At long last, I have determined that there is nothing else to do before I turn in my senior paper later today. Sure, I didn't exactly correct everything my reviewer suggested, which is contrary to the purpose of getting a high grade, but then, (s)he wasn't very specific on what I needed to do. Serves him/her right if it's not the way (s)he wants it. Sheesh... Even I know better than to be vague in reviewing.
Anyway.
It's done.
I'm making webpages later, but now I have to go study for the AP Physics test first period. ttyl
Thursday, December 07, 2006
I have to complain a little about my reader for the senior paper. He didn't really make any sense. Here, take a look at his comments:
Scored outstanding in "The writer documents his sources and does not allow his research (support) to "write" his paper." But then he said... "Do not allow your sources to write the paper for you." And... "Identify all quotes and sources before you use them in your text."
Scored outstanding in "The writer demonstrates a clear understanding of the issue/subject.' But then he said... "Make clear what you know about the subject."
"You must work on... removing sentence errors." None of which my peer editor, two English teachers, or I caught, by the way.
Scored satisfactory in "Errors in grammer and usage do not interfere with the understanding of the paper." But then he said... "Grammatical and punctuation errors seriously hurt the quality of the paper."
WHICH IS IT?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO UNDERSTAND?
Please, Mr. or Mrs. English Teacher, write descriptive sentences! You're speaking in general terms; what are your specific examples?
Scored outstanding in "The writer documents his sources and does not allow his research (support) to "write" his paper." But then he said... "Do not allow your sources to write the paper for you." And... "Identify all quotes and sources before you use them in your text."
Scored outstanding in "The writer demonstrates a clear understanding of the issue/subject.' But then he said... "Make clear what you know about the subject."
"You must work on... removing sentence errors." None of which my peer editor, two English teachers, or I caught, by the way.
Scored satisfactory in "Errors in grammer and usage do not interfere with the understanding of the paper." But then he said... "Grammatical and punctuation errors seriously hurt the quality of the paper."
WHICH IS IT?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO UNDERSTAND?
Please, Mr. or Mrs. English Teacher, write descriptive sentences! You're speaking in general terms; what are your specific examples?
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Amusing, eh? All this work to get up to the twelfth grade. (And I still can't spell...) Oh, but that's not all. All this: having gained my parents' trust, along with a great relationship with them; having read so much when I was young and written so much since; having worked hard enough in all my classes to think I have a chance of getting accepted at MIT; having attended such wonderful opportunities as Alpha, SRU's writing workshop, and PGSS--Having gained all that responsibility and respect from hard work and trustworthiness, only to return to our beloved school and find that the teachers don't trust us, that you need have no responsibility for your own time, because they're certain you can't make good use of it.
Okay, so honestly, I don't always make good use of time. Take the fact that I'm sitting here typing (with my pinkies sore from writing too much HTML recently and using the shift keys so much) rather than studying or modifying my web pages so they can actually look cool or writing my beloved "Best Left Dead." *shrug* I don't have to make sense, do I? At least I am exercizing my mind much more than I was when I awoke to Narnia's soundtrack this morning. Man, was my mind numb!
I am wondering, though, how much I did wrong on that assignment I just handed in. She was so certain it would take all period. Is it just the phase of the year that I'm good at memorizing stuff suddenly? Is it genetics--do computers just seem an extension of myself, as they seem to for my family?
Okay, so honestly, I don't always make good use of time. Take the fact that I'm sitting here typing (with my pinkies sore from writing too much HTML recently and using the shift keys so much) rather than studying or modifying my web pages so they can actually look cool or writing my beloved "Best Left Dead." *shrug* I don't have to make sense, do I? At least I am exercizing my mind much more than I was when I awoke to Narnia's soundtrack this morning. Man, was my mind numb!
I am wondering, though, how much I did wrong on that assignment I just handed in. She was so certain it would take all period. Is it just the phase of the year that I'm good at memorizing stuff suddenly? Is it genetics--do computers just seem an extension of myself, as they seem to for my family?
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
You are Orange Wolf type, who is plain and simple. You give an impression of being very clean and tidy. You don't get shy and are open sort of woman. You are very straight forward in that you do not really care about the others feelings and emotions. Therefore people think you lack feminine consideration.You are intelligent person, and have wide knowledge. You will not be influenced by emotions and therefore can make decisions objectively.You can express your individuality well, but in personal life, you tend to build a wall around you and will not let others intrude your life. This makes you open to criticism.You think high of your private life, and may not be able to see the situation you are placed. You can make calm decisions, and your criticism may give a wrong impression of you, but really you are kind and generous person.To those who can read your true feelings, they will appreciate your greatness. You don't have any wicked feelings, and are person of pure heart. You show humane generosity to people around you.You don't care about public opinion, and you live your life at your own pace. You will take time as long as you think is necessary before you come up with conclusion that you believe to be reasonable. And once you decide on things, you will go for a long term version, and your result will be consistent and steady.You can observe men well, and will choose by taking your future into consideration. After getting married, you will be better at being a mother than a wife. You will not depend on your husband so much and will have an ideal family.
Orange
Wolf
Earth.
Got everything right except the earth part, which says I'm a lot more methodical than I am. Ha ha lol. Probably worth it for the orange wolf part, which says "can give one's heart and soul for his passion"
http://world.doubutsu-uranai.com/
Orange
Wolf
Earth.
Got everything right except the earth part, which says I'm a lot more methodical than I am. Ha ha lol. Probably worth it for the orange wolf part, which says "can give one's heart and soul for his passion"
http://world.doubutsu-uranai.com/
Three simple questions I propose:
It wouldn't be fair for me to ask if I wouldn't answer.
I am fond of four:
The Zhirrzh from Timothy Zahn's Conqueror's trilogy. In the first book, they seemed the most hostile, inhuman race I had ever come across, yet in the second, they seemed so human. The juxtaposition is intriguing, but they're just too alien for me. In the end, I would like to stay mostly human, thank you.
The Fremen from Frank Herbert's Dune. Their culture is entirely based on water, so much so that they almost worship it. Almost every activity in their daily lives is tied to water somehow. Even though their human, their culture is odd enough for me to consider them alien. But it does seem a rather bland livestyle, so I would never wish to be one.
The Tok'ra from the series Stargate. I think what fascinates me about the Tok'ra is that they're a real mix of things that, as humans, disgust us and things that we're extrememly comfortable with. On the one hand, what makes a Tok'ra a Tok'ra is the symbiote that crawls into a host's skin and anchors itself to the host's brain, allowing it to, at times, take complete control of motor skills and probably a few other systems. We humans don't really like the possibility of something controlling us, especially physically. Nor are we particularly warm toward the idea of something living in us. And for that matter, most of us wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of no secrets whatsoever that the Tok'ra hold so fond. Yet in all that, the symbiotes respect their hosts as individuals, or they would think nothing of taking a host against his will. They hold no secrets among their ranks (supposedly), but yet they're spies. They seem rather philanthropic yet they're bent on the utter destruction of the Goa'uld. More juxtaposition. Fun.
Finally, the Pack from Wen Spencer's Ukiah quartet. Like the Tok'ra, the Pack is a blend of opposites. They're caring and compassionate, yet they're all FBI Most Wanted for a whole host of crimes, including the murder necessitated by the war only they know to fight. They stress individuality, but only because they're so close to having only one collective mind. One of my favorite scenes from the entire series is when Ukiah, the gentle protagonist who is part of the Pack by lineage, not action, is started in a Giant Eagle when Rennie, the Pack leader with a reputation as a mass murderer, picks up Ukiah's "son" and starts to treat him like his grandson. It's lovely.
So for the third question, I'm not sure; it's a tie between the Tok'ra and the Pack. Both heal quickly and easily, but both races began as a fight against a larger, fundamentally evil, mother species. The Tok'ra have a decent life span of about 200 years for hosts and 2000 years for symbiotes, but the Pack members can only die by murder. You know, the potentially infinite lifespan might be tempting if you didn't realize that the Pack members have about a thousand enemies bent on world domination and the utter destruction of the Pack. Me being who I am now, I couldn't be either. I couldn't put myself in a position where I would be obliged to kill even the evillest creatures in the galaxy. (That's what I think now, while these things only play across the small theater of my mind.) If I were either, though... *sigh* Blood mice... I would have to be a Tok'ra. In the end, my intolerance for pain wins out. Being a Pack member would leave too many chances to heal from the dead and be killed all over again. That's not my cup of tea, so I'd rather be a Tok'ra and be allowed to work on cool technology. Besides, Tok'ra have neat things like zats and holographic projectors, space craft, and blue crystal tunnels. All Pack members have is motorcycles, a few blankets, and a bunch of conventional weaponry, ie. machine guns, knives, etc. I'm definately more of a laser weapon person than a projectile person.
Laser Beams--pewpewpew!
What d'y'all think?
- What alien race most fascinates you?
- Why?
- Which would you be if you had a chance?
It wouldn't be fair for me to ask if I wouldn't answer.
I am fond of four:
The Zhirrzh from Timothy Zahn's Conqueror's trilogy. In the first book, they seemed the most hostile, inhuman race I had ever come across, yet in the second, they seemed so human. The juxtaposition is intriguing, but they're just too alien for me. In the end, I would like to stay mostly human, thank you.
The Fremen from Frank Herbert's Dune. Their culture is entirely based on water, so much so that they almost worship it. Almost every activity in their daily lives is tied to water somehow. Even though their human, their culture is odd enough for me to consider them alien. But it does seem a rather bland livestyle, so I would never wish to be one.
The Tok'ra from the series Stargate. I think what fascinates me about the Tok'ra is that they're a real mix of things that, as humans, disgust us and things that we're extrememly comfortable with. On the one hand, what makes a Tok'ra a Tok'ra is the symbiote that crawls into a host's skin and anchors itself to the host's brain, allowing it to, at times, take complete control of motor skills and probably a few other systems. We humans don't really like the possibility of something controlling us, especially physically. Nor are we particularly warm toward the idea of something living in us. And for that matter, most of us wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of no secrets whatsoever that the Tok'ra hold so fond. Yet in all that, the symbiotes respect their hosts as individuals, or they would think nothing of taking a host against his will. They hold no secrets among their ranks (supposedly), but yet they're spies. They seem rather philanthropic yet they're bent on the utter destruction of the Goa'uld. More juxtaposition. Fun.
Finally, the Pack from Wen Spencer's Ukiah quartet. Like the Tok'ra, the Pack is a blend of opposites. They're caring and compassionate, yet they're all FBI Most Wanted for a whole host of crimes, including the murder necessitated by the war only they know to fight. They stress individuality, but only because they're so close to having only one collective mind. One of my favorite scenes from the entire series is when Ukiah, the gentle protagonist who is part of the Pack by lineage, not action, is started in a Giant Eagle when Rennie, the Pack leader with a reputation as a mass murderer, picks up Ukiah's "son" and starts to treat him like his grandson. It's lovely.
So for the third question, I'm not sure; it's a tie between the Tok'ra and the Pack. Both heal quickly and easily, but both races began as a fight against a larger, fundamentally evil, mother species. The Tok'ra have a decent life span of about 200 years for hosts and 2000 years for symbiotes, but the Pack members can only die by murder. You know, the potentially infinite lifespan might be tempting if you didn't realize that the Pack members have about a thousand enemies bent on world domination and the utter destruction of the Pack. Me being who I am now, I couldn't be either. I couldn't put myself in a position where I would be obliged to kill even the evillest creatures in the galaxy. (That's what I think now, while these things only play across the small theater of my mind.) If I were either, though... *sigh* Blood mice... I would have to be a Tok'ra. In the end, my intolerance for pain wins out. Being a Pack member would leave too many chances to heal from the dead and be killed all over again. That's not my cup of tea, so I'd rather be a Tok'ra and be allowed to work on cool technology. Besides, Tok'ra have neat things like zats and holographic projectors, space craft, and blue crystal tunnels. All Pack members have is motorcycles, a few blankets, and a bunch of conventional weaponry, ie. machine guns, knives, etc. I'm definately more of a laser weapon person than a projectile person.
Laser Beams--pewpewpew!
What d'y'all think?
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
NHS vs. PGSS
Please somebody explain this to me.
On my third application to the organization, I got into the National Honor Society. The induction was last night, so lately, I've been seriously thinking about the oath they make you take, though quite seriously, there is no way they can make you believe in it if your acceptance is contingent on whether you repeat after the president.
"I, being made aware of the honor which is being bestowed upon me by my acceptance in the National Honor Society..."
Except that no one did make us aware of the honor. Okay, so they made us work at it to get in, and they told us we were accepted, and NHS has a sort of reputation out there that people who have already been through school are aware of. But the fifty or so of us first-time students standing with candles in the school auditorium last night--who told us? What is the honor of which we're now apparently aware? What even is honor?
To me, honor is accepting only that which you have worked for.
Receiving an honor was being recognized for outstanding reading, computer achievement, writing, and creativity in fourth grade out of my entire class.
Receiving an honor wasn't accepting participation trophies in cheerleading, dance, and gymnastics.
Receiving an honor was being picked to go to art camp over the summer in elementary school.
Receiving an honor was being allowed into the gifted program at the middle school.
Receiving an honor wasn't doing well on achievement tests and the subsequent awards with them.
Receiving an honor was being accepted to Alpha writer's workshop and notified as a semifinalists for the governor's school for arts for creative writing.
Receiving an honor was being accepted to the governor's school for sciences, being allowed to learn volumes over the summer and meet a whole bunch of cool people, and in the end, standing up with a certificate of commendation for surviving the five weeks.
Where is the honor in being accepted to the National Honor Society when it is contingent on activities that I'm committed to for other reasons and already being rewarded for? If academics come naturally because of what my parents have taught; if service comes naturally because of my committment to God; if leadership comes naturally because of my committment to myself to be only myself; if character comes naturally because... because I've committed myself to God and He made me to be me--if all these things come naturally and I earn their natural consequences because of them, what is the honor in National Honor Society? Is it just formal recognition from the school for what others have already commented loudly on?
If so, is that such a good idea? If I've already been recognized too much, how is one more "honor" going to affect my perception of myself? I'm so afraid that if I lose an accurate view of who I am, of where I fit, of the measure of how good (or bad) I am and the measure of how far I will always have to go, how am I to preserve that which people recognize? (In other words, what if I get a big head?)
One last thought.
Sitting in the auditorium last night, thinking about what each of the speakers said, thinking of how much work God still has for me, I did not feel half as honored there, among my classmates and those in the grade beneath me, as I did to be sitting at the banquet at the end of Governor's School among ninety-nine incredible juniors and seniors, their families, and our professors. Whereas NHS has an emphasis on continued service, PGSS had an emphasis on learning with a little bit of service. Yet in my opinion, the average govie excelled more in all four areas--academics, service, leadership, and character--than the everage NHS member. Maybe the difference was creativity. Maybe the difference was the pool from which the memberships were drawn. In either case, I will always be more proud and feel more honored to be a govie than a member of the National Honor Society.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Just puttin' a probe out to see if anyone would be interested in me posting my entire, unedited senior paper on here when I finish. I say unedited, because I've been averaging almost three hundred words per paragraph, I'm a hundred and fifty words over my total, and I've got four paragraphs to go. It's about how science fiction aids in the development of technology and scientific theories, with the main points being:
- It disperses uncommon ideas.
- It generates interest in related fields.
- It encourages people to enter related fields.
- It inspires scientists and inventors.
If anyone's interested just leave me a comment, and I'll post as soon as I'm finished.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
So, basically, everything in html goes in these litte arrows, but I doubt they'll show up in here. <> If they don't, just use the "," and ".", only with shift. Excluding the brackets, a basic webpage has to have the following.
html
head
title
/title
/head
body
/body
/html
The / just ends whatever command was opened earlier. I think you can figure it out from here if I just give you the tags and say what they are.
html--opens the page
head--I wish I knew. It just goes at the top where nobody sees. Anything in the head section won't be visible on the page.
title--what you want to display up above the menu bar on the webpage
body--where you put the stuff you want people to see
center--centers stuff after it.
em--italics
strong--bold
h1 (or) h2 (or) h3 (or) h4 (or) h5 (or) h6--heading tags. Makes stuff big and bold.
hr -- horizontal rule. These are handy; I use them in ff.net all the time.
p --paragraph. Automatically puts spaces between paragraphs.
!--blah, etc-- --comments
ol--ordered list. You know, with numbers.
ul--unordered list with bullets
--definition list--didn't teach
br--open tag, needs no closing--puts a blank line
COLOR SITES for HTML codes:
http://www.immigration-usa.com/html_colors.html
http://www.ctyme.com/colors.htm
html
head
title
/title
/head
body
/body
/html
The / just ends whatever command was opened earlier. I think you can figure it out from here if I just give you the tags and say what they are.
html--opens the page
head--I wish I knew. It just goes at the top where nobody sees. Anything in the head section won't be visible on the page.
title--what you want to display up above the menu bar on the webpage
body--where you put the stuff you want people to see
center--centers stuff after it.
em--italics
strong--bold
h1 (or) h2 (or) h3 (or) h4 (or) h5 (or) h6--heading tags. Makes stuff big and bold.
hr -- horizontal rule. These are handy; I use them in ff.net all the time.
p --paragraph. Automatically puts spaces between paragraphs.
