I walked in happy, satisfied, at ease with the world. Immediately Meghan was suspicious.
"Why are you so happy?"
"Can't a girl just be happy?" I could feel the smile start to fall away but then it got right back up again, the day was too amazing.
"You're too happy, it's not natural." Her eyes narrowed searching my face for answers.
"It's perfectly natural." I said still smiling from ear to ear.
"If you smile to wide your face will get stuck that way," she taunted.
I grinned wider, harder, more brilliantly.
"Please tell me you just got back from Dougs. That you've just finished some delicous meal and that is why you look crazed."
"heh....heh...hehehehehehe"
"Jasmine you didn't" She scolded me, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile as she thought of them suffering. I knew she'd like it too.
"That's illegal" she was right.
"Only partially."
"What's partially illegal about poisoning someone."
"Firstly it's only a little bit of poison, basically enough to cause horrible diarhea and vomitting. Secondly, the part where I took out their cable. Trashing illegal cable isnt a crime, it's a service to... the company."
"A little poison is still illegal."
"I know, yet somehow it all seems worth it."
I wish I could have had this conversation for real
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Meghan: Minnesota
I'm lying curled under quilts, reading, when I happen to glance at the ceiling and see a little black dot. Make that two little black dots. Before I can go back to clicking through my Kindle one of the dots starts to wiggle and make its twisty way along the ceiling. Mildly alarmed I set my Kindle down on my chest and stare intently at the dots. Dot one bumps gently into dot two before continuing on its merry way. Then dot two begins to wiggle along as well. Slowly, as if dreading what they will find, my eyes drag their way along the white ceiling to discover more and more of the little dots. They’re everywhere! Last night I slept under a field of wiggling dots that could have fallen on me or swarmed me in the night; crawled in my mouth and nose and other unpleasant places. Terrified, and holding my kindle above my head for protection, I slowly stand up on the bed to look more closely at the dots and determine exactly what they are. Seeing the black and red patterning I am at first confused, then cheep with joy; they’re ladybugs. I drop my Kindle shield onto the bed and flick a few of the insects from the bed into my hand to coo over them. Two fly away angrily but one crawls over my fingers fascinated. For the next hour I run around the room finding ladybugs on the mirror, in the corners, everywhere. I am mildly afraid of going to sleep tonight, but at least they’re not cockroaches.
-M
-M
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Doug: Sitting at a Table
A man sits alone at the kitchen table in his house. Heavy piano floats out of the computer in front of him; that and the scratch of pen on paper are the only sounds in the room. He is bent over a sheet of paper, scratching out ideas and outlines, occasionally muttering something to himself, lining some words out and highlighting others. A book sits above his left hand, opened to the end of a chapter: “Supreme Emergency”. To the right of his furiously writing hand is a stack of papers, “House of Lords Debate on Bombing Policy”. North of these papers a Kettle and tonic on the rocks melts its way slowly to oblivion. The pen, (always pen, for with pens you mean what you say) stops sporadically, as he looks up to check a sentence or two.
He despises this assignment. He knows the answer the teacher wants, but on his own moral grounds cannot bring himself to write the platitudes and soothing words that slip like honey out of the mouth of those not strong enough to recognize that despite all the theories man produces there is only one reality. Bad men exist. They are held at bay by men that are sometimes just as bad, but whose redeeming quality is that they are willing to die so that others may live. The protectors do not question what is right and wrong, because they know. They also know that sometimes reality demands that they do something horrible so that those they protect may live without knowing fear, hate, slavery, death. As long as the monsters hold back the other monsters, the best of man might have some hope of preserving themselves. Of rising above the black night of that threatens to consume all, and bursting into a world of light and glory.
The man knows this and holds it in his heart. It is the flame that keeps him from dropping into shadow. And now he must convince others that his is the lantern that lights the way. It is a worthy task, though a trying one.
