Warning: very long discussion of a video game coming up. there may be spoilers. you probably don't care.

Going through one of my (rare) FFVI obsessive phases...It'll always be one of my less favorite games in the series, though now that it's been five years since I last played it, I'll admit that it's growing on me again. Funny, I never actually beat that game...I couldn't be bothered. I dearly loved some parts of it, but the overall experience was always a little disappointing. I don't think I can quite explain why- it might be that there was no main character, and what's the point in playing a role plaing game if you can't role play a main character? Oh, sure, people say Terra's the main character, but you don't really need her to beat the game. The only characters you do need are Celes, Sabin, Setzer, and Edgar- but I'm fairly sure you can kill Sabin if you're not careful.

I always lacked the finger coordination to pull off his blitz moves, anyway. It wouldn't have mattered to me if he got squished. The only characters I really liked (and to me, the characters are really all that matter, in most cases) were Locke, Setzer, Shadow, Gogo, Mog, Cyan, and Celes.

You can divide the game into two parts; the World of Balance, or Terra's Arc, and the World of Ruin: Celes' Arc. Nice to see female characters that pull off being graceful plot devices. Square didn't manage that again until FFX, in my opinion. Terra bugged me, though- the plot device girls always do.

I could never shake the feeling that the series was continuous; the ancient castle was only too obviously the ruins of Castle Baron, and Crescent Island appeared in FFV, though I didn't know it at the time. I'd always associate certain characters with certain other characters- Rydia and Terra, Celes and Rosa (though admittedly, the only thing those two had in common was blonde hair), Shadow and Edge (ninjas- never mind that one was emotionless and depressing while the other was a loudmouthed brat), Cecil and Locke. (Don't even ask where that connection comes from. I couldn't tell you without using flow charts and diagrams and lengthy, convoluted lectures on the inner workings of my mind. Just smile and nod.) Pretty tenuous connections, really- but Figaro does resemble Damcyan if you look at it slantwise- and whose to say that Gilbert couldn't have spawned someone like Edgar? (I never much liked Edgar, you know- true, he was one of the two characters who could weild a polearm, but he always irritated me.)

I was all of nine years old when I first played VI; I think I was actually expecting a sequel to IV, which may or may not be the source of my underlying disappointment. Also, because I was only nine, there were a lot of things that I just didn't get about the game. I was very stupid at nine years old. So, the whole thing with Shadow being Relm's father- didn't figure that one out 'til I discovered the internet. Like I said, stupid.

I adore Shadow, though. He's a ninja. He's silent and cranky and surly and full of rage and he's got Interceptor. And we all know that Interceptor is the coolest thing since sliced bread, no really. It's endlessly amusing that most of Shadow's dialogue has something to do with a) the fact that Interceptor bites and dislikes strangers, b) the fact that Shadow dislikes strangers (and probably bites, too- watch out for rabies, you never can tell with those ninjas), or c) doom, gloom, dying, and other pleasant thoughts of that nature. Shadow's the man, he is. Not a particularly powerful fighter, but when you get right down to it, all the characters were exactly the same- probably another reason why I disliked the game.

I also adore Setzer to a ridiculous degree- for the airship, for the gambling, for the opera house, for Darryl and for Kohlingen. For the cards and the slots and the trick coin- I love the man to pieces. For the scars and the albinism and the money- he's got so much money he can afford to throw it at your enemies! No, really. He's cool. Mad cool. Also fairly useless as a fighter, but again, it doesn't really matter. He named his airship the Blackjack. Not Falcon or Enterprise- Blackjack. Darryl's ship was the Falcon, but we can forgive her for that, since she too, kicked much arse. Really now, how can you not love a guy whose title is "The Wandering Gambler"? Especially when you first meet him when he comes swinging on a rope into the middle of an opera to steal away the leading lady? The thing about Setzer, you see, is that he's got style. And an airship.

Celes is just cool, of course- she's no opera floozy, and that's almost as good as Relm's "puffed up aerobics instructor" line. "Love starved twit" is up there with immortalized lines from Celes, too. I always found her more useful in the beginning than Terra, and Celes never had the same irritating doubts that the green haired one did. Way to go, strong female character. Woo. (Plus, she ends up with Locke. That's thirty thousand points in her favor, right there.)

Locke's a thief. 'Scuse me, treasure hunter. 'Nuff said. He's Indiana Jones without the whip. And the archaeology degree. And the hat. But he does have a bandanna! And a disturbing tendency towards having his girlfriends disappear...Locke's immortal lines are "I'll rip your lungs out" and every single time he calls himself a treasure hunter. We all know he's just a sneakthief, though. Locke is in De Nile, but Celes will hopefully pull him out.

Cyan is just one heaping pile of angsting ronin, and he's a darling because of it. Tragic story, with the wife and kids, the whole kingdom gets destroyed, that sort of thing- but he speaks in dialect, and he's the cause of the whole "Mr Thou" mess- and in the bar in Nikeah, he says one of his immortal lines: "Back, you licentious howler!" I mean, come on- I don't even know what a licentious howler is, but you've just gotta love a guy who says stuff like that.

