North of the border Haven

All moved in...

2007-08-18T18:07:00.000-05:00

So, I'm all moved in. Well, not ALL, as there are various and sundry items still kicking around my mom's place (like my hair brush, as I discovered when I got out of the shower and had nothing to tame my hair with.)

But all the essentials, except for food, are here. My bed is even here, so I can sleep here now. I just got out of my shower in my new place, and I'm really getting settled.

It makes me think of how much my life has really changed in the last year.
Some things include the most amazing changes....I love kickboxing with a passion I can't describe. And it's evident in little changes people notice every day. When we were moving my mattress yesterday, my brother was all impressed by how strong I was.

And today....though my abs will hate me for it tommorow, I kept up as well as I could with Olivia's fight ab combo. It's really nasty. You want a workout that will make you cry, I'll share it with you.

I also managed to run two and a half laps today without stopping. A new record for me. I have to thank my fellow classmate, and motivational coach Shawn for that one. He's awesome at encouraging people.

But I've also realized how keenly I miss some of the things from my life a year ago. I sorely miss the cuddling and casual touching that was a part of my circle of friends. I would even cuddle with my best guy friend hanging out in the King's Head. My mom has this great picture of my former friends and I in a cuddle pile on the couch. I kind of feel a little like one of Laurell K. Hamilton's leopards in the regarding to tocuhing. I like it, it heals me in a way that few other things can, and I just don't get it that much anymore.

Thank heavens I still have one or two friends that like the hugs. But I miss those puppy piles.

Other things to note: The oven is nearly clean enough to cook in, the internet is hooked up, and I actually have a phone. Now, if I could just manage to get some food to my apartment....

Wonderful end to a craptastic day.

2007-01-27T12:19:00.000-06:00

So, the day yesterday basically started out with me hitting the snooze on my alarm clock about twenty times. I really, really, didn't want to go into work yesterday. I truly could have used another 8 hours of sleep.

Truthfully, working at GWL all day, then heading straight over the the theatre every night is kind of taking it's toll on me. I leave the house before seven in the morning, and don't get back till ten at night. In addition, every day but tuesday we were short staffed at GWL last week. And it will be the same this week. Also, with my schedule, I haven't made it to kickboxing in a week. So, my energy is right at an all time low.

I was intending to stay late at work yesterday to do a little catch up, and only head to the theatre for the proper call time, but by four o'clock, I'd felt like I'd come out on the loosing end of an encounter with Sylar. That is to say totally brainless.

So I headed over to the theatre, and even though it was the last show of the week, and even though Rob was coming to see it because it was his birthday, my heart just wasn't in it last night.

Why, you ask? Usually I'm ecstatic and at my happiest when I'm stage managing something. But yesterday was Olivia's fight. And I'd been waiting to watch her fight for all the months that she was training and riding our asses extra hard in class, as she has a tendancy to do when she's going to get in the ring.

In other news, someone had swiped my watch and flashlight from the booth, and turned off the VCR, which, without a remote or a tape, I couldn't turn back onto TV/VCR.

Luckily, one phone call later and Rob was bringing me a watch and a videotape. Quiet a Godsend (though not as much as I would have liked. When he arrived, there was no trace of a hospice nurse, a japanese cubicle drone, a geneticist, a painter, a politician or a cop on him. DARN!)

The show went well, and at the end, I turned my cell phone back on, hoping to have a call from Naiomi telling me the results of the fight. Nada. So, I called and left my classmate a message, asking her to call me back.

When she did, she informed me that Olivia hadn't fought yet, and I should get my ass down there.

So I did. Rob and I actually ran all the way from the Ellice Theatre to the Convention Centre. When we got there I took my last 40 dollars out of the bank to buy the ticket. But Rob came through again. He knew someone with some clout, and we were let in just in time to hear the results of the fight right before "The Predator's".

She won, which I was never in doubt of. Surprise was, it went to decision, and she went all six rounds. Olivia had been worried about that. I was proud of her for pushing her own limits. You could tell by round four that she wasn't going for a knockout because she wanted to see if she had the legs.

We were also lucky enough to run into some of the guys from class who invited us to sit with them. It was nice to discuss the mechanics of the fight with Ron and Tim, and not be talked down to. They knew that I was aware of what I was talking about, and they didn't act as if, just because they'd been taking more classes then me, that they were superior. It was a nice change for me.

Well, Rob and I slipped out right after the fight in order to speak to Olivia and then head over to the King's Head, where we celebrated his birthday with dinner, a beer, and a chit chat with Francis.

That's right, I'm not going to hide and take it lying down. I'm not going to let other people make me feel unworthy, or as if I don't have a right to be somewhere.

I'm not the same person I was a year ago. My confidence in my self, my body, and my intelligence has all skyrocketed. The tiny bit of me that has always been a fighter has been brought to the forefront and nurtured so that it has become such a significant part of me that I won't back down from things that scare or indimidate me. The tricky thing about a fighter? They walk into the hits. They discover that they hurt less that way.

So, congrats to Olivia for the win. (LJ readers, that's her in the icon.) I'd also like to thank her. She is a very large part of why I'm becoming who I'm becoming. So thank you!

Come on out and see what Prokosh is talking about!

2007-01-24T06:00:00.000-06:00

It seems that the show I'm stage managing for Stoppardfest, "Jumpers", not only got some great advertising with the pictures in the Free Press last thursday, but we also got a decent review in this mornings paper:

Jumpers a humorous workout

Wed Jan 24 2007

By Kevin Prokosh

IS there a more wearying workout than attempting to follow every taxing twist and strenuous backflip in the theatrical gymnastic display that is Tom Stoppard's Jumpers?
Count on a spike in calls to chiropractors. Stoppard makes audience members' exercise muscles rarely used in theatre to bear an unnatural amount of wit and weight.

Jumpers leaves you breathless, amused and somewhat disoriented in contemplating a unique blend of Monty Python-esque loopiness and deep philosophical questioning set against a murder investigation. As performed by an amalgam of two local troupes -- Persnickety Players and Echo Theatre -- Jumpers is more memorable for the comical highjinx than the cerebral musings about the existence of God.

The English dramatist's 1972, full-length followup to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead is an ambitious undertaking for any theatre but for a modest collective at StoppardFest it requires some deft manoeuvres of its own. With no room on the crowded Ellice Theatre stage for a team of acrobatic-philosophers to bounce around on, co-directors Michelle Boulet and Carolyn Gray screen a short film that precedes the live action for the next two hours.

It's a wild scene-setter as we are introduced to Dorothy Moore (Charlene Van Buekenhout), once the first lady of the musical stage and now unable to sing due to a nervous breakdown triggered by a moon landing. She struggles with her lyrics as she loses the spotlight to the jumpers. The boisterous party, which features a secretary (Boulet) being wheeled around on a table with dwindling pieces of clothing, ends badly when one of the acrobats (Gord Tanner) is shot and killed.

Cut to the stage, where Dorothy is struggling to hide the dead body in her boudoir while her middle-aged husband George (Kevin Klassen), a second-rate moral philosophy professor, is dictating a speech for a major lecture. While he pursues high-falutin' theological truths he misses the true meaning of daily visits paid to his wife by Archie Jumper (Graham Ashmore), the chairman of his university's philosophy department.
The plot races off in all directions, more at the pace of George's pet hare Thumper than his tortoise Pat. What makes most sense is Jumpers as a story of a collapsing marriage and George's retreat from life into the solitude of theory. He can't answer the cries for help from Dorothy -- who he calls Dotty -- and prattles on and on.

Klassen conquers some of Stoppard's most dense monologues and more impressively appears to understand what he's talking about.

Sorely, that isn't the case for many in the audience who perk up with the comic prospects that come with the arrival of the smooth-talking dandy Archie, wonderfully performed by Ashmore, or the show biz-obsessed Inspector Bones, also well-acted by Rob McLaughlin.

Van Buekenhout earns high marks for depicting Dorothy's quivering fragility through equal parts flirty sexuality and crippling doubt.

Stoppard succeeds in appealing to the mind and the funny bone in Jumpers but ultimately misses the heart.

kevin.prokosh@freepress.mb.ca

Theatre review

Jumpers

Persnickety Players & Echo Theatre

To Feb. 2

Tickets: $12

3 1/2 stars out of five

I'd love everyone local to come on out and check it out

Has it been a year?

2007-01-02T11:44:00.000-06:00

Okay, I know that certain people don't like the fact that I have a dark side. Certain people who at the beginning of the year would have called themselves my friends, and nay, maybe my family, would not want me to be anything but shiny and happy in this journal.
Guess what, that's unrealistic as hell. Deal with it.

Just because I write something on this journal doesn't mean that I'm going to slit my wrists or something. In fact, it's the total opposite. I'd like to quote an Anna Nalick song here, just to prove my point: "2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me, Threatening the life it belongs to."

I'm part-writer at heart. If I get it out of me, perhaps this piece of heavy, heavy lead will lift off of my heart and allow me to breathe again.

On a normal day, I'd probably go and try to hit things. But, given that climbing the stairs while doing laundry has made me nearly cough up a lung, I'm thinking that that's not necessarily a good idea.

Laundry. That's what's kind of giving me the heavy heart today. Laundry is what I was doing last year at New Year's eve. But I was doing it with Steve. And then we had a lovely night in. And then, at midnight, he told me he loved me for the first time. It wasn't long after that he was gone.
So, I'm really, really, hurting today. And there's not exactly anything keeping me from dwelling. I did laundry. Just like last year. And now, I'm pretty much home alone just watching the clock tick away how much alone I am till midnight.

My heart is especially heavy because I don't have a lot of friends left to do things with. The couple I do may have asked me in passing if I had any "big plans", but I don't think anyone even thought of inviting me to participate in any big plans. (Except CQ, but that's not who I'm referring to here.) Why don't I get invited to do things with groups of people? The fact that what friends I have left treat me as if I'm the person I was months and months ago hurts. I know how to go out and have a good time. Make nice. Interact with people. I'd like to celebrate the birthday of a friend. It seems that I'm just not fit to take out in public these days.

I'd really like to be out in public tonight. Instead, I'm sitting home with my mom. I'm doing laundry, which reminds me oh so much of last year, and is bringing nothing but crushing pain. And no one actually bothered to ask me out for a New Year's drink.

I can count the number of my friends on one hand. If you count yourself amongst them, I would actually be overjoyed to be invited out on a group excursion once in a while. I'd like to feel like a friend, not an obligation.

I'm not dying of depression. I laugh, and party, and giggle, and "flit around making people feel good". I don't go out to have fun and sit around crying instead anymore. It's taken a lot of writing, crying, medication, talking, and hitting of things to change that. I'm the person you've partied with before. In fact, I worked really fucking hard to get back to that person. I wish people would give me a chance.

Instead of being invited fun places, I'm now told about them in the past tense. It really does suck.

I'm sitting at home, feeling heavy as lead, remembering last year and trying not to cry. I'd rather be out having fun. Seems no one's willing to give me that chance anymore.
All I want for New Year is not to be thought of as a leper.

I'm not depressed 24/7. In fact, I'm hardly ever depressed anymore. Certainly not when I'm with people that make me smile, having a good time.

If I was your friend, ever in your life, and helped you through something, or even just gave you a hug and a word of comfort when you needed it. A place to stay, a shoulder to cry on, an ear on the other end of the phone on a stressful day, or even just a smile at the right time, it's time that you paid that back. I at times need those things back in return.

My new year's resolution is to have people stop treating me like I'm broken. I've fixed myself. All I want you to do is treat me like I'm me, and not a fragile piece of glass.

Happy New Year all.

I asked myself "was I content,"
with the world that I once cherished?
did it bring me to this darkened place
to comtemplate my perfect future
I will not stand nor utter words against
this tide of hate
losing site of what and who I was again

I'm so sorry if these seething words I say
impress on you
that I've become the anathema of my soul

I can't say that your losing me
I always tried to keep myself tied to this world
but I know where this is leading me
no tears
no sympathy

I can't say that your losing me
but I must be that which I am
though I know where this could take me
no tears
no sympathy

gracefully
respectfully
facing conflict deep inside myself
but here confined losing control of what I could not change

gracefully
respectfully
I ask you "Please don't worry,"
not for me
don't turn your back
don't turn away

If anyone has any spirit to share...

2006-10-28T10:08:00.000-05:00

I'm looking for prayers, chants, spells, and good old well wishes.

My little three year old niece Hailey has pneumonia. It's so bad that they're putting in a chest tube tonight with a sugery at 6 pm.

We're all a little scared for our little Hail Storm.

2006-10-28T09:57:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last few months learning a lot about the nature of people, and of friendship, and what that word really and truly means. And what it means to me.

Sad songs say so much...

Well, Saturday proved to me that I have more friends then I might have realized. And that your true friends don't mind if you bust into tears. You don't have to apologize, or feel guilty, or be terrified that said person will no longer be your friend. If they truly are your friend, they will not shy away from your tears. They will just want to know what it was that made you cry.

And there won't be a limit on it, or a deadline. It won't be, 30 times I'll watch you cry, but 31 and I turn my back on you as if you never existed. As Joey told me one day when I nearly backed out of girls' night because I couldn't stay composed, "If you had 365 bad days a year, not that I'd want you to, but if you did, you would still be my friend."

I'm learning this more and more every day.

What made Saturday such a lesson? Well, it was the B and B, I'd have to say. Or more, a bunch of the attendees of the B and B.

It was my second B and B, yes, you read right, second. If you have any doubts on that one, ask around. Most of the people from "the crowd" have heard the story. And yes, I think that "the crowd" is becoming more and more "MY crowd" every day.

You have your doubts? Well, I got in crap for not being at the party at two of the groups' house the night before. Two of them I hang out with on occasion on Goth Night at the Die Maschine. A mutual friend of ours took that ugly vest and made a flogger out of it. Very cool. One of them treated me to a brilliant scalp massage as the evening was dying down and I was getting a headache.

And one of them, upon asking me where my two former best friends were, got treated to a rather watery display of emotion. She was shocked, I have to say. And why? Because she had no idea that said friends were not talking to me. So, not only did they not tell me why I am no longer one of their friends, they failed to tell other people as well.

My apologies again, girl. You were so wonderful to me. You did not, in any way, have to offer what you offered. And I'm sorry if it put you in a rather uncomfortable position.

I'm glad I got a chance to say goodbye. I'm sorry for not being able to come to you. But thank you for the goodbye you did give. It meant quite a lot.

I thoroughly enjoyed my second B and B. I got to talk to a lot of people that I don;t see all that often. I got to dance by myself and not feel awkward. And I got to see that though certain people may glare down their nose at me in a way that leads me to believe I'm a stain on their perfect life, without even giving me a reason why it's so, not everyone sees me that way.

And when I though that I wouldn't be able to hang with some of my circle because awkward had set up base camp at their table, I was kind of shocked to see that my circle got up and found a new place to set up shop.

Things are very different in my life then I'd been led to believe.

I can't thank you all enough for just being there. And for helping me to find myself. And for allowing me to count on you.

Thank you for showing me that there are people willing to be the kind of friend to me that I always try to be to others.

Struggling to find the words....

2006-09-22T15:24:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry that I haven't written lately. I feel really crap about it, actually. Once again, my circle of support and friendship has basically been whittled down to those of you I met online or only know online, and less than a handful of other people. And I really don't want to be a crybaby on my lj. thestormcellar recommended that I try to keep positive, and talk about positive things on the journal. I've been trying to do that.But dag nab it! Sometimes I just need to talk about it. And I just really have no one left in my life to talk about it with, ya know? What's even worse is that I've alienated all the great people that I used to have in my online life as well.

I'm having a hard time of it this week, and I'm super-lonely on top of it. There's nothing like opening up your e-mail to see that you have 0 messages. Not a one. Not even junk mail.

I had a super rough weekend. Mostly because of the date, and what I would have been doing, had my life not taken a complete deviation because of circumstances beyond my understanding.

I'm sorry that I'm not happy all the time. I really am. I try. I try very hard. I don't think people really know just how hard it is to struggle through life the way I and people like myself are. It's a struggle just to get out of bed and live each day. To breathe in and out. To put one foot in front of the other and keep walking. To not just give up.

If I could put you in my shoes for a minute, just so you could understand where I am, I would. But I would never do it for longer than that. Because no one deserves more than a minutes here.

