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the nicest place you never want to go.
24 December 2012 @ 12:54 am
I haven't posted here since September. My paid account has expired, I haven't stayed caught up with anyone's journals, and I am completely confused by the new layout here on this posting screen. I've even considered deleting this account once or twice in the past few months, and still might. But after the events of this morning, I felt like I needed someplace to talk - and, as usual, there aren't many places better than this. I doubt anyone's reading anymore, but that was never really the point anyway, was it?

I found out this morning - through Facebook; where else? - that a friend of mine from high school died suddenly this week. She was a year younger than I was. She had been battling cancer for some time, but what actually killed her was pneumonia. Pneumonia. I understand that her immune system had been weakened from all her chemo treatments, but how is it that we can send robots to troll around Mars and yet people are still dying of fucking pneumonia? It makes me so sad, and so angry. What a waste. What an awful, terrible waste.

I hadn't spoken to her regularly in years, just on-and-off on Facebook or Twitter every now and then, and we weren't exactly close anymore. But we used to hang out a lot in high school. She could be incredibly annoying, mostly because her strength in life was also her weakness: she didn't care what anyone thought. Ever. In all the positive ways, and in all the negative. But she was always true to herself, and I never told her how much I admired that about her. She was the first person I told I was gay, because she had long ago accepted that she was bi and I knew she would understand. I was scared, and feeling profoundly alien and lonely, and she just hugged me and giggled and said, "Yaay, let's go hit on girls together!" Which struck me as a really stupid thing to say, but made me laugh, and that was worth something. This was back in high school still, when the only other person I was brave enough to tell was Kelly. And Kelly said, "I think you're just stressed," and then we never talked about it again. My best friend was too uncomfortable to deal with it, but Tiara? Never even batted an eye.

Tiara was the person who introduced me to Jrock. We used to sit together on the band bus, traveling to and from competitions, sharing her headphones and listening to Gackt and Malice Mizer. She opened my eyes to an entire world that I hadn't even known existed, and arguably I'm here today because of her. Yet she never had the chance to visit. We talked about her coming over, many times, both now and when I lived in Imabari, but there was never enough money, never enough time. And now she'll never get to see Japan at all.

I know it's cliched and stupid, but I can't help but sit here now, quietly cataloging all the regrets I've racked up in my life. How I've let all my close friends slip through my fingers; how there are now entire years that I can't really remember because I let depression utterly consume me. How I still pine for a girl who doesn't love me and never will, and how I'm still too afraid to move on from the rubble of that train wreck because I don't think I'm strong enough to get hurt that badly again. How I still haven't been brave enough to try and publish something, because it's the only thing I truly want to do career-wise and, if it fails, I will have no ambitions left. How I am once again stuck in a job I don't particularly like, and how I will remain stuck there because I am completely trapped beneath the weight of all the student loans I can't really afford to pay.

Oh, there have been a lot of good things about this year, too. I'm still depressed sometimes, but I am definitely in a better place - mentally and emotionally - than I've been in the past five years. Loki is here now, stealing my pillows and hogging my blankets and giving me something to come home to again. I'm supporting myself financially again, if barely, Anamnesis is almost finished, and I've been promoted to the (albeit bonus-less) position of Resident Adviser, which is a vote of confidence on the part of my superiors even if it comes with no tangible reward for me. I have the busiest teaching schedule in the entire company (for a native English teacher) and yet am managing it with honorable mention. The apartment is finally decorated and finally starting to feel like home.

