| Eva Braun *locked* |
[Jan. 25th, 2010|12:44 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | dalton, laci | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  gloomy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Devil Inside - Utada | ] |
What am I doing?
I go to to his trial, and I try not to look at him too obviously. And then I wonder if they expect me to look at him. If I'm actually more suspicious for not looking. So then I look and I feel --
Do they expect me to look at him? Am I really that infamous for being so emotionally idiotic? Do they look at me, sitting next to Quinn, and wonder what's wrong with me because they think they'll catch me looking at him. Or not looking at him, but obviously wanting to. Do they think my support for Quinn is faked? Do they watch me with pity, like I'm just another Jaqueline, only without all the good excuses she has for still feeling anything for Seihl?
Like they even notice me.
I sit there, with Quinn next to me, holding onto his arm - that not that long ago once wasn't even attached to the rest of his body - for support as I listen to them list all his many, many crimes. Crimes against a nation of children.
And my first thought is, "Well, I won't let him train my dog then."
And the thought comes so naturally to me. As if, of course, he'll get out somehow. As if, of course, I'll stick with him when he does.
What is wrong with me?
And now Quinn is sending me away. (Does he know? Does he suspect what's going on my head?)
I'm scared of what I'll let myself justify when I'm on my own. At least around Quinn I want to be a better person. Around Quinn I don't feel so damaged. (But that's always been his gift with women. It's nothing special to do with me.) I wish I could tell him, but ... what if I disgust him for good this time, with my terrible choices. What if he finally figures out he deserves someone better to be a permanent fixture in his life. What if that's why he's sending me away?
He's so relieved to have Regan back. It's sweet. She's nice, and he likes her a lot. I have absolutely no right to be jealous.
What am I doing? |
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| I don't know how to cope. |
[Jan. 15th, 2010|11:54 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  morose | ] |
I wasn't in Europe when the wars hit- either of them. I paid my way out of the American military service. Calling me a coward would not be out of line, but I simply don't have the will to kill. The one thing I regretted was not being able to understand the men who returned from the war. There was a common trauma within that generation that I had escaped. And while I felt thankful for having avoided the horrific circumstances that led to their condition, from then on I was unable to communicate. I couldn't sympathize adequately. I couldn't share the depression and fear that many felt. I couldn't share the newfound appreciation for life that others discovered. It was a very lonely set of decades.
I've never felt that way since, until now.
Communication with Regan used to be simple. Now everything's completely buggered up, because something happened in that damned cursed pub of hers, and this time she got in too deep. She's clearly been tortured, I recognize that much, but I have no idea how to help. No idea how to talk to her, or how to react to her, or what she might want to hear or even more importantly what she might need to hear. And selfishly I feel like I'm mourning our relationship just as much if not more as I am heartbroken by her condition. I just wish I could help.
I didn't even help get her back. But didn't I say it? I'm a coward. |
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| Vactioning |
[Jan. 14th, 2010|03:30 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | cordelia | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Kangpe - Nneka | ] |
My dear friends and acquaintances, as we are well into the New Year's now, I suppose it is only right that I should update you to my general going-ons. It has been a fair while since I have taken the time to collect myself within the confines of the written page.
Happily I can report that the two men who so greatly affronted and irrevocably changed my family's life last year have been stopped, and are being tried as we speak for their great many misdeeds. I can only hope that justice will be as kind to them as they have been unto the rest of the world. And that Laci will someday stop reacting with the temperament of a skittish jackrabbit every time Dalton's name is mentioned in conversation.
Even more happily, the tear and wear inflicted on my family home as been finally repaired. I hope to return there (with Laci, Fressia, and Alodia) soon, but first I will be taking a mid-winter vacation with Tia. We plan to go on a cruise through the tropics, which I think should be an enjoyable venture. I've always been fond of the sea, and Tia seems to enjoy the thought of getting a winter tan. For my part, I doubt I shall hardly mind watching her endeavors in that effort -- all from the safety of the coverage of a wide umbrella and other sun blocking accessories, of course. I burn terribly otherwise.
Quinn seems to be doing well these days. He's survived on his own far better than I expected -- not even one case of food poisoning (that I've heard of) thus far! He is a bit worried about Regan these days though. As am I.
And Ian, well, I hardly know of a time where I haven't worried about that dear boy.
