May 14th, 2002


(no subject)

I am terrifyingly evil!

Find your soul type

Tsk! Though you're not as hollow as the soulless ones, you're filled with unnecessary hatred and scorn.

Virtues: You have none, honestly. All you want is a friend to torture and harass with you! Admittedly, it sounds fun, but honest to god, you need a hobby. Your favorite pasttimes include: bumping into inanimate objects without apologizing, poking little girls in the tum-tum, and putting plastic snakes in the neighbor's driveway. I'm sorry, but you suck at harassing. Take a tip from me: verbal harassment is teh r0x0rz.

Aspirations: Hitman? Satan?

Quirks: Happy people. You just don't like them, do you?

Factors: What happened in your troubled past? I mean, was your father a llama or is it just one of those things where you were the bad child and your sweet little sister was the only one who came out right (*cough, Ali, cough*)? That's okay. I understand.

Future: Counseling seems like the best bet for you. Enjoy the sweet, sacred times you'll have on medication.

I've been found out!

And all because I like Bermuda, night, and oogamy.

(what *is* oogamy? It asked which sounded better, and that one sounded funny.)

in other news . . . ugh. I'd rather not think about other news, all things considered.

(see, this is the point at which, if everything was going to go wrong, everything would go wrong. And: fact of life: everything always goes wrong.)

(no subject)

I just got an email saying "MAKE MONE ONLINE TODAY".

I'm not sure if it's a misspelling of a pyramid scheme or a misspelling of a porn ad.

eight months left

so I'm mostly packed up.

there's still a few things to cram into the big suitcase (otherwise known as the Red Ugly Thing) but besides that I'm good to go. There isn't going to be much repacking at Oberlin either - with my mental inventory I think the only things I'll be snagging are Shodan's hard drive and Ken-Ohki, who will fit nicely in my backpack, although he'll probably get me a weird look or two if they decide to search my backpack as usual.

sheesh, I really don't need anything in my suitcases. Maybe I should have them shipped. Except they'd probably want to put them in boxes . . . well, I'll ask. Pull the keyboard out if they do let me . . . it's the only thing I'd need at Oberlin. (don't ask.)

so now I go to Oberlin and maybe hang out a little with friends between tests and stuff, if they have enough time, and otherwise clean my room and hang out in the lab playing Escape Velocity until the 18th, and then I go home and get a house somewhere (either with hawkswift and two other people if I can find two other people to be the two other people) or somewhere else.

I'd want to be with people . . . except they'd have to put up with my insanity . . . and unless they're good friends I can't ask that of them.

so yeah.

(am I using the term insanity too lightly? would it fit? it feels right. I'm certainly not sane, so wouldn't that mean I'm insane?)

then I go to snow blind studios and work there . . . which is surreal. signing up for the Star Wars Galaxies beta they had a checkbox asking if I was professionally in the game development business. Well, it sure doesn't feel like it, but I guess technically I am now. Go figure. They probably won't let me betatest now.

I guess I really don't have any more to say.

the topic, incidentally, has nothing to do with anything that any group of people would collectively consider reality.

(no subject)

this, alternate version.

She walked through the desert, trailing wisps of disturbed sand behind her. The sun hung motionless and heatless in the sky. Soon she reached a vast plain, filled with piled heaps of stone and twisted metal. Shards of glass crunched under her boots, and she walked deeper into the center.

In the center she found an old man, pushing the stones around aimlessly. She sat and watched him. He made a little pile, then took it apart again, digging a little hole in the sand and putting the stones in. He filled it in, thought a few seconds, then dug it out again and pulled the stones out.

"I heard there was a man trying to rebuild a city here," she finally said.

The man shook his head quietly, not turning to face her, and remaining silent.

"Why not?"

"Because it all came apart. All of it. It broke and shattered and it can't be put back together again . . . I thought it could be but it just went wronger and so I tried again and that just broke it further. Now I don't remember what it was except that it was beautiful and wonderful and fantastic and incredible."

"But it isn't now."

"Now it's pieces and shreds in the sand and I don't know which bits go together.

The sky darkened, smoky clouds shifting over the sun. The old man rolled the stones around aimlessly.

"Why don't you try to rebuild it?"

"I can't remember where the bits go. I can't remember what it was like to make anything anymore."

She watched him quietly.

"Because I can't."

The wind chilled rapidy and tore at their clothes. She gathered her clothing more closely and watched him pouring sand aimlessly on the small mound of stones.

"You might be able to do it if you tried."

"I don't know how to try anymore."

She sat there, watching his eerily calm face. The ground shook unexpectedly, then again, more strongly. The small pile shifted slightly, one stone falling out of it, and he turned to watch it expressionlessly.

He raised his voice slightly to be heard above the ground rumbling. "Even if I could remember. Even if I knew what to do, or where everything went, or what it was. Even if I knew that I couldn't do anything because the ground shakes and everything comes apart like it did the first time and that's why I can't do anything more."

"The earthquakes only started when the city fell?"

He shook his head violently. "I don't know. I don't know. I've forgotten too much. I can't remember."

The ground steadied and slowly the clouds cleared from the sun again, letting the first beams from the sun chase away the edge of the cold. "I think it worked once. I think once it was something that could survive. But it broke and shattered and I don't know why and I don't know how to put it together and it's just pieces now and I don't know what to do."

"You could move on."

"I don't know how. I don't know what 'on' is because I don't know what this is and I can't do anything until I know how to put something back together."

The last clouds cleared, giving the cold sun full reign over the sky again.

He tapped two of the rocks together, making a dull clacking noise.

"You could come with me."

"I can't. I can't."

"I don't understand."

He said nothing.

She got up and walked away, out of the city, across the frozen dunes once more.

She turned to look back at him after a few minutes, now a barely visible speck among the ruins, digging in the shards of the destroyed city.

Eventually she turned away and kept going.

(no subject)

it's always a bit strange when a really interesting person adds me to their friends list and starts making likewise-interesting replies to my posts.

Good. But strange. Somehow I don't think of my journal as very interesting >_<

(at least I don't do many tests - only the neat ones. :P)
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