500 visitors! Yaay me!

 Alright, incase anyone wanted to know, I got a 94% on my writing portfolio.  Highest in my class! :)

I'm 3/4s done with two of my classes, halfway done with my ultra dumb class the campus is forcing upon me, and 3/8s done with my chorus class.  Last semester, I got straight A's, I was happy.  My weighted GPA right now is 4.3. :)

Right now I'm on Thanksgiving break, so I'm over at my parent's house.  My brother's a boyscout, so this weekend we all went on a family camping trip.  IT WAS COLD.  I wanted to cry but I was afraid that the tears would freeze on my face instantly.  So I didn't.

I miss my friends from campus.  I won't see them for another week.  :(

Oh!  My wife, A, found a kinda-boyfriend.  I'ma call 'im Moose.  Her parents are, like, super-protective, so despite her age and mental maturity, she's not allowed to have a boyfriend.  Which is absolute craziness.  I love A's mom, but my goodness...  So, anyway, Moose is really happy with her, and A is really happy, and Moose is a drama geek and so is she and it just all works out to be perfectly lovely, except A has to sneak about pretending that she's not seeing Moose and all that jazz.  It's all very... sad and confusing.  But A's working through it.

Moose is funny, I hang out with him when I'm not swamped with classes.  He amuses me.  He's doing a 'Cinderella' production, and his costume apparently has alot of lace... A went to go watch him rehearse, and she called me and was all like "OMG, he looks amazing and hot and SEXAH!" and on and on for ten minutes.  She made me giggle.

My brother is at home with me, too (he goes to public mandatory school still) and he's playing MY PS2 game.  It's "We <3 Katamari" which is one of the trippiest games I have ever seen.  Ever.  Go google it, if you want, it's funny.  Buy it.  Play it.  Love it.

News on Boy:  I had a really sappy dream about him sunday night.   Like... REALLY sappy.  So sweet it makes me sick.  But I went through almost the entire day happy, not realizing that it was a dream.  And then at dinner I was just like "Awww man!.....This sucks!"  So apparently I still like him.  Which I kinda knew, but I was hoping I could ignore it.  I want him to be happy with So-and-so, though, because they're really cute, and now I'm friends with so-and-so, and I don't want her to be sad.  But, Man... I really REALLY like Boy. Alot.

Alright, I'm going to put down another one of my short stories, for anyone who's interested.  If you're not...  Just skip this all, I'm done! :)

Such is The City

I loved my Papa for many reasons, partly because he was so nice, partly because he was so strong, and partly because he was my father, and when you're that young you'll love anyone if they're related to you.  But the main reason I loved him was because he always told me the best stories.  My favourite was of the City-Souls, the one he told the most, and the one I believed most strongly in as a little girl.

"Every city has a guardian, a Soul," He would say in his deep, warm voice, "It watches over all the good people that live in the city.  And when the people go to Heaven, the guardian comes to get them, and keeps them safe."

"Is the guardian nice, Papa?"  I would always ask, my eyes wide, and my small voice hushed.

My Papa would smile, "Very nice.  The guardian is like their best friend."

I would smile, too, "Yes," I'd agree, "Very nice."

We would sit in quiet for a while.  Then, I would ask, "Papa?  What does our guardian look like?"

"I don't know.  Our city is so small, and quiet.  She's probably very old, but very strong.

"Like Grandma!"
He would laugh, "Yes, like Grandma!"

Six months after I graduated from high school, my Papa died from cancer.  I had stopped believing in the story, though he told it to all of the nurses and to me every time I would visit in the hospital.  Two weeks after his funeral, I moved to a real city.  The place was young and sprawling, a place where no one ever slept.  Such is the city.

One more year passed.  It was a few weeks before

Christmas, I was going home from present shopping, when I stumbled and fell.  I hadn't realized what had happened to me; I just stood up and brushed the snow off of my pants.  After all, when I had been alive, I had believed in bright lights at the end of the tunnel, or the voice of God chasing away all my fear.  But there was none of that.  Just a passing lightheadedness, only noticeable for a moment, and then the realization that I was warm.

