I have no idea what happened. *shrugs* Must be certain karmic influences. In any case, this still stay here until further notice. Don't hold your breath.

It's been a while ne?

thought process
Sometimes you wonder if you ever felt love. It's your biggest flaw, you see, analyzing every last bit of yourself in a way that falls somewhere between narcissism and self-hatred. The dissection of a soul has never been more clinical nor has it held such fascination for everyone.

Sometimes you don't even understand love. You've read about it, in the hundreds of romance novels you hid behind your copies of Ayn Rand, and Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, but when you let yourself think about it, you know that what you've read is the simpler version of it. The less complex view of it, despite the epic grandness of it, with a conflict of characters, of morals, that could out-star-cross Romeo and Juliet any day.

It's hard to think about love when you're so angry at a person and you only want to hurt them, throw angry words at them, and be happy, so happy that it sickens you when you look back on it that you've caused them to doubt themselves. Can there be love there, even then?

After all, isn't love supposed to be a constant thing? Can it go away for a little while when there's this tightness in your insides, and you spill words and pain without thought.

Sometimes you wonder if love isn't just anger with the filters on.

That cynicism makes you laugh at yourself sometimes, at the contradictions in your personality.

You aren't wearing rose-colored glasses; they've been broken and the shards are embedded in your eyes.

You think you may feel love every time you sigh at the beauty of words you've read. At the appreciation of perfection that touches something inside of you. And you wonder at yourself, at the romanticized notion of falling in love with words. But what about people?

Sometimes you wonder why it's so hard for you. You've even joked that in the future, you'll be weeping on a therapist's shoulder about how much you regret not showing them you cared. It's hard for you to accept even the barest, most casual of touches. And it's even harder for you to say the three most overrated words in the English language.

You think that it's easier to say it in a language other than the one you call your own. 'Te amo', 'Je t'aime', 'Ich liebe dich'... they seem to lose their meaning because they sound alien, and foreign.

But you still can't say it.

You think that's the root of it. That love doesn't need to be said in any language made by man. But you can't even use your actions to express how much you care. So you've contradicted yourself again.

So you wonder, what is love?

And you prefer this answer above all, the one you came up with yourself even though it's flawed and incomplete.

Love isn't just the flash of attraction, or the feeling of belonging, or the instinct of protectiveness.

You think that love, above all else, is thought.

It is the when you remind yourself that a person is tired, sick, or in pain and you bite back a retort and try to be patient. It is when you remember that your friend enjoys this group and blow the money you've been saving up for that copy of "The Color of Magic" you saw at the bookstore. It is when you realize that no matter how hard it is for you to say it, someone may want to hear you say "I love you." just once in a while.

And with this realization that you return to your original problem and understand the biggest problem with your concept of love.

You wonder if you've ever loved because you can't actually do it.

---------------------------

Also posted in my Upsaid account, and my LJ.

A T T E N T I O N
Eyes Unclouded by Hate, my old weblog, will no longer be updated on lux-lucis.net until further notice. I will continue the journal on Livejournal.com thanks to the kindness of Kala.

The new URL is:
http://www.livejournal.com/~errare

As to what will happen to Eyes Unclouded by Hate and to Knight Errant (since I will be posting ficlets there as well...) I'm still undecided (I seem to have a problem with coming to decisions lately.)

And comedic coffee-spray-inducing discovery of the day IIIIIIS: Metal Gear Solid slash

And I thought I was *quite* the little know-it-all when it comes to yaoi and slash. And here comes a revelation to knock me off my smug little pedestal of omnislashycience. It's one of those whodathunk it things. I mean with Meryl... and Sniper Wolf... Well they *do* seem to have a thing for the female characters dying all over the place... or turning out to be traitors... or just plain have bad voice actresses (*smirk*)

*coughs* A-NY-way. Ahhhh nostalgia, how you attack me. My first FF7 shounen ai epic was Sora no Kumo's SOLDIERS (yes even +before+ Twig-sama's "A Long, Hard Road" [y'know drop one letter from the last word and you get... a pun in really bad taste, ehehehehehe]) I fell in love with this story. And duuude I actually got to see its completion! I mean, WHOA, I admire authors who can finish their epic WIPs as that seems to be a quality I don't possess. ^__^ ^__^ ^__^

I actually got some work done for the... still untitled original work. Feck, I coulda sworn I gave the damned thing a title already *scratches her head* Hrm... early senility.