Mog is pretty self explanatory- he dances. And he's got a pompom on his head. And he can use pole arms. And, supposedly, at level 50 or 60, he learns ultima on his own. Hello, niftyness. Gogo is similar- he can do anything you damn well want him/her to, and he just looks cool, alright? That's all. Gogo= utter coolness. And he's immortal, evidently, since you fight him in FFV, too, and that had to be at least 1000 years before VI, if you believe in the continuation of the series.

Yes, I can base a belief system off these games. Say not a word, ye blasphemers- I r a dork. *sigh* Dammit...I really haven't played this game since seventh grade, and in retrospect it was a rather key aspect of my elementary/middle school years...but...nrg. I think I have to go download it now. Too much trouble to hook up the ol' snes right now. *doublesigh* I should have stopped after the first paragraph of this long...whatever this was. The thing is, I never actually beat it myself, and I really can't just leave it as is...

Hushup. I'm rationalizing this on the fact that this game never gave me any closure. *glares* Well, it didn't. Hmph.

On a side note, RPG Classics is the best site since sliced bread, no really. All the information you could ever possibly want on any game you could ever possibly care about. The (as of yet unfinished) FFVI walkthrough made me spurt peanut butter out my nose. Eeeew. But wait, that's a good thing! ...kinda. I should stop putting peanut butter on my ice cream, shouldn't I?

Right. Rom hunting now...

There. Toldya I would.

It's not that I want to become an embittered, cynical old woman before I'm 25, but sometimes that just seems like the easiest path. Fortunately for me, I've never been one to consistently take the easy way out of things. If it's difficult and twisty, I'm all over it- usually unintentionally, of course.

Mrr. it's late. The performance is tomorrow- I finally figured that the piccolo player looks like Greg Kinnear. Like, whoa. And the least they could do for us poor little "honors band" students is put up some signs. We're really not that smart. It's a lot easier to get lost in Kendall Hall than you'd think. :)

Mrr. Feeling restless. Jacob's Ladder has put strange ideas in my head.
---------------
The walls were supposed to be white, but for some reason they were a strange off-gray that looked slick and freshly painted. It made her nauseous to look at them; but the floor was tiled with thin vinyl the color of misery, and the ceiling was hidden beneath too-bright lights. The harsh illumination gave the few wandering patients an even more haggard and skeletal look.

They reached out to her as she walked by, glazed looks in their rheumy eyes. Most of them were old; Alzheimer's patients, and the incredibly frail. People with nowhere else to go and no one else to take care of them. Their minds and voices were thin and hazy and largely unthreatening; but they were sad and far older than they should have been.

Age was simply a matter of perspective, she'd found; being immortal skewed things a bit.

The old ones were the quiet ones, and she could avoid their hands as long as she kept moving. The young ones, though- they were dangerous. They shouldn't have been allowed out of their rooms, with their loud voices and louder thoughts, trapped inside of claustrophobic skulls. If the off-gray hallway weren't so crowded with uncomfortable chairs and empty gurneys (complete with heavy buckles and leather restraints, part of her mind couldn't help notice) she would have kept to the walls and run, as quickly as possible. As it was, her companion was hard pressed to keep up, long legged though he was.

The inevitable happened- a man (was it a man? how could it be a man?) rocking back and forth, back and forth in a wheel chair grabbed her arm as she went by. His grip was alarmingly strong, skeletal fingers straining and bruising. She looked into his eyes and tried not to wail in horror at the things she heard.

"Something for the pain, lady. You gotta give me something for the pain." the pain give me something pain need want pain help me

She forced herself to keep looking, and keep listening. There wasn't much to see, or hear. "What pain?" Everything she'd ever seen, ever known, ever dreamed- everything- echoed in her voice. You do not know pain.

It was a little scream, startled and afraid, a single harsh shriek. She shook her head and removed his hand from her arm. "There is no pain, here." She kissed him softly on the forehead, and quieted the jumbled shrieking of his mind with a touch.

His eyes followed her as she hurried on. The old ones, the senile ones, they saw it, too, and they reached out with unsteady hands, wanting to be touched. Wanting release from pain. The younger ones shrank back in fear, until they saw the kindness in her eyes. I can't help you all, she wanted to say. All I can do is show you my pain, and you'll see why yours is so insignificant...but that isn't fair to any of us. I can't help you.

Her companion touched her shoulder; cold comfort, in this place. It was enough, though, and his presence filled the hall and surrounded her. They might reach out towards her, but they nearly fell over themselves in their haste to be away from him.

"Not much further."

She ignored the lie. "You're sure he's here?"

"They said he checked himself in three days ago. If he wasn't crazy then, he certainly is now."

"I can't hear him..."

"Too much static. If he's here, we'll find him."

"And bring him home?"

"We'll find him, and bring him home. Where he belongs."