It all kind of came to a head late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. And the worst part is the complete and utter sheer blinding terror I have at telling anyone at all that anything at all is wrong with me. Because I don't know which tears will be those few too many, and send the people that have accepted me running just as the last people. I certainly can't share with people that I'm upset. Lord knows that that is not at all what friendship is about.

People can't know that I'm upset, or hurt, or sad, because I honestly don't think I could stand losing one more person in my life.

My view on friendship now is so skewed. I must be happy, and pleasant, and cheerful and fun to be around at every second. Because some tiny thing that I did an hour ago, or a day ago, or a week ago, will cause people to stop talking to me. And they will never even let me know what it was that I did. Y'know, so that either a.) I can try to repair the damage, or b.) I can avoid doing it to the next people I try to make friends with.

And all this is going through my head when the people I was with asked me what was wrong. And I lashed out, because lord knows it would be far easier for me to hurt them and know what I did to drive them away then if they left just simply because, once again, I'm not good enough, or exactly what people want me to be.

Guess what? I'm not a puppet. I'm me. And if you truly are my friend, as I try to be back to people, then you'll care for me as I am. Bad points and all. That's what friends do.

I do have to be grateful for Justin, even if the fight he and I had nearly tore the last shred of sanity I had from me. Because even though I drove him away, he wanted to make sure that I was alright. That I would speak to him again. That we weren't mad at each other. That we were still friends. And when I couldn't find the words to apologize, he assured me that I didn't need to. That he knew. Then he just held my hand.

This is what I get from a month of friendship. My heart screams and asks why in the world I can't expect the same treatment from over a decade's worth. And it kills me. Because with Justin, right now, I simply like him. And though it means a lot, it's not enough. Because I lost people that I love. Who swore they loved me.

But it makes me wonder. If they loved me, as they claimed, how could they take one of the few things in my life worth struggling to live for, themselves, away from me?

Stuff about you

2006-09-13T12:04:00.000-05:00

I blame this entirely on pinky0007 and boredom during lunch at work.

I answered in the comments on her journal. If you feel like it, do the same in mine!

IF YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST,I want to know 20 things about you. I don't care if we've never talked, never liked each other, or if we already know everything about each other. I really don't. You are obviously on my list, so let me know with whom I am friends!

1.Your Middle Name:
2. Age:
3. Single or Taken:
4. Favorite Movie:
5. Favorite Song:
6. Favorite Band/Artist:
7. Dirty or Clean:
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings:

HERE COMES THE FUN ... ... ...

1. Do we know each other outside of LJ?
2. Whats your philosophy on life?
3. Would you have my back in a fight?
4. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest?
5. What is your favorite memory of us?
6. Would you give me a kidney?
7. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
8. Would you take care of me when I'm sick?
9. Can we get together and make a cake?
10. Have you heard any rumors of me lately?
11. Do you/have you talk(ed) crap about me?
12. Do you think I'm a good person?
13. Would you drive across country with me?
14. Do you think I'm attractive?
15. If you could change anything about me, would you?
16. What do you wear to sleep?
17. Would you come over for no reason just to hang out?
18. Would you go on a date with me if i asked you?
19. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together?
20. Will you repost this so i can fill it out for you?

For once, the weekend was a good one...

2006-09-12T12:10:00.000-05:00

I had an excellent weekend. From the very start, to the very finish, every inch of it was fantastic.

As I am beginning to have what looks to be a really crapity week, I thought that I'd tell all about the goodness, so that I could put off the badness for a little while. Well, for the period of my lunch hour at the very least.

Friday started off with a not-too-bad day at work, and then a Goldeyes Baseball Playoff Game. Of course, they lost that game, and the next two, losing the series they had been in the lead of up until that point. But it was a pretty good game nonetheless. And I got to see Max Poulin play one more time before he retires.

One interesting thing happened during the game. It actually happened in the stands.
First off, you have to understand that going to a baseball game has become a family outing kind of thing. My brother and my dad by tickets every year, and when someone isn't using one of the four tickets, I get to go. So I went in the place of my stepmom. That made our group consist of myself, my brother and his wife, and our dad.

My mom was at the game. With a date. With a first date. And, on top of it, they ended up about four rows behind us. Right behind us. A little awkward, and very funny. But he must not have been put off by both his date's kids, and her ex. He took her to dinner on Saturday.

After getting home from the game, I felt a headache coming on, so when invited out, I begged off to go to bed early. Doing so allowed me to check my mail, and have a long MSN chat with Jay. It was a good chat, and I hadn't talked to him in a couple of months. So, even the headache had a positive turn.

The conversation also allowed me to invite him out the next day.

Saturday was a jam-packed day for me, and allowed me to see nearly all of my very favorite people in one shot.

The day started with kickboxing class, which it always does. I love class. Can't even express how much. Then, after class, which ended at one, I had to rush to sponge bath as best I could at the gym-with-no-showers, pick up Jay, and head off to the Classic Embers gig, all the way out to nearly the racetrack.

Was so very glad that I went though, even if because of some technological SNAFUS, Jay and I only got to stay for one set. We got to see Barry, who I haven't seen in monts. And, more importantly, I got to see Sean, and solidify the fact that all is of the cool with us now. Very important to me, so much so that I can not say. It took such a weight from off my shoulders.

I kept getting told that it was a miscommunication, and it was. I'm glad it got cleared up. In his case, from his interpretation of the text, he had a right to be hurt. Of course, that's in his case.

The gig was good, in spite of the shortcomings of equipment and space. Sean, as always, kicked ass with what he does.

Then it was time to drive home, drop Jay off, and get home to drop the car off in time for Leah to pick me up. I got to see Leah, and I got to go to a movie, both things that I haven't got to do a lot of lately.

Leah, having worked late the night before, dropped me off and headed home. Then it was time to call up Rob and head off to Goth/Industrial night at the Die Maschine to meet up with Justin.
We closed the bar, and the boys walked Terakyan (and I apologize for what, no doubt, is the butchering of the spelling of her name there.) and I home. We stood around chatting for quite some time, the result being that we didn't get to sleep till around 5:30. The effect of that? Making the breakfast I'd promised Justin nearly made me late for the niece and nephew's birthday party. But well worth the price, I'd say. :-)

Sunday was capped off by the party, followed by my dad and I bonding over bitching about the radio broadcast of the Goldeyes' losing playoff game.

It's too bad I just ended up so tired from all the awesomeness that I couldn't go out for a cruise with Justin. But it's all good. I merely dragged him to kickboxing yesterday instead. It was more fun, I think, to watch Olivia start to whip him into shape.

All in all, a very great time was had. Thanks for allowing me to relive it during this crapalicious work week!

I am not a number...

2006-09-12T11:46:00.000-05:00

Ever feel like you're being Single-White-Femaled? Ever felt like more than one person was doing it at a time?There's only one me! And I'm the best me there is! Be your own damned self.

Second on the list of peoplet to be grateful for...

2006-09-07T13:39:00.000-05:00

I have to give a shout out to my "big brother" Rob. Some people in my life might frown in disapproval at the fact that I'm even hanging out with him, but I frown in disapproval right back. It's not up to you. Especially given that I needed someone in my life right now, and Rob's been around to fill that role.

Rob told me last night that it's all right to feel what I'm feeling. He assures me that shirts dry, and his shoulders are both insured against water damage.
If it wasn't for Rob.......and he's given me so much. He got me more involved in Kat's life, something I always meant to do and never really got to do. I'm so glad, as I found myself a mentor in her.

And, through Kat.......came Justin.....and all I have to say about Justin is ...:-) Sometimes uncomplicated things are the best.

So, big shout out thank you to Rob. Couldn't have made it through the last month without you!

First on the list of people I'd like to thank...

2006-09-01T14:09:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I got some massively good advice from a person or two today, and they're going to remain nameless for the time being, but they should know who they are. I decided to take it.This craphole of a page is simply allowing my depression to drag me under further, so :P on that crap!

First on my list to thank is Olivia "The Predator" Gerula. This lovely woman is my boxing trainer. And yes, I say trainer, because we aren't learning anymore. We've learned the moves. We are now training to put them into practice.

I've always been interested in kickboxing, ever since the first time I heard of it, via John Cusack and the movie Say Anything. Last year I even took a class, and was interested in pursuing it, but my instructor never contacted me for further lessons, and I never pursued it.

Well, after losing a lot of weight in a short period of time, and in a very unhealthy way, I decided that I wanted to pursue this interesting sport a little further. But first, I felt that I needed a refresher. So I signed up for a class through the Leisure Guide. Well, I think it was one of the absolute smartest things that I have ever done for myself.

I was blessed by the Gods, I think, when I walked in through the doors and found Oliva standing there, ready to whip me into shape. Because she kept on encouraging me, right till the end of the class. And she persuaded me to join her three times a week class. And man, am I ever glad I did.

I love it! And I love how it's shaping my body, even if it's not as fast as I'd like. I'm so healthy now. And I hope to keep getting better and better.

It's such good therapy too. Have a bad day? Go beat the crap out of the heavy bag. It really, really won't mind!

This wednesday, I actually got to spar with "The Predator." And I lived to tell the tale.

So, I thank Olivia, for helping improve my health, being encouraging, and giving me a few hours a week where I'm working so hard that I don't have to think of anything at all!

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."

2006-08-30T14:39:00.000-05:00

I haven't written anything in months. But upon exploring ways to fix the things that are broken in my life that I feel are more than worthy of fixing, I came across a like-minded passage written by a friend of a friend. Said passage inspired me to create the following:

The room around her is bleak, and drab, holding no interest. The walls and their undiluted, muted, dark color has seeped their way into her soul until she feels as if her spirit itself is only being kept alive by the complete grayness it now contains. Because anything that is composed of that much of one substance has to be alive, or die, and she could not be allowed to die. Death, for her, would be a release of sorts, and she knows that no release is forthcoming.

Her eyes, if one were to choose to look at them, are, in fact, a reflection of the bleakness of her soul. Not that there is anyone here to look, or, rather, anyone here that cares to. The ones that would have noticed are long gone, separated by distances too great to cross. And she's unaware of how that happened, uncomprehending of what it is that's brought her here, to this place.

And here, in this place, there is no one at all that cares enough to look into those dull eyes. No one to notice that the once bright of the blue grey of her eyes, the thing that separated her from others, that marked their uniqueness is gone. The color now just serves as a depiction of the dull color that pulses in her shattered spirit.

At this moment, those eyes simply stare sightless out the windows. Windows which, aside from her locked door, are at this moment her only portal too the outside world that has forgotten her. To others, the windows would be a way to cross into the world on the other side. For her, the windows are simply another torture. They are a sliver of a glimpse into a normalcy that she is no longer a part of. They only serve to remind her of what she no longer has. The sliver of blue sky she can see through them is a color blue that is no longer applicable in her life.

She sits and contemplates for the hundredth, the thousandth, the millionth time, what she has done to obtain this life, this solitude. For she had to have done something. Nobody ever receives this kind of punishment without deserving it. No on is this succinctly cut off from all of those of import to them without committing some atrocity. She'd like to know what she's done. She'd like to have had a sentencing. She'd have liked to have had her judge and jury stand up, read the verdict, and tell her what crime she had committed to be deserving of such a payment. But no. For her, it was straight to the punishment. For her, the not knowing is very possibly the worst part, far worse then the rest of the punishment. For is she doesn't know what mistake it was that she made, however will she be able to avoid repeating it?

The alarm bells ring and they are the only kind of ringing that she hears nowadays. The ringing of the telephone is something from her past.

She reaches over, her hand catching up the clock to both silence the noise, and look at the numbers.

She can put it off no more. It is time. She rises from the mattress, puts on her uniform, and opens the locked bedroom door of her apartment. She needs to start towards her office. It is time to face another friendless day in her now friendless existence.

If only she knew her crime. It's all she asks now. All she feels she has a right to. And it's such a little thing. But to her, it's the world. Because without that knowledge, she only feels doomed to keep repeating this process until the end finally gives her peace.

It's a lot like what that other person wrote, and I thank that person I do not know but through thinest of threads for inspiring this piece as a whole. Her piece made me realize how jailed I've felt in my experiences lately, and I wanted to write something, anything, to get some of the pain out.Take it however you want. You always do anyways.

Answer to "A Friend"

2006-08-11T16:26:00.000-05:00

Obviously, since the comment was posted over a week ago, I've been pondering what to say in response. Or, and perhaps this has more of a ring of truth to it, I was gearing up to once again put myself out there, and once again feel the sting of rejection. At least this time the rejection of utter apathy and uncarringness of those who read these pages will not have to wither what is left of my spirit in person.

I give to you, first off, lyrics of a song that I can't stop listening to, and haunts me even when I do.

Body - by The Servant

You've got to take your mind off him
But not with aspirins
You won't
You won't let your family in
Like smoke your body come
Through the gaps in the urban slums
You try
You try to speak American

When you don't know what you want
You end up finding that you haunt your own
Your own life

You're the daylight ghost that creeps
You're the empty city streets and I
And I see you

And those talkshows fill your days
Something is slipping away
Sometimes it feels like you don't have a body
Your skin is cellophane
You know I feel the same
Sometimes it feels like you don't have a body

When you make a cup of tea
You act like it's alchemy
But it's not
It's not what you think it to be

Seeing everything as signs
Seeing everything as lines, always
Always lying, saying you're fine

When you don't know what you want
You end up finding that you haunt you own,
Your own life

You're the daylight ghost that creeps
You're the empty city streets
But I can see you

Those talkshows fill your days
Something is slipping away
Sometimes it feels like you don't have a body

Your skin is cellophane
You know I feel the same
Sometimes it feels like, you don't have a body.

I don't know if those lyrics give you any great insight into my mind, but it is what it is.

So, in direct response to "A Friend"

I tried to talk to the guy. The guy wouldn't talk to me. The guy acted as if I was a complete stranger. The guy's cousin pushed for small talk to fill the awkward silence. His cousin, who barely knows me, introduced me to the girl he's been seeing. Because he didn't. I guess because I just wasn't good enough to admit that he had an association with me.

I don't know something else wasn't going on because he's completely ceased speaking to me. I have had no opportunity to question him. When I was told, in a very short, tight voice that he was simply too busy to answer my e-mails or phone calls, I got the hint. Okay, so after I requested that he answer my e-mail, he still didn't. So, he chose to cut off communications with me.

Only, let's flip the coin and address the other paragraph. He's a jerk and he's out of my life. And things are great without him around. Well, if you were truly my friend, you'd really know how absolutely astoundingly great things are in my life. Not.

On the second last day of the Fringe, our mutual friend told me that I was the one that had to call him first. That I was the one that stopped talking to him? Oh, really? That's why he never answered my e-mail about plans we tentatively had? I assumed that meant that I shouldn't bother ever making plans with him again. That they would all go unanswered. That, when he was desperate for company, with friends out of town and no new liaisons on the horizons, I was the perfect person to confide in, to tell his secrets to before a majority of other people, to be a shoulder to lean on. But the second something better comes along, and lets face it, anything's better than me, that I'm out of there. I become not even relevant enough to talk to in a situation where you would be polite to someone you intensely disliked from your office, never mind someone you proported to be a shoulder to lean on.

And on top of it, he doesn't answer the e-mail I specifically asked him to respond to. How else am I supposed to take it?

This is how wonderful my life is without this amazing person as my friend, without my shoulder to lean on, and without my back watcher.

The last weekend of the Fringe started out horribly enough. I went with one of my trio of best friends to see a play that she was ushering. It was about a girl, who had a devastating break up with her boyfriend. In January. His name was Steve.

When relating this to best friend number two, he responded with his always comforting "Just forget about it. It doesn't matter."

Things didn't improve the following day. When this mutual friend informed me that I was the one who had to reestablish contact. How was I to do this?

Now, don't get me wrong. I've been on this side of rejection often enough in my life to have it feel as familiar as the childhood home that I grew up in. But even the amount I saw it through adolescence did nothing to prepare me for the blow I suffered right after New Year's. And then, just as I was almost healed, and the tiny particles of my shattered heart were tentatively glued back together, I faced rejection again that day in the bookshop.

It wasn't rejection of a romantic kind, but to face the rejection of not even being good enough to be considered a friend, well, that was a whole different kind of hurt.

I want this person back in my life so much. I think about him every day, and how great an addition he was to my life. But I find myself mired in a suffocating fear and inability to pick up the phone to try to mend the fence. He's not talking to me, I'm not talking to him. It's semantics at this point, and I don't care. The idea of the right or wrong of the situation is beyond me. I don't care. I just want my friend back.