And yet, I turned twenty-seven last month, and I feel so old - like I've accomplished so little. Most of my friends are married or considering it, having babies, starting long-term careers, buying houses. A part of me feels like the last four years of my life were just blank holding patterns, and now, even though I'm finally free of that stasis, I will spend the rest of my life playing catch-up to where I'm supposed to be. And with Tiara passing away, I realize how short a time I may have to accomplish my goals. I want to come home to someone, someone who'll kiss me goodnight and watch movies with me and tell me I'm being irrational and paranoid when I start freaking out about stupid things. I want to publish a novel. I want to move to Kyoto and live in an apartment with an actual balcony, and then I want to move to Edinburgh and live on the cliffs by the sea. I want another cat, and maybe a dog. I want to live someplace big enough to have them. And then, just maybe someday, I want to get married and adopt a kid with my partner. I want to have a big wedding reception in my parents backyard - not expensive, just big, with lots of people and white Christmas lights strung up in the autumn trees - so that my father and I can joke that it's a good thing I didn't get a horse, because, as he always told me, it would've ruined my reception area. And before that, I want to come out to my parents, and I want them to be okay with it and happy for me, and I just want to stop feeling isolated and afraid all the time because of who I am. I want to have enough money to fly home for my brother's graduation ceremony, and I want my sister to get better so that I can fly her out here to visit. I want to go salsa dancing with someone; I want to learn how to salsa dance. I want to get another tattoo, or maybe four or five more tattoos, and I want to learn how to sew and join a band so that I can play my flute again.

So many things. So many small, simple things, and big, simple things. And it's almost the New Year - the time of year when we make resolutions to accomplish those things, and feel energized about it even though we all secretly know we aren't going to reach all our goals. I think that's okay - it's the positive energy that counts. But everyday, I feel torn between the hope of accomplishment and the despair of wasted time. Positive thinkers know how to see problems with optimism, but I am not a positive thinker, even though I want to be. I fret and I worry and I make plans and then weep over them when they don't come to fruition.

I just feel so ... short on time, I guess. Tiara's death has made that feeling more pronounced than ever. All I do is work, and there's no time for anything else. And when I do have time, I sit here in this chair and bite my nails down to the quick and worry about all the things I can't change, instead of trying to work towards the things I can.

Amy Chandler posted on Facebook about this idea she'd seen in a magazine somewhere or something, where you're supposed to get a jar and then, whenever something good happens, you're supposed to write it down on a little slip of paper and put it in the jar. On New Year's Eve, you're supposed to take all the pieces of paper out and then read about all the positive things that happened. I think I'm going to try that this year. I'm usually not terribly good at doing that sort of thing, but it might be nice to not only read about the good things on New Year's - but also whenever I'm feeling like everything is going so wrong.

I don't know whether or not I'm going to bother with a resolution this year, but I do know this: I want to be happy. Truly. And I think, just maybe, it's time to start earnestly working on that.


Rest in peace, Tiara. You were dearly loved, and you will be sorely missed.
 
 
the heartstrings: tired
 
 
the nicest place you never want to go.
02 March 2012 @ 10:42 pm
Title: Tabula Rasa (Part 2/2)
Author: russettedbones
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, minor swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine. Quote at the beginning from Florence + The Machine's song, 'No Light, No Light'
Total Word Count: 15,268

(Part 1: here)

A revelation in the light of dayCollapse )
 
 
the nicest place you never want to go.
02 March 2012 @ 10:33 pm
Based upon the overwhelmingly positive feedback on And All of the Ghouls Come Out to Play earlier this week, I've written this - a much longer and more in-depth exploration of Charles' telepathy, and how it relates to his evolving relationship with Erik. Thank you very much to those of you who took the time to read and/or comment on the first ficlet, here or at Ao3 - it's greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy this. ♥

Due to LJ's length restrictions, I've divided this up into two parts (the link to the second part is at the end of the first.) Or, if you prefer, you can read the entire thing in one go at Ao3 here.

Title: Tabula Rasa (Part 1/2)
Author: russettedbones
Pairing: Charles/Erik
Rating: G
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, minor swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine. Quote at the beginning from Florence + The Machine's song, 'No Light, No Light'
Overall Word Count: 15,268

A/N: I'm trained as a Medieval historian, not a scientist. My interest in language is purely cultural and emotional, and all descriptions of Charles' telepathy contained in this story should be taken that way. (Charles may be a scientist, but Erik isn't - hence my logic on his choice of vocabulary.)

Summary: Erik knows that Charles is both the strongest and the weakest of them all. But the 'why' of that paradox somehow gets lost in translation.

You can't choose what stays and what fades away.Collapse )
 
 
the nicest place you never want to go.
26 March 2011 @ 02:03 pm


Comment for the key.