Okay, first off - the penpal thing, how the hell do I answer that? She hadn't taken the time to message me, call me, write me, or see me in years. And just cuz we were close from 1998 to 2005 doesn't mean that since all contact pretty much soured/ended around then that whenever you realize that I'm in some place fun, that NOW is a great time to just up and go "Hey, can you help my kid out for school - I want her to get the best grade from anyone" sort of shite?

Second question's answer - "No. I'm on a budget, and I've got 40million friends who all want souveniers. You want somethin'? You pay for it. Shipping too, cuz I've got a fuckin' wait limit babe."

Third question: "....Why are you asking me? You know I'm poor as a churchmouse, and that the money for my trip comes solely from my mom and I've got a very strict budget. What? You think I just suddenly fell into an inheritance?"

Fourth question: "Try talking to me more than once every four years, and maybe I'll actually care that you're boyfriend/girlfriend isn't puttin' out.  I ain't gettin' any, and you don't see me bitchin' fit to break the band."

 

That is the only way to know everything I am feeling at this moment. 
( Read more... )( Read more... )

On a small patio chair I rest, a ciggarette hanging from my lips as I type. And listen.

Always listening.

My ass is a little wet, my feet are cold in their furry purple and black striped socks, but I don't really care.

I'm too busy listening. I feel as though I am a fly on the wall everywhere I go, so caught up in watching that I forget sometimes, many times (hell, too often entirely), to live, to take part in it. Part of me minds this, but it's so... fascinating to watch and listen. On my tiny patio rest then, alone for this Christmas day except for Fleur, the owner of the little (very relative term here 'little' as the rooms are ginormous, you could fit a very decently sized extended family into this 'little' bed and breakfast) who came in to feed me a breakfast of oranges, cheese, preserves, fresh bread and yogurt. We spoke for quite some time, I have a feeling that I may be an annoyance to people (mostly that is my own fear speaking, of rejection, of lack of want – hell my family didn't really want me, why would strangers?), but at the same time she doesn't seem to mind. Politics, war, religion, history – all those things that I love. Education, and how to keep a populace controlled you keep them ignorant, or fairly ignorant, and give them bread and circus. Just like Nero said. (supposedly.) I wound up comparing the hardline political ideals of the States in some ways to that of North Korea, China and the Taliban. (She asked me why the whole thing with al-Quaida and the Taliban couldn't just be stopped, and I had to explain that much of it has to do with fear and ignorance. People want answers, they don't care if they're the wrong answers, they just want answers. Of ANY sort that will assuage their fear and uncertainties. From where will I go when I die to how will I feed myself and my children tomorrow, people have fear. The less educated they are, the less informed of different ways of coping with those fears – the easier it is for someone to come in and tell them that the answers are all in this little box. That is control, that is hard line politics and religion. Which is rampant everywhere in this world in one fashion or another. If it isn't politics, it's religion and vice versa.) But we got into a big talk about that, with lots of questions coming from both of us for the other's viewpoint.

In the States, sure I could have that conversation, but.... all I would hear would be either the GOP or Demi points of view, with little regard to world view or history. OR I would hear something about religion. And it would blow up into a whole huge argument. I'm neither Demi or GOP or Indipendant or whatever. While I agree more often with the Demis, I still feel that they're freakin' bleedin' heart liberals too often, not taking certain crimes and issues close enough to heart. But the GOP is a bunch of good ole'boys who want to keep people ignorant, so that they can come in and give the masses bread and circus.

Now, this rumination wasn't meant to turn into anything political, I was merely giving a recounting (of a very general sort) of what my Christmas day has held. There are no presents, excluding the trip to Ronda itself, there are no people (except the visit from Fleur), and for dinner, I shall be eating at a restaurant. At least that will be crowded probably, according to Fleur, that makes me happy. I like the sound of people, even if I'm not amongst them. It is a skill I've had to cultivate my whole life. Rarely am I in the crowd, usually outside of it, and so I learned quickly to appreciate the intricacies of looking in the window rather than being in the house so to speak.

