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Do you hear me, talking to you?

Okay universe.

I give up. I surrender. You have made yourself abundantly clear.

I'm going to watch Torchwood.

Spaghetti sauce and Gatorade.

How can I sit on the computer when my life is being torn apart? Nothing else to do I guess, but sit in the silence and wait for something, anything, to happen.

My mother, the one who forced me to lead this life I do, the one who made me who I am, is strapped to a bed in a hospital. Tucked away into the most feared three letters a person can face. ICU. It sounds foreboding, doesn't it? Ominous. Like the lights should dim and the wind should howl, and somewhere in the background dramatic music should be played.

"She stopped breathing last night, and she's on life support. The doctors told me there's a fifty-fifty chance that she just won't come out of the hospital. We have to be prepared for the worst."

We went for pancakes. Pretended he hadn't said those words to me. I hadn't seen my uncle Joe in months. Reunions are never as sweet as they are in books. The pancakes tasted like cardboard and I couldn't swallow my tea. Stop it, I should have shouted. Stop acting like there's nothing wrong, like this is just another day. Don't laugh at your own jokes, don't laugh at all. We shouldn't be allowed to laugh.


There's no point in visiting, they said. Artificial sleep, they said, she wouldn't even know you were there. Drugs cloud her mind and keep her body from wasting energy on silly things like her grown daughter standing at the foot of her bed, clutching a stuffed animal and staring at the tubes in her arms and her nose. Fight off the infection. Breathe, one more time. Live. She can't do that when I'm there. Why don't I get to hold her hands, assure her I'm there even though she won't know until she opens her eyes? Why can't I touch her face to make sure she's still warm, tuck her hands under the hospital blankets, and wait for the drug-induced slumber to stop?

Critical condition.

My mom and I got along when I was a girl. She was my best friend when I was a teenager. She still is. She could always manage to make me laugh, or smile, or cry when I needed to feel lighter. Night-Night, Sugar Bee. Mommy loves you. I hated when she did that, when she made me feel like a child in a one-piece sleeper. But I couldn't ignore the warmth it always pooled in my stomach, left my heart lighter. I would sleep, because my mother assured me safety. Night-Night.

"Mom's taken a turn for the worse. She might not make it. Tell your brother, wake him up. Good morning, by the way."

And in the end, when I'm looking my dad in the eye and his lips are trembling, I don't know what to say. Are you making dinner tonight? Are you going to watch the hockey game? Is mom still alive?

My hands are cold.

Aulde Lang Syne

And who WOULDN'T want to spend six hours in the emergency room on New Years Eve. Much better than parties, guys. Seriously. You should all try it. -.-

But on the plus side, the doctor on call tonight wasn't a douche and actually sent me home with a packet of six Percocet, and a perscription for forty of the same. Peace Arch Hospital doesn't send its patients home with medication HAH.

And now, as I'm still pumped full of Demerol, I bid a fond and fuzzy goodnight to you all.

Oh, and Happy New Year. ♥

Angel of music, you decieved me...

On Wednesday night, I was taken to see Phantom of the Opera as a late birthday present, and I soon descovered that we had the best seats I've ever had in a live show to date; Orchestra, right center, seventeenth row. For somebody who's used to the mezzanine, this was quite spectacular.

On the days leading up to The Night, I found myself being quite pulled out of the depression I'd sunken into, something that I didn't think was possible. But I found myself giggling randomly, buying pretty shoes, dying my hair, and generally acting the way I haven't since June. It felt strange, but comfortable and just good.

Wednesday was spent in a flurry of excitement and laughter and general happiness. Friend said she'd drive, that she'd take care of everything. We left at six, even though the show wasn't until eight, because she wasn't entirely sure she knew her way around Vancouver. We didn't get lost once, and I was very proud of her. We laughed a lot, every fifteen minutes saying something like 'OMGPHANTOMOFTHEOPERA!' to further excite ourselves. It worked; we were both giddy by the time we reached the Queen Elizabeth Theater.

We were early still, so we sat in the car for twenty minutes, people watching and chatting. At seven thirty, we couldn't stand it anymore, so we headed for the entrance. The doors had opened at seven, we'd learned, and we generally felt like asses. This was C's first time at the Q.E., so I was smiling at her excitement as she looked around with no small amount of awe. We managed to find spots on a bench, just by the door closest to our seats, and we waited.

There were two girls who had the most amazing dresses on; they looked to be straight out of the seventeen hundreds, and they both had those glittery half-masks on sticks as well, complete with feathers. I wish I could have gotten a picture of them, but my camera had decided to jump out of my purse and hide under the front seat of the car sometime during the drive. Fiesty camera.

The show was amazing, as it always is. The cast was beautiful, and I found myself close to tears a few times, just because I was so swept up. I got chills more times than I can remember, and I think I kept sighing. More than once I caught friend looking at me, watching my reactions. I would have turned my head, but that would have required me to take my eyes off the stage, and that just doesn't happen. Not when I'm watching Phantom of the Opera.

