dierdre

Man, her body is teh HOTNESS. yum.



I'm getting psyched for Pennsic. Made an SG group for it... it said it was created, but i can't get to it to edit it. T_T Do i have to wait for it to be all uber approved and stuff?


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written earlier in the week:


I was recently told that my journal entries are well written and a joy to read. I hardly think so, as i don't really write much anymore. So, to get back in touch of my roots, i thought i'd do a journal entry in the style i used to write in my akemi with.

When i had my breakdown in highschool, my shrink told me to keep a paper, written journal, in which to keep the progress of my day and charts of my mental health. I got a golden, japanese style journal, and named it Akemi. Those that have read David Mack's Kabuki might make the connection.

Anyway, here goes.

*

Her eyes snapped open at the feeling of her stomach lurching and her heart leaping into her throat. Gold light spilled from the horizontal slits in the blinds and onto her, onto the blankets, onto the fitted sheets that she had apparently pulled from the mattress in her sleep. Her hand rose so that she could look at the clock on the inside of her wrist, moreso out of habit than out of curiousity over the time. "10:05", it said blandly, black electronic numbers against a muted grey background. She grumbled. She would have shouted her frustration, but she was sure the houseguest was still out in the living room sleeping.

It was only 10am. Class wasn't until 6pm. She was supposed to be sleeping.

For the last 5 days, either sleep was sparce, or she dreamt dreams so vicious that rest was unobtainable. She had been looking forward to getting her rest today. So much for that idea. Maybe she would try again later, but odds were, she wouldn't. What was the point?

Hazel green eyes closed as she shifted to her back, stretching and getting comfortable again, in an attempt to take the time to memorize her dream. A dream that disturbing needed to be remembered. That and she had been so angry...

it had been brought to her attention that authority issues and anger issues that she had yet to deal with were bubbling to the surface, and were going to drive her mad unless she found a way to deal with them.

She sighed.

Flashes of screaming at infantile men launching spitballs and old women trying to make her walk a certain way and kind, black librarians sharing an inside joke and crushing enormous roaches that turned into mice that just wouldn't die flickered past her eyes like a combination of a dying film and a mediaplayer she didn't have the codec for. Pieces were missing, and some scenes were far more detailed than others. Some scenes weren't even related to the dream at hand, but they were there.

Many wouldn't work so hard at remembering. But then, most poeple don't have the same problem with reality, either. It was a very frustrating predicament.

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Mercie is dope. XD I may not be Sophie, but um, she's dope anyhoo.