She gripped his hand tightly and closed her eyes. She couldn't close her ears, but it helped, a little. "Good."

something for the pain

The latest netflix movie review (only one more DVD before the anime starts coming! bwahahaha!):
Jacob's Ladder. Late '70s, to mid '80s, I think- given hairstyles, clothing, technology and cars, that's where I'd put it. No idea when it was actually filmed and directed, though. Anyway.

So, see Jacob. See Jacob run. See Jacob's back get effed up. See Jacob fall over screaming having visions of demons with large teeth bursting from girlfriends chest cavity. See Jacob die. See Jacob's ex wife and his dead children visit him in the hospital. See Jacob nearly get hit by car. See Jacob's chiropractor die. See Jacob die again. See Jacob go to chiropractor and get his back fixed. See a couple more disturbing visions. See girlfriend freak out. See Jacob freak out. See ex?wife freak out. See dead children smile. (It must have been early '80s! The dead kid was Macauly Culkin. And he was like, really tiny.) See Vietnam War flashbacks.

Finally hear explanation and go, "Like, whoa." See Jacob die. The end.

My brain hurts*...and I wasn't even properly watching the movie. Ow...It was good, nice acting and whatnot, but damn was it screwy. The plot was a slightly foregone conclusion, but the way it was directed, and the way it was set up was just...oi. Brain hurting. Dad should not be allowed to pick movies for a while because of this. If he were into anime, he'd watch stuff like Lain and actually enjoy it.

Not to say that Lain isn't great and all- but it's damned creepy. And artsy. Very artsy. I'll take my simplistic hack and slash, tits and ass, sword and sorcery run of the mill sort of anime over utter creepiness any day. Hey, it's the simple things in life, okay?

*It should be noted, however, that my brain doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did when it was pointed out to me that Peter Pan is realy about an old woman wanting to be a little boy who wants to marry his/her mother. *pain*

And now for something even more completely different! Aren't you glad?

Lookeehere. It's Marcus. With a background! I's so proud...never mind that I have only now realized that I don't know how to make an object cast a shadow, or make real backgrounds...and ignore all the gray. It's supposed to be that monocromatic, honest. Also, the squiggly thing in the back is a wall. Nothing more. Just a wall.

But...it's Marcus. Sans shirt. Sans shoes. And Asphodel in the background, looking shiny, but not half as shiny as she ought. I like the feet. S'only a rough colored sketchy, mind you- I'll clean it up when I feel the urge to fiddle with things. Make the background the right shade of gray, ferinstince, and make that wall less...squiggly. But anyway. Marcus. Mmm.

Took me hours to get that pose right...

and now for something completely different.



what's your cowboy bebop theme song?

It was either this, Autumn in Ganymede, or Road to the West. The first was too upbeat, the second too depressing.

I'm curious as to why Livejournal hates me...but not that curious.

I'm also curious as to why all members of the male persuasion are assholes and bastards, but again, not that curious*.

I don't care anymore. I was going to do an extended version of today's lunch table rant, but then it occurred to me that there would be no point. It changes nothing in a situation that is largely my own fault. Entirely my own fault, really.

I'd rather not have been reminded that I actually am human with all the nasty emotional baggage that goes along with it, though. I could have done without that for today. I really could have.

I was always quite determined to never let a boy make me cry. Nearly broke that promise today, and that, I think, is the last I have to say on the subject.

Case closed. Next?

*Not at all curious, just rather upset and unsettled. A good thing I don't believe in signs, because if I did, I'd be in deep shyte.

Picture someone- anyone, really, but preferrably someone small and helpless and weepy looking- curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the floor. No lights, save the one shining down on said person. Camera approaches from the back- you can't see her face. Camera approaches slowly. Sounds very much like sobbing, but possibly laughter, emit from person. You can see her shoulders trembling. Camera moves in even closer...person's head snaps up, jumps to her feet- her back is still to you.
Bright flash of light- blinding bright, white spots in your eyes, camera goes out of wack for a moment- and a scream. Not terror, not anguish, just a scream. A very loud scream- angry, almost, but really, just a scream. Wings unfurl- not pretty, shiny angel wings, not fairy wings, not dragon wings- dark, dirty, grimy, shedding feathers wings. The sort meant for flying and not much else.
Figure turns around, her face, hands, arms are all bloodstained, and there's murder in her eyes.

She's looking at you.
-----
And that, ladies and gents, describes my mood right about now. Also the image that has been running through my head for the past...six months. Don't ask. I have to go to MUN, and it's not making me very happy.

*blinkblink* Dirty Dancing is being watched in the other room...I do have a hang up on dancing, people who dance, and anything at all related to it, you know. I'm quite aware of this. But...Dance is humanity's oldest art form, not counting sex.
...
I am reminded of how desperately I wish I had any amount of talent at dancing, any at all. Freedom of body, of movement...Freedom of heart and soul...

When I am reminded of how much I wish I could dance, I am reminded even more so of how much I wish I could fly.
.......
*cough* ignore me when i do things like that, would you? waxing all vaguely deep and poetic in a vague and wistful sort of way...i should be thwapped repeatedly for my melodrama, you know. (look, i'm gonna do it again for the last time today, and that'll be the end of it, promise.)