Yet, I can't force that phone call, under the stifling terror that I'll get through just to be rejected, because he just doesn't want me in his life. That the bookstore incident and the subsequent unanswered e-mail was my answer. He won't talk to me, or pick up, or return my message. And I'm terrified.

I find myself impotent to make that call. Because, until I do, I can always imagine that it will go well. If I do, and, as I suspect, I am summarily rejected one more time, I don't think I'll have the strength to forbear it. After all, I don't think there's anyone left with enough of a concern for me to help me through the devastation that would bring.

When Corey told me that, I fought against my sadness all day. But, after getting a couple drinks in me, I sat at our table and could not shore up the tears that poured down my face. Corey was the only one at the table that showed more then the superficial concern that would simply be expected for people in a pub to show to their tablemate as liquid streamed from their eyes. And that thought hurt so much that I had to excuse myself to break down completely in the ladies room.

I was in there for quite awhile. Finally someone heard me, and insisted that I come out of the locked stall, so that she could give me a hug. Who was it? A complete stranger named Alex.

And that's how great things are without him around.

But things have become so bad without him around, when one month ago I had been so happy. Finally over Steve and starting to be happy with every day. Then, to find out not only am I not a suitable romantic partner, but that I'm not even up to par enough to be a friend, well, it kind of was like someone tapping on a vase, one that was so carefully put together again, but where the glue hadn't dried.....And I just shattered.

My life is so good right now. Sure. (Laced with sarcasm that was) You know, other then a five second phone call, I haven't spoke with anyone that wasn't a workmate or family member since the last night of the Fringe. No contact whatsoever. (Leah, you're my sister, you still count as family.)

Yeah, my life's pretty terrific all right.

A good way to NOT hurt my feelings

2006-06-17T14:27:00.000-05:00

If you're really trying to be my friend, and make sure I don't get hurt.

Tip number 1.) Don't spot me somewhere, look me dead in the eyes, and then act as if you didn't see me at all.

It makes me think I'm repulsive and something to be ashamed of. It makes me think that I really am all those things that are in that letter below on my blog. I really am garbage to be tossed away when you're done using me for whatever it was that you needed. That I'm not good enough to be your friend.

Message received.

Winnipeg Pride

2006-06-12T12:27:00.000-05:00

I just have to share what I'm feeling from yesterday. The day started with me being awoken by my mother due to a pounding on our door. It turned out to be Edgar knocking on our door. It was noon already, and time to get down to the Legislative Building for the 20th Annual Winnipeg Pride Parade.

I hadn't had a lot of sleep, but I quickly got myself in gear, wondering if I wouldn't have a better day if I stayed at home in bed. I'm really glad that I didn't follow that instinct. It was a really great day.

When Jamie and Cynara showed up, off we went.

The reason that I wanted to go was due to two amazing people that I don't see enough in my life, Murray and his partner Rob, both of whom were on the committee of Pride this year, Rob being co-chair for the second year in a row. They pulled off a spectacular event, where the overall pervading feeling of the day was total acceptance.

They were so busy that I didn't get to spend much time with Murray or Rob, but the few minutes I did get to chat with Murray, who I have to thank my brother Lyle for bringing into my life, as the two used to work together, was just the thing that I needed that day, you know?

Chatting with Murray reminded me that when I'm down, there are blessings to count. That even when I don't feel important at all, there are people out there whose faces will completely light up just at the sight of me.

Chatting to Murray was so totally unconditional it was amazing. Not one moment of it was about anything I could possibly give him or do for him except stand there and share a couple of moments of my very special life.

He didn't want to talk to me because I could give him anything or do anything at all. It wasn't about being able to give someone a ride, or a place to hang out, or a couple more bucks in the pocket at a social, or that I have good gym equipment at my work, or that I'm a wonderful supportive ear, or anything at all other then just me.

I know that the previous statements are bound to cause drama, so I have to say this. I know that none of you are just around for things I can do for you, or provide for you, or help you with. I know that you all care about me as a person.

But I haven't felt that totally, unconditionally loved in a long time.

All there was in that instant was joy at seeing me, and love for me being the person that I am. And that I was an actual gift to someone, just because I had the guts to show up and be there for them. Murray was just so happy to see me, period. To see that I was proud of him for being who he is, and to know that I am loved right back just for being who I am.

It was just a nice pure moment, where there was no pressure and no expectations at all. Where nothing at all was wanted but my presence and a smile. It was boiled down to that on such a obvious scale, one that I don't get a lot from the people that share my life everyday. Not to say that it's not there with others, just that it's not so readily apparent.

It's not that I don't know other people feel it for me, in my head. But it isn't always so obvious to my heart as it was yesterday.

The few minutes that I talked to Murray was such a concentrated burst of obvious unconditional love that I was grateful. It was something that I totally needed.

In essence, that was the spirit of the day. To be loved for who you are, and not what you are.

I'm very glad I went.

If it seems like I'm MIA.....

2006-05-29T08:06:00.000-05:00

I might be. My internet, cable, and phone is all down at the apartment. My cell is still working though.

But, the internet is down at home. And I'm not feeling so hot, so I might not be at work for a couple days.

I've got that cold, finally.

I also had a little personal devistation yesterday. So, I'm gonna be scarce, I think.

Want an indication of my mood?

2006-05-26T07:54:00.000-05:00

Well, I cleaned the trunk I've been avoiding all week.

I packed books I haven't read, just so that I could get the crap out of my room.

My mom stopped me cleaning and took me to see Da Vinci Code. She bought all the junk food. She even asked me if I was staying to see X-Men III at midnight. And she was going to go home on the bus. So that I'd have the car at 2 am.

Ask my brother. This is serious. These are some serious telling things....my mom willing to take the bus....

But my mood is so not important. If you're on Xander's Girl's and my friends lists, go read my lj

That's important. I'm just trivial.

Keycon 2006

2006-05-23T20:26:00.000-05:00

Really kind of tired, and feeling a little under the weather to do a full on breakdown of all the happenings this weekend at the Con. It was a full on drama fest, no doubt.

I just wanted to pop in and tell you this. C, you're right in your comments to the below post. I definitely didn't feel neglected or unwanted this weekend. I do seem to have a lot more friends. And I have people watching my back. People that might even be doing it without my knowledge. As Cordelia would say, "And that's new." And I appreciate it, so, so much more than I can say.

So thanks to you all, for watching my back, and for making the weekend such a stupendous time. I can wait till we all head down to Fargo for Valleycon. Watch out, USA!

Is there point to doing this?

2006-05-18T13:19:00.000-05:00

So, I notice the grand total of two comments on the last post, even though I asked for comments. And I'm wondering to myself if I shouldn't just close the darned stupid blog, because, apparently, not really a point to ranting about my feelings if I'm just doing it to myself.

I'm in a lousy, lousy mood. The receptionist at work is out for the day, again, so, once again, I'm working two desks. And that means that I have to do overtime. And I had plans today. Very specific plans that we're meant to take up all of my time from when I got off of work until when I went to XG's. But no, I have to cover for somebody's butt yet again, and not really getting any props for it at all. I better get some kind of bonus at the end of the year, I tell ya, because I'm sure not getting paid twice the salary to do twice the work.

I'm also in a lousy mood today because I was so, so, so looking forward to Keycon this weekend. And I had a conversation with a co-worker this morning, and all I'm doing is dreading it now. I'm dreading seeing the ex. I'm dreading the fact that he gets to rub in my face the fact that his oh so perfect life is back on track without me in it, and that he's going to be married soon, while I can't even get a date.

And I'm going to be totally alone this weekend, while all my other friends will be on the make. And I'll be totally looked over, once again, as always. Only now it will be witnessed by the ex, who will know by my complete unatractiveness to everyone that he made the right choice in going back to what's her puss.

Also, I feel seriously neglected this week. I know everyone's busy, but it's a serious change when you're used to hearing from someone every couple of days and you haven't gotten any communication from them in nearly a week. Not a phone call, not a text message, not an e-mail, not a comment, nothing. Of course, there is one exception to the rule, but she totally knows who she is.

Hell, I can't even get people to comment over the post where I bled all over it, even when I specifically ask.

Question is, should I really be surprised at this? Because I'm obviously easily replaced the second something better comes along. And heck, there's always better than me.

Right?

Of course, I get to see some of these people tonight. And it's not surprising that I get to see them tonight. After all, they need a ride to where they're going, right?

Yep. Just what I needed this weekend. For my ex to see how unwanted I am. Even by my friends....

Feeling as blue as the weather...

2006-05-04T07:43:00.000-05:00

Okay, so there's a reason why I barely post here.

I truly have nothing good to say.

My head is in a bad, bad space most of the time these days. And the people in my life, I'm sure, are terribly tired of hearing how I feel on the subject. But I can't help feeling the way I feel.

My mother suggested I do something to purge some of what I'm feeling.

I should write a letter. Even if I never send it. And say the things I want to say. And get it out there. Even if it never makes it to the intended person.

I'm going to try that. The following is a letter to the person who destroyed my heart, who, as I said to XG, shoved it sideways through a meat grinder. These are the things I've said in my head a hundred thousand times. And maybe if I say them "Out Loud", it'll help a little bit.

If you feel like commenting, saying anything at all, even if you normally don't comment, please do. I need to know at least someone out there has seen the workings of my brain, and know why I'm so sad lately.

To the man that shattered what little was left of my spirit,

Please tell me what I have done so bad that you could hurt me so. What was it about being with me that was so bad you had to go back to a person you'd been trying to get away from for more than a year? Why are the promises you made to her so important that you'd never break them, but every single one you made to me turned out to be a lie?

Why would you leave your best friend to go back to a person that "belittles you in public"? You told me so many times how much you valued me because there were so many things that you didn't think you deserved, so many things you'd gotten used to that you'd forgotten any other way to be.

You told me that you'd accepted that you weren't meant to be happy anymore, but I taught you that was untrue. I was never too tired to pay attention. I wasn't cynical, or bitter, or always unhappy. I didn't stifle your own personality so that you didn't even resemble yourself when I was in the room. I didn't tell you who you could and couldn't see. I didn't disallow you to do anything. In fact, I never even considered that I had the right to allow or disallow anything. I was your girlfriend, not your owner.

I made you happy. But you left me to be happy? Happy with a person that you hadn't been happy with in a very long time? How does this make sense? Are you happy now?

And all you have to say about it is that she deserved a second chance. After you swore to me that you'd never go back to her. Ever, no matter what. You promised me that. You promised me that you'd tell me you loved me every day after the first time that you said it. You knew how scared I was. I'd told you how hard it was for me to love someone, because they always, always, always left. You saw the walls I'd built around my heart, and you forced them down. They you promised, swore I could say the word, and that you'd be there. That you'd stay.

You stayed less then a week.

Why does she deserve for a second chance, and I don't deserve the end of my first? I apparently deserve nothing. I deserve you not being able to say that you're going back to her over the phone, when I called you on the day we had a date. You were going to stand me up when I had been sick enough to go to the hospital twice in a week. You had my best friend tell me that you were going back to your ex, over the phone.

Then, to show me what I truly meant to you, you shoved my stuff in green garbage bags and had my best friend bring them back to me.

You promised the last time we talked that we'd talk again. And yet, when I called you to get the last of my stuff, I didn't even get a return phone call.

Why does she deserve a second chance? Why does she deserve you to keep all your promises, and I deserve for you to keep none? I apparently don't even deserve a return phone call. I don't deserve to be treated like a human.

Why? Why am I worth so little to you? Why am I worth so little period? I'm worth less then the person that helped to "tear a hole in you soul". I'm not even deserving of human courtesy. I deserve nothing. I don't deserve to have your love. Or anybody's. I can see that now. I'm not worth loving. I'm not worth treating fairly. I'm not worth even considering me as if I were a human being with emotions. I get thrown out like garbage, and you never think of me again. You drop my stuff off with someone removed, as if I don't even exist.

What did I do to you that I deserve so little? That I deserve nothing? I feel so completely worthless. I mean, if someone that is miserable, never happy, cynical, lifeless, too tired to show affection, too cold to kiss with passion, too down trodden by life to keep her appearence or surroundings in good condition for any length of time, too ambivelant about your engagement to tell anyone, or to wear the ring, or to even care, deserves to have the thing she wants most in the world, deserves getting it when the getting it destroys someone's heart and soul, deserves to get married, and have kids, and have the life she's always dreamed, and I don't, how horrible I must be. How truly worthless I must be. If even a person like this deserves happiness, and I don't, how truly hellish a person I must be. I must be the worst thing that ever happened to you or to anyone you know. I must be the most horrible thing in the world.

And all I want to do is be with my friends and try to heal. But I don't even deserve the courtesy of doing that in peace. No. I apparently deserve to have my face rubbed in your happiness all weekend long. I deserve to see how ecstatic you are to be with the person who hurt you so bad, and the only reason I can see that you would be that happy is because you got away from me. I get to see all this in a weekend where every single person around me will hook up, or get hit on, or get admired, while the whole group of my friends see how little I am truly worth, because if you left me to go back to hell, I must be hell cubed.

But I guess if I'm truly that horrible in your mind, then that's the least of what I deserve. Why should I expect anything else?

The scum you scraped off your shoe and finally threw back when you were done using the tool to manipulate your ex/fiance,
Lillie

The Kill - Pretty Much How I Feel

2006-04-10T14:51:00.000-05:00

So, I really haven't been updating this blog. The wonderful blog I got for Christmas.

That's because less then two weeks after that, the person I was writing the previous post about shattered my heart into dust, and I haven't wanted to do anything, never mind post.

Today, I just feel like sharing. This is how I feel about the Ex today. I would like to belt this song out in his face if he dares to show up at Keycon......if I can make it there in the face of adversity and crippling depression and terror of having him in my face all weekend.....he's hurt me enough....he doesn't have to grind the pieces of my shattered soul into powder with a mortar and pestle. And yet, that's what he seems intent on doing....

The Kill, by 30 Seconds to Mars

What if I wanted to break
Laugh it all off in your face
What would you do?
What if I fell to the floor
Couldn't take all this anymore
What would you do, do, do?
Kill
Break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you
What if I wanted to fight
Beg for the rest of my life
What would you do?
You say you wanted more
What are you waiting for
I'm not running from you
Kill
Break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, this is who I really am inside
Finally found myself
Fighting for a chance
I know now, this is who I really am
Kill
Break me down
Bury me, bury me
I am finished with you, you, you
Look in my eyes
You're killing me, killing me
All I wanted was you
Come, break me down
Break me down
Break me down
What if I wanted to break...?

That's it folks. That's all I got today.

New Year, New Me, New Blog, New Post

2006-01-05T11:59:00.000-06:00

Hello all,

I realize that I haven't posted in over two months. I don't even know if anyone is still reading this. And I realize that that's WHY I haven't posted in over two months. I was just in it to see what people would say. What they would respond to. What they would tag me with. I had stopped blogging for the reasons that I had started blogging in the first place. And that reason was me, myself, and I.

Xander's Girl and I have seemed to commited some horrible faux pas in our internet circle of friends, and people stopped giving a crap about my blog. And I didn't want to post anymore because nobody cared. But you know what? I don't care about that anymore! This blog is my journal, and that's what I'm going to make it again. I'm going to write the things I feel, when I feel them, purely for my own enjoyment. And if people out there in cyberspace don't like it, so be it. Too bad!

That being said, I do want to continue the story of Valleycon. For my own scrapbook keeping reasons. Who knows, there may, in fact, be a family history reason to be showing these entries to my grandkids someday. I also could get hit by a bus on the way home. (Just to show you, babe, that I'm not weaving a rich fantasy life wherein there's already a happy ever after. Anything could happen. I'm just open to the possibility that my grandkids and your grandkids could potentially be the same people.)

With that being said......

Further Adventures of Valleycon

So, Saturday October 22nd dawned with, surprisingly enough, neither Jamie nor myself having a hangover. Why is this so surprising, you say? Well, because of 1. The amount of alcohol that we both managed to consume and 2. The fact that we had less then four hours of sleep. Though, I imagine, it's a grand possiblity that the reason that we didn't, in fact, have hangovers could have something to do with how little we did sleep. That's a therum that I'm going to have to test again at a later date.

