Daily musings

Everyday, without fail, I see the same people in the train.

There's the fat lady : she lives nearby... we always get there at the same time, she drive a grey Honda Civic, marbles her hair with bleach, is larger around than from bottom up. She goes to the same grocery store as me & has a son, wears too much perfume/baby powder & shoves people trying to get into the train in the morning. She also has this large white stripped winter coat that looks like a tent.

There's fake eyelashes girl : She doesn't wear them everyday, but often enough. Her hair has this sad blond quality of bleach-abused follicles. She looks very pretty at first glance but in fact wears too much carfully applied makeup which makes her face look pasty, her jaw is very large for her small nose & she has underbite. And her boobs are fake.

There's the teacher lady : I don't know in fact if she's really a teacher but the looks like my old 6th grade one! Brown coat, brown dyed frizzy hair (cheap dyes give that look). Looks nice enough but perpetually lost. She drives a white Volvo and needs extra space to open her doors.

There's the twitchy woman : Glasses, no makeup, cropped hair flying every direction. Mismatched clothes, likes to play sudoku & read Quebec novels. And can't stop jerking her legs... intensely... all the time!

Finally, the best of the best, the Latino Tea Club : These four people sit at the same space every morning, reserve seats for friends who will come on the train at later stations and all drink tea one of the laidies bring in a ridiculously large thermos. They have color-assigned cups and speak a mix of italian & spanish for the whole ride, drinking tea.

So there ya go!


Aaridys - from work! - yeah... bored...


Humeur: Cool
Musique: CJPX

Forever

She would live forever.

Insane.

And that thought alone was enough to drive her mad.

In the future

She would not die...

She knew early enough she would live to be old. Her mother, timeless immortal, would never show the passing years on her face. But her father had been temporal, ephemeral. And she was also his daughter. The span of her years would have an end. Further away than most, but it would end.

But she had connected too often. She had ridden the currents of the oldest being alive: Earth. She had been a symbiotic part of the Old Mother too often; the blood had wakened and now nothing would stop the transformation. She could only delay and make light of it.

Already, her skin was becoming impenetrable. Odin had confirmed her doubts. She was the Elemental. She would live as long as there was earth and green life for she was the ground and the trees and all that was primal and rock and stone. She could hear them sing in her sleep.

So, anguished she tried not to be. Thoughts of life and death, mundane things such as friends, love, family, she had never given them much care. She had built a world of reason, logic and science around herself. She had surrounded herself with answers or the means to obtain them. But although her mind was filled with questions without end; although she was quite sure she would forever uncover new wonders in the world, living or dying was not something she pondered on. It was too abstract.

In fact, she was horribly terrified of death. It went against all that she defined herself with and yet, it was also an essential part of what her being was about. In all existence, life and death were a looping circle, Ouroboros eating its own tail. Without one, the other did not exist. When she felt inclined to ponder it, it was ironic that both the thought of living forever and the idea of death frightened her.

But now, after two years on the run, after watching as the world fell apart, literally, and feeling the tear and being confronted by this timelessness that was her glory and her doom, she felt a sinking of her spirit. She had made friends, for the first time in her life, she had intimately connected with other sentient beings other than mentors, over-stuffed diplomats and prospective fund-providing rich men and women.

She had come to care for many beings that were both very much mortals and whose life-spans were decidedly shorter than her own, regardless.



And what of love?

She saw how Darya was with her husband. How Sayako hovered on Ein's emotional radar. Even more scandalous - she loved the sound of that word and it was a subjective term she rarely used - how scandalous then how that tall tall big man looked at Darya when she turned away.

But all these things implied a special bond be forged. She would not delude herself with irrational ideas of affections, she was not wired for it. But furthermore, what kind of partner could she find that would live as long as she? What kind of being would she not have to watch die, broken-hearted and live on without? For there was no doubt in her mind, she needed just look at her mother. Once her father had died, there had been no other man, no close friend. Only a slow retreat within her mind, something she had witnessed enough to understand. A few years back, she would not even have blinked at the notion. She was far away from such troubles. Now, she was not so certain of her resolve.

And it gnawed at her. She felt something amiss, an empty space in herself that demanded such a thing come to exist. But she was very much afraid of it as well. What if he was mortal? What if he died? She would endure but just seeing how others coped with these painful separations, she did not think she could bear the pain. Her tolerance to physical pain had steadily increased in the past years due to her transformation. But emotional anguish she knew nothing about. She had shut away all irrational feelings years and years ago.

Perhaps she would lock that gnawing emptiness away as well. But she did not know how.

-Saphira-


Aaridys
A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love. Henry B. Stendhal


Humeur: Spirited
Musique: Barbara Streisand "Someday, my prince will come"