!--blah, etc-- --comments
ol--ordered list. You know, with numbers.
ul--unordered list with bullets
--definition list--didn't teach
br--open tag, needs no closing--puts a blank line
COLOR SITES for HTML codes:
http://www.immigration-usa.com/html_colors.html
http://www.ctyme.com/colors.htm
Monday, November 13, 2006
- HTML fiddling
*evil laughter ensues*
So, here I am, sitting in compsci again. Lunch is next period. That's shiney. So... The teacher's telling us to type our schudules in a list in an html document. Somehow, that bothers me. I mean, I don't mind it so much on here, when I go into rants about each one, but I don't like just listing it all like that. I dunno.
La. My paper's going pretty well. Hey, I should be working on that project that's due tomorrow. Okeeday. ttyl. Y'all have fun until I find something to do with all this random text.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Boo.
Should be working on senior project. Or the class I'm sitting in, webpage design. But... I'll have time. My fingers hurt; my nails were long for so long, my fingertips are now really sensitive to pressure. But it'll go away. It always does. And then I can go back to playing guitar in time to relearn all my holiday music.
But I'm happy. My physics teacher let me do the problems I overlooked on the test yesterday, and it took me much less time than I expected. I should worship God in the morning much more often! I can always think better afterwards.
You know, God is pretty amazing. Just wanted to point that out. Really looking forward to the youth retreat tomorrow. Unfortunately, one of the members of my church (who gave my dad and his wife a pair of incredible drawings as a wedding present) died on Monday, and we're leaving shortly after the memorial service. I don't quite know what to think, because I don't think I ever saw or spoke to him, but I hope it doesn't dampen the start of the youth retreat too much. From what I've gathered, I doubt he would want to negatively affect a retreat.
ttfn.
Should be working on senior project. Or the class I'm sitting in, webpage design. But... I'll have time. My fingers hurt; my nails were long for so long, my fingertips are now really sensitive to pressure. But it'll go away. It always does. And then I can go back to playing guitar in time to relearn all my holiday music.
But I'm happy. My physics teacher let me do the problems I overlooked on the test yesterday, and it took me much less time than I expected. I should worship God in the morning much more often! I can always think better afterwards.
You know, God is pretty amazing. Just wanted to point that out. Really looking forward to the youth retreat tomorrow. Unfortunately, one of the members of my church (who gave my dad and his wife a pair of incredible drawings as a wedding present) died on Monday, and we're leaving shortly after the memorial service. I don't quite know what to think, because I don't think I ever saw or spoke to him, but I hope it doesn't dampen the start of the youth retreat too much. From what I've gathered, I doubt he would want to negatively affect a retreat.
ttfn.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
It's Wednesday. Lab day. I miss PGSS. But it wasn't so bad. Actually, it's rather interesting to calculate the components of the forces acting on an object that's hanging by three strings. But I'm a nerd, and I just proved it again. (If you're interested, the final results were 3.46 N i, 10.2 N j, and 10.2 N k for 1 kg.) Anyway, I'm bored. I'm trying not to finish Tamora Pierce's "Sandry's Book" until after the English test 5th period. No sense getting me all confused and trying to put four teenage mages into "In Cold Blood." The little voice inside my head that gets all the answers right says that would be a bad thing.
But other than that, there's not much going on today. "Meet at the Flagpole" was this morning, but I only caught the tail end of it, because I rode the bus. It stinks, but it was enough so that I'm not in a bad mood now, thank God. (Literally.)
Okay, technically, I should go. Lunch starts in about one minute, and it takes longer than that to log off.
Bis spaeter.
But other than that, there's not much going on today. "Meet at the Flagpole" was this morning, but I only caught the tail end of it, because I rode the bus. It stinks, but it was enough so that I'm not in a bad mood now, thank God. (Literally.)
Okay, technically, I should go. Lunch starts in about one minute, and it takes longer than that to log off.
Bis spaeter.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Trapped. Restricted. They (the "establishment," to pull from sixties terminology) must realize that all the rules, the regulations, the interruptions in the midst of tests that come on the most inconvenient days, are succeeding in making me despise a whole lot of things. Crowds. Honestly, I can only stand them in certain situations. Like Creation. I don't really mind crowds there. Well, I do, but I don't mind them as much as I do here, where everyone stumbles down the halls in semi-living stupors.
Really, I just hate reading In Cold Blood, and I know I'm supposed to have the last... 30 pages read by fifth period. If it were by Tamora Pierce or Wen Spencer, I know I'd have no trouble whatsoever. But authors with more complex writing, such as Timothy Zahn or Frank Herbert, their books take longer. And authors with boring writing and dry subjects, well, their works are just impossible. But I guess that's what nonfiction's for--making sure you're still able to read the most impossible literature on the face of the planet. I'm just griping. We have this whole stupid mandatory reading thing yet to go, and I actually have material I have to read during it. But when I'm done, if my muse returns, they can't stop me. The whole point of the reading time is so that we can do better on the PSSAs. Well, surprisingly enough, I didn't do as well on writing as anything else--there was one area I didn't score "advanced" in. Therefore, it would be logical to conclude that my "sentence" during this time should be to write, no?
On a brighter note, if people would just leave me alone and if I had nothing better to do, I'd be done with my senior paper by now. One of the next things we need to do is find six valid sources for information, all in varied media. Well, whahoo. I've got seven webpages, three pdf's, two books, a magazine, four reference books, and a list of six plausible contacts for interviews. I think I'm set, and that's not even been assigned yet. I think it's due October 19th. lol. Put the word "science fiction" in something, and I'm biting at the bit to finish. But, alas, inclusion classes must progress at the pace of their slowest members, and we only work on senior project one day a week. Three days are for "modern humanities" and one day is reserved for artists. I'm bored.
On an even brighter note, Timothy Zahn made it into the refrence books I was looking in this morning, as did Frank Herbert, Arthur C. Clark, and H.G. Wells. Tamora Pierce isn't there yet.
So... I should get back to the murder story. I have an essay to write on it tonight and no time in which to do it. I also have a math test after English that I didn't study for. But I swear I did homework all afternoon yesterday! I just have so little to show for it...
Really, I just hate reading In Cold Blood, and I know I'm supposed to have the last... 30 pages read by fifth period. If it were by Tamora Pierce or Wen Spencer, I know I'd have no trouble whatsoever. But authors with more complex writing, such as Timothy Zahn or Frank Herbert, their books take longer. And authors with boring writing and dry subjects, well, their works are just impossible. But I guess that's what nonfiction's for--making sure you're still able to read the most impossible literature on the face of the planet. I'm just griping. We have this whole stupid mandatory reading thing yet to go, and I actually have material I have to read during it. But when I'm done, if my muse returns, they can't stop me. The whole point of the reading time is so that we can do better on the PSSAs. Well, surprisingly enough, I didn't do as well on writing as anything else--there was one area I didn't score "advanced" in. Therefore, it would be logical to conclude that my "sentence" during this time should be to write, no?
On a brighter note, if people would just leave me alone and if I had nothing better to do, I'd be done with my senior paper by now. One of the next things we need to do is find six valid sources for information, all in varied media. Well, whahoo. I've got seven webpages, three pdf's, two books, a magazine, four reference books, and a list of six plausible contacts for interviews. I think I'm set, and that's not even been assigned yet. I think it's due October 19th. lol. Put the word "science fiction" in something, and I'm biting at the bit to finish. But, alas, inclusion classes must progress at the pace of their slowest members, and we only work on senior project one day a week. Three days are for "modern humanities" and one day is reserved for artists. I'm bored.
On an even brighter note, Timothy Zahn made it into the refrence books I was looking in this morning, as did Frank Herbert, Arthur C. Clark, and H.G. Wells. Tamora Pierce isn't there yet.
So... I should get back to the murder story. I have an essay to write on it tonight and no time in which to do it. I also have a math test after English that I didn't study for. But I swear I did homework all afternoon yesterday! I just have so little to show for it...
Monday, September 25, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Quote of the day: "Captain, where there's a will, there's an or."
Question of the day: Why can't more people be better in school?
Ted's question: Why can't you stay home from school?
I'm bored.
Can't you tell?
I'm bored.
Bored as...
;) j/k I'm just totally disillusioned about school right now. It's slow. It's boring. Our assignment in computer class today was to make a new file and save four images in it. HA! What a joke! That took a grand total of two minutes, and only because I was picky about it and wanted to get the pics off my flash, but the school computers don't load flashes unless you're logged off when you plug them in.
I starting reading again this morning--Timothy Zahn's Spinnerette--and found out I only have the first quarter. It's a tough call now whether to continue or to stop. I don't want to get a whole quarter of the way into it and not be able to get my hands on the rest. But anyway. Hopefully the prologue was enough to lure my muse back. Okay, so obviously not since I"m on here.
Hey, I"m going to go type up a letter to the principal. ttyl.
Question of the day: Why can't more people be better in school?
Ted's question: Why can't you stay home from school?
I'm bored.
Can't you tell?
I'm bored.
Bored as...
;) j/k I'm just totally disillusioned about school right now. It's slow. It's boring. Our assignment in computer class today was to make a new file and save four images in it. HA! What a joke! That took a grand total of two minutes, and only because I was picky about it and wanted to get the pics off my flash, but the school computers don't load flashes unless you're logged off when you plug them in.
I starting reading again this morning--Timothy Zahn's Spinnerette--and found out I only have the first quarter. It's a tough call now whether to continue or to stop. I don't want to get a whole quarter of the way into it and not be able to get my hands on the rest. But anyway. Hopefully the prologue was enough to lure my muse back. Okay, so obviously not since I"m on here.
Hey, I"m going to go type up a letter to the principal. ttyl.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
So... I've gotten complaints that I don't update often enough, and since I said I would during the "activity period" today and never did, I'll go now.
PHysics--boring as usual; went over circular motion for a while then started programming our SAM-bots. We had just typed in a piece of program when the bell rang. I was late to purpose.
Purpose--Not much here. Added a couple phrases in "Shogakun" and started getting ready to send "Take Care" to F&SF. I'll work on it more next week. Just wish it were quiet in there so I could work.
German--Not used to seeing nude mermaid pictures. Not sure I want to be used to it, either. All well.
Webpage--Good class for multitasking. I read "Shogakun" *and* did my work; the teacher goes too slow. Waaaaay too slow. Maybe it'll be better next semester.
English--What's his name keeps poking me. I am so going to flip out one of these times. I warned him, so it's not really all *that* uncalled-for. Presentation tomorrow about the perfect school. Only two-thirds of our group actually contributed. We tried, but the other girl didn't talk. Her loss, hopefully.
Calc--Russo wasn't there today. Made me sad; the student teacher is incredibly boring. Russo can at least disguise the fact that you're going over old material by using humor. The student teacher thought we'd never gone over it before. I worked on tonight's homework all period.
Acting--I was so looking forward to it, but alas, today was picture day, so the juniors took over the auditorium, which meant we couldn't do our stage fighting. :( So we played Mafia in the chorus room with a deck of cards we weren't supposed to have.
Econ--slow. But I guess that's okay. The teacher's entertaining, at least, so it's not so bad. I got my life somewhat organized, at least, as much as I can without actually doing anything. He says this chapter's hard, but that's only because we're working with graphs and their applications to real life and the explanatory variable is on the y-axis, which is stupid. C'est la vie.
Forgot to remake the Halloween invitations. All well, Maybe I"ll do it over the weekend. But I did at least engineer two fake people for the party. One is an ominous figure in all black with a mask, so without looking carefully, you can't tell whether it's a real person or not. I attached to him the hand I usually hang from the ceiling and the "bloody" sword with a trigger so that when someone moves one of the chairs, the sword should move. But it doesn't work, as is true with most of my MacGyverisms. The other is a white ghost I usually have on the ground. She's hanging this year, though, complete with dangling high-heeled shoes.
I was thinking I might be a pirate this year, but I went with faerie instead (can't spell that word anymore). It's cool. Soft, black dress with teal, lace sleeves and curly, sheer, black, sparkling wings. It has potential.
Okay, I didn't mean to get on here, so I'm going to go to sleep. Good night.
PHysics--boring as usual; went over circular motion for a while then started programming our SAM-bots. We had just typed in a piece of program when the bell rang. I was late to purpose.
Purpose--Not much here. Added a couple phrases in "Shogakun" and started getting ready to send "Take Care" to F&SF. I'll work on it more next week. Just wish it were quiet in there so I could work.
German--Not used to seeing nude mermaid pictures. Not sure I want to be used to it, either. All well.
Webpage--Good class for multitasking. I read "Shogakun" *and* did my work; the teacher goes too slow. Waaaaay too slow. Maybe it'll be better next semester.
English--What's his name keeps poking me. I am so going to flip out one of these times. I warned him, so it's not really all *that* uncalled-for. Presentation tomorrow about the perfect school. Only two-thirds of our group actually contributed. We tried, but the other girl didn't talk. Her loss, hopefully.
Calc--Russo wasn't there today. Made me sad; the student teacher is incredibly boring. Russo can at least disguise the fact that you're going over old material by using humor. The student teacher thought we'd never gone over it before. I worked on tonight's homework all period.
Acting--I was so looking forward to it, but alas, today was picture day, so the juniors took over the auditorium, which meant we couldn't do our stage fighting. :( So we played Mafia in the chorus room with a deck of cards we weren't supposed to have.
Econ--slow. But I guess that's okay. The teacher's entertaining, at least, so it's not so bad. I got my life somewhat organized, at least, as much as I can without actually doing anything. He says this chapter's hard, but that's only because we're working with graphs and their applications to real life and the explanatory variable is on the y-axis, which is stupid. C'est la vie.
Forgot to remake the Halloween invitations. All well, Maybe I"ll do it over the weekend. But I did at least engineer two fake people for the party. One is an ominous figure in all black with a mask, so without looking carefully, you can't tell whether it's a real person or not. I attached to him the hand I usually hang from the ceiling and the "bloody" sword with a trigger so that when someone moves one of the chairs, the sword should move. But it doesn't work, as is true with most of my MacGyverisms. The other is a white ghost I usually have on the ground. She's hanging this year, though, complete with dangling high-heeled shoes.
I was thinking I might be a pirate this year, but I went with faerie instead (can't spell that word anymore). It's cool. Soft, black dress with teal, lace sleeves and curly, sheer, black, sparkling wings. It has potential.
Okay, I didn't mean to get on here, so I'm going to go to sleep. Good night.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Okay, guys! Who's happy? That would be me!
After a long and harrowing evening last night, trying to figure out the calculus part of physics that we almost covered in time for the test today (which went well, except for the last question, which I found two answers to), I am finally having a good morning!
So, anyway, getting an answer on the physics test was a plus.
Second period, I got called up to the guidance office while I was trying to work on Legacy. Nothing bad, just good news. But apparently, no one's really supposed to talk about it until they officially release the information on Sept. 13th. Okay, Caleb? September 13th!! So, I'll get to work on that then.
Third period was good, too, which is the real reason I'm on. I HAVE A FAN!!!!! One of the people from German got on last night and read THE ANNOUNCEMENT--the ENTIRE thing, and he loved it. He also read the first chapter of Legacy and is looking forward to more, and he says he's going to read "the rest," which could be embarrassing, considering how much worse they are. But if he enjoys it, more power to him.
And he says that I should send my ideas to the writers/people in control of stories at Stargate and see if they'll use it. Someone else suggested that, too. It just seems a bit presumptuous to me. I don't want to just write to them and say "Hey, a bunch of people really like my stories; would you like to use them for an episode/arc?" I mean, it'd be really cool, but it's also pretty gutsy. I don't think I could. But it's exciting to think that someone could get excited about my story. It's cool! I'm happy!
I'll go back and work on the third chapter of Legacy, then, since the good news from the guidance office took me away from it during study hall.
Y'all have a nice day, now, ya hear? I may be on again later!
After a long and harrowing evening last night, trying to figure out the calculus part of physics that we almost covered in time for the test today (which went well, except for the last question, which I found two answers to), I am finally having a good morning!
So, anyway, getting an answer on the physics test was a plus.
Second period, I got called up to the guidance office while I was trying to work on Legacy. Nothing bad, just good news. But apparently, no one's really supposed to talk about it until they officially release the information on Sept. 13th. Okay, Caleb? September 13th!! So, I'll get to work on that then.
Third period was good, too, which is the real reason I'm on. I HAVE A FAN!!!!! One of the people from German got on last night and read THE ANNOUNCEMENT--the ENTIRE thing, and he loved it. He also read the first chapter of Legacy and is looking forward to more, and he says he's going to read "the rest," which could be embarrassing, considering how much worse they are. But if he enjoys it, more power to him.
And he says that I should send my ideas to the writers/people in control of stories at Stargate and see if they'll use it. Someone else suggested that, too. It just seems a bit presumptuous to me. I don't want to just write to them and say "Hey, a bunch of people really like my stories; would you like to use them for an episode/arc?" I mean, it'd be really cool, but it's also pretty gutsy. I don't think I could. But it's exciting to think that someone could get excited about my story. It's cool! I'm happy!
I'll go back and work on the third chapter of Legacy, then, since the good news from the guidance office took me away from it during study hall.