Moodswings are quite useful sometimes, you know. I don't stay sad. I can't stay sad. Even when I'm unhappy and eyeing sharp objects and wondering what their effects on my wrists might be, I know I'm not going to stay unhappy. I'm a failure as a depressive person. I really am. Melodrama, or just drama in general, however, is a constant state of being. So, when I'm doing the whole 'waaah the world hates me' thing, just ignore it. It'll go away eventually. Of course, when I'm being pretentious, your only hope is to cross your fingers and pray that I get it out of my system before I get too annoying.

Eh. That's all.

Mmm, babynamer.com. Love them strange and random references.
I've got a hankering for names that begin with "I"...normally I'm hung up on "J" names, or "K", or "R". "Y" is an old favorite, too. I like the odd names. "Ianthe" and "Imogen". Mmm, lovely names. "Imalda". Oooh, I like that one. It means 'universal battle'. And there's always "Ingatius" for the boys, or the classic and wonderful "Inigo", and the tongue rolling "Indalecio" which is, incidentally enough, a name found in so2...it means 'teacher-like'. The source is Greek, which means the 'c' is probably soft, but I like it better with a hard 'c'. In-da-leh-kee-oh. Mrrm. Yummy names. And, if you're in the mood for telepathic gorillas or giant white whales, "Ishmael" is always great.

Isidor. Whoa. Marcus, I've got your name from your current life. w00t. (yeah, I'm still working on The Seventh Hour. It's strange, but I really like what I have...but then, I liked most of DDD up until I tried to re-read it this past November. Still. Marcus needs a real name, if only for the few moments during which he speaks to his mother.) I should prolly post a few bits of 7H, shouldn't I? Hmm...eventually.

And, for a little bit of variety, Zelindo! Boy's name meaning 'happy shield'. There's quite a lot I could do with that one, actually...could even tie it in to 7H, as one of Amulius' past lives. Gotta love the guy who started off as a girl but came back as a guy only to die again and come back as a girl. I'm somewhat bummed that I killed him in the first 10,000 words- I really like Amulius, in retrospect. He and Marcus have a very sweet, brotherly relationship that can be twisted into all sorts of wrong if you like. Marcus doesn't like to talk about it, especially not with Amata around.

Poor guy. He's surrounded by women all throughout the whole story, his best friend is reincarnated as a little girl who is ridiculously precocious for a six year old. I may do an arc of the story from her point of view. When her memories as Amulius and all the others come back (and they'll have to, with Marcus remembering things and Asphodel being who- and what- she is) she will be one seriously fucked up little girl. Fun fun fun. :) I'm seriously enjoying the story, you know. Wonderful fun not knowing what's going to happen next.

You see, this is why I don't think about things too much- when I'm staring at the wall, my mind is blank. This is why I don't question the deeper meaning of real things- silly things, sure, because they open doors. But real things, like emotions and people and relationships- I can't question them. Too much information kills. Thinking about things too much kills them in the end...

So, yeah, I am a sucker for happy, smoochy endings. But I can't seem to be able to write one.
I had one, for a moment. It was all happy and smoochy and silly yesterday. But it's changed, and now I just need to work the kinks out in my head.

Oh, it's still happy. It just doesn't end with an "And then he kissed her." Things really shouldn't end that way, although I think that's just my cynical side speaking. Instead, it's ending with a game of chess. A very, very cliched game of chess. I'm almost as ashamed of this as I was of the "And then he kissed her." More ashamed, even. My one excuse (two excuses, really) is that I couldn't let that character die. And that everybody does the good/evil chess match at some point or another. *sweatdrop* Don't they?

(All these movies are making me think in circles. I'm never going to think of "The Three Faces of Eve" without a shudder now, because of "Far From Heaven". Somebody give me a cookie for that reference, why doncha. Two, because I've never actually seen "Eve", though I know what it's about, and because I really want a cookie. *sigh*)

"I do believe, my dear, that I've won the game."
"Have you? I find that hard to believe, though sacrificing your knight towards the end was a rather masterful move. Sacrificing yourself was simply foolish, of course."
"What can I say? You were always better at strategy. I disagree that my knight was sacrificed, mind you. Sacrifices generally die."
"You call that alive? He may have won you the game, but he'll be paying the price of your manipulation for the rest of his life- a life that will be unnaturally long, thanks to you."
"You could have backed down. Conceded gracefully and all that."
"You could have done the same."
"Let's not point fingers and name names, beloved."
"Let's not kiss ass while we've still got a mouth to do it with, hmm?"
"Testy, are we? So you captured my knight. Gloat, if you'd like. My king captured yours before the final battle even started. He's mine, and you can't have him back."
"I rather think that the most important pieces on this board belong to each other- even working in tandem, we'd have a hard time separating them, now."
"I rather think you're right, my dear."
"Do stop pretending to be civilized. It's unsettling."
"Then by all means, let's act as uncivilized as possible."
-A table left abandoned, hanging in empty space. Tiny figurines go about their business, ignored by god and the devil for the moment.-

Of course, you'll have to figure out which one's which...and this is just dialogue, unpolished and badly ordered. I'm not sure I like the idea so much anymore, since it is so very cliche, but...it would fit. *dillemma* Ah, well. It won't be long now, before I force myself to post it, just for the sake of having it done.