... It is concerning, to me, how even removed from my ring, it still seems that the friends who are dear to me suffer. The mind can't help but asking what that means -- or, even more dangerously, what it implies. |
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| If they call me bitch-lady I'll set my dogs on them |
[Jan. 5th, 2010|02:34 am] |
So ... I've been thinking about getting a dog. Well, a puppy. Maybe more than one. Probably not though.
Right now I think a good future goal would to become a dog-lady. You know, like a cat-lady but less depressing because dogs are pets you have to be active for.
I was thinking about a husky.
I think training a dog might be a nice distraction. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2009|05:12 pm] |
Hey! Um... this is Tia. Cordy told me I could borrow her journal... and I have questions to answer, I guess? Kaay. Soo. Yep. From her...
( Questions from Cordelia! ) |
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| My life is madness, and so suddenly finite |
[Aug. 22nd, 2009|06:18 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  listless | ] |
The story of my life the past few weeks has not especially been enjoyable. I was stripped of my immortality and my right arm (literally) all in one day, so I was forced to face the prospect of my own mortality in the first time in so long I have a hard time remembering my heartbeat being meaningful. I wish I could spout that 'newfound appreciation for the beauty and impermanence of life' bullshit, but selfishly, all I can think about is how I'm not ready for death. Every pulse is another mocking laugh at my expense.
Life without my arm, by comparison, has been nothing more than an interesting challenge. Gives me an excuse to flip pancakes dramatically like a chef in a film- while keeping it in the pan, I mean. I keeps Laci's mockery about my cooking skills at bay that way, too. Haha. I can cook, I swear! Just ask Angelique! I've made her breakfast on more than one occasion... But even Otis has so little faith in my abilities, I'm starting to wonder if some of my less close friends have just been polite this whole time.
Today, I was making a pepper omelette, actually. And Laci came in with a briefcase. With my arm in it. Which is utterly delightful, thank you Seihl. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't even know where Laci got the case. But apparently there is a painful way to reattach my arm. So I won't go through life a cripple after all. Which is a comfort. I suppose.
There's the listlessly, poorly told story of my arm. I'm not as interested as talking about myself as I used to be, which I think directly affects the quality of my stories, which is unfortunate. I hope I did not bore you terribly. |
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| Denial, *Anger*, Bargining, Depression and Acceptance. |
[Jul. 2nd, 2009|04:52 pm] |
I must admit, oh friends of Quinn, I am not entirely certain how to begin this journal entry. I have been staring at the blank pages before me on and off for days now with inspiration consistently failing to make any sort of striking appearance. I suppose this can be blamed, or perhaps named, as a coping method; it is a truth generally known that the avoidance of acknowledging tragedy can often come hand in hand with the tragedy itself. More frankly: it's easier to pretend that a problem didn't occur if you don't talk about it. But talk about it I must, if only so as to not worry those who are close to me.
My family -- my home -- was deceived and thieved, by the most slippery of snake-oil con men I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. I wish I could say that in the wisdom of hindsight I saw the signs of what came, but that would be a lie; Dalton was as much a master of deception as his associate was a master of destroying the very walls and foundations of my childhood home. While I certainly can not condone their actions, their motivations are much plainer -- and easily understandable: Greed. The greed for eternal life is not something unique to them, though their success in so violently seizing it might be.
In my extended lifetime I have lived through many things. I have lived through great, world encompassing wars. I have lived through sweeping illnesses, and cold war games. I have seen countries rise, and iron curtains fall. I have felt the loss of more family and friends than any mortal soul should - the majority in circumstances too tragic to detail so simply. I have seen riots and famine; air raids and natural disasters.
So to Dalton, and those who associate with him, I say this: you are not the worst thing that has ever happened to me, merely a footnote -- and I am not yet defeated. |
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| Damnit. |
[Jun. 20th, 2009|12:43 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  crushed | ] |
Ian, I owe you an apology.
I'm sorry I didn't listen. I'm really, really sorry.
...
I'm just really sorry. In general. |
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| *locked from everyone* |
[Mar. 4th, 2009|08:20 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dalton | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  distressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Last Call - Lee Ann Womack | ] |
Damn it. Damn it. I don't believe it. I don't believe them. I don't *want* to believe it.
He told me not to believe it. Why shouldn't I trust him? How can I not trust him, if this is ever going to work? I want this to work. Why can't I have something nice? I want someone nice.
It's just politics.
Ian was "just" concerned, and I chased him up a tree! What is wrong with me?
It's just politics.