Y'all have a nice day, now, ya hear? I may be on again later!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
thinking on screen for ideas for a snippet of writing...
what do you say when you and the person you're trying to encourage are both overwhelmed with grief? Is there anything you can say?
wow. this is really depressing. I don't feel like feeling depressed. What else can I write about? Legacy's pretty much a sad, dark story, despite. *mwa ha ha ha ha*
Ha, guess it doesn't matter.
what do you say when you and the person you're trying to encourage are both overwhelmed with grief? Is there anything you can say?
wow. this is really depressing. I don't feel like feeling depressed. What else can I write about? Legacy's pretty much a sad, dark story, despite
Ha, guess it doesn't matter.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Space Pirate
I always wanted to be a pirate. You know, the kind of pirate you read aobut in books with real paper pages. The ones who pillage and plunder and say cool sayings like "Shiver me timbers" and "But why is all the rum gone?" Okay, so I always knew they could keep the rape bit; that's far from getting on my to-do list. But the real draw of being a pirate, the part that everyone fantasizes about, is the freedom. There's nothin' holding you back because the law's already against you--and you're too swift and smart to be caught.
I always wanted to be a pirate. I just never had the finesse to really pull it off.
****
"What do you mean I can't go back to my ship?" A red-headed woman in a torn, soiled, but form-fitting flight suit slammed her fists agianst the counter in the Contraband Regulation Office of the United States.
The calm, brown-haired officer behind the counter spoke slowly. "Your ship and its contents are evidence against you in your upcoming hearing. Now, you have had the right to be silent since you entered." He laughed, as though the statement held some sort of humor. "Anything you say violating your Fifth Amendment rights will be used against you. You don't need an attorney yet, but if you want one, you'll find a way. You know the rest. Please don't resist as these officers escort you to a detention facility."
"No, look, I don't have any 'contraband' on my ship! Nothing! I'll leave if you want, go out to that new Alpha Centauri settlement..."
As calm as the man behind the counter, a pair of uniformed police officers stepped forward and each took the woman by an arm. She grasped the far edge of the counter and held on so tightly that her knuckles turnedd white. "Please, if nothing else, tell me what you found that makes you so sure I need to be locked away!"
The man didn't look up this time, but he did at least respond. "Human remains."
"What!" The woman jerked in the officers' grip and anchored her elbows over the counter's edge. "What do you mean you found human remains? There's none of that on my ship! You've got the wrong captin; mine's teh one that looks like wood--the Black Nebula. You've got the wrong ship; c'mon!"
Annoyed, one of the police pried her up with his shoulder and carried her out. All the while, she pounded steadily on his back.
****
Okay, so I'm a peaceful pirate. Sort of like Robin Hood. I don't do it for the riches; I only take what I need to keep going, and the Nebula's not fancy. I meant what I said back there; there'd better not be any 'human remains' on my ship, or someone's gettin' dropped at the next port. I don't kill people, and I don't want anyone to be harmed. If I stole so much from anyone that they can't live anymore on what they've got, well, they're welcome to come with.
Besides all that, I just plain don't want no one to be rottin' away on my ship! Dead bodies clog up the life support systems, and that's not something I want to have to replace!
I always wanted to be a pirate. You know, the kind of pirate you read aobut in books with real paper pages. The ones who pillage and plunder and say cool sayings like "Shiver me timbers" and "But why is all the rum gone?" Okay, so I always knew they could keep the rape bit; that's far from getting on my to-do list. But the real draw of being a pirate, the part that everyone fantasizes about, is the freedom. There's nothin' holding you back because the law's already against you--and you're too swift and smart to be caught.
I always wanted to be a pirate. I just never had the finesse to really pull it off.
****
"What do you mean I can't go back to my ship?" A red-headed woman in a torn, soiled, but form-fitting flight suit slammed her fists agianst the counter in the Contraband Regulation Office of the United States.
The calm, brown-haired officer behind the counter spoke slowly. "Your ship and its contents are evidence against you in your upcoming hearing. Now, you have had the right to be silent since you entered." He laughed, as though the statement held some sort of humor. "Anything you say violating your Fifth Amendment rights will be used against you. You don't need an attorney yet, but if you want one, you'll find a way. You know the rest. Please don't resist as these officers escort you to a detention facility."
"No, look, I don't have any 'contraband' on my ship! Nothing! I'll leave if you want, go out to that new Alpha Centauri settlement..."
As calm as the man behind the counter, a pair of uniformed police officers stepped forward and each took the woman by an arm. She grasped the far edge of the counter and held on so tightly that her knuckles turnedd white. "Please, if nothing else, tell me what you found that makes you so sure I need to be locked away!"
The man didn't look up this time, but he did at least respond. "Human remains."
"What!" The woman jerked in the officers' grip and anchored her elbows over the counter's edge. "What do you mean you found human remains? There's none of that on my ship! You've got the wrong captin; mine's teh one that looks like wood--the Black Nebula. You've got the wrong ship; c'mon!"
Annoyed, one of the police pried her up with his shoulder and carried her out. All the while, she pounded steadily on his back.
****
Okay, so I'm a peaceful pirate. Sort of like Robin Hood. I don't do it for the riches; I only take what I need to keep going, and the Nebula's not fancy. I meant what I said back there; there'd better not be any 'human remains' on my ship, or someone's gettin' dropped at the next port. I don't kill people, and I don't want anyone to be harmed. If I stole so much from anyone that they can't live anymore on what they've got, well, they're welcome to come with.
Besides all that, I just plain don't want no one to be rottin' away on my ship! Dead bodies clog up the life support systems, and that's not something I want to have to replace!
OC Spin-off of one of the early Stargate episodes....
Though the second honeymoon was his idea, Vinnet chose the vacation location. As things turned out, it was no longer the secluded retreat she recalled it to be.
The couple stepped out of the Stargate onto the doorsetp of a primative village. Wood and cloth huts were barely distinguishable over the village's rope and cloth perimeter, especially since the builders seemed to have found no dye whatsoever. Or was the dye merely an indistinguishable shade of brownish-tan?
As they stood staring, a group of armed horsemen stormed from the cloth boundary and approached, strategically surrounding the two. One stopped directly in front of them; he appeared to be a leader, though his wicked-looking bow looked just as strong and well-used--and deadly--as the others'. "Why have you come?"
Sarah frowned up at him; she had enough greater experience than her husband to know that the planet should have been deserted. "Excuse us, but we came to partake in your local resort. Can you direct us there?"
The mounted men exchanged surprised and disgusted glances, and their leader glared directly at David Rice. "You should know better than to let your woman speak in public, especially without her face covered."
"What?" He frowned, unnerved by the obvious inequality here.
"It means death," the leader explained, "but come. Perhaps if this is her first offense, an arrangement can be made for her continued well-being." He nodded his head behind him to the village, and he and the other horsemen rotated their mounds to face it, allowing them to herd the strangers safely into a confined area.
***
Immediately upon entering the cloth boundary, Sarah was jostled into a separate part of the encampment, one in which all the occupants were female and clothed in flowing skirts streaming from tight or modest bodices. From there, she ofund herself ushered into a tent and provided with an embroidered blue dress. Only one of the seemingly ever-present crowd remained: a motherly-type woman with kind, almond-shaped eyes and tangled black hair. "Go ahead and change," she commanded, her tone soft but stern, in the same tone that tells a child that his mother is angry but attempting to remain calm.
Having caught a scent akin to rancid meat, blood, and body odor mixed together, Sarah skeptically lifted the gown with two strategically-placed pinches. "This? Do you realize how glad I was to be done with fancy gowns after I accidentally tore my wedding dress?"
The matron eyed the Tok'ra's clothes with an equal amount of skepticism. "It is an affront to our integrity when a woman wears a man's clothes."
She frowned, taking in her spaghetti-strap shirt and embroidered bell-bottom jeans. "You're not going to find many men wearing anything like this."
"But it is not a skirt." She pushed the blue gown closer to the younger woman. "Put this on before I dress you myself!"
Sarah reluctantly obliged after her symbiote reminded her that they would have to find their husband before attempting an escape; a raucus in a dressing tent might lead to his demise elsewhere. As she turned around and remorsefully exchanged her comfortable clothes for a gown that was too tight and too long, the matron grabbed hold of her left hand and tugged at its adornment. "Rings are only for the rich, girl."
She clenched the hand into a fist and jerked it out of the matron's clawing fingers. "Touch it and die," she bit out, not thinking of the words' literal meaning. "Clothes don't mean much to me, but that ring is a symbol, one I'm not about to forsake."
The matron's eyes narrowed. "I can make you do little, but it would do you well to obey the man who will see you after me."
Sarah rolled her eyes as she puleld the dress on and barely managed to close it. "I doubt it. I'm not in the habit of completely obeying anyone, even those I'm closest to and respect the most," she admitted, thinking of how often she ate chocolate against her symbiote's wishes.
The woman stepped forward and sinched the gown tighter to the Tok'ra's body. "You had better start. There are consequences here you aren't accustomed to."
She gasped witht he force the woman used and thanked Vinnet that she was healthy enough to deal with less oxygen. "Not just peanut butter or this suffocation?" She received a glare that was a clear no. "All right, well, I didn't mean to come here; can't David and I just leave?"
"That is up to him--if Munro and Pansin have no further interest in either of you."
Sarah slowly turned back to fully face the matron, becoming astoutly aware of a misplaced catch digging into the small of her back and the fact that she would either have to lift her skirts--thereby keeping her hands full most of the time--or take very small steps--thereby limiting her motion. Either way, the dress served as an effective means to limit her potential as an adversary. Glancing to the other's clothing, she noticed that it lacked the same drawbacks; the skirt ended at her ankles and appeared formless and baggy rather than tight and restrictive.
She dismissed it for the moment, figuring Vinnet would think of a solution at the opportune moment. "You just watched me change, and I don't even know your name."
For the first time since she entered the tnet, a smile became evident on the old matron's wrinkled face. "I am Jalali. How are you called?"
"Sarah, and my symbiote's name is--"
"Irrelevant," Jalali insisted, unfamiliar with the term. "Come. Pansin wishes to meet you as soon as you are decent." From an indistinguishable pice of furniture by her side,, she picked up what Sarah had assumed to be a handkercheif, though now she saw that it was attached to an elaborate headdress that was suspiciously the same shade of blue as her dress. "Put this on, and cover your facce when you leave this area."
The Tok'ra took it from her then stared at it as if it had bit her. "This is heavy!"
Jalali chuckled gently. "That's the price of beauty, girl." She moved behind Sarah and yanked on her long hair in a manner that could have had some constructive purpose. "Hold still."
"It's hard when you're ripping out my hair," she replied, with ann abortive attempt to face the impromptu hairstylist.
But with most of her hair locked in Jalali's grip, it succeeded only in lifting her hair off her neck. As he subject settled again, the native ran a rough-edged fingernail along the thin line of a scar, sending shivers through Sarah. "Could you please not do that?"
"How did you get this scar?" she wondered, tracing it wagain ith her fingertip.
Usually unwilling to discuss it and now in a bad mood, Sarah glared emphatically at the wall in front of her. "It's personal."
Jalali's voice grew stern again. "Who hurt you?"
She turned around slowly, this time with the other's consent, as though any eye contact might permaturely end her unappreciated protectiveness. "My friend had no intention of hurting me, and she did her very best to heal it afterwards. Now, if you don't mind, David and I would love to get all the formalities over with so we can go home."
Jalali motioned for Sarah to turn back around, but she refused. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but will it be good enough if I braid it?"
The matron nodded. "It will suffice."
Sighing with the first relief she'd felt so far, Sarah fixed her hair with quick, well-practiced motions. "What now?"
*
Jalali led the Tok'ra to another cloth barrier, and theree had her don the headdress, which Vinnet complained stressed Sarah's neck too much. The native woman calmly strapped a veil across her own face then across Sarah's, hiding everything but their eyes.
*
David watched helplessly as the crowd separated him from his wife. Despite his desperate attempts to break through it to get to her,, he could not overcome so many. For him, she was more than just his wife--she was also his tour guide and protector when off-world. On the previous world they'd visited, the mere mention of the fact that she was a Tok'ra brought her more prestige than either of them thought necessary. Apparently, the smae would not work here.
He was helplessly herded by the horsemen to a hut in the center of the village; there, two of them dismounted and shoved him inside. A minute later, the lead horseman entered and reclined on a nest of cushions in the cneter of the back of the tent. He indicated a smaller next of cushions a few feet in front of him, and David nervously sat there.
"Where are you from that you do not know the laws?" the young, black-haired leader demanded.
"A planet called Earth, why?" David shifted on the cushions; was it the pillows or his anxiety that made his position so uncomfortable? "What laws do I not know about?"
The black-haired man blinked in surprise. "The laws protecting women's modesty. When you arrived, your woman was wearing the clothes of a man, her face was uncovered, and she spoke without being spoken to."
"Yeah...?" He glanced around at the primative style of the tnet, at all the weapons and outdated signs of wealth. Then he turned his attention back to the leader, a sinking feeling of foreboding settling in him. Just because the Stargate was extremely advanced technology, it didn't mean that all the places it led were anywhere near as advanced--technologically or socially. "I just don't have a problem with that. I know she loves me and she wouldn't cheat on me; that's all the assurance of her 'modesty' I need."
"That's not enough for everyone. Laws and laws. If we forsake one, we might forsake any and foolishly exchange order for anarchy."
David frowned. "The women on Earth violate your laws all the time, and we don't have anarchy," he mumbled, suddenly amazed at women's achievments in the United States.
Apparently, the man didn't hear. "Such audacity as your woman showed is usually rewarded with death. Unless you provide ample reason to do otherwise, I must carry out the punishment."
"Okay..." He sighed, trying to think of anything that might help. "When we came, we weren't aware of your laws. We didn't even know anyone lived here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is ignorance an excuse for murder where you come from?"
"No, but it's a factor in determining a just punishment." Realizing the difficulty he'd endure defending his wife, David felt his skin go numb and a cold weight settle in his stomach. "Another factor would be... the consequences of killing her. She has powerful friends who would avenge her death." He didn't know for sure if that were true, but he was certain that either the SGC or her fellow Tok'ra would use whatever means available to them to free her--if only he could convince this primative madman not to kill her first.
The "primative madman" nodded thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you are right and death is not the best form of retribution, especially her death. After all, it was your responsibility to teach her proper and modest behavior."
Gulping with sudden trepidation, David realized his mistake: they were her friends who might avenge her. "Wasn't that her parents' responsibility? I haven't been married to her long enough to break any habits."
The man smiled slightly, and relaxed back into his next of cushions. "I will consider that."
Before either could say anything further, the curtain over the doorway whipped aside and two figures in flowing skirts entered, stopping just inside and letting the curtain fall back into place. The leading figure, dressed in brown, bowed respectfully, but the one clothed in expensive-looking, embroidered blue fabric walked around and sat beside David, leaning gently against him. David, unaware of who was behind the embroidered veil, leaned away slightly. The leader glared at the whole show then glanced at the brown-clothed figure.
"Please wait outside, Jalali."
She bowed her head. "Yes, Pansin." Then she retreated to the other side fo the curtain, and he turned his attention back to the couple.
"A woman does not sit with a man while he conducts business."
They eyes above the veil narrowed, and the blue figure got up and leaned against the tent's central support column instead. "Of course not," Sarah's voice replied.
"Nor does she speak without being spoken to," Pansin added.
She shrugged, innocently glanced at the ceiling, and barely caught her headdress before it slid off her head.
David stared at her. Yes, he recognized her eyes and posture now, but seeing her dressed in such a way, he could barely recognize anything else. He shifted in his seat, divided between the urge to stand with his wife or sit and "conduct business" with the Mongol. "You're not going to be able to keep her under your laws for long; you'd better let us leave," he cautioned.
Pansin shook his head. "We still have not carried out just retribution for the breaking of our laws."
David glanced nervously at his wife, wishing their roles were reversed. "Did you have something in mind besides anyone's death?" He glimpsed the further narrowing of Sarah's eyes and the slow, steady rising and falling of the veil; she was trying hard to control her temper, and for some reason, Vinnet hadn't taken control.
The leader's grin made him nervous before the Mongol even spoke. "We will separate you. This will teach you that you do not deserve a woman if you cannot control her and will teach her how to be a woman."
Sarah raised her hand half-heartedly into the air. Sensing that he finally might have some control, David responded, "What do you this of this, Sarah?"
She straightened up from her relaxed pose immediately and moved to stand right behind him. "This is ridiculous! We've got enough roles going on how that we don't need to take on some primative society's perception of what a woman's supposed to act like. If you agree to this mikta's terms, willingly or not, I'm going to ask Vinnet to deal with this, and she won't be peaceful about it. Our next plan of action, regardless of this guy's 'sentence' is to take you and go home.
"And, David, if he needs convincing, remind him of Vinnet's centuries of espionage and the extensive combat training associated with that." Finally done with her rant, she glared pointedly at Pansin.
The Mongol leader frowned, but still addressed David. "You let your woman talk like that?"
David nodded. "She is more knowledgable than I am about these things; I like to hear her assessment. Besides which, she's right. Vinnet has probably had enough of your prejudices."
"And who is Vinnet?"