So, we rise and shine. And there is nothing at all about this particular morning that indicates it will be a definite life-changing day. Isn't it funny how things can come along and alter your entire existance, but you can't see it coming at all? Well, I didn't see it coming at all. But I did discover that I'm seriously allergic to the hotel pillows. No matter. I get my costume together while giving Jamie a few more minutes to snooze. What costume, you ask? Well, by the time we left our hotel room, I was decked out in full Hermione Granger costume, complete with replica timeturner, as seen in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The only thing that I'm missing is my robe, which was being made by a friend of Cynara's, and hadn't been ready before the trip.

So, we decide to go to the guys room and see what their plans are. They are planning on going to the dealer's room in order to meet Julie Benz, same as us, but they aren't quite ready to head out yet. We make plans to meet up with them.

We run some errands, which include getting Jamie some gay golfer shoes that will come into play later.

When we get to the Civic Centre, we peruse the dealers' room for a while. I find the piece de resistance for my Hermione Costume. A S.P.E.W. badge. How perfect. Jamie buys me a Wesley action figure, which I adore, and adore her for, and I buy myself a Darla action figure, in hopes of gettting her to sign it.

Then it's off to meet Julie Benz herself.

She's so sweet, and accomodating, it's wonderful. She signs my Darla with the inscription "Lillian, Bite Me, Julie Benz." She also informs me that Lillian is the name of her mother in law. Then Jamie and I get a picture taken with Ms. Benz. It's at this time that Julie spots the timeturner that I'm wearing. It's on a very short chain. And it has engraving on it. Ms. Benz asks if she minds if she reads it, and I don't at all. But it puts her face very close to my chest. She smells pretty!

I still need to get those pictures developed.

This is about when the guys get to the dealers' room, and we hang out with Travis and Steve as Ed schmoozes with fellow comic book artist Taki Soma. This will be a pattern for the rest of the day.

There's really nothing eventful that goes on for the rest of the day, except that Jamie and I managed to trap ourselves in the purgatory of the Gay Unicorn Slide Show, and then it was time to go to the banquet.

And that's really when the fun began. So, I think I will save that for the next post, which I plan to make when I get home this afternoon.

One thing of note before I go, though. Steve knocks on the door shortly before we're leaving to go to dinner. He's by himself, and he's looking very handsome, in what has become one of my favorite shirts of his, and he invites us, very politely, to come to dinner. Should I have taken this as a sign of things to come? Maybe.......

And I'll leave the story there.

Happy New Year to all! May you all be as happy as I've been the last couple of months.

Valleycon - The Adventure Continues

2005-11-04T14:37:00.000-06:00

The drive with Jamie was great. The two of us had never spent more than a couple of hours together at a time, and most of those had been spent silently watching movies together. But the drive allowed us to connect and start forging a far deeper friendship then we had when we set out on the wild weekend. It was a perfect start to a weekend that I had no suspicions would eventually be responsible for such dramatic and welcome change in my life. Though Valleycon was not even two weeks ago, in some ways it feels like I have lived a lifetime since then....but that's later in the story. First, back to Fargo.

We get to the hotel with about 45 minutes to spare before the scheduled meet with Travis and friends at 7. First off, just checking in is an adventure, as we forgot to stop for cash, and therefore have nothing to pay the hotel bill with. So, we go to a cash machine not a block away (for which, BTW, the desk clerk had given us driving directions. Don't you all have a bigger gas shortage in the US then we do up here?) We come back, we check in, we ride the world's scariest elevator, we get our Con passes, and now it's time to go the the lounge and meet our fellow Winnipegers.

As soon as we enter the lounge I spot a table of three guys who I suspect to be the gents. As I timidly ask if they are the people we are looking for, Steve points out that I've recognized him because of the baldness. True, but I find myself liking that, (and a whole LOT of other things, but again more on that later,) about him. With Steve is Travis, but the third gentleman is not Ed, who, it seems, is taking a nap. Nope, the third guy is Ted, who is intrigued at meeting the Canadians, and is way too much into invading other people's personal space.

Friday night at the con turned out to be quiet and a tad boring. For all the things I ended up loving about Valleycon, the hospitality suites weren't one of them. I've just been spoiled by Keycon's Short Plank. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, plan a trip to Keycon 2006, and check out the Short Plank's final appearance as one of the best Hospo Suites eva!

We ended up at a bar near the hotel instead. It was quite entertaining in and of itself. The beer came in little whino-esque paper bags! It was great. But the best part was spending time with Travis and Steve, (Ed was still, one surmises, in nap land), and getting to know them.

After a bit, we meandered back to the hotel to give the con suites another try. We ran into Ted, who at one point actually poured a drink down Jamie's throat, charming, and some weird guy pretending to be French. FYI, pseudo-French guy, next time you want to be a faux nationality, try not to do it around people that really speak the language.

Fun was had by all on Friday, but it was tame compared to what happened on Saturday. And that's a whole nother story, that I will have to post another time. But post it I will.

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank the hell out of Travis. Meeting you guys made the weekend, which looked at 6:30 on Friday to be an experience in boredom, into something truly fun. I also want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing something into my life that I'm truly thankful for. I know that I might not be your favorite of people at the moment, but I owe you more then I can ever say for simply agreeing to meet up with some girls from the 'Peg. I will always be in your debt.

Valleycon, you rock my world

2005-10-26T16:34:00.000-05:00

So, Valleycon has been an ever ellusive thing for the past several years. Cynara and Edgar and myself continually discuss going, especially when rumours of Whedonverse alumni attending run rampant, but we never seemed to make it there.

But after the let-down of the panelling at this year's Keycon, (don't get me wrong, folks. The partying was the bomb, and Brian looks to be much more on-the-ball about having a well rounded Keycon 2006), we really started to discuss it in earnest, especially given that the wonderful Julie Benz was a guest. Well, Edgar ended up too busy, and Cynara ended up too broke, and I ended up thinking I'd have no one to go with.

And then the wonderful XG stepped up to the plate with not only her car, but, and far more importantly, with her company! And plans were on....

XG and I travelled down on Friday night. Not knowing what to expect AT ALL con-wise, having never been to a con that wasn't Keycon, and being super-nevous about the multiple venue convention, I had made plans to meet up with some Winnipegers. Travis, who I'd only ever spoken to online, and his friends Ed, the author of Geek Tragedy, and Steve met us in the lounge of the host hotel at 7. I can't thank these guys enough!!! The con was awesome, but if it hadn't been for their company and hospitality, it would have been far less cool then it was.

I'll tell you all about it in the upcoming days, but I really just wanted to post this post and start pimping Ed's site. Geek Tragedy is the bomb, and it matches XG and I's sense of humour so perfectly that I am not at all surprised that we all got along so well.

Check out my self pity party.

2005-09-28T12:08:00.000-05:00

So, it's been a few months since I updated this thing. And I can't really justify my absence in cyber-space other than to kind of describe the place I'm at in my head. Which, I have to admit, is not a happy place. I can sense impeding depression, and am making a valiant effort to fight it. And, in that effort to fight it, I find myself avoiding the blog. After all, the blog is really my journal, and all about spewing out the thoughts that are on my mind. But all of these thoughts lately are mostly terribly depressing, and I don't feel the need to share them on the blog with my cyber-family. After all, it seems that all I have to offer all of you guys sometimes is some major dumpage, and I don't want to be the person that complains all the time and whines about their life. I mean, how bloody depressing is that?

And I've missed you all so much in the time that I've been scarce online that the last thing I want to do is alienate everyone with my crap. So, with that in mind, the following post is going to be a gripe-o-rama, so if you are in any way sick of my pessimism, I tell you to turn back now.

If you're still listening, here's my reasoning behind this. I need a soul catharsis. I've been keeping this crap bottled up in my own mind for so long that it's slowly poisoning me, so I need a way to get it out. I need to vent, so I'm going to do that. Hopefully, if I do, some of this junk will stop choking any happiness out of me, and I can work at getting healthier in my head.

First of all, I kind of had an epiphany the other day concerning my mother, and her effect on my self-esteem and my self worth. My mother is always giving me crap on why I don't feel better about myself, and why I think of myself as so unattractive when so many people say that I'm beautiful. Well, it occurred to me this week, when we were again having a conversation about it, that this kind of comment, about how attractive I really am, only tends to come from people in my family or close circle of friends, and mostly when I'm feeling in the mood I am right now. So, just to put it out there, when you get people telling you exactly what you're craving to hear when you feel the worst about it just feels like a false compliment to bolster your flagging ego.

I've never heard it when I didn't believe it was by someone trying to cheer me up. And I've certainly never heard it in a romantic way.

Other then that, the conversation brought me the epiphany I speak of. I realized that a vast majority of my self-esteem issues involve my mother. The other night it occurred to me that nothing that I ever do is right in her eyes. No matter what it is, it's always wrong. Yeah, that could have something to do with it. Sometimes the criticisms actually come accompanied by such phrases as 'don't you know how to do anything right' and 'what are you, stupid or something'. Upon reflection the other night, it occurred to me that this might be part of the problem.

Also, the saga of the second roommate from hell (which has, let me tell you, convinced me to never live with another roommate as long as I live), had brought up some serious issues. She yelled at me, in a fit of anger the day after we kicked her out, that "at least she'd had a boyfriend" and pointed out that I was going to "never get a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids." Ouch. What hurt the most about that statement is that it feels so perfectly true, and it feels that she is absolutely 100% right in that statement.

I truly never have had a boyfriend. Hell, I've never had even the most casual of physical relationships with a guy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pure and innocent. After all, I was in Theatre in university, and got to a point where I was like "Okay, drunk, tired of waiting, here's a willing guy", and took care of that pesky virginity problem. But, though I may have been with a few people, but I've never been with the same person more than once. In fact, there have only been two guys I've even kissed on more than one day. It makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing wrong. What about me makes these people never want to come back? What am I doing wrong? Cause, heck, it's got to me be, right?

Maybe I'm not coming across as being amenable to a second go round? I mean, at this point in my life, I've kind of put the idea of happily ever after in a deep, locked trunk in my subconscious. As for the boyfriendy stuff, I have a guy for that. My guy BFF is everything that a good boyfriend would be, only without the physical aspect. He cheers me up when I'm down, he listens to me biatch all the time, he does his best to make me smile, he spoils me rotten on Christmas and my Birthday (although, I'm a bit let down on the non-importance my 30th seemed to have...). and buys me occasional presents just because. So, I don't need a boyfriend. But, a friend with benefits might be groovy-cool. A no-strings attached,,totally casual thing. Only, I don't seem to be able to do this right either. How does one approach a person and say, hey, casual is totally cool with me? You know that evening we had a couple weeks ago? I'd be up for doing that again, and whenever you wanted. I'm down with that. No boyfriendness required.

Of course, I'm terrified of rejection, so I don't even know how to make a move in that direction. And, the more often I get rejected, the worse I take it. I mean, I can't offer myself up like that for a huge rejection if said person offers up little rejections that affect me.

So, all this stuff is going on in my head over the last couple of weeks, and the thing that stings the most is that my girl BFF does not seem the least bit interested in talking about anything that has to do with me or my feelings, or anything aside from the most superficial of conversations. I know that it's because she's had a terribly tough year, and that she's trying to get back to her life, and she's doing whatever it takes. I get that, I really do, but I could really use a good talk right about now. Or a good ear to listen and understand. And not tell me it's going to be ok, and I have nothing to worry about, but care about why I worry. Because even if there is nothing to worry about, I do worry, and I feel like there's something to worry about. I feel like I'm defective, and broken, and I'm having a hard time dealing with it all. And I wish I didn't feel so lonely about it.

But there it is. And, in hopes of feeling a little better about my life, I spew this out on my blog. Try to purge the infection. If you are still reading, I hope I didn't bore you to death, and thanks for letting me rant.

Hey Guys, Check Out the Shamless Self-Promtion

2005-06-05T17:36:00.000-05:00

Hello all!

Coffeequeen is out of the hospital, doing well, and allowed to use the stairs again. She's back in her own room, and completely bored. The result? Lots and lots of computer work.

She's been busy redesigning our fanlisting collective, and adding to it. Go and check out the collective, and see what she's been up to:

There's a lot in there that I know all of you folks might want to join! Our most recent aquisition is the fanlisting for Orlando Bloom's character from Kingdom of Heaven, Balian

Another couple that I think you guys would enjoy are these ones:

And take a look around the collective. There's a lot of stuff that's nerdlet heaven, including a handful of Angel episodes. Go have a boo!

Once again, Ariemum has been scarce

2005-05-10T20:39:00.000-05:00

I'm so sorry guys. There really is little excuse for being this absent in my online life, especially when I've been meaning to reconnect with all of my online family. The only excuse I have is that the one member of my online circle of friends that I see all the time IRL is terribly ill.

Back in December, Coffeequeen started to have some problems relating to an illness she's had all her life. While treating her, the doctors discovered another problem with her lungs.

Her lungs have been randomly collapsing off and on since December.

Just as one would heal, the other would collapse and she'd be back in the hospital.

On friday she'd just come home from another collapsed lung, only to discover that the doctor that put in her chest tube had made a horrible botch up of it. Not only did they send her home with her lung still collapsed, she was also sent home with a serious infection from the chest tube.

She's in a different hospital now, under the care of a thorasic surgeon, and waiting for emergency surgery as we speak.

I haven't been online or blogging much lately because I've been spending a lot of time with her. Or, when I have been online, I've been busy with the upkeep of our Fanlisting Collective.

I urge you to go give it a look. A Little Goonie Collective is a project that Coffeequeen and I have been working on. There are some great fanlistings on there, including a boatload of Kindred: The Embraced characters and a fanlisting for all of the characters of the Anita Blake novels. Come check out what she's been busy with when she's been convalescing at home.

And drop her a get well tag, or drop me one for her, and I'll pass them along.

I promise you all that I'll blog more often, and keep you all updated.

So, people have been bothering me for a birthday list

2005-03-09T07:16:00.000-06:00

I thought that I'd do it this way. Easier to show them exactly what I want in an action figure if I have it online, no? And, anyone that's been to my place, knows what a sucker I am for action figures. No, I really really don't care that I'm turing thirty. I want action figures. I don't need anything else of substance, unless someone wants to buy me a computer with enough juice to start learning AVID on, but I don't think that's going to happen. Nope, I want my Angel, my Buffy, and some action figures.

You're only as old as your spirit, I say. And this spirit wants toys! That being said, it's really rather a good thing that I didn't have access to a credit card while looking for the links for the action figures on this list . . .

So, here it is, my Birthday wish list:

DVDs (as always in Widescreen, other than Buffy, which doesn’t come that way)

(in order of priority)
Angel: The Series: Season 4
Angel: The Series: Season 5
Buffy: The Vampire Slayer: Season 6
Buffy: The Vampire Slayer: Season 7
Shaun of the Dead
The Incredibles
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
The Girl Next Door

Other things on my list:

The following are action figures, I've attached picture links. They can be found at Galaxy Comics and stores like that.

Leather Jacket Faith

Transformation Willow

Fool for Love Spike

The Wish Anya

The Wish Vampire Willow

White Witch Willow

Fear Itself Anya

Cordelia

Drusilla

I'm going to stop now, because I really could go on for days. Oh, except, lookie what I found!!!Smile Time Angel. It's sold out now, but is it wrong to say, I WANT I WANT I WANT?? Although, there might be some in time for Christmas. . . .

Okay, I'm going to leave it at that. I know, not a very mature list, nor what you would expect form someone turning 20 and 10, but I'm not very typical. Unlike most people, I don't ask for what I need for my birthday. I have a well paying job. If I need something, I wont hesitate to go buy it. My birthday is for things I want! So, there's my list. TTFN

Seriously, . . . . I am alive

2005-02-25T16:55:00.000-06:00

I feel like I have been a very neglectful blogger of late. As a matter of fact, I feel like I have been a very neglectful onliner as of late, and I'm really looking to change that.

Words can't describe how absolutely precious my online family is to me. I think of you all every day, even when I'm not around so much. You all managed to get me through some of the very roughest days of my life, and I know with all my heart that if it hadn't been for you all, I wouldn't have been able to make it through.

I find myself missing you all terribly as of late, but my life, at the moment, is such that I have been spending very little time online. My job is actually very busy, and during the day I must resign myself to actually doing the job that I'm getting paid for. If only I could find a way to haunt the boards at Caritas all day, and get paid for it.

That said, I fully intend to reimmerse myself in my online life. I'm planning on actually finishing the book that I started for NaNoWriMo, even if I didn't get it done in time for Editing month. I do think I would like it to be done by my thirtieth birthday, which is really only three weeks away. Do you think I can do it?