Yesterday, Lidia again was one of the most kind people, she took me to her family's for a Christmas Eve lunch in San Pedro where I took the bus to Ronda in the evening. Her mother is lovely, and very welcoming, so is her father. I can see where Lidia gets much of her sweetness, she's had a wonderful home to grow up in, and to learn how to be herself and stand on her own two feet. Also met her two younger brothers, my, my, my is all I hafta say. Some serious eye-candy. Unfortunately I don't know much about their personalities, but I imagine with some age and experience they may become wonderful men. But that is to be seen. Being good looking can be a hindrance to personal skills and empathy for others sometimes.

So, so far? My Christmas is better than I expected it to be, but at the same time, it sorta sucks to be alone for yet another Christmas. That is not to say I would trade a single moment of the time here in Spain for all the company in the world. Unless it was with a nude Rain in a big fluffy bed snuggling. Or having a bushel of ninos of my own, a honey to help me with them, and a big assed mug of chai. But I have a few more years to get to that point.

For now I find satisfaction in gazing out over the mountains, shrouded in fog, knowing that I have to write some more, but feeling slightly stuck. Oh well, that's life. Oh, and wishing I had some milk for my coffee. Later I may trek out and see if any of the stores are open (probably none of them, but maybe one) to buy a little milk for coffee for later.

...The worst news - is that apparently I'm a lying, cheating whore, who manipulates everything/one around me into doing my will.
According to Chuck.
Which has now led to me being banned from one of my favorite places to go *shrugs* but I'm only here for another month what do I care? I care that one of my friends chose to believe Chuck over me because he (the friend in question) didn't want to think that someone could say/do the things Chuck said/did. Because they were horrible. He wanted/wants to believe that it's better that I made some fucked up shit about stuff rather than what was said - because he's afraid that Chuck was right in his reasoning for making the threats he did. *shrugs* Look, Chuck wanted to play the song of pain/lies/agression/destruction and plucked strings.
I did my best to silence and prevent that song from being played.
And when it was? I sought to silence it.
Now - if my friends wish to listen, then so be it - there's nothing else I can do. And that's fine. I went above and beyond what was required of me, and so I'm being penalized. It just makes me sad that they want to listen to something like that. To someone like that.
Whatever.
Now - onto the bad news!
My birthday was both crap and not crap. I didn't get my pressies from Chuck - that he'd already bought for me I may add - because he decided to be a manipulative asshat. And I didn't get to go to club.
At least - not gothnite. I did get to go to the U.C. (University Club) which is the gay/lesbian/bi/whateverthefuckyoulike club.... On DRAG NIGHT
I got accosted by Lady Pearl (DragQueen extrodinaire - think Divine, not like RuPaul) who asked me what the hell I'd done ot my hair. My answer? "A pastel rainbow puked on me." She liked it, and so didn't razz me the rest of the night, at least not like she does with everyone else. I had fun.

Good news!
I had fun on my bday despite bullshit drama!
Oh! And I also did a photoshoot with my friend KT. My first one ever - so be kind about the pickies. It was also impromptu.
Oh heck, just go to my gallery, http://pics.livejournal.com/1smut_princess/gallery/0000q2w7 to see the rest of them. Well there's only five that I uploaded, there's actually like 80-100 picks from the actual 'shoot. Most of them are bein' submitted for other things. So the five I uploaded are just my faves from the leftovers...I'l
 

Okay, y'know what? I'm not some boy-crazy girl. Nope, no sireee! But from what I'm about to say - I coulda fooled ya, huh? Yeah. Boys. Men. I hate them, I like them, but my god they make me irritated.
....
....
Okay, there was Grant - I liked him, hell I was pretty much in love with him (I so do not fall in love easily, and to tell the truth - I still have feelings for his dumbass), but his head was so far up his butt that if I wanted to pull it out (and I did and part of me still does) I'd have to do more than just reach up there to grab it. I'd have to nab a set of spelunking gear, climb up there, dig around looking for his head (which may never be found even then) and once I've got a hold of it - somehow yank it down and out to the real world. I know a lost cause when it hits me upside the head, thankyouverymuch. So - I struck him off my list when it became apparent that my efforts would be entirely in vain.
Doesn't mean I don't ache every time he and I come into contact, doesn't mean I don't hope he somehow gets his head outta his ass and gets a good, emotionally fulfilling life and y'know - all that.