Unsure of how to explain, David glanced to his wife, though he knew Pansin wouldn't let her speak unless spoken to. Maybe if he appeared to be completely in command, he could convince the Mongol to let them leave. "Vinnet is a warrior who..." Many cultures hated the Goa'uld and for good reason. Would this culture punish his wives for their existance? "...who travels with a cloaking device, which makes her invisible, and who speaks only to Sarah. She's impatient with this delay in our travels." With the veil over his wife's face, he couldn't tell if she was smiling or scowling.
Pansin's expression, however, was perfectly obvious: a self-satisfied grin. "You threaten me with a voiceless phantom? Do you take me for a fool?"
"She's not voiceless; she only speaks to and through Sarah." He looked up at his wife, the visible one. "Does she have anything to say?"
Sarah nodded, closed her eyes, and looked away for a moment, completely hiding the flashing eyes that meant Vinnet had taken control. "You know me too well to question whether I would like to speak," she answered, not bothering to hide her voice. Unlike her host had, she now turned to Pansin. "Unless we have anything further to discuss, David and I will now leave."
With a speed none fo the three had expected, the Mongol leapt from his cushion nest and backhanded her across the face. "You know our laws now; there is no excuse to defy them."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Vinnet punched him in the stomach, swept his feet from under him, and pinned him to the floor. "Both Sarah and my husband warned you I would not stand mroe abuse. You now have two options: let us leave peacefully or struggle now and suffer the consequences. I am not as mild as those I travel with."
The Mongol leader struggled slighly against Vinnet's well-placed grip. "It is disgraceful for a woman to fight; you need to learn how to be a woman."
"Tok'ra do not have gender. We all fight or study or lead, regardless of the gender of those we fight through."
Pansin shook his head, and with a twist of his wrist, drew a knife from his felt and jabbed it into her torso. Alarmed, Vinnet slammed his head hard against the column her host had been leaning on, knocking him unconscious. Then she retreated to heal her host's body.
David looked even more alarmed than her symbiote felt. "Are you okay?" he shouted.
Trying not to go into shock, Sarah stared down at her bloodied bodice. Not really knowing what to do since her symbiote was ignoring her, she pulled the knife out with a pitiful grunt.
Almost as much in shock but aware they had to stop the bleeding, David took the knife from her hand and cut off a portion of her gown then bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. Then, as gently as he could, he laid her flat on the ground, hoping gravity could help stem the bleeding. "Hang in there, Sarah, you hear?"
"Dave, he pulled a knife on me. We weren't going to hurt him, not if he cooperated. But he stabbed me. Vinnet says it's the intestines, liver, and Bauch. He could've--"
He clapped his hand gently over her mouth. "Save your energy for Vinnet. We'll be okay." He raised his voice, and looking to the tent's door. "Medic! We need a medic in here!"
There was no response. "Healer," Sarah corrected.
He nodded. "We need a healer!"
Jalali poked her head in then immediately rushed to Pansin's side. "Are you okay?" She checked his pulse then tried to wake him to no avail.
"He might have a mild concussion," Sarah whispered, "but Vinnet thinks he should be fine."
David relayed her words to the matron, leaving out the mention of Vinnet. "But before he passed out, he stabbed my wife!"
The matron called in two of the horsemen from outside. One watched over Pansin while the other held David away to allow Jalali access to Sarah. The matron knelt beside her and peeled away the sticky strips of fabric to study the wound. "This is not good."
"Tell me about it!" Sarah moaned. "I'm not going to be able to eat until tomorrow night!"
The matron replaced the bandages as they were and placed her hand on Sarah's forehead, looking seriously into her face. "You may die. It is the spirits' judgement of your crimes."
"Your spirits had better answer to my God."
Jalali turned back to David. "Continue to place pressure on the wound if you want her to live."
He nodded, pulling free of the guard's grip. "And keep her quiet and concentrated on healing. Right."
She nodded once and fled from the tent. The two horsemen glared at him but said nothing. David returned to his wife's side, pressed one hand with the fabric against her wound, and held his other hand to her cheek.
Slowly, her eyes opened, and she glanced around the tent, her gaze finally settling on him. "Now would be a good time to get out. They won't expect an injured person to run away."
"Maybe because you can't?" he reminded softly.
Her shoulders twitched in an imitation of a shrug. "It'll hurt, but even if I get worse, I'll be much better off among the Tok'ra or at the SGC. Plus, it wouldn't scar as badly. Not to mention that we'd get out of this whole mess."
"Shh." He pressed a little harder with the fabric. "Save your energy."
"Dave, this isn't chocolate ice cream. I wouldn't suggest it without Vinnet's consent. She's working from the inside out to avoid internal bleeding; the inside's much better than it was. This might be our only chance."
He nodded to indicate the horsemen. "With them here?"
She looked. "Seth and Sokar, I thought we were alone when Jolly left." she leaned back more fully. "Some honeymoon. It would've probably been better if the Goa'uld had retaken this planet."
"Why?" He had never heard her speak in such a way concerning the Goa'uld.
"They wouldn't go through this biased junk. They'd just say 'You're a Tok'ra. I don't like you. Let me kill you' and we'd get on with it, not like this drawn-out parody of the workings of Congress--"
"Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"Get off your soap-box."
"That's kind of hard to do while I'm lying here, trying not to bleed all over the oriental rug."
"Just try."
A third voice broke in. "You said something about silence?" Jalali reminded as she entered again, followed by a younger girl carrying a package probably containing medical supplies.
"We were just discussing your culture and the possibility of cutting our honeymoon short," Sarah explained loudly. "The healers back home have medicines that would make me better in minutes."
Jalali took a leaf from her assistant, removed the bandage, and placed it inot the wound. "Impossible. But this will take away your pain."
Sarah jerked as the leaf touched her. "No more! Please, no more. Dave, don't let her use any more of that. Take it off!"
Both of them frowned. 'What's wrong?" David asked.
She settled a little, but met his eyes pleadingly. "That plant is the active ingredient in the serum Ra used." She had told him the horror story several times. "If it paralyzes Vinnet, I might die! Keep it away!"
Without consulting with the presumed "healer," David pulled the leaf out, cut a clean bandage from his shirt, and applied pressure again. Then, to clam the miffed native, he held up the bloody leaf in his other hand. "She's alergic to this."
"it will numb the pain," Jalali insisted.
"It numbs more than just the pain, and she needs that to heal."
The matron frowned but nodded. "We need to move her from here."
David worriedly glanced to his wife, who nodded her consent. "We'll be fine by morning; moving now won't make much difference."
***
Jalali left them in an underfurnished by unoccupied tent, presumably alone for the night. Restlessly torn between caring for his wife and getting ready for bed, he sorted through the few belongings they'd brough while Sarah slept. Nothing had the potential to help them. He finally decided to sleep, though it was still early int he evening. Before he did, however, he pulled away the bandages on his wife's abdomen to check the wound.
Sarah shifted slighly and unhooked her veil, at last revealing her face. "Okay, now I feel better." She sat up slightly, resting on an elbow, and rubbed at her eyes. Then she gazed inquiringly at David's probing fingers, which met only intact skin.
"Vinnet did a good job for only a couple of hours," he commented.
Her eyes flashed. "Thank you, though it is my responsibility to heal my host." She sat up farther and pulled the headdress off. "Where do we stand concerning our departure?"
He shrugged. "We could probably go now if you're up for it."
"We could recover from worse, if need be. We should have left long ago. I'm sorry, David. That may have been our best opportunity."
"I would think so," broke in a third voice. The couple looked up to see Pansin had entered, followed by a pair of henchmen. "My father and I have decided on a punishment for your crimes." His smile was sickening. "We will relieve you of your woman since you cannot handle her. She will then be beaten and sold."
David's voice was slow and low, giving the impression of a patient strength and fury near its ignition point. "You have unfairly detained us all day and denied us our freedom. We spoke reasonably, to no end, and when Vinnet clearly expressed herself on your terms, you stabbed her and now plan to subject us to mroe injustice. Where does it end, Pansin?"
"I just told you. That will be the end."
Though the second honeymoon was his idea, Vinnet chose the vacation location. As things turned out, it was no longer the secluded retreat she recalled it to be.
The couple stepped out of the Stargate onto the doorsetp of a primative village. Wood and cloth huts were barely distinguishable over the village's rope and cloth perimeter, especially since the builders seemed to have found no dye whatsoever. Or was the dye merely an indistinguishable shade of brownish-tan?
As they stood staring, a group of armed horsemen stormed from the cloth boundary and approached, strategically surrounding the two. One stopped directly in front of them; he appeared to be a leader, though his wicked-looking bow looked just as strong and well-used--and deadly--as the others'. "Why have you come?"
Sarah frowned up at him; she had enough greater experience than her husband to know that the planet should have been deserted. "Excuse us, but we came to partake in your local resort. Can you direct us there?"
The mounted men exchanged surprised and disgusted glances, and their leader glared directly at David Rice. "You should know better than to let your woman speak in public, especially without her face covered."
"What?" He frowned, unnerved by the obvious inequality here.
"It means death," the leader explained, "but come. Perhaps if this is her first offense, an arrangement can be made for her continued well-being." He nodded his head behind him to the village, and he and the other horsemen rotated their mounds to face it, allowing them to herd the strangers safely into a confined area.
***
Immediately upon entering the cloth boundary, Sarah was jostled into a separate part of the encampment, one in which all the occupants were female and clothed in flowing skirts streaming from tight or modest bodices. From there, she ofund herself ushered into a tent and provided with an embroidered blue dress. Only one of the seemingly ever-present crowd remained: a motherly-type woman with kind, almond-shaped eyes and tangled black hair. "Go ahead and change," she commanded, her tone soft but stern, in the same tone that tells a child that his mother is angry but attempting to remain calm.
Having caught a scent akin to rancid meat, blood, and body odor mixed together, Sarah skeptically lifted the gown with two strategically-placed pinches. "This? Do you realize how glad I was to be done with fancy gowns after I accidentally tore my wedding dress?"
The matron eyed the Tok'ra's clothes with an equal amount of skepticism. "It is an affront to our integrity when a woman wears a man's clothes."
She frowned, taking in her spaghetti-strap shirt and embroidered bell-bottom jeans. "You're not going to find many men wearing anything like this."
"But it is not a skirt." She pushed the blue gown closer to the younger woman. "Put this on before I dress you myself!"
Sarah reluctantly obliged after her symbiote reminded her that they would have to find their husband before attempting an escape; a raucus in a dressing tent might lead to his demise elsewhere. As she turned around and remorsefully exchanged her comfortable clothes for a gown that was too tight and too long, the matron grabbed hold of her left hand and tugged at its adornment. "Rings are only for the rich, girl."
She clenched the hand into a fist and jerked it out of the matron's clawing fingers. "Touch it and die," she bit out, not thinking of the words' literal meaning. "Clothes don't mean much to me, but that ring is a symbol, one I'm not about to forsake."
The matron's eyes narrowed. "I can make you do little, but it would do you well to obey the man who will see you after me."
Sarah rolled her eyes as she puleld the dress on and barely managed to close it. "I doubt it. I'm not in the habit of completely obeying anyone, even those I'm closest to and respect the most," she admitted, thinking of how often she ate chocolate against her symbiote's wishes.
The woman stepped forward and sinched the gown tighter to the Tok'ra's body. "You had better start. There are consequences here you aren't accustomed to."
She gasped witht he force the woman used and thanked Vinnet that she was healthy enough to deal with less oxygen. "Not just peanut butter or this suffocation?" She received a glare that was a clear no. "All right, well, I didn't mean to come here; can't David and I just leave?"
"That is up to him--if Munro and Pansin have no further interest in either of you."
Sarah slowly turned back to fully face the matron, becoming astoutly aware of a misplaced catch digging into the small of her back and the fact that she would either have to lift her skirts--thereby keeping her hands full most of the time--or take very small steps--thereby limiting her motion. Either way, the dress served as an effective means to limit her potential as an adversary. Glancing to the other's clothing, she noticed that it lacked the same drawbacks; the skirt ended at her ankles and appeared formless and baggy rather than tight and restrictive.
She dismissed it for the moment, figuring Vinnet would think of a solution at the opportune moment. "You just watched me change, and I don't even know your name."
For the first time since she entered the tnet, a smile became evident on the old matron's wrinkled face. "I am Jalali. How are you called?"
"Sarah, and my symbiote's name is--"
"Irrelevant," Jalali insisted, unfamiliar with the term. "Come. Pansin wishes to meet you as soon as you are decent." From an indistinguishable pice of furniture by her side,, she picked up what Sarah had assumed to be a handkercheif, though now she saw that it was attached to an elaborate headdress that was suspiciously the same shade of blue as her dress. "Put this on, and cover your facce when you leave this area."
The Tok'ra took it from her then stared at it as if it had bit her. "This is heavy!"
Jalali chuckled gently. "That's the price of beauty, girl." She moved behind Sarah and yanked on her long hair in a manner that could have had some constructive purpose. "Hold still."
"It's hard when you're ripping out my hair," she replied, with ann abortive attempt to face the impromptu hairstylist.
But with most of her hair locked in Jalali's grip, it succeeded only in lifting her hair off her neck. As he subject settled again, the native ran a rough-edged fingernail along the thin line of a scar, sending shivers through Sarah. "Could you please not do that?"
"How did you get this scar?" she wondered, tracing it wagain ith her fingertip.
Usually unwilling to discuss it and now in a bad mood, Sarah glared emphatically at the wall in front of her. "It's personal."
Jalali's voice grew stern again. "Who hurt you?"
She turned around slowly, this time with the other's consent, as though any eye contact might permaturely end her unappreciated protectiveness. "My friend had no intention of hurting me, and she did her very best to heal it afterwards. Now, if you don't mind, David and I would love to get all the formalities over with so we can go home."
Jalali motioned for Sarah to turn back around, but she refused. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but will it be good enough if I braid it?"
The matron nodded. "It will suffice."
Sighing with the first relief she'd felt so far, Sarah fixed her hair with quick, well-practiced motions. "What now?"
*
Jalali led the Tok'ra to another cloth barrier, and theree had her don the headdress, which Vinnet complained stressed Sarah's neck too much. The native woman calmly strapped a veil across her own face then across Sarah's, hiding everything but their eyes.
*
David watched helplessly as the crowd separated him from his wife. Despite his desperate attempts to break through it to get to her,, he could not overcome so many. For him, she was more than just his wife--she was also his tour guide and protector when off-world. On the previous world they'd visited, the mere mention of the fact that she was a Tok'ra brought her more prestige than either of them thought necessary. Apparently, the smae would not work here.
He was helplessly herded by the horsemen to a hut in the center of the village; there, two of them dismounted and shoved him inside. A minute later, the lead horseman entered and reclined on a nest of cushions in the cneter of the back of the tent. He indicated a smaller next of cushions a few feet in front of him, and David nervously sat there.
"Where are you from that you do not know the laws?" the young, black-haired leader demanded.
"A planet called Earth, why?" David shifted on the cushions; was it the pillows or his anxiety that made his position so uncomfortable? "What laws do I not know about?"
The black-haired man blinked in surprise. "The laws protecting women's modesty. When you arrived, your woman was wearing the clothes of a man, her face was uncovered, and she spoke without being spoken to."
"Yeah...?" He glanced around at the primative style of the tnet, at all the weapons and outdated signs of wealth. Then he turned his attention back to the leader, a sinking feeling of foreboding settling in him. Just because the Stargate was extremely advanced technology, it didn't mean that all the places it led were anywhere near as advanced--technologically or socially. "I just don't have a problem with that. I know she loves me and she wouldn't cheat on me; that's all the assurance of her 'modesty' I need."
"That's not enough for everyone. Laws and laws. If we forsake one, we might forsake any and foolishly exchange order for anarchy."
David frowned. "The women on Earth violate your laws all the time, and we don't have anarchy," he mumbled, suddenly amazed at women's achievments in the United States.
Apparently, the man didn't hear. "Such audacity as your woman showed is usually rewarded with death. Unless you provide ample reason to do otherwise, I must carry out the punishment."
"Okay..." He sighed, trying to think of anything that might help. "When we came, we weren't aware of your laws. We didn't even know anyone lived here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is ignorance an excuse for murder where you come from?"
"No, but it's a factor in determining a just punishment." Realizing the difficulty he'd endure defending his wife, David felt his skin go numb and a cold weight settle in his stomach. "Another factor would be... the consequences of killing her. She has powerful friends who would avenge her death." He didn't know for sure if that were true, but he was certain that either the SGC or her fellow Tok'ra would use whatever means available to them to free her--if only he could convince this primative madman not to kill her first.
The "primative madman" nodded thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you are right and death is not the best form of retribution, especially her death. After all, it was your responsibility to teach her proper and modest behavior."
Gulping with sudden trepidation, David realized his mistake: they were her friends who might avenge her. "Wasn't that her parents' responsibility? I haven't been married to her long enough to break any habits."
The man smiled slightly, and relaxed back into his next of cushions. "I will consider that."
Before either could say anything further, the curtain over the doorway whipped aside and two figures in flowing skirts entered, stopping just inside and letting the curtain fall back into place. The leading figure, dressed in brown, bowed respectfully, but the one clothed in expensive-looking, embroidered blue fabric walked around and sat beside David, leaning gently against him. David, unaware of who was behind the embroidered veil, leaned away slightly. The leader glared at the whole show then glanced at the brown-clothed figure.
"Please wait outside, Jalali."