Memorable first line for: wonderland girl

"Everything about her was a long, complicated story."

XD XD XD Deferring from Quill actually led to Good Things. The excessive free time lets me hang around the Third World Studies Center and Main Lib in typical freshman fashion, get some studying time, write a bit, brainstorm a bit, nap a bit, look like the freshie that I am a bit...

...come on inspiration... I know you're theeere. Somewhere.

y'know I get the most weird ass spam e-mails. Just thought I'd share that.

Hrm... I think I just might do the challenge on Metro (just to prove to Hannah that I still lurk there... once in a while... ^__^ ) We have to write about what we think is happening in this picture, and I think Orgy's "Fiction (Dreams in Digital)" is just perfect for it. That's the first thing I thought when I saw the pic anyway. Just check out the lyrics:
"Fiction (Dreams In Digital)"

She's lost in coma where it's beautiful
Intoxicated from the deep sleep, deep sleep
Do you wonder what it's like
Living in a permanent imagination
Sleeping to escape reality, but you like it like that

Guilty by design she's nothing more than fiction
She dreams in digital 'Cause it's better than nothing
Now the control is gone It seems unreal, she's dreaming in digital
She dreams in digital

And your pixel army can't save you now
My finger's on the kill switch
I remember I used to compose your dreams, control your dreams
And don't be afraid, to expose yourself, before I shut you down
You've made some changes since the viurs caught you sleeping

Guilty by design she's nothing more than fiction
She dreams in digital 'Cause it's better than nothing
Now the control is gone It seems unreal, she's dreaming in digital

'Cause it's better than nothing
Now the control is gone It seems unreal, she's dreaming in digital

She dreams in digital
Guilty by design 'Cause it's better than nothing

Now the control is gone It seems unreal, she's dreaming in digital
Nothing more than Fiction 'Cause it's better than nothing
Now the control is gone It seems unreal, she's dreaming in digital

Lyrics taken from this site

Anyone know anything about the anime .hack//SIGN? I saw the manga at this shop at Katipunan (where I must not visit every day to worship at the Neil Gaiman section. They have Hellsing! And Gravitation! And Count Cain! *squeeeeee*) and I have an mp3 of "Obsession". I MUST SEE THIS SERIES! *snickers*

And I just may continue writing "The Hanged Man". Or rewrite it entirely. More emphasis and analysis on the tarot card meanings (and fucking around with it) rather than Standard Mitsuki Angst(tm) Must... improve... writing...

My sister is whooping like mad upstairs. That must mean Ateneo won. *shakes her head*

For everyone wondering about what happened to Eyes Unclouded by Hate (all three of you) there were some problems with Movable Type. I can't make any new entries but the old entries were saved. I don't know how soon the problem can be fixed (if at all) Just stay tuned here. I *might* be getting a Livejournal account soon. XD

Slam Dunk fic checklist...

I can't help it... sarcasm... taking... over...

And it ain't even witty!