Never any promises, though. That would be unseemly. ;)

Life, as they say, is good...

So long as I ignore all the fucking depressing shit. I've gotten really good at that over the past few years, though. Listening to Aida soundtrack- it's put me in de Nile.

Feel free to hit me for that. Life is still good, and I don't give a damn about what you might say.

Ani-me? Ani-my!

Have been given permission to use the parent's netflix account, as the parent is out of town. Now browsing through contents.

...Nope, definately can not order Fake on netflix...that would be under the heading of Very Stupid Things To Do with the parent's netflix account, no matter how much I'd like to. For the plot, of course, why else? ;) Could order Trigun shiz, though, and Bebop...or Nazca. I think I'll order Nazca. A shame they don't have Bastard!, but hey, what can you do? Ordering Bastard! would be another Very Stupid Thing To Do, for an opposite reason of the same genre as ordering Fake. *snort* Don't ask, unless you already know, hey?

It's a shame, you know. They don't have anything *good*...just standard stuff, or stuff that I've already seen. Lots of Sailor Moon and Pokemon and random mecha stuff or girl!fighting stuff (ugh) that I really don't want to see at all. And, of course, Dragonball Z. *shudder* Not touching Robotech or Lain (creepy art movie! aiieeee!), also still not touching Ranma or Love Hina on principle. Angel Sanctuary...uh...no. Not only would that be a Very Stupid Thing, but I'm still suffering from only the barest comprehension of the manga, and supposedly it's necessary for AS. Wait, that might be Tokyo Babylon/X 1999 that I'm thinking of...whichever is which. Regardless, no.

Lost Universe? Hmm...I'd rent that solely on account of its main character's name (obsessive little twit, aren't I? Surprised I haven't babbled about exactly how obsessive I really am, here...) but it looks like a sci-fi version of Slayers, from the same people and with a male lead. Put it under 'maybe', one hit above Nazca. Lessee, whatelse...Bakuretsu Hunters? One look at the blurb and...no. Further looking at the reviews, however, puts it one above Lost Universe on the maybe. Hmm...Same people who did Slayers, yet again. I know what to expect- light humor and dumb blonds. *snort*

No, I am not renting Dirty Pair. Stupid computer. (ugh)
Oh, triple (ugh). They have effin Urotsukidoji, but not Ruroni Kenshin. Eeeeewwww. As always, unless you already know, don't ask. Especially in this case. Urotsukidoji is just plain sick and disturbing in its basic concept. Why, oh why would they call it a 'must see'? Nazi-death rape machine. Speaks for itself. moving on.
(ugh)
So...much...Pokemon...*head explodes*
Mrr. I'd watch Amon Saga again, and actually listen towards the end when a few things were actually explained...(prettypretty Yoshitaka Amano art...*drool* (did I mention i am the spleeful owner of a copy of Dream Hunters? No? MmmArt.) and nifty hack-slash-sword-sorcery-giant-turtle! plot.) (Speaking of turtles...*Small Gods* Terry Pratchett. Worship, worship. Grovel, grovel. Move maybe three steps to the left and get thwacked by raining turtles. Hmwahaha!)
Right. Anime.
...I'll be somewhere over there, desperately trying to keep from laughing by slamming my head against a wall. It's like reading ff.net reviews, only worse...
I'll probably just give in and order Metropolis. 'Cept the parent would probably enjoy that, so I'll...suggest it to him when he returns.

Hah! Double hah! I'm not the only one who waxes excessively wordy in terms of Bebop! These reviewers wrote fricken' essays! And I'm not the only one who plugs The Jazz Messengers, either. *cackle*

Damn. I must make a decision. How vile. Bakuratsu Hunters, Lost Universe, Trigun, or Bebop? Do I want comedy- or do I want stuff I've already seen? Mrg. And, of course, there's always Outlaw Star. *sigh*

Wait, what's that? I can...order more than one? Sweet! (Yes, I did watch Dude, Where's My Car? the other night. Shibby!) Now to mess with the priority listing...*evil cackle* The parent will almost definitely return before many of these come in. I do hope he'll have the pleasure of opening the envelopes to find Vash staring out of the case at him. (Or, better yet, whoever it is on the cover of Bakuretsu Hunters...*cackle*) Yup, ordering everything now. *splee!*

Nazca, Lost Universe, Bakuretsu Hunters, Trigun 3, Outlaw Star. Humor, for the most part...(Trigun 3 is before the series goes "Oh my god, I'm depressing! Weep, you weak little human in front of the tv screen! WEEP!"...that happens somewhere around volume 5, I think...maybe 4. Think Legato, and grab the tissues to keep you occupied when your jaw isn't on the floor.) Why, you might ask, am I getting OS and Trigun when I've seen them already, for the most part? Because Adult Swim still cuts out crap, and Jim's voice irritates me a little. (I'm sure his seiyu will irritate me even more- prepubescent males in anime sound more squeaky than the girls.) And because a bootlegged Chinese DVD with English subtitles really just doesn't compare to the official thing. And I wanna hear Wolfwoods dubbed voice. Mrow. ;)

Oh, yes indeed, I are evil.