She bowed her head. "Yes, Pansin." Then she retreated to the other side fo the curtain, and he turned his attention back to the couple.
"A woman does not sit with a man while he conducts business."
They eyes above the veil narrowed, and the blue figure got up and leaned against the tent's central support column instead. "Of course not," Sarah's voice replied.
"Nor does she speak without being spoken to," Pansin added.
She shrugged, innocently glanced at the ceiling, and barely caught her headdress before it slid off her head.
David stared at her. Yes, he recognized her eyes and posture now, but seeing her dressed in such a way, he could barely recognize anything else. He shifted in his seat, divided between the urge to stand with his wife or sit and "conduct business" with the Mongol. "You're not going to be able to keep her under your laws for long; you'd better let us leave," he cautioned.
Pansin shook his head. "We still have not carried out just retribution for the breaking of our laws."
David glanced nervously at his wife, wishing their roles were reversed. "Did you have something in mind besides anyone's death?" He glimpsed the further narrowing of Sarah's eyes and the slow, steady rising and falling of the veil; she was trying hard to control her temper, and for some reason, Vinnet hadn't taken control.
The leader's grin made him nervous before the Mongol even spoke. "We will separate you. This will teach you that you do not deserve a woman if you cannot control her and will teach her how to be a woman."
Sarah raised her hand half-heartedly into the air. Sensing that he finally might have some control, David responded, "What do you this of this, Sarah?"
She straightened up from her relaxed pose immediately and moved to stand right behind him. "This is ridiculous! We've got enough roles going on how that we don't need to take on some primative society's perception of what a woman's supposed to act like. If you agree to this mikta's terms, willingly or not, I'm going to ask Vinnet to deal with this, and she won't be peaceful about it. Our next plan of action, regardless of this guy's 'sentence' is to take you and go home.
"And, David, if he needs convincing, remind him of Vinnet's centuries of espionage and the extensive combat training associated with that." Finally done with her rant, she glared pointedly at Pansin.
The Mongol leader frowned, but still addressed David. "You let your woman talk like that?"
David nodded. "She is more knowledgable than I am about these things; I like to hear her assessment. Besides which, she's right. Vinnet has probably had enough of your prejudices."
"And who is Vinnet?"
Unsure of how to explain, David glanced to his wife, though he knew Pansin wouldn't let her speak unless spoken to. Maybe if he appeared to be completely in command, he could convince the Mongol to let them leave. "Vinnet is a warrior who..." Many cultures hated the Goa'uld and for good reason. Would this culture punish his wives for their existance? "...who travels with a cloaking device, which makes her invisible, and who speaks only to Sarah. She's impatient with this delay in our travels." With the veil over his wife's face, he couldn't tell if she was smiling or scowling.
Pansin's expression, however, was perfectly obvious: a self-satisfied grin. "You threaten me with a voiceless phantom? Do you take me for a fool?"
"She's not voiceless; she only speaks to and through Sarah." He looked up at his wife, the visible one. "Does she have anything to say?"
Sarah nodded, closed her eyes, and looked away for a moment, completely hiding the flashing eyes that meant Vinnet had taken control. "You know me too well to question whether I would like to speak," she answered, not bothering to hide her voice. Unlike her host had, she now turned to Pansin. "Unless we have anything further to discuss, David and I will now leave."
With a speed none fo the three had expected, the Mongol leapt from his cushion nest and backhanded her across the face. "You know our laws now; there is no excuse to defy them."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Vinnet punched him in the stomach, swept his feet from under him, and pinned him to the floor. "Both Sarah and my husband warned you I would not stand mroe abuse. You now have two options: let us leave peacefully or struggle now and suffer the consequences. I am not as mild as those I travel with."
The Mongol leader struggled slighly against Vinnet's well-placed grip. "It is disgraceful for a woman to fight; you need to learn how to be a woman."
"Tok'ra do not have gender. We all fight or study or lead, regardless of the gender of those we fight through."
Pansin shook his head, and with a twist of his wrist, drew a knife from his felt and jabbed it into her torso. Alarmed, Vinnet slammed his head hard against the column her host had been leaning on, knocking him unconscious. Then she retreated to heal her host's body.
David looked even more alarmed than her symbiote felt. "Are you okay?" he shouted.
Trying not to go into shock, Sarah stared down at her bloodied bodice. Not really knowing what to do since her symbiote was ignoring her, she pulled the knife out with a pitiful grunt.
Almost as much in shock but aware they had to stop the bleeding, David took the knife from her hand and cut off a portion of her gown then bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. Then, as gently as he could, he laid her flat on the ground, hoping gravity could help stem the bleeding. "Hang in there, Sarah, you hear?"
"Dave, he pulled a knife on me. We weren't going to hurt him, not if he cooperated. But he stabbed me. Vinnet says it's the intestines, liver, and Bauch. He could've--"
He clapped his hand gently over her mouth. "Save your energy for Vinnet. We'll be okay." He raised his voice, and looking to the tent's door. "Medic! We need a medic in here!"
There was no response. "Healer," Sarah corrected.
He nodded. "We need a healer!"
Jalali poked her head in then immediately rushed to Pansin's side. "Are you okay?" She checked his pulse then tried to wake him to no avail.
"He might have a mild concussion," Sarah whispered, "but Vinnet thinks he should be fine."
David relayed her words to the matron, leaving out the mention of Vinnet. "But before he passed out, he stabbed my wife!"
The matron called in two of the horsemen from outside. One watched over Pansin while the other held David away to allow Jalali access to Sarah. The matron knelt beside her and peeled away the sticky strips of fabric to study the wound. "This is not good."
"Tell me about it!" Sarah moaned. "I'm not going to be able to eat until tomorrow night!"
The matron replaced the bandages as they were and placed her hand on Sarah's forehead, looking seriously into her face. "You may die. It is the spirits' judgement of your crimes."
"Your spirits had better answer to my God."
Jalali turned back to David. "Continue to place pressure on the wound if you want her to live."
He nodded, pulling free of the guard's grip. "And keep her quiet and concentrated on healing. Right."
She nodded once and fled from the tent. The two horsemen glared at him but said nothing. David returned to his wife's side, pressed one hand with the fabric against her wound, and held his other hand to her cheek.
Slowly, her eyes opened, and she glanced around the tent, her gaze finally settling on him. "Now would be a good time to get out. They won't expect an injured person to run away."
"Maybe because you can't?" he reminded softly.
Her shoulders twitched in an imitation of a shrug. "It'll hurt, but even if I get worse, I'll be much better off among the Tok'ra or at the SGC. Plus, it wouldn't scar as badly. Not to mention that we'd get out of this whole mess."
"Shh." He pressed a little harder with the fabric. "Save your energy."
"Dave, this isn't chocolate ice cream. I wouldn't suggest it without Vinnet's consent. She's working from the inside out to avoid internal bleeding; the inside's much better than it was. This might be our only chance."
He nodded to indicate the horsemen. "With them here?"
She looked. "Seth and Sokar, I thought we were alone when Jolly left." she leaned back more fully. "Some honeymoon. It would've probably been better if the Goa'uld had retaken this planet."
"Why?" He had never heard her speak in such a way concerning the Goa'uld.
"They wouldn't go through this biased junk. They'd just say 'You're a Tok'ra. I don't like you. Let me kill you' and we'd get on with it, not like this drawn-out parody of the workings of Congress--"
"Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"Get off your soap-box."
"That's kind of hard to do while I'm lying here, trying not to bleed all over the oriental rug."
"Just try."
A third voice broke in. "You said something about silence?" Jalali reminded as she entered again, followed by a younger girl carrying a package probably containing medical supplies.
"We were just discussing your culture and the possibility of cutting our honeymoon short," Sarah explained loudly. "The healers back home have medicines that would make me better in minutes."
Jalali took a leaf from her assistant, removed the bandage, and placed it inot the wound. "Impossible. But this will take away your pain."
Sarah jerked as the leaf touched her. "No more! Please, no more. Dave, don't let her use any more of that. Take it off!"
Both of them frowned. 'What's wrong?" David asked.
She settled a little, but met his eyes pleadingly. "That plant is the active ingredient in the serum Ra used." She had told him the horror story several times. "If it paralyzes Vinnet, I might die! Keep it away!"
Without consulting with the presumed "healer," David pulled the leaf out, cut a clean bandage from his shirt, and applied pressure again. Then, to clam the miffed native, he held up the bloody leaf in his other hand. "She's alergic to this."
"it will numb the pain," Jalali insisted.
"It numbs more than just the pain, and she needs that to heal."
The matron frowned but nodded. "We need to move her from here."
David worriedly glanced to his wife, who nodded her consent. "We'll be fine by morning; moving now won't make much difference."
***
Jalali left them in an underfurnished by unoccupied tent, presumably alone for the night. Restlessly torn between caring for his wife and getting ready for bed, he sorted through the few belongings they'd brough while Sarah slept. Nothing had the potential to help them. He finally decided to sleep, though it was still early int he evening. Before he did, however, he pulled away the bandages on his wife's abdomen to check the wound.
Sarah shifted slighly and unhooked her veil, at last revealing her face. "Okay, now I feel better." She sat up slightly, resting on an elbow, and rubbed at her eyes. Then she gazed inquiringly at David's probing fingers, which met only intact skin.
"Vinnet did a good job for only a couple of hours," he commented.
Her eyes flashed. "Thank you, though it is my responsibility to heal my host." She sat up farther and pulled the headdress off. "Where do we stand concerning our departure?"
He shrugged. "We could probably go now if you're up for it."
"We could recover from worse, if need be. We should have left long ago. I'm sorry, David. That may have been our best opportunity."
"I would think so," broke in a third voice. The couple looked up to see Pansin had entered, followed by a pair of henchmen. "My father and I have decided on a punishment for your crimes." His smile was sickening. "We will relieve you of your woman since you cannot handle her. She will then be beaten and sold."
David's voice was slow and low, giving the impression of a patient strength and fury near its ignition point. "You have unfairly detained us all day and denied us our freedom. We spoke reasonably, to no end, and when Vinnet clearly expressed herself on your terms, you stabbed her and now plan to subject us to mroe injustice. Where does it end, Pansin?"
"I just told you. That will be the end."
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
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Thursday, June 15, 2006
oceanic_sentry's Xanga Site: "Wednesday, June 14, 2006"
*grins* I feel special. Not because of his pain but because he thinks of me.
Feel lucky. He's nice. But I won't say too much about it, because I know he reads this. ;P
*grins* I feel special. Not because of his pain but because he thinks of me.
Feel lucky. He's nice. But I won't say too much about it, because I know he reads this. ;P
Monday, June 12, 2006
| Your Linguistic Profile:: |
| 70% General American English |
| 15% Yankee |
| 5% Dixie |
| 5% Upper Midwestern |
| 0% Midwestern |
What Kind of American English Do You Speak?
| How You Life Your Life |
 |
How Do You Live Your Life?
| Your Theme Song is Beautiful Day by U2 |
 You see the beauty in life, especially in ordinary everyday moments.And if you're feeling down, even that seems a little beautiful too. |
Word of the day: merg.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
So I've got computer access during school again, after I went over my notes for my English presentation today. So I went to dailysudoku.com, figuring it was something of a constructive, school-related activity, especially since some of the teachers have assigned sudokus in math classes. But, no, the idiotic firewall has it blocked under the category of games. Miff!!!
Gtg, just got an idea: google image search for sudokus!!
Gtg, just got an idea: google image search for sudokus!!
Saturday, May 27, 2006
A CONTINUATION OF THE TWEEN STORY
A day later, Sarah reclined on her bed, reading a new science fiction novel and trying to ignore Vinnet's incessant explanations of the fiction's impossibilities. In the middle of it all, the phone rang, but she ignored it as per the rules of grounding. In the next room over, she heard her mother answer it.
"The Air Force?" she seemed to repeat after the voice on the other end. "What do you want now?"
She listened and replied, "By now you should know by heart every last detail, especially after that Senator Kinsey came to ask her more questions. It's a wonder you don't--"
Silence. "From what I've seen of him, I agree, but that kind of language is unnecessary." It was probably Colonel O'Neill on the phone; few others would have the audacity to use strong language when speaking of a member of Congress.
More silence. "Well, then, I want to listen in. Classified or not, I am her mother, and I want to know what you're saying to my daughter." A short pause. "Yes, I know what classified means but--"
Sighing, Sarah stood and ventured out of her room into her mother's office, where she caught her attention and whispered, "I'll tell you what's going on; just let me talk to him."
The mother reluctantly handed over the phone. "Be quick."
Sarah nodded, and focused on the phone conversation. "What's so important that Mom couldn't take a message?"
"Thank you!" O'Neill breathed. "Tell your mom thank you.
"The High Council called this morning, said they'd need a pair of hosts soon--don't know how they know. It's probably some sort of test."
Setting her head in her hands, Sarah frowned. "They couldn't have picked a worse time."
"They probably conspired with Kinsey to have it work out that way," he replied.
Vinnet surfaced suddenly, allowing Sarah's mother to see the flash of her eyes and O'Neill to hear her modified voice. "The Tok'ra would not sink to such a level!"
The colonel released an exclamation of surprise. "For crying out loud, could you give me some warning before you do that! Is her mom still around?"
"No, she left the room," Vinnet lied, gazing over at the parent.
"In all honesty," she continued, "this may be a good time to take a short leave. Senator Kinsey has caused much trouble here, which may die down with time."
"Someone will pick you and two others up on Saturday," he commented. "If you can't find anyone by then, don't worry about it."
"I will," she promised just as he hung up. She did likewise and turned expectantly back to the mother. The two gazed at each other in an uneasy silence similar to that shared between two strangers who each believe the other is attracted to their significant other.
"You said you'd tell me what's going on," the mother reminded flatly.
Vinnet nnodded slowly and allowed her hoset to speak again. Sarah sighed deeply before beginning. "I did. And it's more complicated than I thought it would be. "
"Colonel O'Neill believes you about this... alien?"
Sarah nodded. "Absolutely. He was only worried that you might've heard."
"Okay." It was good to know that this Air Force Colonel wasn't concerned about her daughter's second personality. "Why did he call?"
"Before we came back, we promised the High Council that we would do something for them. They're ready now."
He mother raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What High Council?"
She bit her tongue, nervously deciding what to say. "The ruling body Vinnet answer to. They're the ones who decided to let us come back."
"With what stipulations?"
"I have to help them continue their existance in the same numbers."
Aware of only one interpretation of the cryptic statement, and oblivious to the fact that Vinnet's species reproduced asexually, her mother started into a panic. "Sarah Elaine, you're too young to do that, and you're already promissed to get married first! I'm not letting you throw...."
The Tok'ra gazed at her, confused. Halfway tino the heard of the speech, she understood where the misunderstanding originated. "Mom," she interrupted loudly, "I said I'd help them keep the same numbers, not more. They don't have kids!"
"Then what in the world are you talking about?"
Sarah hesitated, unsure that her mother would appreciate the real answer any more than she had the misinterpretation of it... or any more than Kinsey had when he'd heard. "They need.... um..."
"Spit it out already!"
"Hosts," she finished reluctantly. "They can't survive long outside of humans, and when their hosts get old, they need new hosts."
The mother frowned deeply and came into the room to sit on her office chair. "Is that... sanitary?"
"Yes, Mom. They're clean enough not to overwhelm the combined immune system. But that's not the point."
A day later, Sarah reclined on her bed, reading a new science fiction novel and trying to ignore Vinnet's incessant explanations of the fiction's impossibilities. In the middle of it all, the phone rang, but she ignored it as per the rules of grounding. In the next room over, she heard her mother answer it.
"The Air Force?" she seemed to repeat after the voice on the other end. "What do you want now?"
She listened and replied, "By now you should know by heart every last detail, especially after that Senator Kinsey came to ask her more questions. It's a wonder you don't--"
Silence. "From what I've seen of him, I agree, but that kind of language is unnecessary." It was probably Colonel O'Neill on the phone; few others would have the audacity to use strong language when speaking of a member of Congress.
More silence. "Well, then, I want to listen in. Classified or not, I am her mother, and I want to know what you're saying to my daughter." A short pause. "Yes, I know what classified means but--"
Sighing, Sarah stood and ventured out of her room into her mother's office, where she caught her attention and whispered, "I'll tell you what's going on; just let me talk to him."
The mother reluctantly handed over the phone. "Be quick."
Sarah nodded, and focused on the phone conversation. "What's so important that Mom couldn't take a message?"
"Thank you!" O'Neill breathed. "Tell your mom thank you.
"The High Council called this morning, said they'd need a pair of hosts soon--don't know how they know. It's probably some sort of test."
Setting her head in her hands, Sarah frowned. "They couldn't have picked a worse time."
"They probably conspired with Kinsey to have it work out that way," he replied.
Vinnet surfaced suddenly, allowing Sarah's mother to see the flash of her eyes and O'Neill to hear her modified voice. "The Tok'ra would not sink to such a level!"
The colonel released an exclamation of surprise. "For crying out loud, could you give me some warning before you do that! Is her mom still around?"
"No, she left the room," Vinnet lied, gazing over at the parent.
"In all honesty," she continued, "this may be a good time to take a short leave. Senator Kinsey has caused much trouble here, which may die down with time."
"Someone will pick you and two others up on Saturday," he commented. "If you can't find anyone by then, don't worry about it."