This was a strange thing: snow was lying on the ground in great, dirty pools of slosh, and moments before I had been watching my breath steam before me.  But I paid no mind, chalking the warmth up to the bright sun beating down upon my back.  I shed my heavy jacket, slung it over one shoulder, and went on my way.

I was used to the city by now, so I didn't think it strange when everyone ignored me.  Such is the city.  I had learned early on that if you looked at someone directly, they either thought one -- or possibly both, depending -- of two things:  That you were selling contraband, or you wanted to fight them bloody.  It wasn't until a few hours later that I would realize that they actually couldn't see me.

My apartment was small, and not in the cleanest of neighborhoods.  But it was home, and it had a roof that didn't leak, four walls, and a door that locked, a big value in the city.
There was a stranger standing outside my door, leaning against the wall.  He looked only a few years older than me, with pale skin, and patient, kind eyes that swirled with many colors.  He straightened up as I walked over to him, and I unlocked my apartment to let him in.  I didn't think about the possibility of this man just waiting about to kill me, though I should have.  I lived in a place where a neighbor could, and probably would if given the chance, greet you ‘good morning' with a smile, and stab you in the stomach with the same breath.  Such is the city.

I should have been afraid.  I wasn't.

I started to make spaghetti for dinner, for both of us, and the stranger helped.  He worked excellently in my kitchen, as if he knew where I kept everything.  He handed me jars of tomato sauce, boiled water for me, and set the table.  It was nice to cook with someone, even though we didn't say a word throughout the process.  It was as if he and I both realized that words were not necessary, yet.  We had nothing to say.

After dinner, the man helped me clear the table and wash the dishes.  We still hadn't spoken.

Together, we sat at the window seat, and gazed through the glass to the sprawling painting of life below.  Such is the city.

I watched the sun set, and the sky quickly grew dark as I stared.  Then I turned my full attention to the man.  I watched him stare at the lights on the skyscrapers as they flicked on, one by one.  Such is the city.

The lights were reflected in the swirling orbs of color that were his eyes.

"I love this city."  I said, because I had to.  The moment called for it.

He turned to look at me, the lights still in his eyes.  He said nothing.

"My father told me stories all the time," I whispered, and I shared with him my story of the City-Souls, "I used to believe in it, so strongly!"  I smiled sadly, "I wonder what ours would look like? This city's still so young."

He blinked his patient eyes, and I thought I saw a glimmer of a smile grace his lips, but then it was gone.

We sat like that for hours and hours, though I didn't grow tired.  We watched together as the sun hefted itself above the steel buildings, like a triumphant warrior, conquering the cold of night.  The city became bathed in a pale light, the sky patient and kind, swirling with so many colors.  Such is the city.

It was then that I realized who this non-stranger was.  And when I realized how amazingly in love I felt.

"I love you." I had to say, my voice awed.  Of course, he already knew; I had already told him.

The young man nodded gently.

"I'm...dead?" I asked, finally realizing what this was.

My love nodded again.

"How?"

He touched my chest where my heart was, and I understood.  My heart had always been weak.

"You've treated me so well."

He tilted his head to the side curiously.

"For the few months I've lived here, I mean."

He really did smile then, a full, breathtaking smile, as if I had said something brilliant.

He held out his hand, waited.

I looked at it without moving.  I wasn't afraid.  No, I think it's quite impossible for a dead person to be afraid after the fact.  I was just thinking about what would come next.

"Where will I go?"  I asked him, staring at his lovely, color streaked irises.

With his free hand, he touched his face, just beneath his left eye.

"Okay..." I sucked in a breath. I would become a part of my love forever; I would be one of his colors.

"It's alright," He spoke for the first time, "Don't be nervous."  His voices were many: men, women, and children.  All the good people that had lived and died in the city.  Hundreds of them.

He smiled reassuringly at me.

I trusted him.  After all, I was - am - in love.

I grinned, and grabbed My City's hand.

 END

I like that one.  Wrote it during Mid-terms. :)

Flippen Spaztastic.