While I do that, I will be on my computer, so I figure it's a good time to catch up on my online life. That, and Coffeequeen has gotten me hooked on fanlistings, and I'll be online maintaining our little domain, especially when she's out of town. Pop on by and see what we have, and check back often, as we keep getting new ones, and adopting some as well.

For the mean time, my ride is here, so I have to go. But I wanted to stop in and tell you that I missed you all.

Merry Holidays

2004-12-26T22:52:00.000-06:00

Hello everyone!!!

I've been very busy over the holidays. I have family in from California, family that I haven't seen in a very long time, and I've been spending every moment I could with them. Sadly, they leave tommorow morning.

After that, I'll be sure to pop in and tell you all about my adventures. Till then, I just wanted to show off my new blogs, my Christmas present from Coffeequeen.

Merry Christmas all!

Coffeequeen is ill again . . .

2004-12-22T11:17:00.000-06:00

Hello all.

Just wanted to let you in on why Coffeequeen is not on the ball about updating this week.

I called her on Monday afternoon to find out why I hadn't had an e-mail from her all day, only to talk to her father. She had been rushed to the hospital again. This time, it was the other lung that collapsed.

So, she's hoping to be home by Christmas, but as far as our families are both concerned, it won't really be Christmas till she's home anyways.

Do drop by her blog and send her some well wishes.

Love you all!

The pulse still beats . . .

2004-12-07T22:06:00.000-06:00

Hi guys!

Yes, it's true. I'm still alive.

Sorry that it's been so bloody long since I last updated, but things have been ultra crazy during the month of November, and not in a good way. I'll start with the move, shall I?

My mother and I decided, after years of having the rent go up, the building conditions go down, and the neighbourhood deteriorating to the point where in September there was a police standoff not a mile from us, that we were going to move. So, October we spent looking for a new place with an eye on moving on Hallowe'en.

Well, on the Thanksgiving weekend (in Canada that's October, my American Friends), we found a place that was very promising. It was a three bedroom upper duplex in a nice house in a lovely neighbourhood. The landlord and his wife seemed like great people when we met them, and the place had potential, even though it needed a lot of work.

The tenants that were living there were moving out more than two weeks before our move in date, and the landlord told us of his many plans for improvement on the place. He was going to replace the filthy kitchen counters, fix up the bathroom, and clean the place, including painting the walls.

On the Sunday afternoon, as we got the truck there and started unloading, we found that the toilet, instead of being in the bathroom where one would expect to find it, it was in the kitchen. Needless to say, it wasn't usable.

In addition, he had ripped out and moved the tub, instead of just adding the backsplash like he had told us. So, we didn't have a toilet or a shower.

Also, he had called to let us know that the place wasn't finished, but all that he said that hadn't been done was the painting.

Well, there was no painting done, or cleaning, or repairs, or anything that had been promised. There was dust so thick on the kitchen ceiling fan that it had fur. There were no racks in the oven, and when the landlord brought them back, he handed them to my mother covered in overn cleaner, as if it was her job to scrub them. We had no backsplash on the tub for a week, so not only could we not shower, we couldn't even have a bath.

The toilet was hooked up on the Monday, but we remained brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink till Friday when the bathroom sink worked. It wasn't until that Friday that we could even take a bath, and it was more than two weeks until he put the shower together. The walls were not only not painted, but not even washed. They were absolutely filthy. The carpets were also similarly filthy.

Thank Goddess that we didn't sign a lease. It was clear from the first Thursday after we moved in when I came home and he had racked the leaves, but he hadn't bothered to put together a place for us to bathe, that we had to move out.

So, we didn't unpack, and lived out of boxes while we searched for a new home. And what a home we found.

Our new apartment is in a lovely old building not a block from the Red River. We're in a third story walk up, with three bedrooms. The place has hardwood floors throughout, high ceilings, crown molding, beautiful windows. There is a fake fireplace in the living room, and a pass through in the kitchen. A pedestal sink and a claw footed bathtub adorn the bathroom, and we have a terrace out the back. I just love it.

But moving twice in a month sure can be taxing.

So we're up to our elbows in boxes and still struggling to unpack. Slowly, but surely, it's getting there.

Of course, during the midst of this, I decided that I needed to put my pen where my mouth is and become an author. I just had to go and sign up for NaNoWriMo, and all I have to say is this.

I DID IT!!!!

At 11:09 Central time on November the 30th, I reached 50 107 words and became a NaNoWriMo winner.

Of course, I am only halfway through the book. But I am still working on it.

I took a week off to work on the apartment and other things, but starting Friday I plan to put back on the creative hat and work on the book again. As well, I seem to now be able to write 5000 words on an average day, so look for all of my other works to have a big leap ahead in storyline sometime soon.

RyianaT is being a doll and betaing my NaNo novel, so as I get it edited and corrected, I will be posting it on my writing blog and letting you read it. You'll have something to look forward to after Christmas, as that is when my writing blog will be putting in an appearance.

The one thing that truly came of my NaNo experience was the fact that I now have writing as a daily part of my life. Even when I'm not putting pen to paper, I find myself with ideas and dialogue swimming around in my head, so that it will all be ready to flow when I sit down to write. It really is an exciting time for me!

Well, I miss talking to you guys SO much, and I have so many more thing to say, but I believe I'll leave it here tonight, and talk to you all soon!

I've missed you.
Ariemum

Yes, I know, but I assure you, I am alive!

2004-10-12T21:55:00.000-05:00

I am so, so sorry that I've been M.I.A. for the last couple of months. Things have been fairly busy for me, and, in addition, I haven't had a lot of internet time.

The job that I had been temping at is a very, very busy job. It keeps me pretty busy all day long, so I don't have the time to surf the net that I did at other jobs. And now I'm there permanently. Yes, you heard right. I have now secured permanent full time employment. I am the Receptionist at the Disability office for Great West Life.

I love being there full time. The people are great to work with. The hours are really good. The benefits and the pay are more than I could ask for. It just sucks that I have no internet time at work! But hey, that's how it goes. I guess that's what happens when you start to grow up! :-)

Also, I'm not going to be around much for the month of November. A couple of people have talked me into doing NaNoWriMo. For those of you not in the know, November is National Novel Writing Month. When one participates in NaNoWriMo, the goal is to write a 50,000 word novel within the month of November. I'm hoping that I can do it. And now that I will have a library to write in when I move in November, I think it's doable. What do you think, RyT? Will you beta it for me?

Oh, yeah, and we're moving at the end of the month. So that's another thing that's been eating up a lot of my time. Looking for a new place. Well, we officially have one now, and moving day is on Halloween. I'll keep you guys all updated on the move as it draws nearer.

Speaking of officially . . . Enigma Art is now officially opened for business. Coffeequeen has been putting her blood, sweat and tears into her very own domain, and is it ever worth it. Check it out, point your friends in that direction. Her work is superb!

Also, long time MIA blogger Scruffy has started posting again, so drop by and give him a tag.

I could blather on here for the rest of the night, but I do have to be up and at 'em in the am. So, signing off for now.

Miss you guys a lot. Tag me and let me know if you still love me, even though I'm never around.

Post Fringe Blues

2004-08-20T06:57:00.000-05:00

It's terrible, I know. I haven't had a new post up since the middle of Fringe, which was weeks ago. I really do feel bad about it. Thing is, I'm just tired of posting the crappy stuff in my life.

Life goes badly for all of us sometimes, and I really don't want my online life to be about me leaving a laundry list of complaints on my blog all the time. So, I've been reluctant to update lately.

That, and the fact that there really isn't much going on in my life lately.

The Winnipeg Fringe festival has ended, the performers moving on to do other things here, or to tour with the Fringe Circuit. The Saskatoon Fringe has come and gone, Charlie taking the Best of Fringe, and now performing at the Edmonton Fringe. (and apparently far to busy with shows to answer his e-mail! *wink*). All that remains of the festival are tattered, wind-torn posters that I tend to walk by every day, as my new job is right in the Exchange District.

Yeah, I have a new job. It's still a temp assignment, but feels a tad more permanent then some of my others. I'm the receptionist at the disability office for a really large insurance company. I like it, but it's a busy job.

I've just been up to not much lately, except a lot of writing. I've been working on Learning to Breathe Again, Champion Industries and First and Last, for any of you reading those.

In other news, one of my best friends has seen fit to stop talking to me for an utterly perplexing reason. I really scratch my head at that. He's mad at me because he's somehow made it my fault that he didn't get more of a chance to talk to another friend of mine while he was in town. Hey, man, I barely get a chance to talk to him, you know?? See above!!!

Well, have to be off to my busy job. I'll try to post more soon. At least I'm seeing Prisoner of Azkaban at Imax tonight.

Night of the Living Fringe

2004-07-19T13:25:00.000-05:00

Hey guys!

Sorry that I haven't been posting much this week. I've been super-busy spending days working and nights at the Winnipeg Fringe Festival, and haven't really had much of an opportunity to post.

The fringe festival started off with a bang, as Wednesday night saw a group of us attending the opening performance of Charles Ross' The One Man Lord of the Rings. Yes, you guessed it right if you figured that Matt would be there. And yes, he was once again dressed as Aragorn. He just can't get enough.

The show was, to the surprise of none of the people in the group that was in attendance, fantastic. After the show, we retired to the beer tent in Old Market Square where we caught up with Charlie, who we haven't seen since last year's Fringe. Charlie is very busy with his schedule of shows. I encourage you to check out his site to see if he will be performing anywhere near you. If he is, catch his show. As I know that everyone who reads my blog is a complete nerdlet like myself, you're sure to love his one man shows as much as Eddy, Clay and I do.

While we were catching up in the beer tent, Charlie told us that he'd like to do a trilogy of trilogies. So, if you have any suggestions as to what you think his next one man show should be, go to his forum and let him know.

Thursday saw the beginning of the "go see it because of your connections" plays. Being a theatre student, I know so many people that are putting on shows my frequent Fringer card starts to get used up very quickly. As of today, I have seen, One Man Lord of the Rings (3 times), Wild Cards, Pinocchio, Trouble in Tahiti, Bloodsuckers! The Musical (about a vampire slaying nun. Fantastic!!), and pygMAILion, and that doesn't even begin to make a dent in the shows that I want to see.

So, it's going to be a long, and tiring, but amazing week!! Talk to you soon.

I don't care if you don't usually read fanfic . . .

2004-07-09T13:19:00.000-05:00

you're going to read this one.

I'm hijacking my own blog to post this story here, because I am so damned proud of it. RyianaT, who has become my wonderful HP/BtVs beta reader, and I worked our asses off on this story yesterday and I am so proud of what we have come up with that I want to post it in as many places on the net as I can, so it's going here!

Here it is:

Title: Wildberries
Author: Arieanna (Arieanna@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Willow/Harry
Genre: Mid Year Fic-A-Thon for Eena Angel
Rating: R
Spoilers: All Harry Potter books and all seven seasons of BtVS, just to be on the safe side.
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, no way, no how. Ownership goes to JossGod and JKRGoddess. I'm just taking them out for a spin and letting them work off a little steam. I promise that I'll clean them and put them back.
Distribution: TTH, Fanfiction.net, my site, and anyone else that wants it just needs to ask me!

A/N: This is the new and improved beta version. Hugs and puppies and all things lovely for the wonderful RyianaT. I never would have been able to finish this without you. Lime you, doll!

I hope you like this Eena Angel! *crosses fingers*

Wildberries
***********
There was something about her that made him think of wildberries. Wildberries and warm spring breezes, and bright summer sunshine.

Ron had said to him once, as they were leaving the great hall after training and Willow had walked by, that she had the smell of strawberries about her. Xander, who had been right behind them, had overheard the whispered comment. The man had warned them to never, ever let her hear them comparing her to strawberries. The look on her best friend's face had been serious enough that he knew that he, or Ron for that matter, would never even say the word strawberry in front of her unless they were actually in the presence of the fruit itself.

But he thought that word was wrong in any case. The scent of Willow was definitely not strawberries.

No, to Harry James Potter, Willow Anne Rosenberg did not smell like overly domesticated strawberries, but like untamed wildberries.

And therein lie the problem.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Hogwart's Alumnus, and Auror trainee, was at this moment, the Recruit-that-Couldn’t-Sleep.

He blamed his restlessness on the heat of Gryffindor tower. It was too hot to sleep, he told himself, and that was something that he'd never thought to experience. Overwhelming mugginess in his Hogwarts dormitory. Then again, he had never thought that he would be at the school during the summer. Especially during the summer immediately following his graduation.

But here he was, sleepless on a hot August night not a week after his eighteenth birthday, tossing and turning to the sound of Ron's ever present snores.

He and his best friend had been accepted into the Auror training program before they had even sat down for their leaving feast. They had had but a scant week of vacation before they were to report back to Hogwarts for the commencement of their Auror training. Early July had found the boys once again occupying the beds that had been theirs during their tenure at Hogwarts.

The announcement that the Auror training would now be taking place at Hogwarts was met with surprise by the students known as the "Golden Trio." The fact that Dumbledore and Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Auror trainee program, immediately took them aside to explain the reasons for that was, however, no surprise at all. The headmaster had been extremely forthcoming with information about the war with Voldemort since the end of Harry's fifth year and the debacle at the Ministry of Magic.

The ministry, it seemed, had finally realized that it needed to step up their defenses and acknowledge that the battle with Voldemort was an all out war, relocating the training was part of this new attitude. Their government was finally doing its job.

Of course, the fact that they now had a new Minister of Magic was, in Harry's mind, the entire reason behind the new stance of the Ministry. Cornelius Fudge had finally been exposed as the incompetent many people had known him to be since the end of that fateful Tri-Wizard tournament.

There had been a particularly aggressive attack planned on the Ministry building itself just months ago. Fudge had refused to believe the possibility that the Death Eaters could penetrate the Ministry's defenses, and failed to augment the security as a precaution. Only the heroic actions of the Order of the Phoenix members who worked at the Ministry, under the guidance of Arthur Weasley, had saved one of the most important wizardry establishments in Britain from being overtaken by Voldemort's followers.

The public outcry after the incident had forced Fudge to resign his position. Due to his actions during the battle, the community at large had lobbied for Arthur Weasley to fill it. Harry couldn't have been happier when his surrogate father had accepted the post. It was quite a relief to the young man that was destined to end the war to have a minister who not only believed Harry, but knew the real dangers the war would bring upon them all.

One of Arthur's first acts as Minister was to relocate the Auror training program for security reasons. The Ministry had almost been breached, and it was deemed no longer secure enough to house the trainees of what the community viewed as their front line of defense in the war, the Aurors. They could not afford an attack that might claim the lives of their newest recruits before they were even trained. Harry, however, believed that the motivating factor for Mr. Weasley had been the safety of "his boys."

The program had been moved to Hogwarts until further notice, as it was now the most secure place in the wizarding world. Voldemort, though stronger than he had been for twenty years, was still not confident enough to attempt to capture the school.

There were other factors that made Hogwarts a suitable location for the improved training program. One of them was the fact that it was more than large enough to house the ever-growing number of trainees. With the war, many of the Hogwarts graduates felt it their duty to become an Auror if they met the eligibility requirements. It also allowed Harry to be at the school to continue running the now Ministry approved D.A., something the Order thought of as vital. The D.A. allowed the students an opportunity to learn to protect themselves. The Death Eaters would not hesitate to attack the students, and they needed to be able to defend their lives if they were ever attacked. No one seemed to encourage the students the way Harry did. The D.A. would not have been the same without him.

And then there was the other reason, the reason that had brought her here. Willow. The thing that was really keeping him awake, even if he was trying to make himself believe that the thoughts of how he had arrived at this point were the reason for his wakefulness. Tossing, turning, blaming his restlessness on everything under the sun except its true cause.

She and her people were the deciding factor in the relocation of the Auror program to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The group she belonged to had agreed to become their allies in the war against Voldemort, and Dumbledore thought that these new allies had many useful skills that they could impart to the future Aurors. They could teach the Aurors and help fight the war, but after their last battle they had been left without a place to call home. Dumbledore had opened the school to them, making Hogwarts an even more suitable location for the expanded Auror training program. Hogwarts now had it all. The space to house the ever-growing number of trainees to the program, the ability to protect the future soldiers, and the people who could teach them all the things that they would need to beat Voldemort. Things that the dark wizard would never even consider.