I had to point out a few things to her, which was fun -- I love going to shows with virgins. I pointed out the Phantom at the very top of the theater once, standing on a platform close to the ceiling. It was fun to hear her chatter about it during the intermission, and after the show.

We went for dinner afterwards, to a restaurant that a girl I went to high school with works at. She asked why we were so dressed up, and C proceeded to gush about the show and how wonderful it was, and I sat back and smiled, sipping my drink and slowly coming back to reality. I still have Prima Donna running through my head. That's one more of my friends that I've turned into a Phan, and I'm happy.

I am, for the first time in months, happy. It still hurts some days, most days, but I'm smiling, and I'm singing again, and I've started to draw again. And it's all because of dear Erik.

Maybe I can even write a little something tonight? Maybe?

Mmphm. :)

Aug. 1st, 2006

The day before my birthday just has to be the day that I'm rushed to the hospital, doesn't it?

This summer has been hell and I want it to be over.
It feels like it's been forever since I've updated this journal. And really, it has been. Things have been so very messed up lately, I just haven't had the time for any fandoms, fetish 'fic or anything else. Life = not the win right now.

tg, I sent out a package to you AGES ago. I was just wondering if it got there yet? :/ Also, I know I've been slow and haven't registered the books you sent me yet, but that's also due in part to I lent the Angel book to my cousin, and the other one you sent me to my friend in the hospital. My cousin hasn't returned the Angel one yet, and my friend is really attatched to the school one, and I can't bear to take it away from her. But yeah... package? Did it arrive? I hope I didn't write your address down wrong. I was pretty out of it when I labled the box, so... Meh. If it didn't get there, let me know and I'll put another one together for you. :)

I need a break from life. I'm tired, mentally and emotionally and physically. I've had heat stroke twice this summer already, and right now I would be grateful just to curl up someplace dark and cool and sleep for a very long time.

I've had lots of ideas for 'fics, but I just haven't had the time, or the heart, to sit down and write. I'm thinking of donating my plot bunnies to the generator, but the thing is I don't know if anybody would be into my fandoms. King's Quest, anybody? Kingdom Hearts? Gabriel Knight?

My dog isn't eating, and I think she's gone blind in one eye. And I have the feeling that my birthday isn't going to be a great one this year. It's only my twenty-second, though; no big deal, right?

Sigh. Hi guys. How've you been?

The inner turmoil.

Body: I'm fucking tired! And hungry! I want pb&j! NOW!
Heart: I want Kenziiiiiiiiiiii~!!!
Body: No. Sammich and nap. NOW.
Brain: I want you to write Sailor Moon sneezefic!
Body: I will fucking kill you ALL.
Soul: Let's read about Catholicism RANDOMLY! :D
Body: Oh yeah? Well FUCK YOU ALL I WIN! *migrane!*
Whole!Sar: ...ow
Body: Hah. *triumphant*

Also, happy birthday Jamie Fraser. You hunk of male perfection you. I will honor you with a glass of scotch ((get it? Hahaha... I'm not funny, am I?)) or wine. When the migrane is gone.

There may or may not also be Sailor Moon sneezefic. I haven't decided yet.

Brain: Yaaaaaay!
This post is meant to squeal at tarotgal. Please forgive any outbursts of giddy excitement.

So. I got your package today. Or no, I would have gotten it last week, but I've been staying at a friend's place since last Monday ((bit of a vacation away from home)), and just got home today. My parents picked it up from the house on Tuesday of last week, and it had been sitting beside my computer since then.

Needless to say, when I saw it I squealed. Really loudly. I was expecting a book, you! Not... guh!

I'm going to be sending you a box right back ((argue with me and I'll do... something... *threatens?*)) so I'll save much of my squealing for then. It only seems right. I just need to find enough stuff to stick in it. :3

All I can say is THANK YOU. Thank you so VERY much. It made me cry to see everything, and to know that people still care. Perfect timing, too, because I just learned this morning that we're going to have to get rid of my cat, who I've had since I was five. So seeing all the lovelies from you lifted my spirits significantly.

I'm going to go read now, and next time I'm on, I'll post feedback for the 'fic. I ADORED it though. Just perfect and wonderful and fits the drawing just right, I think. Talented talented talented. :D More detailed feedback will come later, though, when I'm not half asleep and crying and stuff. :)

Again, thank you. Thank you SO much.


This seems too fun to pass up.

Leave a list of fictional characters in your journal that you would love to get a message from.

It is your friend-list's mission, should they choose to accept it, to write you an in-character "letter" from a character on that list. Then they post their own list in their journal and the process continues!

My list is so long it needs a cut tag.Collapse )

Okay people. GO. :D


Attention tarotgal! Calling tarotgal!

I have FINALLY finished your Yule gift! Only... three months late! But hey, there were circumstances, yeah? LOL The important thing is, I got it done.

Clicky for gifty!Collapse )