__ nighttime basketball training session
Sakuragi/Rukawa/any freaking basketball player in Kanagawa decide to extend their practice time (what are they masochistic?) and train into the night... but a prematurely senile player returns for his forgotten basketball shoes/bag/brain... an empty gym, two sweaty guys, a little accident, FORMULA FOR ROMANCE! Or at least a lemon. Or two. Or three.
__Basketball players do it everywhere.
In the shower, in the locker room, on the gym floor (and after they spent the night there cleaning it up! semen stains!)
__Everyone wants Sakuragi
It's true! 'cause red-headed, self-proclaimed tensais are irresistible. Rukawa (often homicidally possessive of his 'Hana-chan'), Sendoh (so THAT'S why he's always smiling. He must be constantly picturing Sakuragi errr.... -BLEEP-), Youhei (best friend pffft, he's just making sure no one horns in on his territory), Miyagi (Ayako who?), Mitsui (that's kinda... no REALLY hot!), Kogure (so he somehow cleaned up his glasses enough to see someone OTHER than Mitsui?), Maki (just waiting to show him the possibilities of an "older" man. 'cause he ain't as old as he looks... not where it MATTERS), Fujima (pretty-boy seme!), Kiyota (they were separated at birth didntcha know? incest! well...at least it won't be interspecies mating...), Akagi (what about Uozumi and Aota?), Aota (oh... "judo" huh?), Takato, Taoka, Fukuda, you, me, Barney... everyone but Haruko and possibly Anzai-sensei. Except on the rare instances where she (Haruko) realizes her love for him too late and can only watch from afar as Sakuragi is borne away on a sea of rampaging players and yaoi fans.
__Everyone wants Sakuragi... to be uke...
Including me.
__Basketball players have stalker tendencies.
Just ask Rukawa. And Sendoh. And maybe I should just give you a complete character list for Slam Dunk to make my job easier?
__Sakuragi is ALWAYS oblivious.
I guess he's what you'd call an idiot savant.
__Insults are the best form of endearment.
Do'aho, while an insult to us, actually means "You hunka-hunka burnin' love!" to Rukawa. It takes a long complicated thought process for that though. Trust me. After all Rukawa spent five and a half pages brooding over how he can't express his feelings and can only use "Do'aho" to get Sakuragi's attention...

............will add to this later. It's late.

inori no uta
[ a takashi/mitsuki ficlet ]

It took her a while to realize what it was that had drawn her to walk by the riverside on her own as night fell softly and slowly, as summer rain would, not a brilliant war of colors like the sunrise, but the gradual drawing of a veil over the horizon. It was a lovely afternoon, she'd reasoned, and Hikaru-san had asked her to drop by for a talk before the Kurohane departed for a mission. Never mind that she walked right past the path leading to the artist's home; she was Kagetai, and she took paths not walked by others.

There was an ache in her that moved with the currents of the flowing river, touched by the final fire of day. And reaching for it was no more successful than in those moments at dawn when she tried to grasp for the fleeting wisps of the dream she'd just waked from.

The river moved with a rapid constancy as the girl knelt by it, perched unmindfully on the bank, and leaning over it as any young woman would, dreaming of two stars and a bridge of wings and a love that needed only a day. But even as she watched the path of the moon reflected on the water, her eyes were dark with the opacity of looking inwards to a soul.

There was silence in her heart that lay over her lips as fingers keeping even sighs unreleased. It was a silence that translated to absolute stillness and quiet around her. Without even fireflies to keep her company, she was alone with moon and river. She appreciated it, the elemental sense of being with existence and not life. It was what she needed, solitude to understand the thin vein of unhappiness that nevertheless threaded through the whole of her. She could not do it if that single, watchful eye wasn't the only witness though her dagger was her thoughts and her skin was the bright smile covering that vein, and no blood would be spilled; some wounds didn't need to bleed.

Her eyes focused on the river silver-glossed, and on dark hair and eyes the blue of a flower and gray slipping into black. The silver reminded her of him and realization came with the taste of the bitter fruit of tears. It was not an unfamiliar one, but neither was it known in the waking hours. Rather it lay, dormant and still within that vein that she knew now was not unhappiness, but a kind of joy. It was a realization of a heart beating quietly in time with another's smile. It was the realization of a curving mouth for a kind gesture or word and of the slight slip of it with the knowledge that his kindness came easily for all. It was a realization recognized but hidden deep at the edge of dreams where sighs became tears and tears evaporated to sighs.