How long have I been alive; politics is all about smear campaigns, and lies, and deceit -- but you can trust in him. It's just politics.
What kind of person am I, to believe a rumor? What kind of person am I to lash out at a friend?
Please, please, please Lord, don't let him make a fool of me. |
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| *locked from everyone* |
[Feb. 1st, 2009|08:45 am] |
I need to write Angelique a thank you note, and not even for putting out shrimp platters at her parties.
Oh god, I met the greatest man. He's smart and fun, handsome and witty. He doesn't reek of alcohol constantly, he's not homeless, he's not my boss. I think I've finally found someone who won't cheat on me, or "borrow" money from me, or treat me second-best. He knows how to dress, he holds doors open for me, *he* makes *me* coffee in the morning! He's attentive, and sincere, a damn good kisser: I like him. I really do.
Take that rut I've been in!
And it's all thanks to Angelique. ... and, okay, Quinn. Who got me invited to the party in the first place. And who I couldn't shut up about on my date.
But still! Finally, I get to join the immortality twins, and have something go on in *my* life.
I've finally met a man I think could be good for me! I want to shout it from the rooftops!
... I just don't want to tell Quinn. Damnit. When am I going to stop feeling guilty about that? Not that I shouldn't feel some guilt, but ... gah. It's stupid. We're so beyond what happened. He doesn't even miss me anymore -- hell, he doesn't even need me anymore.
And I don't even need him, like that, either. I have Dalton now. |
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| What is sanity any more, anyway? |
[Jan. 22nd, 2009|01:48 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  cynical | ] |
Dear God it's been an eternity since I've written. And yet here my life is still stuck in a bizarre limbo. What's there to say?
Oh, well, one important mention, of course, is that I have vacated the premises of my mansion! This is actually good news, so I'm glad I haven't written in a while. I've bought myself a new apartment in London and if I say so myself it is damned gorgeous. I had much help in moving what possessions I brought over, and on top of that my house was practically decorated for me by my friends; of course absolutely every piece of furniture and art were selected by people with a completely different taste so my apartment is an eclectic mess that any IKEA designer would shudder to look at, but they're rubbish anyway. I quite like it; it gives my apartment personality.
Other news. Women are frustrating and confusing. Wait- apologies- that's not news. But lord they become so much more complicated when you can't have straightforward honest relationships with them. You can't especially say: "I would really like to have sex with you, often. But we aren't compatible romantically, so let's just be friends." to a woman who isn't alright with that. So instead you have to pretend that you don't. Which means you need to lie. And cover your ass. And it is... tiring.
I enjoy parts of both lives, of course, but my previous lifestyle was a world more simple. Less painful. More honest, although I know the monogamous ones among us disagree. There is nothing wrong with a committed relationship. To the contrary, I'm quite interested in having one. But it frustrates me that meanwhile, I can't enjoy myself, because it will turn off the type of women who I'm interested in long-term...
I'm a philanderer. I enjoy it. I'm honest about it. But I could happy with the right girl, as well. And I would be true to her.
...Perhaps I just need to see a woman who can cope with my lifestyle while single. Otherwise I'll always end up with these unfortunate, uncomfortable misunderstandings. |
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| Neglect |
[Jan. 6th, 2009|07:21 am] |
I would not be surprised, oh friends of Quinn, if you were to be of the opinion that I am a terribly unavid journal writer. If my month's long absence from wielding pen and paper can serve as any evidence, it is an opinion formed in fact; I hope you do not think any less of me for it. This disregard is not, you must understand, caused by a lack of ability to communicate my thoughts. No, my laxness has far more benign origins.
You see, I have been ... distracted. Distracted in the best possible way, with a companionship so full of warmth, and so bringing in joy that my days in their company feel like wakeful dreams.
As I have heard, time and time again, from Laci: No one wants to hear about that.
She has a point, I believe. The flaunting of one's good fortune is hardly an example of the etiquette with which I was raised; no one likes a braggart. Someone, please, shoot me, if I've become insufferably Quinn-like, in that regard.
I must admit, it has given me pause, reflecting other instances of my negligence. The possibility that I have been too caught up in my own felicity ... to be so self-centered, like a teenager. It can't be healthy.
My job burned down in a fire. One of my dearest friends was injured.
And yet, I'm still happy.
