure," I said. "If you're headed to bed, do you want me to wake you up when I come in, or-"
"Nah, just slip in. I'll know you're there."

My stomach became warmer, and I nodded. "Alright. Rest well."
"Yep."

She stepped past me, running her hand along my side before going up the stairs. As I watched her go, two things registered in my body: my stomach was getting warmer, and that nagging pain in the back of my mind was getting harder to ignore. I didn't know why my head was aching like it did, but I chalked it up to another thing the right mix of orange juice and other fluids couldn't solve.

Current Mood: calm

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,
Or tell you that.
But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it
where's the sense in that?

I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder
Or return to where we were

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

Current Mood: restless

Dorm Room
Satus Termini
Part 22

11:26 a.m.

It was hot. I walked over to one of the many benches and dropped into it. The difference between the court and the shade in the little overhang was physical, like running through a wall of rain falling off an overhang. I reached for my little towel and got rid of the sweat collecting around my eyes. The rough towel burned more than it should've against my face. I pressed against my cheek with my fingers and winced at the sharp pricks of pain. Once again I was playing without even having thought about sunscreen. Back when I played regularly, I had learned to ignore the burn. However, it had been a while since I had picked a racquet.

Not that he would have known it.

"Nice game out there."

"You too," I said, nodding toward the man as I reached beneath the bench for my water bottle.
He stood over me just inside the shade. "Being honest, I wasn't expecting that kind of play from someone..."

The middle-aged man stopped to search for a word that wouldn't make him look like an ass to the girl who had just Aced him more times than fingers had been around his racquet. I didn't appreciate that he thought it was nessicary to mince words with me.

"With tits?" I finished for him. "Or maybe slanted eyes?"

He stepped back, angry. Now the fault was on me, and he could say what he wanted to.

"Listen, girl, just because you had a good game-"
"You're too defensive," I cut him off, though what I was saying wasn't any louder than before.
"What?"
I took a moment to enjoy the precious luke-warm water. "You play too defensively. Several times I left you with shots that would have beat me, but you didn't take them. All you did was play them midline so you could hurry back and be ready for my next return."
"Those shots," he said, still angry. "If I had played them to beat you, and you had returned them, I never would have made it back in time."
"You would've had to give up position to score."
"Yes," he declared, as if it was proof he was right.

"Well," I said as I stood up with my towel and bottle. "You got what you earned with your steady defense. Better luck next time."

He looked like he wanted to slam the back of his hand across my face, but he chose wisely to just slink off the court. I smirked and watched him go, taking another sip from my water bottle. But as the fool slipped out of the court's gate, another man passed him and stepped onto the clay. His chin-length navy blue hair caught the sun well. His right bangs found a small gust and drifed in front of his face. He cleared them away from his glasses in a graceful, practiced way. I tried my hardest not to stare as he approached the lines.

"Oshitari?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm discovering that my characterization has become rusty. Yes, some characters are easy to write for, but that's only because they're simple. I'm trying to challenge myself by seeing it from the more complex characters' points of view. It's been... intricate. I'm a little worried my writing style will be too-easily seen through the different characters I represent. Fortunately, the other authors are bringing in new material to really make this multifaceted. That these people were so willing to write with me and help me in this was a blessing.

Current Mood: artistic

Ever felt like you were part of something bigger? It's one of those moments we all hoped for when we were younger. You weren't playing pretend with characters and toys, this was going to be important later. That's how I felt earlier tonight when I was talking with the fourth confirmed author on The Dorm Room. Funny, I didn't think she would be able to write. Anyway, what was becoming a stained memory for some of the best creative moments of my childhood is now becoming something more.

I don't know what, I don't know when. But when you have this many people, all creatively-inclined, writers and artists, with all the information on the characters, something big is on the horizon.

An acrobat with a billionaire boyfriend? A trained assassin with a wise-cracking younger sister who grew up on the streets? These were characters that almost got left in the dust, unused. They deserved a proper story. They deserved a proper future. I think this bunch of talented people are who I was waiting to deliver it. The Dorm Room was about to be left emptier than ever before.

We're giving it, and our through it, our creative selves, a future.

Current Mood: energetic

She was truly beautiful. An angel in a denim jacket, delivering justice with three-fifty-seven. The younger sister of a pair of orphans that never found usefulness, that never found a decent purpose in this world. She grew up running, well, whatever there was to run under the nose of various authorities. Guns? Sure. Drugs? No problem. I give her points, to be sure. Coming from where she did, this girl had many a chance to score financial security by herding and transporting Asian slave workers, but she never did. A couple of confused, language-trapped Chinese girls a week could've scored her a solid financial backbone. It never happened.

It's as though she went out of her way to find the hardest punches life had up its sleeve, and she screamed at fate to throw the damned things before she got bored. And so it did. Then she dodged and tossed in a vicious hook. Life was, as usual, unprepared for the "frail" little Asian-American girl to come back with anything worthwhile. Fate was sent spiraling to the pavement. Bless her.