Nrrrg. Current events:

I am addicted to Star Ocean, and currently in love with many characters, including, but not limited to: Noel, Ashton, Dias, Bowman. Other characters that, at the very least, have me severely amused: Celine, Rena, Leon. Favorite item creation: cooking. Favorite fighter: Ashton. Favorite character: Ashton. Favorite person to sketch: Ashton. Yes, there is a theme here.

Number 4 reeds, while actually being very small trees, sound wicked good on the high notes. However, my mouth hurts wicked bad after eleven hours of rehearsal over two days. The Puszta, however, is wicked fun. Westminister Hymn is wicked amusing. Stars and Bars is a wicked pain in the arse, and Jubiliation Overture is wicked long. Mr Nichols is rubbing off on me. French horns should be illegal, because they aren't real instruments. They're wicked complicated. There's a piccolo player who's wicked cute, and the timpany player is wicked funny when he plays. My stand partner is a wicked improvement from the last time I did Region Band. Wicked! (Disclaimer: I've no idea where that bout of ridiculousness came from.)

School sucks. College sucks. I have two more things to bring to guidance and four more things to mail out, and then I'm done. I'm in the process of submitting my Drew application. Then I will be done.

I do not like driving. It gives me too much time to think, and right now thinking is a very, very bad thing. At the same time, I do like driving, because it's fun as long as there aren't many other cars on the road. Snow, however, sucks. The back roads of Montgomery and Hillsboro, on the other hand, kick ass.

Do not mention the words "The Beacon" to me. I will be forced to hurt someone.

Guess who's back from Scotland? No, really, guess. She came to dinner, too. "The couple that always breaks up, but never really separates." Too true, too true.

I have done far too little this weekend (if you ignore the eleven hours of rehearsal). Next weekend will be even worse (if you ignore the fifteen or so hours of Region Band).

I think it's nearly time for a long overdue scribble entry.
Oh yeah. Definitely time for one of those.

I am a sucker for happy endings. I am a sucker for sappy, sickly sweet, mushy, happy endings that go "And then he kissed her." and there ends the story. My shame is that I have actually written one of these. *shame* Ah, well. It wasn't exactly a sappy ending. There was a lot of bitterness and awkwardness and anger and slamming of doors and stomping of feet. And I know I'm going to change that last line, but damn does it feel good to have something finished.
...that's a lie, actually. It was finished before, and that felt pretty good. Now I'm just tweaking, and that never feels good. Eh, well. Whatever.

Picked up the nanonovel again today; have decided that it amuses me too much to put it down for good. Last year's will sit for a while; it's depressing, and lots of people die that I'd rather not see dead. Instead, I'll work on The Seventh Hour and have Marcus and Asphodel bicker. All the time. "Remind me to commit ritual suicide when we reach the surface; I can't see well enough to disembowel myself right now." "Will do, fearless leader." *d'oi*

The Cat just walked all over my Haverford essay. I have printed another; all is well.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.

*end current events*

Right. Staying up until six AM and sleeping until noon theoretically should have me tired right about...now.

Ahem? Hellooooo, brain? I should be tired and sleeping now, yes? Pardon me while I bludgeon my nervous system into submission...

I've got "Down in the River to Pray" stuck in my head. ~>:| nerrrrg.

Oh, sinners let's go down, let's go
Down in the river to pray
as I went down in the river to pray
studyin' about that good old way...

I dun even know the words proper, but it is a lovely song. And a lovely New Year's Day to everyone, I hope.

I'm sure I had things to say...(Sad thought- should it be a tossup between auditioning for all state (and most likely not making it) or going to ILMUNC, I believe I will choose the audition.)

Oh, sisters, let's go down, let's go,
Down in the river to pray...

School tomorrow. Damn.

Did the annual New Year's Go See a Movie With Parents thing (normally there's a New Year's walk on the canal as well, but it was pouring down rain like nobody's business all day long. scratch that- no walking along canal when towpath is flooded, thank you muchly.) and unfortunately, we let dad pick the movie. Went to small theatre very far away to watch small independent-ish movie called...Far From Heaven. disturbed, I am. (Speaking like Yoda, am I as well. Grammar has eloped with coherency and last I checked they were in Barbados on the beach.) It's about a 50's housewife whose husband...well, that would almost spoil it for you. Not that anyone who isn't my dad or very like him will ever see it, mind, so...anyway.