"I will," she promised just as he hung up. She did likewise and turned expectantly back to the mother. The two gazed at each other in an uneasy silence similar to that shared between two strangers who each believe the other is attracted to their significant other.
"You said you'd tell me what's going on," the mother reminded flatly.
Vinnet nnodded slowly and allowed her hoset to speak again. Sarah sighed deeply before beginning. "I did. And it's more complicated than I thought it would be. "
"Colonel O'Neill believes you about this... alien?"
Sarah nodded. "Absolutely. He was only worried that you might've heard."
"Okay." It was good to know that this Air Force Colonel wasn't concerned about her daughter's second personality. "Why did he call?"
"Before we came back, we promised the High Council that we would do something for them. They're ready now."
He mother raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What High Council?"
She bit her tongue, nervously deciding what to say. "The ruling body Vinnet answer to. They're the ones who decided to let us come back."
"With what stipulations?"
"I have to help them continue their existance in the same numbers."
Aware of only one interpretation of the cryptic statement, and oblivious to the fact that Vinnet's species reproduced asexually, her mother started into a panic. "Sarah Elaine, you're too young to do that, and you're already promissed to get married first! I'm not letting you throw...."
The Tok'ra gazed at her, confused. Halfway tino the heard of the speech, she understood where the misunderstanding originated. "Mom," she interrupted loudly, "I said I'd help them keep the same numbers, not more. They don't have kids!"
"Then what in the world are you talking about?"
Sarah hesitated, unsure that her mother would appreciate the real answer any more than she had the misinterpretation of it... or any more than Kinsey had when he'd heard. "They need.... um..."
"Spit it out already!"
"Hosts," she finished reluctantly. "They can't survive long outside of humans, and when their hosts get old, they need new hosts."
The mother frowned deeply and came into the room to sit on her office chair. "Is that... sanitary?"
"Yes, Mom. They're clean enough not to overwhelm the combined immune system. But that's not the point."
Thursday, May 25, 2006
As you know, I come on here most reliably at the end of the school year, on the random days when I have absolutely nothing to do and access to a computer. Two periods and lunch ago, I finished my last final this year....
FROH!!!
HAPPINESS!!!
Anyhow...
How 'bout a random update on life, the universe, and everything?
At the moment, most people in my class are reading something, though there's a cluster of spoons-players across the room from the back corner where this computer is. I was working on Legacy, but I decided to come back here and check my grades. Despite the sudden windfall of good luck concerning my history and English grades, my finals brought them back down to solid yet high Bs. There's still a little hope for English, though; I got five bonus points for buying the literary magazine. Dunno if she's put it in yet.
As for other things... Most of you know how much of an anti-conformist I am, so you could hardly know how much it pains me to admit this, but... I got a boyfriend. He's sweet, too, writes me poetry, compliments me... I'm not sure he doesn't deserve someone who knows him better than I do, so we'll see what happens. It's a long distance relationship, and I'm not sure our summers are going to be clear enough to get together any time at all, and once we go to college... Well, he's thinking Duke in North Carolina, and I'm hoping I might be able to get a bunch of scholarships and go to MIT... (Pardon my redundancy in saying "Duke in NC," but I get Duke confused with Duquesne in Pennsylvania.) So... This is all in God's hands.
Oh, Ted's doing well now. The swelling on his face is almost gone, thanks to the vet pulling the offending tooth and the subsequent use of Clavamox. Now if he can just manage not to tick off any birds.... Oh, right, didn't I say? Yesterday, he was out in the yard and chased a young bird to the fence, where the bird escaped into the neighbor's yard. But that managed to tick off a quarter of a flock, and they dove after him for a couple minutes. He seem all right. Extra proud of his bravery, if anything.
Still not progress on the Announcement. Miff. I stink at anything that relates to romance. Why didn't I wait ten years before writing this plotline?
But I've been thinking about Legacy since I ran out of books to read and couldn't get caught up in Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke. I tried to figure out the plot, but I can't get it to fit on one piece of paper. Especially once I try to figure out the alternate plots, which should thoroughly frustrate people. Maybe I'll post some of it later, some of the alternate, even though people won't have a clue what's going on.
I love typing.
It's fun.
It's fun to type at a "normal" speed and have people look over and say "That's crazy! How can you type that fast?" Of course, I've only been around computers since I was five... Behold the myriad benefits of having computer programmers as parents. Not that that year of being absolutely obsessed with the internet and everything in it didn't help my typing....
Hey, by the way, people, GOD IS AWESOME! Just though I'd say. You know, in case I hadn't mentioned that before. Songs of the day: "Undefeated" by Audio A; "All Around Me" by Audio A; "Get Down" by Relient K; and the edition of "Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" by Audio A. There's nothing better than listening to Christian rock for an hour and a half before really having to face people in the morning; you get all pumped up and close to God and then see the people who don't know much at all about you and don't care to. It's a lot easier to be a Christian when you're in touch with God. Yup. I would be the one who wrote "Paster Don: 'As long as there are math tests, there will be prayer in school'" on my cheat sheet (legal) for my math final, which went very well, thank you.
Speaking of finals, my health teacher stopped by the gym this morning and told me I was the first one to score 100% on the health final in years. I hardly studied for that; I just fleetingly glanced at my notes and did the homework that was due and made educated guesses on the multiple choice and matching.
Thank you, God, for regular, non-honors classes!!! That's the light point in the day.
Okay, I should get going. Legacy isn't really calling, but I should work on either that or the Announcement.
HAPPINESS!!!
Anyhow...
How 'bout a random update on life, the universe, and everything?
At the moment, most people in my class are reading something, though there's a cluster of spoons-players across the room from the back corner where this computer is. I was working on Legacy, but I decided to come back here and check my grades. Despite the sudden windfall of good luck concerning my history and English grades, my finals brought them back down to solid yet high Bs. There's still a little hope for English, though; I got five bonus points for buying the literary magazine. Dunno if she's put it in yet.
As for other things... Most of you know how much of an anti-conformist I am, so you could hardly know how much it pains me to admit this, but... I got a boyfriend. He's sweet, too, writes me poetry, compliments me... I'm not sure he doesn't deserve someone who knows him better than I do, so we'll see what happens. It's a long distance relationship, and I'm not sure our summers are going to be clear enough to get together any time at all, and once we go to college... Well, he's thinking Duke in North Carolina, and I'm hoping I might be able to get a bunch of scholarships and go to MIT... (Pardon my redundancy in saying "Duke in NC," but I get Duke confused with Duquesne in Pennsylvania.) So... This is all in God's hands.
Oh, Ted's doing well now. The swelling on his face is almost gone, thanks to the vet pulling the offending tooth and the subsequent use of Clavamox. Now if he can just manage not to tick off any birds.... Oh, right, didn't I say? Yesterday, he was out in the yard and chased a young bird to the fence, where the bird escaped into the neighbor's yard. But that managed to tick off a quarter of a flock, and they dove after him for a couple minutes. He seem all right. Extra proud of his bravery, if anything.
Still not progress on the Announcement. Miff. I stink at anything that relates to romance. Why didn't I wait ten years before writing this plotline?
But I've been thinking about Legacy since I ran out of books to read and couldn't get caught up in Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke. I tried to figure out the plot, but I can't get it to fit on one piece of paper. Especially once I try to figure out the alternate plots, which should thoroughly frustrate people. Maybe I'll post some of it later, some of the alternate, even though people won't have a clue what's going on.
I love typing.
It's fun.
It's fun to type at a "normal" speed and have people look over and say "That's crazy! How can you type that fast?" Of course, I've only been around computers since I was five... Behold the myriad benefits of having computer programmers as parents. Not that that year of being absolutely obsessed with the internet and everything in it didn't help my typing....
Hey, by the way, people, GOD IS AWESOME! Just though I'd say. You know, in case I hadn't mentioned that before. Songs of the day: "Undefeated" by Audio A; "All Around Me" by Audio A; "Get Down" by Relient K; and the edition of "Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" by Audio A. There's nothing better than listening to Christian rock for an hour and a half before really having to face people in the morning; you get all pumped up and close to God and then see the people who don't know much at all about you and don't care to. It's a lot easier to be a Christian when you're in touch with God. Yup. I would be the one who wrote "Paster Don: 'As long as there are math tests, there will be prayer in school'" on my cheat sheet (legal) for my math final, which went very well, thank you.
Speaking of finals, my health teacher stopped by the gym this morning and told me I was the first one to score 100% on the health final in years. I hardly studied for that; I just fleetingly glanced at my notes and did the homework that was due and made educated guesses on the multiple choice and matching.
Thank you, God, for regular, non-honors classes!!! That's the light point in the day.
Okay, I should get going. Legacy isn't really calling, but I should work on either that or the Announcement.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Studying for stats, I decided to use ff.net stats for practice problems, and I want to share my findings, which really annoy me. It appears that the number of hits explains only 12% of the reviews in the Announcement, though overall, on my account, it accounted for 48%. Miff. I thought people were nicer than that. It also appears that, overall, only 2% of hits on a story result in a review. That's pitiful!!!
My meager two percent.... the faithful.... thank you.
My meager two percent.... the faithful.... thank you.
Friday, April 21, 2006
I know I haven't gotten on in a long while, and I know some people, at least, read this. Frankly, I think I'd prefer that only people I know would read it, but c'est la vie.
Where to begin after so long, for those of you who might actually care about my life?
I just got asked to prom last night, and I never expected it. Unfortunately, it's in another state, and I'm not sure my parents will let me go yet. Of course, I'll have to finish my English essay before then, because it's due the Monday after and I'm taking the SATs on the same day as the prom. That ought to be fun. "Here, let's wear myself out with a big honkin' test and then go party the night away like I never thought I would before." Seriously, I doubted anyone would ask me to my own prom (and no one probably will), let alone someone else's. But he broke up with his girlfriend recently and really wants me to go with him. I'm... astonished. Maybe this could kick-start a writing spree on the Announcement, if only I weren't completely sleep-deprived, which is why I'm typing on here: I can think of nothing else I have the energy to do, which has been my chief reason for avoiding computer time in the last year.
Anyway, out of energy on that subject. There's not much to say yet.
School. Is. Wretched. Or, rather, inane. Yes, there's a good word for you.
Gym. What's the deal with assigning homework in gym? It's a physical class, for crying out loud; there's no place for homework! I'd rather just go out and play catch afterschool if we have to do something outside of class. *evil glare at teacher*
Statistics. Boring. Confusing. Take your pick. The teacher's great, really, but after a while, it's just too much of a routine. And what's the deal with having ten different ways to get an answer for whether or not a claim is correct? On the other hand, it could help me with my senior project, especially now that I've got a crusade to go on. (More on that later.)
History. As usual, can't stand it. It's too much work for people who're dead or forgotten by now. It'd work better if it just covered the notes and we could all listen without the threat of a test. Basically, history isn't worth an hour, let alone forty minutes a day.
English. Finally, the English assignment I've always wanted, and just at the point in the year where I want to just ignore school. My essay's supposed to be a literary critique on The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it so far. Finally, science fiction is recognized as acceptable fodder for high school English classes! I have hope yet! And if/when I'm an English teacher, my students will so be reading Mara Jade's fan fiction and identifying all the wonderful rhetoric she uses.
German. I abhor Wochenende! I hate going in on every Montag morning and having to talk about my weekend. Ninety percent of the time, I don't do anything interesting or anything I ever want to talk about. The other ten percent, I don't know how to express it in German, and I don't care enough to share it in English. They don't need to know what's going on in my life. I'd just as soon post everything on the Internet... sooner, in fact, as is evidenced by this post!
Physics. Still sick of the teacher, just like everyone else. His teaching style isn't as bad as last semester, but it's still getting more tedious, nerve-wracking, and generally ridiculous as the year progresses. I was an idiot to sign up for AP Physics next year and to consider it as a career. But basically, I don't know what I want, and no one wants to give me a direction.
Health. For as horrible of a concept as it was, the teacher makes health a surprisingly okay class. There's a bunch of characters in that room, just as there are in German, and when combined with the teacher (not the student teacher, mind you; she's pretty bad), it makes for a pretty entertaining blow-off class. Of course, I don't listen hard to any of the self-improving advice given; like others, I feel incredibly good about myself and don't think I need to improve myself on that front. Just try to prove me wrong.
So my crusade, since I know you're all sitting on the edge of your seats. They cut the funding for the arts at my school... I think. That's what I've heard. So. I'm ticked. They have enough money to put stinkin' astroturf on the field and to give it traction with itty bitty pieces of tires. But, no, they can't fund the arts, which force kids to learn discipline and often give them motivation for going to school. And not only that, but apparently, they're also discouraging kids from taking band or art. What the hey?! You can learn so much more from those classes--more practical things--than you can in health (ooh, yes, condoms are more important than pianos or graphic design... not). Do they have any idea how important graphic design is to our culture? If all the graphic designers suddenly died, our world would basically fall apart. People wouldn't be as subject to impulse buying, suddenly, which would probably send the economy into recession. Oh, yeah, we need economists but not graphic designers? And they keep saying that we need to be creative, but they're cutting the legs from under the programs that stimulate and encourage creativity!! We need the arts. I'm not even an artist--I play two instruments about once every three months, I only do cover art, and it's not professional at all, I can't do much of anything in front of people--but even I know the arts are extremely important. I'm a writer, and though it's part of the English department, technically, it's very closely related to the arts. It requires thought, hard work, and creativity, just like any other art form. They have no basis for reducing the art program, not even their precious standardized testing crap. (And those of you who know me know how very rarely I use that word. But it applies here.)
The STC's, as I shall now refer to them, carefully hiding the true name of the test, do nothing for us students. And isn't that what education is about? If you need to measure a student's progress in school, don't you DARE take the time out from the student's learning to do it. I like AP English. It's one of the top two English classes I've ever taken, by a far margin. What do the state and school board think they're doing, depriving me of the class I earned the opportunity to take? If they're trying to get me to learn, how dare they make me learn less just to see if I have, in fact, learned anything? The same applies to math. CHS Stats is one of my favorite classes. Why, then, did I have to put my learning and understanding on hold just to show the state/school board that I learned something last year? Those contradictory, uncaring bureaucrats!
Where to begin after so long, for those of you who might actually care about my life?
I just got asked to prom last night, and I never expected it. Unfortunately, it's in another state, and I'm not sure my parents will let me go yet. Of course, I'll have to finish my English essay before then, because it's due the Monday after and I'm taking the SATs on the same day as the prom. That ought to be fun. "Here, let's wear myself out with a big honkin' test and then go party the night away like I never thought I would before." Seriously, I doubted anyone would ask me to my own prom (and no one probably will), let alone someone else's. But he broke up with his girlfriend recently and really wants me to go with him. I'm... astonished. Maybe this could kick-start a writing spree on the Announcement, if only I weren't completely sleep-deprived, which is why I'm typing on here: I can think of nothing else I have the energy to do, which has been my chief reason for avoiding computer time in the last year.
Anyway, out of energy on that subject. There's not much to say yet.
School. Is. Wretched. Or, rather, inane. Yes, there's a good word for you.
Gym. What's the deal with assigning homework in gym? It's a physical class, for crying out loud; there's no place for homework! I'd rather just go out and play catch afterschool if we have to do something outside of class. *evil glare at teacher*
Statistics. Boring. Confusing. Take your pick. The teacher's great, really, but after a while, it's just too much of a routine. And what's the deal with having ten different ways to get an answer for whether or not a claim is correct? On the other hand, it could help me with my senior project, especially now that I've got a crusade to go on. (More on that later.)
History. As usual, can't stand it. It's too much work for people who're dead or forgotten by now. It'd work better if it just covered the notes and we could all listen without the threat of a test. Basically, history isn't worth an hour, let alone forty minutes a day.
English. Finally, the English assignment I've always wanted, and just at the point in the year where I want to just ignore school. My essay's supposed to be a literary critique on The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it so far. Finally, science fiction is recognized as acceptable fodder for high school English classes! I have hope yet! And if/when I'm an English teacher, my students will so be reading Mara Jade's fan fiction and identifying all the wonderful rhetoric she uses.
German. I abhor Wochenende! I hate going in on every Montag morning and having to talk about my weekend. Ninety percent of the time, I don't do anything interesting or anything I ever want to talk about. The other ten percent, I don't know how to express it in German, and I don't care enough to share it in English. They don't need to know what's going on in my life. I'd just as soon post everything on the Internet... sooner, in fact, as is evidenced by this post!
Physics. Still sick of the teacher, just like everyone else. His teaching style isn't as bad as last semester, but it's still getting more tedious, nerve-wracking, and generally ridiculous as the year progresses. I was an idiot to sign up for AP Physics next year and to consider it as a career. But basically, I don't know what I want, and no one wants to give me a direction.
Health. For as horrible of a concept as it was, the teacher makes health a surprisingly okay class. There's a bunch of characters in that room, just as there are in German, and when combined with the teacher (not the student teacher, mind you; she's pretty bad), it makes for a pretty entertaining blow-off class. Of course, I don't listen hard to any of the self-improving advice given; like others, I feel incredibly good about myself and don't think I need to improve myself on that front. Just try to prove me wrong.