I would have given anything for her to be able to keep it up.

For a number of years we had lived off-and-on with a group of men, war-born boys who had never grown up, had helped dictate our futures. One of them was her brother.

For those years, we attempted to chronicle our misadventures through life. From malls of content citizens to colonies of bullet-spewing mobile suits, we had told our story.

After long enough, after having fought the physical and emotional, this woman and I decided to take the tale down. To make it private. We felt we didn't need to show it to the faceless masses anymore.

For she and I had found each other, and that was reward enough for what we had been through. Once again, I would have given anything for life to have had an endless repeat button. We pretend that our histories are something that can be shoved into a corner and quieted with distractions and duct tape gags. Sometimes they are, but more often-than-not, they crash down our front doors with blazing machine guns at the moment we come down the stairs least-prepared.

This is the story of what happened to that wonderful potential.

This is the story of six guys, one girl, and a house not nearly big enough for the lot of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the continuing story:
http://www.facebook.com/people/Dorm-Room/1587806386

The new phase of the Dorm Room is going on its 23rd entry. It continues on, with more than one author already contributing entries. This is going to be something big.

What is wrong with me?

Current Mood: predatory

This is just a quick update the let the zero or so people reading this thing that my life is currently fucking awesome, contrary to what my previous entry may lead you to believe. In fact, that whole crisis was apparently lots of smoke, no fire.

I'm getting better and better at cosplay, even so far as to successfully tailored Silv's shirt to fit her almost perfectly. My Gene costume is almost done, including a fucking gorgeous Caster Gun. Painting, sewing, sculpting, molding, cutting... I'm almost enjoying this too much.

And then there's Silv, whom I'm growing closer and closer to every day. It's wonderous. I'm on cloud nine over here and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Also, ROADTRIP AND METRO IN LIKE TWO WEEKS, WOOOOOOO.

Current Mood: complacent

I once called her "friend", at times "lover", and before I lost contact with her, my "sister". She grew up in squallor, a mind far superior to those that spawned her, suppressed by circumstances far beyond her control. She once promised me that she would become better than that which created her, that she would become something. And I promised to help her achieve that.

And yet now, she comes upon the precipice of a decision that will determine the rest of her life, and she's balks. With horribly confused and ultimately childish ideals, expressed in the most hypocritical of means, she has decided to end her life in all senses but literal.

What am I to do but sit idly by while she does so. I have yelled, begged, done everything but literally drive up there and express my grief in person, and she has rebuffed me with blind idialism at every term. This girl whom I sacrificed a good deal of my youth and health to escape from her intial hell, has now begun creating a new, even more potent hades to reside in. And I can do nothing.

I can do nothing.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix;
Angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection
to the starry dynamo in the machinery of the night.

Current Mood: drained

Well, here I am, writing an entry into a journal on a website I, until this point, vehemently declared was full of shipping fangirls and vapid teenagers (I'm well aware these two segments often overlap, but bare with me). I'm not even sure why I'm posting here except to say that I need to express my plethora of newly-discovered feelings to someone and that the concept of an entity that might be reading this and responding but probably not is really comforting in some warped way.

I love Silver. I don't know how else to say it that won't sound like it stepped off the pages of a bad fan fic, but she is everything to me. I've known this girl for six years, and it wasn't until we got back from the airport and I held her in my arms that I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. I mean it. Never before have I been so sure about one thing. We're already about a week into living together and we just... work. Our daily lives have interconnected like perfect little lego pieces. We often find ourselves thinking nearly the exactly same thing at any given moment. It's a if we were meant to be together (And there goes my bad love fic alarm. I'd better reel that one in).

I'm probably gonna have to drop the math class I attended once in the last four weeks because I rationalized myself into a corner and there's no way I can salvage it. I'll try not to worry myself too much about it seeing as how I can pick up another class in Summer B to pick up the slack. I have this semester under control, I really do.

Really.

I used to watch West Wing non-stop whenever I was working on anything, from costumes to essays, and its power had begun to dull on me until now. Silver and I are marathon-ing the show and I'm rediscovering it through her eyes. It's so nice just to sit there with her laying in my lap and watching snarky lawyers be bad men.

I would delve into our physical relationship, which I assure you is a world unto itself, but that 1% chance that someone will actually take the time to get past those first few paragraphs is a bit too high. Maybe I'll tell you guys about it later, when you're older.

I could also go on and on about Silver's lovable little quirks and mannerisms, but it'll probably just anger her and nausiate the rest of you. Just suffice it to say I'll often find myself simply looking at her and smiling for no good goddamned reason.

I just noticed I've begun almost every single one of these paragraphs with "I". Oops, there it goes again.

Current Mood: relaxed