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Post by Lunar Music on Dec 2, 2004 23:05:00 GMT -5
A small, lined notebook, with Zepher's full name (at least, she claims that's what it is) printed on the front in black marker, the journal sits sandwiched between two large, heavy books under Zepher's bed. The pages are a bit worn at the edges, and entries are in a sketchy pencil script, with doodles filling the margins. A stub of a pencil lies nearby, ready for an instant's inspiration.
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Post by Lunar Music on Dec 2, 2004 23:16:54 GMT -5
2 December 4 chapters of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea read
Not much to report, but I feel like writing. Or maybe it's that if I say I'm writing, I can have an excuse for not sitting and listening to Kat's latest inane song, or lecturing Danica. Sometimes it feels as if this place would crumble if I stepped back and let it. But then, maybe I'm being too hard on everybody. The others (well, not Kat, but she's only six) are just as capeable of going off on their own as I am.
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Post by Lunar Music on Dec 12, 2004 20:04:36 GMT -5
12 December Started To Kill a Mockingbird
It's odd I've never noticed it before, but it seems the human race is never happy unless they have someone to pick on. Or maybe it's that half of them want someone to pick on, and the other half want someone to defend. And there's always a small fraction stuck in the middle, who don't really want to be picked on or defended, and yet have both happening to them. In American history, the target group has been everyone from those of african or arab desent, to women in general, to... us. Those of us who arn't quite human, but arn't anything else, either.
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Post by Lunar Music on Jan 10, 2005 15:17:11 GMT -5
10 January Finished Price Caspian
Ugh. Life seems to crawl to a standstill, or else pass me by entirely. I'm bored out of my wits, and when that happens, depression has a nasty habit of creeping 'round the edges. At the Lab, I'd make myself feel better by bad-mouthing the scientists; here, that's not an option. Everyone else is feeling bad enough without my yelling at them. What we need is to get out for a while. What does it mean when freedom seems too confining?
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Post by Lunar Music on Jan 28, 2005 15:20:14 GMT -5
28 January Not reading anything
I feel like I'm going to scream. The walls of the house seem so confining; I dread coming back after work. I'm sure Adrian will attack Kat, or vice versa. I can't seem to consentrait on anything. The kitchen hates me.
Ok, I know there's a reasonable explaination: the shorter days and weaker light of winter tend to make people cranky and depressed. Just because I understand doesn't mean I like it.
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Post by Lunar Music on Mar 17, 2005 16:25:55 GMT -5
17 March Reading The Source of Magic
Wow... almost two months since I've written. Things seem to have fallen into a somewhat more comfortable rhythm, though the ever-present tensions havn't really eased much. Maybe those tensions will always be there, as long as there's a group of people living together.
There's been several new people lately, mostly feline experiments. Kat's over the roof about this, of course. She's annoying, but at least she can usually get a smile out of almost anyone. And we need that around her, yes we do.
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Post by Lunar Music on May 2, 2005 15:23:00 GMT -5
2 May Reading Artemis Fowl
It's strange... My powers, which seemed to have leveled out, are flutuating again. And now, the strenghth of the Empathy is inversly proportional to the strenghth of the telekinesis. I hit what I think was the strongest my Empathy's ever been about a month ago, and I could barely use the telekinesis at all. Now, they're both at about normal... but I think they're going to keep changing. It's a little unsettling.
On another note, I watched Stargate: SG-1 last night. Interesting episode... There was this girl who'd been spliced with go'a'ul DNA, to try and get at the racial memories of the go'a'ul (the aliens who want to take over the Earth). There were two problems: a) She'd actually been grown from an embryo in less than two years (but looked like she was more than 20), and was going to keep aging at that rate, or faster. b) The go'a'ul intelegence kept taking over. Reminded me a little of Adrian, actually, except that he doesn't go shooting several dozen people and setting a time bomb when he goes a little crazy.
The show made me think... maybe we arn't so bad off, after all. I mean, none of us are homocidal, and none of us are going to die of old age in a little over a year.
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Post by Lunar Music on Oct 8, 2005 23:45:33 GMT -5
8 October Reading Starfish
It's been a long time since I've written, hasn't it? Day-to-day life's been pretty buisy - I've gotten promoted, which means more money, but less time around the House, and more risk.
Which makes me wonder: Why hasn't anyone noticed we're here? We're careful, but there's only so far that can go. I can't immagine that in the six years I've lived here, much of that with others, no one has noticed that this suppositivly empty house has people living in it. As far as I've been able to tell, it hasn't happened.
Yet.
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Post by Lunar Music on Jan 18, 2006 21:18:59 GMT -5
25 December ((Not the real-time date, I know, but it corresponds to the Christmas board)) Reading Four and Twenty Blackbirds
Awkward. Thats the only word for it.
See, Adrian's... interested... in Kadraishi. Kadraishi doesn't return the feeling; I'm not even sure he understands. I don't think it's really that obvious to anyone but me, and, of course, I know every feeling everyone else has.
I've resolved to stay out of it. I've made enough of a mess of relationships in the past, and Kadraishi's near enough to leaving "to protect" us that it makes me uncomfortable anyway. The whole thing makes me think of Melissa... was it two years ago? Three?
She... liked me. Crushing like crazy. And I couldn't pretend I didn't know; that's one of the problems with empathy. People know you've read them correctly. So I wasn't at all suprised when she started making advances. And I waffled. Didn't have the heart to tell her I wasn't interested. Melissa didn't understand - I shouldn't have expected her to. Finally, I got annoyed and yelled.
She left. In tears. And never came back. She was fifteen, with sea lion DNA. We'd long since established that she didn't do well on dry land for long periods of time. I hope she managed alright on her own, but somehow, I doubt it.
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