*clears throat*So, you'd think that I'd be safe after this yes?
Wrong, nope, oh sooo wrong.

Okay, meet a boy at Acension (the club I frequent, it's very small, most everyone knows each other etc and we're mostly all friends, or at least frienamies) and okay, he's not all that good looking, but he's not all that bad looking. Personally if he weren't a goth, and weren't a g33kus maximus (and yes, he's so geeky it must be spelled with two '3's, which is the sort of thing I've always found impossibly endearing) he'd be extremely unattractive to me. But he simply reeks of "I play D&D, own all consoles known to man, and read webcomics, go to Cons, dress up for Cons, hell make my own costumes for Cons, and I read extensively" and that just makes him.... I dunno why... but... like... hot to me. I like men with brains. I like men with brains that're somewhere near the size of my own. I mean for fucks sake - he's a nuclear physicist! Does this not scream "I'm shy, somewhat socially inept, please cuddle and love the l334 g33k" to you? 
Okay, so he throws woo my way.
Not just a little woo - we're talkin' "Lemme woo you and let's have babies" woo. The "I want you to meet my Catholic Cuban mother, and my Jewish father" kinda woo. The "Let's snuggle and I shall then feed you handmade chcoolates that I made just for you" woo. The "I shall sacrifice my physical comfort for you, and you can steal all the blankets, use me as a pillow, and crank the AC down to 65F so that the bodyheat I radiate does not leave you in a puddle, and go ahead, glomp onto me all night long, put my neck, shoulder, and hip outta joint" sort of woo. The "I shall let you do humilating things to me - like put a purple tiara on my head, and make me play with your two year old neice" kind of woo.
He calls me up in the middle of the night to make sure I've eaten. He texts me to find out if I need a hug. He calls to tell me he was thinking about me, and wondering what I thought of some game. I can go over to his place day or night, and tell him I just wanted to poke him, do so, and leave. I steal his clothes. He tells me I'm beautiful.
.....
.....
Everyone thinks he's my boyfriend - and it's not simply because of how I act(ed).
I thought for once, for once things might be okay. That I might be safe. That the fact that I cared about him wouldn't be turned down or away. That the fact that I'm not built like a cheerleader wouldn't be a hinderance.
 

Author’s Note: So what happens when you take a minor writing hiatus on a character, hear a song in a club, then all you can do is think “Hey, this reminds me of such and so, so damn much…” then you forget about it for a good long while. Then the song comes up on your playlist and again you’re reminded of a certain fictional someone.

Yeah, at a place I frequent with my friends every Friday a song came on and I’ll tell ya – the only thing I could think about was Norren. I couldn’t get the image outta my head of him spitting in someone’s face outta my head. I know, unpleasant image, but nonetheless it seemed to just work. From that this story was born. For informational purposes, the song was by Combichrist and it’s called ‘This Is My Rifle’. Yeah. Not for little kids that song, nor all palates.

Title: Flitter
Author: Rhion
Rating: K
Summary: People pass through our lives like butterflies.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Fluff
Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue!

AN: I was talking to Nat and Autumn, and I said that people come and go like butterflies… Which put this idea in my head. Written for the Stolen Moments YahooGroup's Session One Fic Challenge. I leave the ending ambigious so you can decide what happens. Personally I think she stays, but didn't want to actually say it, because I feel it would ruin the delicacy of the story.