"When you first love, I pray it will be gentle." Hikaru's words, and a prayer turned truth. And it was gentle, like a song hummed into the air, with all the substance of a whisper, and all the strength of a prayer. And it was gentle, so the pain it brought was gentle too, even when she saw the beautiful geisha's eyes following the movements of the kitsune, or when remembrance would carry him to be with the grace of the Sakura. She understood; it was in his nature, for beauty attracted beauty. Just as she understood that some of that pain came from the knowledge that she had none to offer, nor even to create, that was why she loved the most beautiful thing she could find, that strange duality of destruction and creation, within him, within Kanamo-san, Takeda-sama and Hikaru-san. But not within her.

A sigh behind her echoed the one that barely escaped her, and she saw that the image she was looking at was different, hair as dark but with eyes that held the river in them.

"Shirakawa-san!"

Although he was not one to complain of her startled formality, the slight frown made her amend it to "Kitsune-san, what are you doing here?"

"The river is lovely... and I remembered that some flowers bloom at night." he blushed and tried to smile, calling up an answering one that hid that gentle pain. "And what about you?"

She wondered if she could tell him, if she could ever tell him.

"Just thinking." She always lacked the words. "But it is a sight to carry into sleep. Are you picking flowers for an ikebana? I always wanted to learn how to make one."

"I'll teach you then! But not tonight, I'll walk you back to your sensei then, it's not proper for you to be alone -- not that I'm implying that you can't take care of yourself. Mitsuki-chan is very skilled -- maybe I need you to protect me... ohhh..." That was Takashi alright, walking the fine line of ingrained gallantry and of acknowledgement of the Kagetai females' skill, and often teetering on it, so sweetly wanting to show how highly he thought of them.

He smiled at her again, and hope, that which sprung eternally in the young, raced through that vein, pursued just as quickly by sorrow.

He looked thoughtfully at her for a few minutes and said, "I can teach you, but it will be rushed since I may have to go for a mission day after tomorrow."

She could not be worthy of him no more than she was worthy of crossing a bridge of wings. But...

She smiled and nodded.

"I don't mind. I only need a day, Takashi-san."

---------------------------
*prodprod* I sense more than a large amount of Mia's influence in this fic. I blame Rilke and Peter Hoeg's "Smilla's Sense of Snow" for this sudden bout of inspiration. Even the style is a bit Mia-ish... *shrugs* Oi. And you have NO idea how long I've been waiting to use that line "--all the substance of a whisper and all the strength of a prayer." Actually the original one went "--a prayer with all the substance of a whisper and all the faith of millions." *shrugs*

I almost used another line I've been hoarding but I decided to use it for something else.

I am in an annoyingly good mood now that THAT fic is out. AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Didja know that in greatly reduced margins and in 8.5 Verdana, it's only one page?

somewhere out there, Robert Jordan is sneezing up a storm. And twitching madly. It should be called "A Tale of Two Senseis" or something asinine like that. Hrm... coming up, the path of daggers (unless I come up with a more original title) feat. Shigeru and Kinnosuke, and chibi-Mitsuki with peonies, ironies, philosophies and choosing a weapon. Slight WaFFiness at the beginning but it's all because of chibi-Mitsuki's antics.

I can't seem to write right now, and I was prepared to write up that piece. *shrugs* The scene is there in my head, a repentant Mitsuki kneeling and bowing in front of an irritated Shigeru, who is, not for the first time, doubting the wisdom of taking in this girl and his own skills as a teacher, with a VERY amused Kinnosuke standing behind him, and all around them are cut peonies, an entire garden ruined. Mitsuki gathering all of them up, while Shigeru and Kinnosuke discuss the story of Miyamoto Musashi and the Sekishusai and the peony, and Mitsuki's choice of the yari for her training. I don't want it to be Ye Olde Angst Session, but I neither do I want it to be all WAFFWAFFWAFF. I want it to be poignant, and just a touch of melancholy.