As he scratches and studies and scratches some more he finds himself aware of a presence, or rather a lack of one. He knows who it is he pines for. He is content in this moment; his hands and mind at work. But he can’t help knowing that if she sat across from him, listening, arguing, showing him his flaws and strengthening his words that he would be so much more than content.
He would be happy.
But he knows that this is not so. He is a student of necessity and his loneliness is necessary. In the same principles he uses to light the way for others he finds the logic behind his solitude. It is the way of his people, to bring light to the darkness away from those he loves. He knows this and accepts this.
The pen continues to scratch. The notes continue to play. The ice melts its way out of this world. The man sits alone at the table.
-Doug
"These, then are the limits of the realm of necessity. Utilitarian calculation can force us to violate the rules of war only when we are face-to-face not merely with defeat but with a defeat likely to bring disaster to a political community. But these calculations have no similar effects when what is at stake is only the speed or the scope of victory."
-Michael Walzer "Just and Unjust Wars"
He despises this assignment. He knows the answer the teacher wants, but on his own moral grounds cannot bring himself to write the platitudes and soothing words that slip like honey out of the mouth of those not strong enough to recognize that despite all the theories man produces there is only one reality. Bad men exist. They are held at bay by men that are sometimes just as bad, but whose redeeming quality is that they are willing to die so that others may live. The protectors do not question what is right and wrong, because they know. They also know that sometimes reality demands that they do something horrible so that those they protect may live without knowing fear, hate, slavery, death. As long as the monsters hold back the other monsters, the best of man might have some hope of preserving themselves. Of rising above the black night of that threatens to consume all, and bursting into a world of light and glory.
The man knows this and holds it in his heart. It is the flame that keeps him from dropping into shadow. And now he must convince others that his is the lantern that lights the way. It is a worthy task, though a trying one.
As he scratches and studies and scratches some more he finds himself aware of a presence, or rather a lack of one. He knows who it is he pines for. He is content in this moment; his hands and mind at work. But he can’t help knowing that if she sat across from him, listening, arguing, showing him his flaws and strengthening his words that he would be so much more than content.
He would be happy.
But he knows that this is not so. He is a student of necessity and his loneliness is necessary. In the same principles he uses to light the way for others he finds the logic behind his solitude. It is the way of his people, to bring light to the darkness away from those he loves. He knows this and accepts this.
The pen continues to scratch. The notes continue to play. The ice melts its way out of this world. The man sits alone at the table.
-Doug
"These, then are the limits of the realm of necessity. Utilitarian calculation can force us to violate the rules of war only when we are face-to-face not merely with defeat but with a defeat likely to bring disaster to a political community. But these calculations have no similar effects when what is at stake is only the speed or the scope of victory."
-Michael Walzer "Just and Unjust Wars"
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Meghan: evil finals
I do not actually have time to write this because I have a lab final in three hours which I should be studying for, but I haven't written in a while so I figure I should. My birthday was yesterday; and since turning 21 I haven't had a single sip of alcohol. I am upset. Jasmine and I went out for cake and it was wonderful but the waitresses were probably confused when I began salivating and gnawing on the beverage section of the menu. I'm sure they would have understood if I had informed them of my condition of forced sobriety, given that I had to drive my girlfriend home. I could have gotten deliciously drunk and had her drive but I was afraid. And now there are all of these finals and tests and final papers. Stupid school. When my lab partners arrive I find myself overwhelmed with the urge to drain their blood into some a pan and try to chemically extract alcohol from it. One of them likes beer, I'm sure she would have some sort of blood alcohol level. Or I could water down the pure ethanol that they keep under the chemical hood. Or I could just wait until thursday afternoon when I'm free from tests until next week, so I can be drunk all weekend long. It's not that I even have a tendency towards being drunk, I dislike the idea of drinking often, but when I find myself kept from my newly given freedoms I boil with rage. Hopefully I can direct that rage at chemistry for the next few hours.
Hopefully...
-Meghan
Hopefully...
-Meghan
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