The newest allies of the Order were considered by most wizards to be nothing more than muggles, and for that reason they would not be considered a threat. But they would be one. For they were so much more than muggles. They all belonged to the newly formed Watcher's council. They were the warriors for the Powers That Be.

It was the newly appointed minister's love for all things muggle that led to the discovery of the group. Arthur had maintained wizard-muggle relations with the previous incarnation of the Watcher's council, and when he’d learned of the events that ended with the collapse of Sunnydale, Arthur Weasley had taken it as an opportunity to recruit some very powerful evil fighters to their side of the war.

Now the group that had once referred to themselves as "The Scoobies", along with all of the newly activated slayers that had either fought with them or been discovered since the battle, were firmly ensconced at Hogwarts and doing all that they could to help. The slayers were training to be able to provide the physical muscle for the fight, under the direction of Buffy and Faith. The original slayers were also teaching the Auror trainees something that they had never put much stock in before, physical fighting techniques. Giles and Dawn had been told the prophecy that Voldemort had tried to steal that long ago day in the Ministry, and were currently doing all the research they could into the matter. Prophecies, Dawn had told Harry once, always tended to be more then they appeared, and usually had a loophole in them at some point. Robin Wood had been given the responsibility of the muggle education of the slayers, making preparations to teach the girls the things they would need to know in order to obtain their high school diplomas. Xander, for his part, was busy refurbishing the rooms that were being used to house their group. It could have been done magically, of course, but these people had insisted that it be done the muggle way. Magic, they insisted, had it's time and it's place, and that place was never to use it to do something that could be accomplished in any other way. Willow, it seemed, was the foremost proponent of this philosophy, stating that magic was not the solution for everything, and that it sometimes did more harm then good. Most of the students thought she was mad in her ideas, but Harry, having been raised by muggles, could see where she had a point. And when he had learned she had once lost control of her own magic, her beliefs and the reasons behind them became even clearer.

Even with her strange ideas about magic, it was Willow who was the one aiding the trainees in their magical education. Dumbledore had asked her to teach any student who showed aptitude for it her kind of magic. Wiccan magic. Wandless magic.

Harry sighed and threw his bedcovers aside. No matter what direction his thoughts took lately, they always returned to Willow. Beautiful, wonderful Willow, who smelled, to Harry, like wildberries.

Even thoughts of the new politics of the Ministry of Magic and the preparations they were making for the forthcoming final battle seemed to lead his thoughts back to the redhead witch. It was clear to Harry that he would get no sleep tonight.

Harry climbed out of his bed, intent on heading for the meditation room in the slayer wing of the castle. It was a wing that Harry had never seen before, despite his Marauder's Map, but that Dumbledore had insisted had been there all along. The meditation room was a calm and relaxing place that Willow and Xander had worked on together, and Harry found the place very soothing, and very suitable for its intended purpose. He had also discovered that Willow's meditation techniques were far more successful in barring Voldemort from his head than the Occlumency lessons with Snape ever were. He was now hoping that the same techniques could be used to clear his mind of Willow herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd been finding it increasingly difficult, if not downright impossible, to keep his mind off of Willow since the second he'd clapped eyes on her. No one had been more skeptical than the Boy-Who-Lived when they had been told that those who showed any aptitude for it would be taught wandless magic. He had performed wandless magic more than once, but never on purpose. Wandless magic, to Harry, was an unstable thing that only happened when he let his emotions get the best of him. And he could not afford to lose control of anything in a fight against Voldemort. Dumbledore had assured him that the magic they would be learning from Willow would not be like this. Control was something the witch had worked very hard on, and was, to her, the most important lesson she would be teaching them.

In addition to the magic she would be teaching numerous students, it had been decided that Willow would be working with Harry one on one on meditation and mind clearing techniques. Harry had thought working with Willow would be a waste of time. He was the one who was destined to fight Voldemort. He needed to be working on his dueling skills, not spending time learning an unreliable and esoteric thing such as Wiccan magic.

His skepticism of the validity of the lessons had diminished when he had learned that it was a spell performed by Willow that had upset thousands of years of mystical tradition and had given the power of the Slayer to all those with potential in the world, instead of just confining it to one solitary girl. It had shown the wizard that maybe there was something to her branch of magic, after all.

Then he had met the witch in question, and any objections that he had ever had had been thrown right out the window. He'd been captivated right from the start, and his private lessons with Willow had been his undoing.

She was beautiful. Red flaming hair, sparkling green eyes, soft voice. She was a gentle kind spirit, in spite of her past. It was the fact that she had survived it, Harry thought, that made her so much more remarkable. And remark on it he did. He was shocked that he managed to absorb any knowledge at all that she tried to impart to him during their private lessons.

Even now, she was willing to help them, willing to fight for the good guys. She could have walked away so many times, and never more so then after the spell she had done in Sunnydale had created more warriors than they could have ever dreamed of to work for the Powers That Be she always spoke of. All of the Scoobies could have retired at that point, left the fight to the next generation, but none of them had. She was here, with her friends. She had aligned herself with a world that hadn’t been there to teach her about magic when she could have desperately used the instruction. And she had done it with no resentment in her heart for how the magical community had failed her.

All of this made Willow more than amazing in Harry's eyes, but they still weren't the primary reason that she filled his mind.

The reason that she was now in his every thought was wildberries. To Harry, she was wildberries. It was a fruit that he had always been forbidden as a child. The Dursleys had taken him berry picking once as a child when Mrs. Figg couldn't watch him, and, even then, he was not allowed to eat any of the tempting wildberries, but had to save them for the cooking Aunt Petunia had to do with them. One more thing that he got to watch Dudley do that he never could. Sit in a field and eat his fill of wildberries.

She smelled of the fruit, her magic had the feel of that long remembered day of berry picking, and for at least three weeks Harry had been dying to discover if her lips would taste like wildberries.

There were so many reasons that he shouldn't be having thoughts like these about Willow. Because she was, like the wildberries he associated with her, forbidden fruit. She was his teacher, and he didn't want to do anything that could jeopardize his future as an Auror. She was also at least five years older than him. To her, he was nothing more than a boy.

A boy, that was another reason that he needed to stop obsessing over the captivating redhead. He was a boy, and he'd met the person who had been her last relationship. Kennedy. A slayer, and most definitely not a boy. He wasn't even the right gender to be pursuing Willow, for Merlin's sake.

All of these reasons made perfectly logical sense to Harry, but then he'd think about the wildberries, and he'd be lost again.

The wizard's thoughts had been straying that way more and more often, and he was almost to the breaking point. He couldn't even sleep now.

As he neared the meditation room, he prayed to Willow's goddess that the relaxation techniques he had been taught would clear his mind of her. Because if they didn't, Harry wasn't sure that he'd be able to stop himself from discovering if her soft pink lips tasted of wildberries the way that her magic did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow let out a frustrated sigh. So much for her attempt at clearing her mind.

She'd been unable to sleep, her room in the slayer wing stiflingly hot. At least, that was the last excuse Willow had tried to use for her insomnia.

But now that she was here, attempting to clear her thoughts, she had to admit the truth to herself. She couldn't sleep, couldn't even meditate because her mind was too full. Full to the brim with unbidden thoughts. Thoughts of him.

Her mind was full of Harry James Potter.

She stood up swiftly, completely abandoning any attempt at meditation. Instead, she began pacing the length of the room, mentally berating herself for the direction that her thoughts had been taking more often that not since meeting the infamous Boy-Who-Lived.

It was utterly ridiculous that she couldn't get him off of her mind. Goddess, what was wrong with her? He was five years younger than her. He'd only just turned eighteen. It was only last week that he'd become a legal adult. 'But a wizard is legal at seventeen' an annoying little voice reminded her, and she tuned it out as fast as she could.

No, she should absolutely not be thinking about the legalities of Harry Potter. She shouldn't be thinking about him at all. He was her student. All thoughts concerning him should be restricted to his progress with his lessons, and which spells she could safely teach him. She should not be thinking about his wonderfully messy dark hair, which she longed to run her fingers through. Nor his deep and soulful eyes, which sparkled like emeralds when he mastered a new spell. Willow ran a hand through her red hair and continued to pace, trying to alleviate her frustration. Willow had no right to be thinking about how strong his hands looked, how they were good hands to have, and how she wanted to feel them caressing less than platonic places on her body. And she should most certainly not be wondering if his lips tasted the same on her tongue as his magic. Wild and untamed, like nature itself.

A groan of frustration issued from her lips as she gave up pacing to approach the window and gaze out at the lake beyond.

It was the fact that she was preparing him for the fight of his life that was keeping him in her thoughts, she told herself. There was really no way she could be attracted to him. He was, for Goddess' sake, a he. Her feelings for him couldn't be romantic. She was, as she had once asserted to her friends, gay now.

Then why did she want to kiss Harry with every fiber of her being whenever he was in the room with her?

Because, she could admit to herself, she wasn't as gay as she liked to insist. For her, love was about the person inside. That was what it had been with Tara. She had loved Tara for the person she was inside, she had loved her for her soul, not because she was a girl. And Kennedy? Kennedy had been a way for Willow to prove to herself that Tara had not been a phase, as her beloved had once worried she was. But she had never felt for the girl as she had felt for Tara. Nor had she loved her as she had Oz, or even Xander. The girl was about companionship in a dark time, and that was why the relationship had ended. She had never ached for the girl as she had ached for the others. As she now ached for Harry.

Because ache for Harry she did. Something inside of him called out to something inside of Willow. Something in his soul spoke to something in hers. It was simply icing on the cake that she found him physically appealing on a primal level as well. But it was Harry the person that kept filling her thoughts. His nobility, his kindness, his strength. After all he had been through, all the darkness he had seen, he was still willing to put his life on the line to save the world. The weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he bore it with a quiet dignity. He was simply amazing.

She got the belly rumblings of the good kind every time she saw him. His voice sent quivers down her spine. The sparkle in his eyes made her smile. And his magic called out to her like nature itself did.

What was she going to do? She sent a small prayer to the Goddess for guidance, and returned to her seated position on the mat on the floor, determined to banish him from her mind.

For if she didn't, she was terrified that she would do something terribly inappropriate the next time she saw her student, like finally succumbing to her irresistible desire to taste his lips.

She had just closed her eyes and taken her first deep breath when she heard the door open behind her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd stepped into the room and shut the door before he saw her, sitting on the meditation mat in front of him, her back to the door. When his mind had finally registered that it was Willow who sat before him, he thought for a panicked moment that his fevered mind was now so full of her that he was seeing her in places where she simply wasn't. The thought only lasted the fraction of a second it took for her to turn towards him with a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, issuing a soft and rather relieved giggle. "It's just you. You startled me." She turned away under the pretense of standing so that she could hide her burning cheeks from his eyes. For he was not 'just Harry', she had thought as she said the words. To her, he would never be just Harry.

For his part, Harry was trying to find a way to simply turn and leave the room that he had just entered without seeming like he was fleeing from her, even if that was exactly what he was doing. The wizard had reached a breaking point, a point where he had to either banish her from his thoughts, which he certainly couldn't do with her in the room, or give in to his overwhelming urge to act on his desires where she was concerned, which Harry was convinced would prove disastrous. He was about to take the very un-Gryffindor third option of simply running from the situation when her soft voice stilled his hand on the door handle.

"Oh, please don’t leave." As he'd been about to do just that, Harry’s back had been towards her. He let go of the doorknob and turned to face the object of all of his recent late-night fantasies. "I’d feel horrible if you left on my account."

She took a couple of steps closer to him and launched into what Harry had come to affectionately call a Willow-babble. "You obviously came here to meditate, right? If you want to meditate you should stay. That's what I built the room for. Well, what Xander and I built the room for, I guess. Not that we actually built the room, because this is a castle, and somebody probably built this room centuries before we were born. But we did renovate the room, so that we could use it for meditation. We filled it with meditate-y things, so that you could come to this room and relax, and clear your mind, and meditate. That's why it's called the meditation room, so you can clear your mind and be at peace with yourself." Willow stopped here, and took a breath. A look of introspection passed over her face, as if she was just now realizing what she had just said.

"Which, I assume, is why you're here. And since it’s obviously not working for me, I should leave you to do the meditation thingy." She stepped around him to leave through the door he was standing in front of, and before Harry could stop himself, he was reaching out and grabbing her shoulder as she tried to slip past him. His brain had known that he should just let her leave, but that did not stop his body from preventing her from doing so.

His hand was warm where it still lay against her skin, and it allowed him to realize that her arm was bared all the way to her shoulder.

He'd been so shocked by her appearance in the very place where he was going to get away from all thought of her, that not much about her presence had sunk in other than the fact that she was real and not a figment of his overwrought imagination.

Now that he had touched her, though, several other things about her were penetrating the fog in his brain. Her shoulder was warm under his hand, alerting him that she was not really wearing much in the way of clothing.

Not that he was either, mind you. He was only wearing the bottom half of a pair of pajamas, as it had been legitimately hot in Gryffindor tower, even if that hadn't been the reason for his wakefulness. But his own state of dress was not the one he was presently concerned with.

Willow was wearing as little as possible while still being dressed; in deference to the heat of the warm August night, Harry supposed. It was as hot here in the Slayer's wing as it had been in his dorm room, and she was dressed for the temperature.

Her legs were mostly bare, as she was wearing loose short shorts. Her upper body was clad in a thin tank top, with only skinny spaghetti straps holding it up. One of the straps had slipped to lie against Harry's hand, and Willow reached with shaking fingers to right it. Her trembling hand caused Harry to wonder if she was nervous, and what was making her so. The minor trembles he had felt when she had touched him, coupled with the babble she had just indulged in had the wizard thinking that she just might be.

A tiny part of him wondered if it was him that was making her nervous, and his heart gave an excited thump at the possibility. The rest of Harry, however, searched for a way to soothe her nerves. It came to him in a burst of inspiration. From what Harry had seen of her, Willow was a natural nurturer, truly at ease when caring for others. With that thought in mind, Harry suddenly had an idea of something that might put her at ease. He would simply ask her to help him with his meditation exercises.

"Willow," he said to her, using her first name as she had asked all of her students to do. The casual nature of their student-teacher relationship was a double-edged blade for Harry. It was far easier to get lost in a fantasy about Willow than it would have been had she remained Miss Rosenberg, and that had become both a gift and a curse to the young man. "Please don't go."

He let his hand slide down her arm to capture her hand in his. He convinced himself that the goose bumps the action had raised on her skin were simply a figment of his overactive imagination. He pulled her towards the mat in the centre of the room, making sure that they were both standing on it before he continued.

"You're right. I did come down here to meditate. I couldn’t sleep, and I tried to empty my mind with the techniques you’ve been teaching me, but I just couldn't manage it." It wasn’t entirely a lie, Harry told himself. He really hadn’t been able to clear his mind when he had been up in his room. "I came down here to try it, because I always seem to have more success with meditation in this room." He dropped her hand and noticed her relax slightly. It made him wonder if it was the words that had done it, of if she was simply more at ease without the physical contact. And if it had been his touch that had put her on edge, he hoped with everything he had that that could be taken as a good sign.

Either way, she still resembled a skittish doe ready to bolt at any second. He sent a prayer to the Gods that his next words would be the thing that would put her at ease enough to stay here with him, even if it was only for a few moments longer. “I honestly believe, though, that my success in this room had far more to do with the teacher than the room itself.” He studied Willow and saw a tremulous smile begin to form on her lips, and, even though the room was dim, he could see her eyes sparkle with pride at his compliment.

"Will you please stay and help me relax enough to meditate, Willow?" At the request, the witch relaxed fully, and he knew he had won her over completely. "I need to clear my mind enough to sleep. If I don't, I think I might go mad." And it was very much true. However, the part that Harry failed to tell Willow was that sleep would only be able to prevent him from losing his mind if he could find a way to assure that his dreams were not filled with her.

"Pretty please with sugar on top?" Harry dropped his head and looked over his glasses at her. His emerald eyes sparkled with amusement as he partnered the words he'd heard Xander use once with a pout that he'd seen the man favor his best friend with once when he'd been trying to get his own way.

Her giggle let him know that he'd convinced her to stay before her words confirmed it. "All right, I give up. I'll help you focus. Just can the Xander act, ok?"

His eyes followed her progress as she crossed the room to the window. "Overdid it a bit, did I?"