50's housewife, silly hair and calf length skirts, black maid and 2.14 children, played by Julliane Moore. The words 'dear' and 'darling' are thrown about every which way, in reference to everything. Her husband is a sales exec for giant company. She's on the cover of the Hartford social. (Yes, only in Connecticut.) Life is perfect. Until housewife catches husband and his golfing partner in various states of undress in the office afterhours. *d'oi* This is the fifties, mind you- husband becomes determined to "cure" himself ("Some choose electroshock aversion therapy or hormonal treatments...") and wife goes all 'dear' and 'darling' and is oh, so proud. All is well, (aside from the growing infatuation wife has with African American gardener, and all the nasty rumors her socialite friends start spreading about her, and the fact that husband gets drunk on a regular basis and occasionally smacks her one, and the way the children keep getting ignored and-) so well, in fact, that husband and wife decide to go to Miami for a little r&r over New Year's. (This is Miami in the '50s, so it probably didn't seem like such a bad idea at the time...) Enter cute looking blond boy who does not say a word in any of the scenes he's in (though he isn't in many scenes- I'm still vaguely amused by this) but who keeps giving husband meaningful glances. Gardener's daughter gets hit by a rock, wife's last support is setting up to move outta town.

I think we can all see where this one's going.

It was a good movie, superbly acted and brilliantly set (costumes and makeup and scenery was all right out of 1958, including the cars. Funny how the only thing that hasn't changed over the past 45 years are the school buses...) but it was not particularly uplifting. The ending was inevitable, given the state of things, and the ending truly bothered me because of that. (Screw realism, give me happy fluff, damn it!)

Oh! I almost forgot- saw a preview for The Pianist, with Adrian Brody. After writing that Boffo New Year's bit, it seemed a little...coincidental? I suppose that's the word. Adrian Brody is very nearly who I'd choose to play Dei, and the whole piano thing just makes it a little more amusing. Or something. Gah. At this rate I'll have my dad's taste in movies, and I'll be forced to shoot myself. *_*

Good night. Cigar smoke and champagne flutes, "testosterone" and rolled eyes. Cloudberry liqueur, "what a blackberry is to a raspberry, cloudberries are to blackberries," stickey sweet, "they only grow above the arctic circle," and all too cloying, "during the months of midnight sun." Added to an already full glass, glances traded over head. How do they compare? This is an epic yarn, says one, we've got time. Do you remember, and do you remember? How do you survive, laughter and smiles and a quietly shut door. A movie? Which one- too many choices, seen it already, so many times. From the beginning, then. What did she say? Laughter. Lowered eyes and hidden smiles. Goodnight, and goodnight, and goodnight. Good to see you, one last time. Until...good night.

Don't forget to turn out the tree.
----------------------------------

One more day of freedom...*sigh*

'Twas a good day, though. A happy New Year's Eve- always a good sign. Not much like last year, no, not at all. Happy day. (One might ask why I am still awake at nearly 4 AM. Ask away. I have no answer, beyond the fact that it is truly fricken' freezin' in here.) *shivershiver* :)

Where most places were filled to the rafters with rowdy, drunken celebrators, this one was quiet and calm; only a few patrons sat in attendance at the bar, ignoring the tv turned down low in favor of their drinks. The ball dropped unnoticed, here on New Year's Eve. Beneath the cigarette smoke and general air of despondency, a piano played. The tunes were familiar, once forgotten melodies that carried more memory behind them than music.

It was a good piano, Dei mused, his fingers trailing slowly over the keys. A jazzy blues piece, something learned long ago and half improvised to fill in the gaps where memory failed. There was a half empty bottle of wine, no need to bother with a glass here, to keep him company on top of the piano. A good piano, with a sweet, melancholy sound. Perfect. He brushed his hair away from his face with an absent hand; he'd have to cut it again soon.

"Happy birthday, Tyler," he sang softly, "Happy death day, Dad, Cara. Happy Anniversary, Jubal. Happy birthday, me. And me, and me, and me..." There was a shadow sitting beside him on the piano bench, whispering requests in his ear. One hand still danced across the cracking keys while the other closed clawlike over the bottle's neck. "And a happy new year." The level of wine in the bottle was growing dangerously low; sobreity was not high on his list of happy states of being right now.

"Can you play 'Monday's Wash'?" Another hand (he didn't have three, so it had to be someone else's) closed over the bottle and removed it gently.

"Too happy." Moonlight Sonata, swaying triplets weaving through the smoke. "I don't do happy anymore."

"Why not?"

He played on for a few moments longer, not wanting to answer the annoying voice. The shadow at his side chuckled to itself. "Why should I? All alone on New Year's Eve, all alone the rest of the year, what's there to be happy for? Why the fuck should I be happy now?"

Two more hands, stilling his own on the keys, threading silence through the gloom. Warmth, familiar and unwanted, chased the shadow away. A final hand, resting on his shoulder- a presence that should have been forgotten and gone. "Because you aren't alone, kid. You never were." A black feather hovered in the corner of his vision, dangling from the end of a long, thin braid. The hand on his shoulder tightened in warning.