Doesn't that make me an awful person? I think it must. I just can't seem to muster the energy to care. |
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| Change |
[Jan. 5th, 2009|06:23 pm] |
If you had told me a year ago what I'd know now today, I'm positive I'd have laughed in your face. Quinn moving out? And leaving me behind? Cordelia becoming an almost insufferable, Leslie Gore playing, happy lovesick puppy?
It's amazing the sort of ruts you can fall into if you live long enough, you know that? But, I think what's more amazing, is how quickly those ruts - those constant, seemingly set patterns - can be permanently disrupted, without you even getting a say. I don't like it!
It's a strange time. One of the weirder ones I have had since coming to work for the Gaskells. I really, really don't like it!
So here's hoping 2009 is a year where Cordelia stays happy, and Quinn ... well. Not turning all his laundry pink when he tries to wash it on his own sounds like a reasonable hope. |
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| *Locked From Quinn (Who Would Tease and Gloat and So On, Etc. Etc.)* |
[Oct. 17th, 2008|08:11 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | quinn | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | tentative | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | On Peak Hill - Stars | ] |
It has been a while hasn't it, oh friends of Quinn (and I hope it is not too forward of me to presume -- friends of mine, as well). Much as changed since our last correspondence -- but such is the nature of this world, as it now and ever shall be.
I have changed for the better -- or so I have the audacity to assume -- in these past few months, and that is all due in great part to my association with many of you. Some more than others, undoubtedly, but this journal has opened a new chapter in my life; even if you had but the slightest of involvement in that metamorphosis you have helped contribute to brining a very special person into my life. For that I am forever indebted to you.
On an unfortunately related, but pertinent note, I have been growing increasingly concerned with my investments. It would seem that the financial history of the world is repeating itself in a most unpleasant way, and the stocks that were assured to me to have much future value have proved to be ... less so. (I hesitate to mention this to Quinn, of course, who has always invested in more ... unsavory ventures, and would see this an opportunity to, as the phrase goes, "toot his own horn.")
I suppose that is my curse; however small an advance in joy, I find returned to me, tenfold, in hardship. |
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| God Damn it. *Locked from anybody who knows Lev, and Regan* |
[Feb. 24th, 2008|11:42 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  dirty | ] |
I have always been quite firm in my opinion on this matter, but it is newly reinforced today. Getting drunk is by far the most unattractive thing that an attractive woman can ever do.
The transformation is astounding, it truly is. How the drink turned such a smart, entertaining and beautiful young woman into such a distasteful, shameless and repellent young woman is beyond me, but I hate the fact that it happened. I hate what happened tonight, I hate it with everything I have in me to hate.
She kissed me, she kissed me, why did she kiss me!? Why now? It wasn't right, the timing, the smell of her breath, God help me, what if she isn't single like she thinks she probably is? This is a mess, this is just a terrible mess.
I don't want to be a rebound man.
I want to be the one they want to stay with, damn it.
AUGH, Women! |
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| A strange awareness |
[Jan. 16th, 2008|11:40 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  discontent | ] |
You know- as humans, we do try and force ourselves to accept that some things do not change. You would think, that after all this time, I would have somehow managed to accept this. Yet sometimes it still surprises me. Such as today. Let me explain.
Some of you may not be able to conceive of this- in fact- nobody but Cordelia and Otis, I am certain... but I was once a very shy man. I had no idea what to do with myself. My life seemed limited to me. Short. I was so unsure of what to do with such a deadline hanging over my head that I wasn't doing much at all. I did as my father told me professionally, though I found it unfulfilling. I tried to find a woman to marry, to bear my children, as was the style at the time. But I found myself unable to build any chemistry. It wasn't until I discovered my time had been extended indefinitely that I truly began to live. Ironically, I truly live every day because I know that it is not my last. Perhaps this warping of the old saying is exactly why I have been caught unawares.
I am not entirely certain I have progressed in my ability with women. I have become... uhm- what is the term. Supremely capable in short term relationships, I suppose you could call me. But I am entirely clueless and unable to handle or conceive of long-term relationships. And the issue is that I have now started to desire one. Many claim it is a matter of maturity finally reaching my senses... yet if this is what maturity brings, I am not sure it is so welcome.
Ah, lord, find me a woman who understands the madness that is my life and is willing to live in it? Even a year or two I would appreciate. Just- God, let me find her soon, so I can let go of this bitterness that is poisoning my house. I don't want to be a miserable whiny bitch, but- some things never change. If I feel lost in my life, I can angst better than any pre-pubescents. I really wasn't anxious to return to this state of my life. |
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