So my crusade, since I know you're all sitting on the edge of your seats. They cut the funding for the arts at my school... I think. That's what I've heard. So. I'm ticked. They have enough money to put stinkin' astroturf on the field and to give it traction with itty bitty pieces of tires. But, no, they can't fund the arts, which force kids to learn discipline and often give them motivation for going to school. And not only that, but apparently, they're also discouraging kids from taking band or art. What the hey?! You can learn so much more from those classes--more practical things--than you can in health (ooh, yes, condoms are more important than pianos or graphic design... not). Do they have any idea how important graphic design is to our culture? If all the graphic designers suddenly died, our world would basically fall apart. People wouldn't be as subject to impulse buying, suddenly, which would probably send the economy into recession. Oh, yeah, we need economists but not graphic designers? And they keep saying that we need to be creative, but they're cutting the legs from under the programs that stimulate and encourage creativity!! We need the arts. I'm not even an artist--I play two instruments about once every three months, I only do cover art, and it's not professional at all, I can't do much of anything in front of people--but even I know the arts are extremely important. I'm a writer, and though it's part of the English department, technically, it's very closely related to the arts. It requires thought, hard work, and creativity, just like any other art form. They have no basis for reducing the art program, not even their precious standardized testing crap. (And those of you who know me know how very rarely I use that word. But it applies here.)
The STC's, as I shall now refer to them, carefully hiding the true name of the test, do nothing for us students. And isn't that what education is about? If you need to measure a student's progress in school, don't you DARE take the time out from the student's learning to do it. I like AP English. It's one of the top two English classes I've ever taken, by a far margin. What do the state and school board think they're doing, depriving me of the class I earned the opportunity to take? If they're trying to get me to learn, how dare they make me learn less just to see if I have, in fact, learned anything? The same applies to math. CHS Stats is one of my favorite classes. Why, then, did I have to put my learning and understanding on hold just to show the state/school board that I learned something last year? Those contradictory, uncaring bureaucrats!
Okay, rant over. Probably. What else?
Oh, there's a foreign exchange student over, the main reason for me being on even less than normal. She's been here for three weeks, but she's going home Wednesday. We get along okay, but we're not best friends or anything. It's been tough, for both of us. At first, they (she and her mother) preferred convenience over the custody arrangement, which would never fly, especially for me. I'm not going to throw a boulder into a calm swimmingpool just to make a stepping stone to the other side. I'll swim--it might be wet, but it leaves smaller ripples. Well, we've got small ripples now, though it's been hard to put up with the crowded bus for a week at a time. Then she had a problem with my church, or my youth group, it's hard to tell which. So now we're comfortably speaking about a hundred words per day to each other. It's frustrating, but I'm glad for the experience... and I'll never do it again. I say again: I'm greatful for this opportunity. And I'm living alone or with only family until college; Mom is not allowed to adopt until I'm out of the house.
*sigh* I miss my dog. I haven't seen him since Sunday. He's the cutest dog on the planet, and he loves me as much as my parents do, and they're my best friends.
Which reminds me. My best friend my age is sitting on a steel fense the width of a razor blade. Her parents want to move back to California by next year, but she's got only one more year in school. They keep setting deadlines for the house to sell or for her dad to get a job there and then setting them back when they're not met. It's horribly frustating for all of us. But then, I guess she was doomed to move back as soon as she met me--it happens to all my best friends. But maybe just this once for just one more year it won't. We'll all be leaving after that. And her parents say it's because of her mom's asthema (which was only better there because they keep going to smoke-filled restaraunts here and the humidity's higher), and the better job opportunities (which was why they moved here), and the better school (they don't want her to be stressed out next year, even though our school here is actually better), and the better church (if they'd stop comparing every church to their home church, they'd see that we have very good churches here; they just need to get involved). And to top it all off, they say they don't have any friends; their friends here stopped talking to them. But the thing is, there are hundreds of people here who would gladly be their friends and adopt them into a community of fellowship if only they'd let themselves meet them!!! I know plenty of awesome people their age! And, look, it took me six years to know them. But now I'd rather not leave the church because they're so cool.
*sigh* People annoy me. My muse annoys me. I annoy me.
I'll go take a shower.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Legacy Scrap
(Same as before--Announcement ch 14 spoilers. Same ones, I think. Maybe not. Just typing to see what people think.)
David waited nervously in a room with Dehrwin, hoping only that Sarah wouldn't find out what he was doing unless everything turned out okay. "Tell me one more time why I should trust this guy?"
Dehrwin rolled his eyes as he sat on a chair beside the door, relaxed. "He is a Tok'ra, and they are allied with the Tau'ri."
He shook his head; the information was no comfort when he already knew it. "So just because we're allies, I'm supposed to automatically trust this guy?"
"You believe he may be untrustworthy?" the Jaffa replied disdainfully.
"I believe I don't like having to trust someone I don't know," he replied tersely. "Can't you tell me anything else about him? What's he been up to in the last year?"
The Jaffa, who was easily twice as massive as David, sent a warning glare his way. "Many times, it is extremely obvious that you are Tau'ri."
Suddenly, the door opened, allowing in the subject of their discussion and closing again. Vandrof scanned the room, taking note of its occupants. "You wanted to see me?" he asked Dehrwin, who pointed to David.
"We met once," David said. "You already had your host by the time I got there."
Vandrof frowned. "You left shortly after that. We didn't have time to speak." He glanced behind him to Dehrwin then back to the human. "Why are you serving as a lotaur?"
David shook his head. "Only after you tell me why you're serving a Goa'uld. Sarah's pretty freaked out about that."
"Wait," Dehrwin broke in. "Why did you not say before that you knew each other?"
"We don't know each other well," David answered, not taking his eyes off Vandrof, "but we apparently should."
Vandrof nodded. "I have not seen Vinnet since she obtained permission from the council to remain on Earth for another year. How is she?"
"She was doing fine until you showed up," David replied venomously. "Whatever you told her while you were chatting, it really unnerved her."
Dehrwin's eyes widened, and he interrupted again. "You lied to me! You said you wanted the Goa'uld out of Senane, but you don't, do you."
"Not now, Dehrwin," Vandrof replied. "No one wantts to see any harm done to her." He turned back to David. "Tacita is not a Goa'uld, but she does not want Vinnet to know. This entire palace is a test designed to show the character of those who request to serve her. I was sure she'd pass until I heard that she'd brought a lotaur and Jaffa. None of us ever have lotaurs." Both he and Dehrwin looked to David for explanation.
"If it makes you feel better, she told me not to come," he admitted, "but I promised her back on Earth that I wouldn't let her go. When I caught up with her offworld, I was able to convince her to let me tag along."
"You had to convince her?" Dehrwin interrupted disbelievingly.
Vandrof nodded impatiently. "The Goa'uld in the throne room of this palace is, in fact, a Tok'ra, a friend of mine." He turned his attention back to David. "And of yours as well. But who are the Jaffa?"
"How do I know I can trust you with their identities? Vinnet feels responsible for their well-being; I'm not going to poke holes in their safety net."
"Despite a shift in priorities, I am still who I've been--I have not changed as much as Vinnet has."
"I think it's that priority shift that's got her worried."
Vandrof's eyes shifted uneasily from David to some indeterminate infinity behind him. "The highest priority of any Tok'ra is to protect Egeria and to futher her cause. Ever since Egeria was lost to us, her cause has been in the forefront of our minds. But now some of us have to switch back to our previous committment."
(Same as before--Announcement ch 14 spoilers. Same ones, I think. Maybe not. Just typing to see what people think.)
David waited nervously in a room with Dehrwin, hoping only that Sarah wouldn't find out what he was doing unless everything turned out okay. "Tell me one more time why I should trust this guy?"
Dehrwin rolled his eyes as he sat on a chair beside the door, relaxed. "He is a Tok'ra, and they are allied with the Tau'ri."
He shook his head; the information was no comfort when he already knew it. "So just because we're allies, I'm supposed to automatically trust this guy?"
"You believe he may be untrustworthy?" the Jaffa replied disdainfully.
"I believe I don't like having to trust someone I don't know," he replied tersely. "Can't you tell me anything else about him? What's he been up to in the last year?"
The Jaffa, who was easily twice as massive as David, sent a warning glare his way. "Many times, it is extremely obvious that you are Tau'ri."
Suddenly, the door opened, allowing in the subject of their discussion and closing again. Vandrof scanned the room, taking note of its occupants. "You wanted to see me?" he asked Dehrwin, who pointed to David.
"We met once," David said. "You already had your host by the time I got there."
Vandrof frowned. "You left shortly after that. We didn't have time to speak." He glanced behind him to Dehrwin then back to the human. "Why are you serving as a lotaur?"
David shook his head. "Only after you tell me why you're serving a Goa'uld. Sarah's pretty freaked out about that."
"Wait," Dehrwin broke in. "Why did you not say before that you knew each other?"
"We don't know each other well," David answered, not taking his eyes off Vandrof, "but we apparently should."
Vandrof nodded. "I have not seen Vinnet since she obtained permission from the council to remain on Earth for another year. How is she?"
"She was doing fine until you showed up," David replied venomously. "Whatever you told her while you were chatting, it really unnerved her."
Dehrwin's eyes widened, and he interrupted again. "You lied to me! You said you wanted the Goa'uld out of Senane, but you don't, do you."
"Not now, Dehrwin," Vandrof replied. "No one wantts to see any harm done to her." He turned back to David. "Tacita is not a Goa'uld, but she does not want Vinnet to know. This entire palace is a test designed to show the character of those who request to serve her. I was sure she'd pass until I heard that she'd brought a lotaur and Jaffa. None of us ever have lotaurs." Both he and Dehrwin looked to David for explanation.
"If it makes you feel better, she told me not to come," he admitted, "but I promised her back on Earth that I wouldn't let her go. When I caught up with her offworld, I was able to convince her to let me tag along."
"You had to convince her?" Dehrwin interrupted disbelievingly.
Vandrof nodded impatiently. "The Goa'uld in the throne room of this palace is, in fact, a Tok'ra, a friend of mine." He turned his attention back to David. "And of yours as well. But who are the Jaffa?"
"How do I know I can trust you with their identities? Vinnet feels responsible for their well-being; I'm not going to poke holes in their safety net."
"Despite a shift in priorities, I am still who I've been--I have not changed as much as Vinnet has."
"I think it's that priority shift that's got her worried."
Vandrof's eyes shifted uneasily from David to some indeterminate infinity behind him. "The highest priority of any Tok'ra is to protect Egeria and to futher her cause. Ever since Egeria was lost to us, her cause has been in the forefront of our minds. But now some of us have to switch back to our previous committment."
Legacy
(Warning: Announcement chapter 14 spoilers)
After finally getting his wife calmed down, David roamed the caste's dim, high-ceilinged halls in search of water for both of them. After twenty minutes, he found what appeared to be a kitchen, though it was a far cry from the kind of kitchen he was accustomed to. He wildly began searching the bizzare cabinets for cups, sliding open many of the stone and gold doors with enough force that they rebounded from the end of their tracks. Two cabinets in a row, he heard extra bangs and suspiciously spun to find a tall, muscular Jaffa in full armor, whom he recognized as Dehrwin, one of the Jaffa Tacita had sent.
Suddenly nervous at his presence, David bowed exactly as Vinnet had taught him and straightened up while watching the Jaffa's toes. He couldn't help but notice that Dehrwin
had cornered him the first time he left his wife's presence. "May I help you?"
Dehrwin's loud, demanding voice unnerved him even more than his imposing presence. "How long have you served your master?"
He shrugged, belatedly realizing a real lotaur might not. The real answer was that he didn't serve her, but he couldn't say that. "About a year."
"How often does she treat you poorly?"
David quickly glanced up to see Dehrwin's expression, but there was no emotion to be read. He still had no clue explaining the Jaffa's purpose. His mind reeling for an answer, he improvised. "She treats me much better than I could ever deserve." It wasn't a lie, and it even sounded humble and subserviant--score one for the fake lotaur!
"Is that so?" Dehrwin retorted. "I heard she reprimanded you this afternoon." He stared at David's folded hands. "Did she also bruise your hands?"
"Yeah..." He looked at his hand, where Sarah's extra-strong grip had been focused while she gave birth. "Um..."
The Jaffa's voice softened. "You need not be treated in such a way."
He frowned, desperately trying to rein in the frustration he felt at not being able to truthfully justify his wife's actions. "You weren't there; you can't judge her by the result of a situation you're unaware of. I was there for her when she needed me."
"I understand your loyalty, but you must not sacrifice your well-being for it."
"It was an isolated incident," he insisted, now forgetting the humble servance facade and glaring at the Jaffa.
Dehrwin stepped forward menacingly. "If you continue in her service, it will no longer be an isolated occurance."
"You don't know that, because you don't know her! You've only known about her for a single day." Shaking his head, David took a quick, deep, calming breath. "You've only been around her for less than a day. After a while, you'll see that she wouldn't do anything to me. Besides, why do you care?"
The Jaffa lowered his head and his voice, as though he were revealing a secret. "I believe in freedom for humans and Jaffa. The Jaffa already have a strong start; humans are still subject to the oppression of the Goa'uld."
"So do you see me as an equal?"
Dehrwin hesitated just a little too long.
"That's fine. It's just a question." He had asked only to determine where he stood in the other's mind. "And it sounds like you're very noble. But I'm not feeling at all oppressed at the moment."
"Vandrof said Senane used to live among the Tau'ri. Is that true?"
He took a moment to recalled what "Tau'ri" meant--Earthlings--before answering cautiously, "Yes."
"Then you are a Tau'ri?"
He swallowed, wondering if he was about to get into trouble. "Yes."
Dehrwin shook his head. "Then how can you have no complaint here? I have heard much of the Tau'ri; they are the ones who end systems such as we have here. How can you be content with that?"
At a loss for an answer, David shrugged. "I just... can."
"Is her host a Tau'ri as well?"
"My wife."
Dehrwin nodded his understanding. "So being her lotaur, you have ample opportunity to sabotage her efforts until you can find someone to remove the Gao'uld and restore your wife to you."
"Of course." It was so nice of him to provide David with a cover story.
"I can do that for you."
The Tau'ri panicked for a moment; he couldn't really let anyone remove Vinnet, who was as much his wife as Sarah was. Then he feigned regret at a lost opportunity. "The SGC gave me this mission. They want me to find out as much about her and where she same from as I can--in case any more Goa'uld can make it to Earth the same way. So until I know that, I can't let you do that."
A bright grin grew on Dehrwin's face as he listened. "We could always interrogate her first."
"No! I couldn't put her through that!"
"But you could allow a Goa'uld to control her, to invade her mind that much longer?" the Jaffa snapped, disgust clear in his empathetic tone.
"To prevent others from going through this? Yes!" Beginning to wonder if the other believed him, David hoped he wouldn't have to resort to the truth; his wives would be furious.
"Interrogation would be an effective means to get that information in a time frame that would allow you to prevent any similar Goa'uld action among the Tau'ri."
"When I say no, I mean it," he insisted, his voice growing louder. "The other Jaffa, the ones she brought with us, are intensely loyal. If they hear wind of any action against her, we're both going to be up a creek."
Dehrwin frowned, missing the meaning of the phrase. "Then when you have your information, how will you put it to use?"
"I'll contact the SGC, who'll send a team here to extract us. I've got it under control. All you should do is create a diversion for the Jaffa when the time comes."
The Jaffa seemed to ignore him. "You could obtain the information you seek from Vandrof. He seems to know much of Senane."
"Yeah, he does." But if he were really a traitor to the Tok'ra, would he be safe speaking to him alone, even if the information he obtained could be valuable to Vinnet?
(Warning: Announcement chapter 14 spoilers)
After finally getting his wife calmed down, David roamed the caste's dim, high-ceilinged halls in search of water for both of them. After twenty minutes, he found what appeared to be a kitchen, though it was a far cry from the kind of kitchen he was accustomed to. He wildly began searching the bizzare cabinets for cups, sliding open many of the stone and gold doors with enough force that they rebounded from the end of their tracks. Two cabinets in a row, he heard extra bangs and suspiciously spun to find a tall, muscular Jaffa in full armor, whom he recognized as Dehrwin, one of the Jaffa Tacita had sent.
Suddenly nervous at his presence, David bowed exactly as Vinnet had taught him and straightened up while watching the Jaffa's toes. He couldn't help but notice that Dehrwin
had cornered him the first time he left his wife's presence. "May I help you?"
Dehrwin's loud, demanding voice unnerved him even more than his imposing presence. "How long have you served your master?"
He shrugged, belatedly realizing a real lotaur might not. The real answer was that he didn't serve her, but he couldn't say that. "About a year."
"How often does she treat you poorly?"
David quickly glanced up to see Dehrwin's expression, but there was no emotion to be read. He still had no clue explaining the Jaffa's purpose. His mind reeling for an answer, he improvised. "She treats me much better than I could ever deserve." It wasn't a lie, and it even sounded humble and subserviant--score one for the fake lotaur!
"Is that so?" Dehrwin retorted. "I heard she reprimanded you this afternoon." He stared at David's folded hands. "Did she also bruise your hands?"
"Yeah..." He looked at his hand, where Sarah's extra-strong grip had been focused while she gave birth. "Um..."
The Jaffa's voice softened. "You need not be treated in such a way."