"Oh, just a little." Her giggle made his heart speed up. "Now take a seat on the mat, insomnia boy, while I try to get some cool air in here. Let’s see if we can get those bothersome thoughts out of your mind."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow could feel Harry sitting on the mat behind her as she opened the window and appealed to the Guardians of the East for some wind to relieve some of the stifling heat that seemed to fill the room. Though, if she was honest with herself, the heat she was feeling was not coming from the warm night, but from the presence and closeness of Harry Potter. As she turned towards him a breeze from the opening let her know that the Gods had heard at least some of her pleas to them tonight.

Why was she still here? This situation had all of the potential to fully explode in her face. She really didn't know if she could stay here, in this dim, heated room with Harry, and still remain the professional teacher that she was meant to be to this boy. She was very close to her breaking point, very close to throwing all caution to the wind, and acting on every inappropriate fantasy that she'd had about him for the past few weeks. If she did that, she didn't know what the consequences would be, but she imagined that Dumbledore would not be very happy if one of his new allies did something that could be viewed as wholly inappropriate with his very favorite student. And, in the dark heat of the August night, Willow was not entirely sure that she could resist the temptation that Harry presented.

She walked back to the meditation mat to find him already sitting, cross-legged and eyes closed, his glasses placed carefully beside him. Willow wondered why he still had them. It seemed to her that it would put him at a serious disadvantage in a fight if they were knocked off and he was left unable to see. Why wasn't he wearing contact lenses? They seemed to be the more practical choice. That was the way Wesley had gone, she'd assumed, since the former watcher had been without his own spectacles the last time that she'd seen him. Maybe she should mention it to Dumbledore. In fact, she wondered if they didn't have a way to correct his eyesight all together. After all, they had done wonders for Xander concerning his own eye problems.

A heavy sigh issued from Harry, bringing Willow back to the present and the matter at hand.

"I don't understand, Willow. I'm really trying to clear my mind, and I'm usually good at it. But I just can't seem to stop thinking tonight." She looked at him critically, trying to discover the problem. Studying his posture, she found something that might be the root of his troubles. His shoulders were slumped, his posture slouched, as if he was physically feeling the weight of all of the expectations people had of him.

"Well," she started as she approached him, "you're all slouchy, for one thing. All that posture is doing for you is making you more tense." She stepped behind him, intent on correcting his position to facilitate his meditation. As she pressed a hand to the base of his spine to get him to sit with his back straight, her pulse seemed to triple. It had taken the feel of his bare back on her skin for it to fully register that he was sitting here shirtless. The star of her most vivid fantasies was sitting half naked under her hands, and it was all she could do to keep breathing. How was she supposed to ignore her innermost desires enough to help him meditate? Because that was all he expected of her and all that she could allow. Besides, she was quite sure that Harry would not take it well if his teacher, who was a few years older than him, suddenly threw herself at him and begged him to take her.

She shook herself hard and put her mind back on her task, which was helping Harry to relax. Her hands moved to his shoulders, pulling them back so that he would sit up straight. "Ok, if you sit up straighter, you'll find that the pressure comes off of your spine, and being more comfy should help you to clear your mind." She kneaded his shoulders to relax his muscles, and before she could take another breath to speak, she found herself pulled off of her feet and sprawled across Harry's lap, staring up into his emerald eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been her tiny warm hands on his back that had been his undoing. When she'd pressed one of them to the base of his spine to coax him into sitting straighter, his breath had quickened, and his heart had nearly pounded out of his chest. But it had been her hands gently massaging the tense muscles of his shoulders that had caused him to lose all control. He had used his legendary Seeker skills to reach up and pull her into his lap before she even knew he had moved. She had looked deep into his emerald eyes, blinking in surprise, and before she could issue a protest, Harry lowered his head to hers and captured her lips with his, something he'd wanted to do from almost the first second he'd seen her.

The taste of her was light years beyond anything he'd ever imagined even in the best of his fantasies. Her lips were soft, moist, and pliant beneath his. Her hair was silk to the touch, her body a heavy and welcome weight in his lap. It was almost heaven, but there was something missing, something he still needed. He still hadn't tasted her fully. Still hadn't captured the elusive flavor on his tongue that he was convinced she possessed.

Not capable of waiting any longer, Harry's tongue snaked out of his mouth and gently caressed the fullness of her lower lip, entreating the wonderful witch in his arms to open her mouth. Her lips parted as Harry deepened the kiss, and his tongue was granted access. The first taste of the inside of her cheek confirmed what Harry had known all along. Willow was not strawberries, as Ron had once claimed. She was, indeed, Harry's ever-elusive wildberries. And now that Harry had her in his arms, he intended to never let her slip away again.

Willow, for her part, was not content to simply be an idle observer in the kiss she had been dreaming of night after night. At first the feel of Harry's mouth on hers had been a shock, and she had thought that she had somehow managed to fall asleep without noticing, and was once again dreaming of him. But her dreams had never been this real, this fantastic, this mind blowing. When she had finally realized that the kiss was really happening, she had slid her arms around him to touch him as she'd been longing to touch him. One of her hands ran through the messy hair that she'd been longing to touch, while the other caressed the smooth skin of the back that she'd been trying to touch as a detached teacher just moments before. She should have known that it hadn't been possible, and from the first touch of his lips she had known that that was never what the Powers That Be had wanted. She was never meant to simply be Harry's teacher. The Powers had brought her here because this was where she belonged. Every event in her life, every relationship she had had, everything that had resulted from them, including her descent into black magic had led her to this very moment. Because this was where she was born to be, firmly wrapped up in the arms of Harry James Potter.

They broke apart, unable to further deny the need for air. Willow lay panting in his arms as the couple simply stared at each other. This moment had been inevitable from their first meeting, and they both knew it. Their souls were twined together, and something in both of them had known it from the start. Still, he opened his mouth to speak, and Willow knew that his chivalrous nature was compelling him to apologize for his actions. The redhead pulled her hand from his hair to lay a finger across his lips, shaking her head as she did so.

"Don't you dare apologize to me, Mr. Potter. I might think that you were truly sorry for that kiss, and it would crush me. Because I'm right where I want to be. I'm right where I'm meant to be. In your arms."

His lips had captured hers once more before their hearts had even beaten again. This time, he opened his mouth to Willow. As their tongues intertwined, she could taste so many things. She could taste all of the passion, all of the desire, all of the fantasies that he'd been having about her for weeks. She could taste the wildness and the power that she'd always felt in his magic. She could taste his soul.

Suddenly simply kissing him wasn't enough for Willow, and she used the training that she'd been regularly getting from Buffy to perform a move that had her grasping at his shoulders and using them to flip him to his back so that she was now sitting astride his hips. The air in the room was heavy with the heat of the night and the desire that was pouring off of the couple in waves. They were wearing too many clothes, Willow knew, and as if he could read her mind, Harry's hands drifted to the skin of her back that was revealed below her tank top. His caress traveled up her spine, bringing the shirt with it and baring her skin to his touch. They barely broke their kiss as the garment was pulled over her head. His task accomplished, Harry pulled her close to him so that her now bare chest met his own.

The touch of skin to skin was indescribable and Harry wanted more. He turned his body so that Willow lay underneath him, and her hands immediately found their way to his waist. She pushed his pants past his hips, caressing the skin of his backside, something she’d barely ever let herself look at before. When her hands had pushed his clothing as far as they could reach while she kept her lips fused to his, Harry wriggled his legs to kick the offending garment the rest of the way off and then proceeded to divest her of her last bit of clothing.

Seconds later they were pressed firmly together, as naked as they had been when they were born. Nothing in the world had ever felt so right to Willow, not even lying in Tara's arms, something she had thought of as the most perfect place in the world until the very second Harry had pressed back against her fully unclothed.

She had loved Tara with all her heart, but she now knew that she had been born to love Harry. Her legs parted for him, and as he entered her the feeling of completion confirmed something her heart had been trying to tell her for weeks. He was her soulmate.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They lay together afterwards, entwined so completely that it was nearly impossible to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Harry's hand lay on her cheek, brushing away the tears that had escaped when they had reached completion. "I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't mean to make you cry."

She pulled him tighter towards her, though that was scarcely possible, and looked intently into his eyes. "Not all tears are tears of sorrow, Harry. The tears that I just cried are tears of pure joy."

A smile began to spread on his face, though it was cautious. "Joy?" he asked her, incredulity in his voice.

"Yes, Harry. Joy. You know, as in pure happiness?" She nuzzled her face into his neck, trying to hide her blushing cheeks from his inquiring gaze.

"You're that happy with me?" His voice was shocked, as if he had never expected to hear those words from anyone.

"I never thought I could be happier or more in love than I had been with Tara. But you, Harry Potter, have just proved me wrong." She gazed lovingly into his eyes, kissing him softly while she ran a hand through his ever-messy hair. It didn't matter that his hair was untamable, or that he was only eighteen and one of her students, or that he was at the top of the hit list of the worst Dark Wizard in the history of his world. All that mattered was the fact that he was in her arms, because this was where he belonged. He was hers as she was his.

"Love? You love me, Willow? This is love?"

Willow knew most women would be offended at these questions, but not Willow. For how could Harry be expected to recognize love when he had never truly been taught what it was. He felt it, and that was enough for her, because his love for her was in his every breath.

"Yes, Harry," she whispered as she kissed him again, "this is love."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Professor Albus Dumbledore knocked softly at the door to the study in the Slayer's wing, and only entered when a faint voice from the other side had told him it was opened. He had not been issued an invitation, he noticed. But he supposed that was to be expected from someone who spent their life fighting vampires.

"I don't mean to intrude on you so late, Rupert. But I noticed that your light was on."

"I'm waiting up for Willow," Giles told the headmaster as he sat up straighter in the chair that he had been drifting off to sleep in. "She couldn't sleep and went out for a walk, but she has yet to return."

"Well, she's in the meditation room with Harry, so I have a feeling they might be awhile." Giles did not bother to ask the wizard how he knew this. Albus just seemed to always know what was going on in his school.

"It's very late for a meditation lesson. She should get back here and get some sleep."

Dumbledore chuckled at his comment. The man sounded so much like her father that Albus honestly wondered if he should impart his next bit of knowledge.

"I do not believe that they are conducting a lesson, Rupert, and I would not bother yourself with waiting up for her. She might be a very long while." Giles looked at the wizard standing before him, seeing the twinkle in the other man’s eyes.

Giles took his glasses off, a small smile gracing his features. "So they've finally admitted what we've all known from the start then."

"Yes Mr. Giles, I believe they have," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I merely came by to inquire as to what you think Miss Rosenberg would enjoy having for breakfast. I'm planning on sending Dobby with a tray for them, as I imagine they will not be making it to the great hall."

Giles allowed himself a small chuckle at the thought. “Willow has always had a special affinity for pancakes.”

"Ah, pancakes. I do believe that those would go along quite well with some wildberries. Harry does so love the fruit. I think they make for quite a suitable pairing."

Giles knew that the headmaster was no longer speaking of breakfast foods, and tailored his response appropriately. "As do I, Albus, as do I."

~fin~

So, if you've got this far, do leave me a taggy and tell me what you think, k? Thanks! Lime you guys!

Sorry for being an absentee Ariemum

2004-07-06T10:35:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, it's been over a month since I posted anything, but my life really hasn't been post-worthy. The last thing I wanted to do was to come on my blog and moan about how bad things are going in my life. There are a heck of a lot of people out there who have it a heck of a lot worse then me. Also, I notice that I've been using this blog as a pity party, and I really didn't need to do that on top of everything else.

I guess I've just been really introspective the last month, and didn't have too much to say about it lately. Plus, I haven't been up to that much.

I've been working various temp jobs, you know, trying to not drown in the bills. Whoever came up with the money system and tossed the barter system out the window really sucks!! I think I would have liked to live back in the day when you could make your living as a traveling minstrel. I think I would have dug this. Told stories to get fed and shelter. Yeah, I think that works for me.

Which brings me to the thing I've been doing most while online lately, and that's writing, and beta-reading for other people. My mom caught a look at some of the reviews I had for my fanfiction and planted the bug that I should turn my screenplay from college into a novel and try to get it published. Now, I'm not really sure I could ever be published, but the idea of is has had my creative muses flowing, and I've been writing, both fan fiction and original work, and it's leaving little time for anything else.

I went to the Red River Ex last week, and would like to thank Jay and Rachel for dragging me on to every crazy ride they could manage. I loved it, and was kind of disappointed that we all pooped out kind of early and we didn't get to ride all of the rides. Oh well, I guess that's for next year.

I also saw Spiderman 2 a couple of times in the last week. What an Amazing movie!! The visual effects were superb and the storytelling of the film was magnificent. Much better than the original. I'd have to say it was my favorite of the summer, except for the fact that I'm biased because. . .

I have now seen Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban four times, and I keep finding people to take to see it again. I just can't get enough of this movie. It had it's problems, mostly stuff that was in the book and left out of the film, but the film taken on it's own is now one of my favorites of all time. Plus, I need to buy a permanent seat in that special hell that the girls at Caritas are all talking about.

I dragged Matt to the first showing, as he and I were having an ongoing discussion about his disbelief that I could admire any movie franchise more than the Lord of the Rings. But I can. And it's Harry Potter. There is just something about the magical world of J.K. Rowling that appeals to my always childlike soul. I can't help it.

Well, I'm sure that you've heard me babble enough for now. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but I was in just such a funk and I didn't want to take it out on all of you. But I missed my online family so so much. I hope that you'll forgive me.

You know that you are obsessed with Harry Potter when . . .

2004-06-03T16:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I'm doing reception this week, and I just get a phone call from a Potter, James.

(have to love caller ID)

First thing I thought was GEEEE!!! Then, but James is dead.

Yeah, I'm a dweeb.

I'd post more, but I am SO super hyper and caffinated, that I have no patience for anything. If I'm this bad today, tommorow is going to be pure torture waiting for the time I can flee work and go get my seats for Prisoner of Azkaban.

On the plus side, I am going to Sugar Mountain tonight to by some Acid Pops, some Fizzing Whizzbies, and some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

I'm sure only Ry will appreciate that as much as I do!!

Oh, and go bombard her tag board and make her post her WIP story on TTH. It's AWESOME!!

Later!

I'm in mourning, the wake is at Keycon

2004-05-20T20:06:00.000-05:00

So, I'm sure all of you know what my post is going to be about, except for those who don't.

COFFEEQUEEN!!!! DO NOT READ THIS TILL YOU HAVE SEEN ANGEL!!!!!! ANIMAL EITHER!!!!!

That being said . . . .

Sorry that I had to do that, but neither my best friend nor my brother has seen the show that has brought this bizarre yet tight knit group together, and, though I want to talk about it, though I NEED to talk about it, I in no way want to spoil it for those that have not seen the series finale of Angel. If you are still reading this without having seen the epi, then I warn you now, I'm about to stomp all over your unspoiledness the way Scruffy stomped all over mine over a month ago.

Okay, so . . . .

I'm in mourning for Wes. Deep, dark, mourning!

It's actually causing me to stop and cry at unexpected moments.

I'm mourning for everything. For Wes, for Lindsey, for the end of Angel, for the end of quality television, for it all. But mostly, at the moment, I'm mourning my beloved Wesley.

Even though I was spoiled.

Scruffy blew the secret for me more than a month ago. He says to me that he's heard a character is going to die. When I told him not to tell me who, he followed up with not telling me the name, but telling me that it was a character that I liked. Well, since I like all of the characters, he must have meant someone that I really liked. It wasn't very hard to deduce that he meant Wes.

I asked TheStormCellar about it when she was visiting, telling her that he spoiled me. She tried to reassure me that no one knew the end, and that allowed me to live in denialville a little longer. Maybe he would come back or get magically saved at the very, very end of the series?

Well, he didn't.

I'm still so much in shock, even after knowing that it was coming, that I just can't give you any other reaction to the episode than that. That's all I have right now. Shock and grief.

Also, shock and despair at the death of Lindsey. Can't tell you how bad that feels.

But, you all should know of my unfailing Wes love, and that's the loss that hit me the most.

Until I can get over the shock and learn to accept a little, I will be denying everything, and having a wake for Angel: The Series, at Keycon this weekend. I'm planning on going to our local Sci-Fi convention, and commiserating with like minded people over our shared loss.

So, if you don't hear from me for the next couple of days, I've fallen into a glass of whiskey with Wes.

*HUGS* to the MNA family. May we all get through this loss together.

Also, to Sekkie, I'm still going to answer the five questions, I promise!

Deep thoughts, by Jack Handy

2004-05-05T17:59:00.000-05:00

Okay, if you're of a certain age, the title of today's post should strike a fairly amusing note with you.