He couldn't avoid them now. Unfair, he wanted to say, Unfair to sneak up on me like this and take away the last thing that is mine. How dare they take my loneliness? How dare they chase away my shadow? Her hair was an ordinary shade of brown- gone was the lavender and pink; her eyes were the same, gray green and endless, ancient and sad. She guided his hands to different keys. "You play the melody; I'll take the accompaniment." Unfair.

He had no choice, now. "You won't stay forever." Almost rebelliously, he struck a different tune. Black Anemones. Take that, each weeping note seemed to say. "You might as well just leave now."

A thin melody insinuated itself into his music, followed by an equally subversive harmony- surrounded, with a hand still on his shoulder and a presence leaning across his back and at his side. Anemones bloomed in full technicolor glory. He sulked.

"Stop that." Jubal gave his ponytail a yank. Dei resisted the urge to bite. "We won't stay forever, you're right. But we can stay long enough to take you home."

"They miss you, you know." Radueriel had taken over the piano, though one arm had snaked around his shoulders to hold him closer and keep the shadows at bay. She could do more with one hand on the piano than any Hindu god could with one hundred. At the bar, men on the verge of unconsciousness lifted their heads and their spirits and paid their tabs. The music dispelled the smoke and depression. "The very least you could do is stop by and say hello."

It would be very easy to just give in..."No." But it wouldn't matter. "Happy New Year to both of you. Give Tyler and Opal my regards, but tell them that once again, I will not be joining them. Tell them to stop trying." He stood, gathering his coat and scarf and shadow.

"I don't like it when you make my daughter cry, you know." His voice was conversational, but his eyes were pure rage. "Because that's what she does. So does Tyler- every fucking year when you pull this shit."

He paused for a moment at the door. "And what, precisely, do you think I do every year?" Icy wind skittered across the bar, brought up short by the slamming of the door. The strains of a blues piano followed him out into the night.

..........................................

Oh, Jesus Christ on a crutch! That was not supposed to turn out that way. It was supposed to be happy, damn it! Stop it with the angst, you stupid little angst-muffin! Ugh. I suppose it's fitting, though; New Years is not a happy time for him- for any of them, really. But this was definitely supposed to be less half-drunken-depression and more bittersweet-reunion-and-reconciliation.

I've no idea who composed Black Anemones- I only know I heard it on WQXR (the silly Princeton classical music station) once, and it just seemed so utterly and absolutely depressing...It's the sort of highly obscure thing Dei would have in his repertoir (faugh, spelling!) just for the express purpose of angsting on New Year's Eve. *D'oi*

Theme Songs:

seventh grade: Tubthumping, though it would take too long to explain why. Also, How Lovely to be a Woman from Bye, Bye, Birdie- but that, too, would take a great deal of time to explain.

Closing Time, by Semisonic, as well as Alcohol and Insomnia by BNL for eighth grade.

The whole soundtrack from Les Mis (especially Stars, Do You Hear, and Turning) and all of Mirrorball (Sarah McLachlan, especially Fear, Possession, and Good Enough) for ninth grade. And Everything's Gonna Be Alright (Shawn Mullins), but that's true for every day, every year, for ever and ever- though it started freshman year.

10th- Let it Be (The Beatles), Angel and Do What You Have to Do (Sarah) for the beginning of the year. No Angel and My Lover's Gone (Dido) for the middle, and Nowhere Road (Fastball) for the whole fucking thing. Beautiful Day, U2 (oddly enough), and, of course, American Pie (Don McLean).

Last year; Song of Tears (Adiemus); Long December (Counting Crows); the fifth track of Hampsterdance (yes, the p does belong there); Want it All Back (Yoko Kanno, Cowboy Bebop); Barely Breathing, Duncan Sheik. And several other things- Paved Over Paradise, Bloody Sunday (U2), Heart of America (Counting Crows)- but those are minor themes, ones that acompany Long December and Song of Tears...

This year- Memento and Serena, Duncan Sheik; Ordinary World, Duran Duran; anything and everything by Nickel Creek but especially Reasons Why and Out of the Woods; All Hallowed Eve's Dance, Mummer's Dance, The Highwayman, The Old Ways, and a bunch of others, Loreena McKennit; In This World, Moby.

Most of them are associations, not mood or emotion themes. A few are simple mood themes- Nowhere Road, for instance, and Ordinary World. Others are quite misleading; Serena and Alcohol and American Pie- there are some very long explanations that go with those, and they aren't at all what you'd think. Some (Closing Time) are just things that I've heard over and over again; (cold water cold wind sandy rocks and beaches and Maine and birthdays) things that evoke key moments of certain years...

So, yes, the past five years encompass a rather lengthy soundtrack for me...we'll see what music plays in the background over the next few years, eh?

Happy New Year, by the way. I'm not done with this yet, but it's a start.

(And the song, the Nickel Creek version of the song is part of a movie soundtrack! *dies* Mineminemineminemine!)