He frowned, desperately trying to rein in the frustration he felt at not being able to truthfully justify his wife's actions. "You weren't there; you can't judge her by the result of a situation you're unaware of. I was there for her when she needed me."
"I understand your loyalty, but you must not sacrifice your well-being for it."
"It was an isolated incident," he insisted, now forgetting the humble servance facade and glaring at the Jaffa.
Dehrwin stepped forward menacingly. "If you continue in her service, it will no longer be an isolated occurance."
"You don't know that, because you don't know her! You've only known about her for a single day." Shaking his head, David took a quick, deep, calming breath. "You've only been around her for less than a day. After a while, you'll see that she wouldn't do anything to me. Besides, why do you care?"
The Jaffa lowered his head and his voice, as though he were revealing a secret. "I believe in freedom for humans and Jaffa. The Jaffa already have a strong start; humans are still subject to the oppression of the Goa'uld."
"So do you see me as an equal?"
Dehrwin hesitated just a little too long.
"That's fine. It's just a question." He had asked only to determine where he stood in the other's mind. "And it sounds like you're very noble. But I'm not feeling at all oppressed at the moment."
"Vandrof said Senane used to live among the Tau'ri. Is that true?"
He took a moment to recalled what "Tau'ri" meant--Earthlings--before answering cautiously, "Yes."
"Then you are a Tau'ri?"
He swallowed, wondering if he was about to get into trouble. "Yes."
Dehrwin shook his head. "Then how can you have no complaint here? I have heard much of the Tau'ri; they are the ones who end systems such as we have here. How can you be content with that?"
At a loss for an answer, David shrugged. "I just... can."
"Is her host a Tau'ri as well?"
"My wife."
Dehrwin nodded his understanding. "So being her lotaur, you have ample opportunity to sabotage her efforts until you can find someone to remove the Gao'uld and restore your wife to you."
"Of course." It was so nice of him to provide David with a cover story.
"I can do that for you."
The Tau'ri panicked for a moment; he couldn't really let anyone remove Vinnet, who was as much his wife as Sarah was. Then he feigned regret at a lost opportunity. "The SGC gave me this mission. They want me to find out as much about her and where she same from as I can--in case any more Goa'uld can make it to Earth the same way. So until I know that, I can't let you do that."
A bright grin grew on Dehrwin's face as he listened. "We could always interrogate her first."
"No! I couldn't put her through that!"
"But you could allow a Goa'uld to control her, to invade her mind that much longer?" the Jaffa snapped, disgust clear in his empathetic tone.
"To prevent others from going through this? Yes!" Beginning to wonder if the other believed him, David hoped he wouldn't have to resort to the truth; his wives would be furious.
"Interrogation would be an effective means to get that information in a time frame that would allow you to prevent any similar Goa'uld action among the Tau'ri."
"When I say no, I mean it," he insisted, his voice growing louder. "The other Jaffa, the ones she brought with us, are intensely loyal. If they hear wind of any action against her, we're both going to be up a creek."
Dehrwin frowned, missing the meaning of the phrase. "Then when you have your information, how will you put it to use?"
"I'll contact the SGC, who'll send a team here to extract us. I've got it under control. All you should do is create a diversion for the Jaffa when the time comes."
The Jaffa seemed to ignore him. "You could obtain the information you seek from Vandrof. He seems to know much of Senane."
"Yeah, he does." But if he were really a traitor to the Tok'ra, would he be safe speaking to him alone, even if the information he obtained could be valuable to Vinnet?
Monday, March 27, 2006
Haven't forgotten about the Announcement. But as I'm trying to wind down the story, it's getting really sappy, and I can't stand it. I need to get it over and done with, whether it's good or not, but I'm having a hard time thinking with the characters while everything's going on in my life. I'm guessing it may take me until July to get over this bump in the road, but I'm not sure. School won't wind down until June, at which point, I'll be going to SC and either PGSS or PGSA for creative writing, depending on whether I get accepted to the latter. That doesn't end until July, but I'll probably have AP stuff to work on over the summer. So... It's not looking good. Legacy's been bugging me for a few weeks now, and I can't help but work on it. Probably up to fifteen or twenty pages by now, and I can't share until I finish the next two chaps of the Announcement. It's annoying, because I'm really falling in love this with story. It's so different from everything that I've written, which is pretty funny, because it's still fanfiction. But the entire thing has this intense irony permeating each scene which makes you (or at least me) really frustrated with the characters. (Which is fun--it's not often that an author can be frustrated with her characters!) I know what I'm working up to in this story, and have even gotten inspired for a sequel, though I doubt anyone will want to read it. At least it gives me direction for this one. II just wish I could hurry up and finish the next two chapters of the Announcement so I can try to debut Legacy. I doubt anyone's going to like it as fanfiction, though; I should look into switching it over to original fiction, though that'll add some serious amounts of exposition that I'm not sure I can stand. GRR!!!! I wanna write it, but besides being a little stuck, I should be working on other things. Anne's coming in two days, and we're still not ready for her. (Can you imagine me having a sister for a month? This'll be odd!) The guidance office still hasn't gotten back to me on what I'm supposed to do. I'll go to the main office if I don't hear back by Wednesday, though that's cutting it pretty short. The GC's going to wait until I have a study hall, I bet, and that's a whopping three hours before we pick her up. Feels like that'd be cutting it awful close. And this isn't the time I really want to get shortchanged on study halls. I'm behind in about everything. Big history test on Thursday and Friday that I can't stand to study for, but I have to. Reading The Great Gatsby, too. Sorry, Mrs. S, but that book needs to be burned! I don't care if he's got that symbolism stuff and silent depth going throughout it. I'm starting to believe some authors can do that without putting too much forethought into it--that's what it feels like I'm doing in Legacy! It started with my huge plans for Sarah and Vinnet, and then a few more plot bunnies attacked (two), and now it's amazingly complicated. I mean, I don't think I even really considered whether I was going to do the scene with Vandrof (amazing irony, I'm telling you, kinda like the end of Reeses, only more dramatic); I just wrote it. *sigh* Back to the real world. I'm stuck reading Gatsby again. I was so hoping we'd get it over with at the beginning of the year, when it was fresh in my mind and I wouldn't have to read it again. There were some points I wanted to cry when I was reading it, and not for any sympathy for the characters. They can all become Goa'ulds for all I care. *grin* There's a crossover for you! Daisy was really one of Hathor's hosts. Not too pleased with physics at the moment. But, hey, I got accepted to PGSS!!! Now if only I can prove to myself that I can do this science and engineering stuff. The longer I fail at it (aka high B's), the more I wonder if this is really what I want to do. I know it's not my first option, but it is my second. I doubt I can make a living off of writing, not now with my moodiness and laziness.
Ego's getting a nice watering this week. Amanda and Jenn from the school's literary magazine have been complimenting my submission, which is always nice. (Apparently, I wasn't supposed to put my name on it, but when all I saw were the posters, I wasn't so sure about it.) Anyhow, it's nice to know some people around here appreciate it. Like I said, I got accepted to PGSS, too, so that's shiney. Hopefully, though, I'll get accepted to PGSA. Creative writing is *so* much higher on my priorities than science... It comes more naturally.
Wish me luck when I send my story off to Analog magazine. I'm hoping to get a response.
It's getting late, and I should probably be able to think tomorrow. I'll get on later maybe.
Ego's getting a nice watering this week. Amanda and Jenn from the school's literary magazine have been complimenting my submission, which is always nice. (Apparently, I wasn't supposed to put my name on it, but when all I saw were the posters, I wasn't so sure about it.) Anyhow, it's nice to know some people around here appreciate it. Like I said, I got accepted to PGSS, too, so that's shiney. Hopefully, though, I'll get accepted to PGSA. Creative writing is *so* much higher on my priorities than science... It comes more naturally.
Wish me luck when I send my story off to Analog magazine. I'm hoping to get a response.
It's getting late, and I should probably be able to think tomorrow. I'll get on later maybe.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/crystalrain/excerpt.htm
Just wanted to share this incredibly awesome book I finished a couple hours ago. It's by an author who I got to meet over the summer, and this is his first book. But don't let that keep you from reading it; it's one of the most gripping books I've read in a long time. Right up there with Wen Spencer, who won the John Cambell award a short while ago. Seriously, Tobias Buckell has got to be as good as Timothy Zahn, and possibly better than Kevin J. Anderson and Michael A. Stackpole.
Crystal Rain itself is unique as far as I'm concerned, though it's got elements that remind me of Pirates of the Caribbean (SFBP), Timothy Zahn's Cobras Two, and even the Pack in Wen Spencer's Ukiah series. Add in a pair of cultures, a protagonist without a memory (always fun stuff!), and spiffy, shiney technology.... I'm so glad he's writing another book!
So... I hope I don't sound like a sales person, but it's really awesome. Had he left any holes, this would definately be a candidate for fan fiction, but seeing as how it took me four books to feel ready for Pack fan fiction, that's not going to happen any time soon.
*sigh* Back to boring books now. Of Mice and Men is waiting for me to finish by the end of the weekend. Merg.
I'm starting to see that reading new books is only fun if someone else is reading them with you... No, reading good books is just more fun if someone reads them with you so you can chat about it. *evil grin* Jenn, Jena, get ready for some interesting reading. That's why you're not in AP English, right? (Hmmm, which is worse? Huck Finn or Mice and Men in the same amount of time?)
Just wanted to share this incredibly awesome book I finished a couple hours ago. It's by an author who I got to meet over the summer, and this is his first book. But don't let that keep you from reading it; it's one of the most gripping books I've read in a long time. Right up there with Wen Spencer, who won the John Cambell award a short while ago. Seriously, Tobias Buckell has got to be as good as Timothy Zahn, and possibly better than Kevin J. Anderson and Michael A. Stackpole.
Crystal Rain itself is unique as far as I'm concerned, though it's got elements that remind me of Pirates of the Caribbean (SFBP), Timothy Zahn's Cobras Two, and even the Pack in Wen Spencer's Ukiah series. Add in a pair of cultures, a protagonist without a memory (always fun stuff!), and spiffy, shiney technology.... I'm so glad he's writing another book!
So... I hope I don't sound like a sales person, but it's really awesome. Had he left any holes, this would definately be a candidate for fan fiction, but seeing as how it took me four books to feel ready for Pack fan fiction, that's not going to happen any time soon.
*sigh* Back to boring books now. Of Mice and Men is waiting for me to finish by the end of the weekend. Merg.
I'm starting to see that reading new books is only fun if someone else is reading them with you... No, reading good books is just more fun if someone reads them with you so you can chat about it. *evil grin* Jenn, Jena, get ready for some interesting reading. That's why you're not in AP English, right? (Hmmm, which is worse? Huck Finn or Mice and Men in the same amount of time?)
Friday, February 10, 2006
Page 7, section 2
"Why didn't that work?" Nick demanded, setting Julianne on a section of clear ceiling. He furiously glared at her, already placing the blame for the impending loss of his immense savings.
She busied herself by straightening her clothes to their proper positions while considering why the reset had failed to change the gravity. "Bill's programming must have taken precedence. But I'm not sure. We didn't talk while working on it."
"Of course not. You don't talk to anyone."
She crossed her arms and stared stright at him, as she hadn't done since becoming the ship's hermit. The pitch of her voice rose considerably. "Why should I?"
His jaw dropped in bewilderment. "Oh, come on! You're not still mad about that whole stealing from your entire family thing, are you? That was years ago!"
"My neice died because she couldn't afford her medicine after that!" she yelled, explaining what she had told none of the crew.
"Oh." He stood there, as shocked as if the quiet, diminutive mechanic had punched him in the stomach. All this time, he thought she had been mourning the loss of money. But now he considered how much he had cherished his family before he had discovered the attractiveness of being a con artist. "I didn't know," he whispered in the absence of an apology for his part of it.
She drew in a calming breath, desperately trying to keep her neice's face out of her mind's eye. Distraction always worked best for avoiding tears. "We're still on the ceiling," she resolutely stated.
"Right." Her admission still hung in his memory, the aftertaste of caster oil. He tried to think of what few solutions a common con artist might know. "What if we shut the power off?"
Julianne frowned and looked at him as if his face had turned nebula blue. "Do you want to risk flooding the ship with sewage when the electric containment stops?"
"No, what if we shut the gravity itself off?"
She mentally ran trhough a list of all the technology onboard that could possibly suffer from a lack of gravity, not least of which being any open containers in the refridgerator. She grimaced. "Well, we wouldn't be stuck on the ceiling anymore, but when we turn it back on, we'll go right back to where we are."
"You do know there are three Lawkeeper cruisers waiting for us out there, right?"
"Yes, but..." She bit her lips, thinking, though she didn't come up with anything. "I see your point."
***
Chrys felt only the slightest surprise as her weight seemed to evaporate, allowing her to float away from the ceiling outside the flgith deck with the slightest twitch of a muscle. Having watched the lethargic approach of the small Lawkeeper fleet for five minutes, she immediately pulled herself into the pilot's chair, strapped in, and prepared to leave. It had not escaped her attention that the ships had positioned themselves where she had only two escape routes, both thoroughly covered by the weapons.
Having participated in the government for a decade, Chyrs knew an often-overlooked aspect of Lawkeeper cruisers: the sides had only a sparse scattering of weapons. They might have appropriated an increase in the armament budget that had restricted the density of such weapons, had they had to deal with many hard-core criminals, but the conservative government had no reason to correct a mistake that was not deadly. The Mal'akhu's designers, however, had not missed a detail so important. (Chyrs's substantial threats had made sure of that.)
She aimed her relatively small yacht at a hangar bay that began to open in the sides of one of the larger vessels to let the Mal'akhu dock. Keeping the speed low, she moved her yacht into the may, a cavern that could easily have housed a pair of twenty-second century sports stadiums, built to hold millions of people.
The Mal'akhu straightened out to point at the far side of the ship, where a pair of thick doors blocked the passage all the way through.
A risingg chime blared from the radio; her failure to abide by general apprehension procedure, which involved setting down as near as possible to the entrance door most likely made the ship's commander especially nervous.
"Why didn't that work?" Nick demanded, setting Julianne on a section of clear ceiling. He furiously glared at her, already placing the blame for the impending loss of his immense savings.
She busied herself by straightening her clothes to their proper positions while considering why the reset had failed to change the gravity. "Bill's programming must have taken precedence. But I'm not sure. We didn't talk while working on it."
"Of course not. You don't talk to anyone."
She crossed her arms and stared stright at him, as she hadn't done since becoming the ship's hermit. The pitch of her voice rose considerably. "Why should I?"
His jaw dropped in bewilderment. "Oh, come on! You're not still mad about that whole stealing from your entire family thing, are you? That was years ago!"
"My neice died because she couldn't afford her medicine after that!" she yelled, explaining what she had told none of the crew.
"Oh." He stood there, as shocked as if the quiet, diminutive mechanic had punched him in the stomach. All this time, he thought she had been mourning the loss of money. But now he considered how much he had cherished his family before he had discovered the attractiveness of being a con artist. "I didn't know," he whispered in the absence of an apology for his part of it.
She drew in a calming breath, desperately trying to keep her neice's face out of her mind's eye. Distraction always worked best for avoiding tears. "We're still on the ceiling," she resolutely stated.
"Right." Her admission still hung in his memory, the aftertaste of caster oil. He tried to think of what few solutions a common con artist might know. "What if we shut the power off?"
Julianne frowned and looked at him as if his face had turned nebula blue. "Do you want to risk flooding the ship with sewage when the electric containment stops?"
"No, what if we shut the gravity itself off?"
She mentally ran trhough a list of all the technology onboard that could possibly suffer from a lack of gravity, not least of which being any open containers in the refridgerator. She grimaced. "Well, we wouldn't be stuck on the ceiling anymore, but when we turn it back on, we'll go right back to where we are."
"You do know there are three Lawkeeper cruisers waiting for us out there, right?"
"Yes, but..." She bit her lips, thinking, though she didn't come up with anything. "I see your point."
***
Chrys felt only the slightest surprise as her weight seemed to evaporate, allowing her to float away from the ceiling outside the flgith deck with the slightest twitch of a muscle. Having watched the lethargic approach of the small Lawkeeper fleet for five minutes, she immediately pulled herself into the pilot's chair, strapped in, and prepared to leave. It had not escaped her attention that the ships had positioned themselves where she had only two escape routes, both thoroughly covered by the weapons.
Having participated in the government for a decade, Chyrs knew an often-overlooked aspect of Lawkeeper cruisers: the sides had only a sparse scattering of weapons. They might have appropriated an increase in the armament budget that had restricted the density of such weapons, had they had to deal with many hard-core criminals, but the conservative government had no reason to correct a mistake that was not deadly. The Mal'akhu's designers, however, had not missed a detail so important. (Chyrs's substantial threats had made sure of that.)
She aimed her relatively small yacht at a hangar bay that began to open in the sides of one of the larger vessels to let the Mal'akhu dock. Keeping the speed low, she moved her yacht into the may, a cavern that could easily have housed a pair of twenty-second century sports stadiums, built to hold millions of people.
The Mal'akhu straightened out to point at the far side of the ship, where a pair of thick doors blocked the passage all the way through.
A risingg chime blared from the radio; her failure to abide by general apprehension procedure, which involved setting down as near as possible to the entrance door most likely made the ship's commander especially nervous.
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