Then again, if you aren't of an age that gets the joke, you probably won't empathize with my post today, either. Well, you're time will come. Unfortunately, it does for us all.

As of my birthday in March, I am 29 years old. That means that every day, I am getting closer to my 30th birthday. The thought is beginning to disturb me. Not because I believe that 30 is such an old age, but more that I have always believed that I should be so much more than I am, and have accomplished so much more in my life than I have by this age.

I mean, I have no accomplishments of my own to boast over. No car, no house, no career. Living at home with my mom. (now, well, I'm not one of those that has never left the nest, I can't guarantee, after my last experience, that I will ever be ready to do that any time soon.)

I guess this was really pointed up last Friday when I went with my uncle to the opera. Now, we had gone to see Cavelleria Rusticana & Pagliacci, a double bill, because Pagliacci was the first opera that I saw in my life. And the last time the Manitoba Opera Association had performed it was 20 years ago. Wait, 20 years? I was old enough to go to the opera 20 years ago?

Then, I open up my program to find that a girl that I went to college with has the Assistant Stage Manager position. Everyone always liked me as stage manager so much more than her, and yet, she's getting work.

Whereas I am doing absolutely nothing with my degree.

I guess I'm just feeling maudlin this week. And I was just talking with my brother Animal, and he pointed out that I'm getting as bad about blogging as him. So, you get a post, even if I'm not in the best of mindframes.

I'm approaching 30, feeling bad about my life, and shying away from family gatherings because I'm tired of hearing the question "have you got a boyfriend?"

No, I don't. I've never had one. I feel bad about it every time someone brings it up. It seriously isn't for lack of trying, either. Or, for lack of falling in love with people that constantly remind me that they could give a shit about me because I just don't measure up to the grand ideal of womanhood or whatever.

I'm resigned to being one of those people that are always alone. I've never had a relationship, and I'm damn sure people don't get to start the dating game at 30, so I'm accepting of the fact that I missed the boat. So, I'm trying to be happy about myself.

That's been a tough row to hoe lately as well, actually. I'm trying to lose weight, and some of my friends are acting like it's a crime against nature or something. One of my friends even went so far as to tell me not to bother, because, no matter how much I starved, no matter how much weight I'd lost, I'd never look like the supermodel girl that is the beauty of our group.

Well, thanks a lot! But that statement made me realize something very important about myself. I don't want to look like this other girl. I like the way I look. I have grey eyes. Does anyone even know anyone with grey eyes? That's pretty unusual, and I wouldn't change that to have the average color eyes of said beauty. Not only are they an unusual color, but they actually change shades according to what I wear.

And I have eyelashes that never need to come near mascara. Or an eyelash curler, for that matter. And speaking of curls, I have the most wild head of curly hair. Strangers will tell me how beautiful it is. Why would I want to change all this unusualness to be an average beauty.

I don't want to look like her. Get that? I want to look like me, just a little littler me. Why is that so wrong? And am I really that unattractive to my friends that it wouldn't matter if I was skinny?

How about supporting me because it's something that would make me happy? Is that too much to ask? I've been trying to lose some weight, (ok, a lot of weight) for the last 15 years of my life. Now that it's working, slowly, but surely, why would you tell me not to bother?

That I'm not meant to be thin?

Well, okay, that's way more than enough sad crap for today. I know you all didn't want to hear it, but I felt that, as this is my webjournal, if I have something to get off of my chest, something that I find infinitely easier to put into writing than to say aloud, I'm going to do just that. Freedom of speech and all of that!!

Random thoughts (and they are going to be by Jack Handy, just cause I say so!

Animal's in Regina, but can't seem to update his blog. I thought Regina was boring!! What's up with that??

Van Helsing on Friday. I'm worried I'm going to be disappointed.

Keycon in two weeks. Also worried that I'm going to be disappointed. Last year is a lot to live up to!

Welcome my buddy Scruffy to the blogging collective. His blog was, of course, designed by Coffequeen. Go and teach him what tagging is all about!

TheStormCellar was here weekend before last, and we had a blast!! I'll let her tell you about it though, so go check her blog. Oh, she forgot to mention that she met the Aragornalike, though!

Speaking of Matt, I'm outtie to hang with him tonight, so catch you all on the flip side. Thanks for listening.

Stormy's a coming!! And random thoughts of a filmic nature.

2004-04-23T11:57:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the long time in between posts, folks. It was pointed out to me last night by Jays that I hadn't made a post since the 8th of April. I decided it was about time.

Oh, and Jay's birthday was yesterday, so again I tell him Happy Birthday!!

I've just been really busy with not doing anything entertaining enough to write about lately. I'm sure that's going to change this weekend, though. I'm going to have stuff to talk about, just no time to do it.

TheStormCellar is going to be in town as of 3 pm today! We're going to hang out with Anait, Coffeequeen and Xander's Girl for the weekend. For those of you that don't know, Coffeequeen designed this blog and many of my others, and all three ladies are regular posters on Caritas, the forum over at Renew Angel.

We're planning on painting the town not only red, but all sorts of colors.

I've been busy attending a lot of movies in the last week, and watching Angel, of course.

Saw Kill Bill 2 on Friday with all of the usual suspects. (we tend to go to the movies in the same pack. Me, Animal, CQ, Eddy, Jay, Rachel, Jesse. It varies by who's in town, who's got to work, and if it's a bigger movie, who else tags along, but we all usually go together.) I have to say that I actually enjoyed Kill Bill 2 much more than I did the first, and I loved the first. This film was a return to the dialogue driven style of Resevoir Dogs. Not driven by the violence, but not absent of it either. The violence in this film was all the more poignant because it wasn't so over the top. It seemed more real, more personal some how.

And there were some more obvious directorial moves and subtle emotion provoking filmmaking in this volume of the movie.

That being said, curses for double dipping in the DVD market!! I wanted to watch Kill Bill 1 again, and I had to wrestle with myself not to just spend the 20 bucks on the DVD. But hell!! You just know that there's going to be a super deluxe version of this movie when the second one hits DVD. For now, I'm pratically having to have someone come and restrain me from buying it when I walk into a Future Shop.

Speaking of Future Shops, it brings me in a roundabout way to the second movie that I saw on friday night, The Girl Next Door. This one I saw with XG, and Future Shop makes me think about it because I went out and bought the soundtrack the next day.

Of course, being Canadian, I could have just legally made my own off of the internet, except for the fact that the composed score music was on the soundtrack as well, and I couldn't find it!

Yes, you heard right, people. It's completely legal to Peer-to-peer file share recorded and copyrighted music in this country. I love Canada a lot sometimes.

Although, it really only effects me in the fact that I make a lot of mixed CDs. If I like a band, or a soundtrack, I'll buy the CD, as long as I have the disposable income.

Back to the point, which was, The Girl Next Door. This movie was great!! I have to admit that Eddy is very right when he calls it a thinly veiled remake of Risky Buisness, but I really enjoyed it.

There was a lot to laugh at.(even if XG and I were the only ones laughing. That makes me feel really old sometimes. Were the kids in the audience not laughing because they don't know who Monet is? It's possible. After all, Rachel didn't know who John Lennon was, so scratch your head at that one.) The music really complimented the movie. The young man that plays Adam on Joan of Arcadia was in it.

Oh, as was Jacob Young, my choice for Jason in the Anita Blake movies, if they make them. XG got a gawk at him, and she agrees with me. Very Jasonesque.

But, most importanly, this movie just made me feel. That's always an important thing with me. It's great if a movie is technically good or great. But it has to touch me too, and although TGND might not be the same calliber as Return of the King, it touched me. I'm sure I'll own it.

Speaking of things touching you, this week's Angel episode, Origins, touched me in a way I wouldn't have thought possible. I adored this episode, and it is immediately on my list of favorite episodes of any show ever. And all because I was extremely happy to see Connor.

When I told this to Eddy, he pointed out that I didn't even like Connor. But this episode showed me that I may not have liked him, but I loved him and I missed him.

That, and Vincent Karthieser did a fantastic job in this episode. He was two completely different characters in that episode. Connor the suburban college kid at the beginning, and Connor the Destroyer at the end. It was perfectly played, as well. The change was simply in his eyes, and could even be overlooked, or argued away. But it was there, make no mistake. Angel's son was back at the end, and I'm sure that that's not the last we'll see of him.

Also, such gut-wrenching events for Angel in this episode. He gets his son back just to have to give him up again.

I cried throughout the episode. Both for the gut-wrenching emotions in the episode, and for the fact that, in 4 short weeks, we'll lose this amazing show. When it is gone, I don't see me watching television at all, really.

Well, I guess, even though I'm excited, bouncing off the walls, and counting the minutes till Stormy gets here, and us ladies go out to sing the Karaoke, that I should still try to do some work.

I'll report back with all the crazy making when I get the chance!

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

2004-04-08T08:31:00.000-05:00

Coffeequeen and I went to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night. I loved, loved, loved the movie. I don't think that I can express how much I enjoyed this film. It captivated me right from the get go. It surpassed my expectations. It gave me insight into every character on screen. It gave me little snippets of every single character's life, and made me actually care about them. It made me care about the outcome of this film.

It erased the dissapointment I felt at coming out of Hellboy.

Don't get me wrong, Jays ('cause I know your reading this) and Animal, I found it visually superb and stunning, and the action was great and adrenaline producing, sure. But at the end, I really wasn't caring about the outcome so much. I was not pulled in by any of the characters. And the relation point for the audience, the newbie to the world? Well, we didn't get any character exploration of this FBI agent assigned to the freak squad at all. I felt detached from the movie. It was a good popcorn movie, to be sure. But it had nothing at all to captivate me.

I guess I'm just a movie snob, and I want it all! I want visual style, and I want story substance.

Sunshine had all this for me, and more. Wonderful actors to bring all these characters to life. In addition, it left me with too many thoughts.

There were ideas in the film that just begged for philospohical reflection, including quotes from Nietzche. And I've been full of philosophical reflection ever since. I've been thinking about the nature of memory, and if you really could erase someone from your life completely. I'm reminded of Eddy from the movie Threesome, and his last words, words about how someone can be a necessary and integral part of your life one day, and completely gone the next. And, as much as that is often very true, can you really erase all memory of them from your mind? Is this reasonable?

Sometimes, people are such an integral part of your life that I feel this would be truly impossible. Sometimes, they colour every moment in your life. Even if they aren't with you, they effect you, and you might think about them.

If that much of your life was removed, what would the result be? And what kind of person would you be? I feel that every person that gets involved in our lives change us. Even if the change is so minute as that we never notice it. I still believe it is there. If we erased a person, would the changes from their presence in our lives dissapear as well?

See, way too many thoughts.

The film also made me think about fate, and our ability to escape destiny. Can we go against our fate? If something is destined to happen, can we escape it? If it is something we do not desire, or desire no longer, can we run from it? Or, is it true that no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try to turn from it, our true destiny will find us?

I don't want to expound on these ideas, as to do so might spoil the film, but I just wanted to put them out there, because they were clogging up my brain, and with writing my brain seems to relieve itself of the thoughts. Make of it what you will.

Speaking of Writing

I have written Chapter Ten of First and Last and am just waiting for it to return from my lovely new Beta reader Desmodus so that I can post it.

I'm working on it, Stormy. I promise!

Climb inside, and come out on the New Jersey Turnpike!

2004-03-30T15:03:00.000-06:00

Okay, so the title of this post is a reference to the bizarre movie Being John Malkovich.

And that's what it's going to be like today. A tour inside my mind. It's going to be very confusing, very disorienting, and in 15 minutes, you'll get spit out on the New Jersey Turnpike.

Okay, so maybe not the last part.

The mystery of the Monkey

I haven't mentioned this, because I've been focused on other things this week, but last monday I came into the office and found something very strange on my desk. A monkey.

Yes. A stuffed monkey.

It appeared seemingly out of nowhere. No one will admit to putting it there, other than to say that the lady here used to have stuffed monkeys, but she's been gone for two months. I was here a month before this guy showed up.

Additionally puzzling because monkeys are an inside joke with me and Eddy. Those, and midgets.

Speaking of Eddy. . .

Eddy's site was a feature site last week at Sci Fi Weekly Online. Check it out.

Speaking of Websites . . . .

Coffeequeen finally opened up Goonie Designs. She's the one who designs my beautiful Blogs, and is being a complete doll by doing some maniplations for my fanfictions.

Speaking of fanfic manipulations . . . .

I have asked Coffeequeen to do a manipulation for my story First and Last. The story is a crossover of Anita Blake and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I was looking for a good person to use for Jason, and I think I found him. This is Jacob Young. Can all of you Anita Blake fans let me know what you think?

Okay, I think that's enough of a romp through my mind for today!

Thanks for the Birthday Wishes and support

2004-03-26T10:27:00.000-06:00

I wanted to thank you guys for a wonderful birthday. I enjoyed it very much. I loved having the good wishes.

We started the day off at my stepmom's brother's farm, in preparation for my father's Suprise 60th Birthday party. Yep, you guessed right, I'm born on my father's birthday.

It turned out better than I thought that it was going to. My godparents were there, and they wished me a happy birthday, and made everyone else feel bad for forgetting.

I didn't really mind that they forgot, though. It was my dad's day, after all. But I have to say, the best part of the party was the ride to and from the farm with Coffeequeen. We spent the ride listening to some fabulous music and singing at the top of our lungs. CQ has been my rock during my life. I honestly don't think I'd be able to survive without her.

After the party we went to dinner with friends and family at The Old Spaghetti Factory. Lovely retaurant with lovely food and lovely ambience. My friend gave in and came to dinner, and because I couldn't stand the hurt look on his girlfriend's face the night before, I had invited her too. And her company was enjoyable. Actually, as a person, I really think she's lovely.

Dinner was enjoyable, and I loved the company. Unfortunately, I had a major headache from the farm, and I needed to take my migraine meds. So, I was a little out of it, and I didn't eat very much. And, of course, my uncle Sheldon convinced the wait staff to be extra embarassing when they sang to me.

The best part of the evening, by far, had to be when Eddy convinced us to go out for a drink rather than going home. I wasn't sure, though. The best friend doesn't really like the bar, his girlfriend isn't very talkative, and I didn't see the evening being all that fun. But Eddy persuaded us, and we went to the King's Head.

I swear that the Goddess had been shining down on Eddy and telling him to take us there. For we were in the door not one second when Eddy and I were tackled by my surrogate little sister Kassy.

Some of you might remember me talking about Kassy when I was living with the lameii, because she lived with us for a couple of months right before Christmas of 2002. I love her to death, and when I look for what good could have possibly come from all that misery, it's Kassy.

She'd moved out of town, back to Morden to live with her mom. I rarely get to see her now. But she had come in for my birthday. Calling my cell phone was an excercise in futility for her, as it has bit the bucket. The King's Head, however, is our traditional hang out, so she went there in the hopes that I'd show up. And I did!

I am very glad that I did, too. The others did not look like they enjoyed themselves at all. I could have taken a cab home, but the best wouldn't hear of it. They said that they were having fun, but I still had a terribly guilty feeling that I should be going home because they weren't having fun. But it was my birthday, so for once I decided to put myself first.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty ok birthday.

Yes, Today is my Birthday

2004-03-20T11:52:00.000-06:00

Good morning, everyone! Welcome to my new home.

Coffeequeen came over this morning in order to put up my new home. It's my birthday present, and I love it to death! In fact, in short order, the rest of my webworld, including all of my fanfic, will be changed to match this lovely page.

So far, I am having a very wonderful birthday. The celebration started with going to see Dawn of the Dead last night. CQ says it deserves 10 out of 5 stars, and I have to agree. When you see it, look for a "blink and you'll miss it" appearance by my old college friend Mike Realba, one of the stars of Al Pacino's The Recruit. He ends up Zombie Food very early in the film. We then went to enjoy some Karaoke at The Limelight, ending with a late night dinner at Perkins.

When I got home, I found out that I got my first phone call at 1 am from Billy, wishing me a happy birthday. Unfortunately, I missed the call, as my cell phone decided to die on me the other day. But it makes me smile, none the less.

I do have so much more to say on the subject, but the fact is, I have to head out to my father's 60th birthday party. Yes, I was born on his birthday, which is cool. But it is also a bit of a pain, because he proclaims every year that I am enough of a present for him, and he doesn't need anything else.

Take care, everyone. I'll post further on the subject later!