I was having a perfectly average day. Floating through my first two periods, sleeping through my third, floating through the next, panicking in math class, going out to lunch...
Come gym period I am having a slightly above average day. Green and I are in giggling like mad from shenanigans (well, she giggled. I snickered. I'm not quite girly enough to giggle but not manly enough to chuckle either). Okay, fine, we're friends.
Then, as we go back up to the locker room to change (protip: never have the changing room locker NEXT TO THE PERSON YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO), she turns to me and says,"Oh! I have something to show you!"
Jokingly, I ask, "Does it involve clothes being thrown off?" Because, you know, we're going to the changing room. Duh.
I get a look of "really, Vanui, really?" and I shrug.
Turns out, she flips open her phone after we're both changed, and lo and behold, there's a picture of me on Santa's lap. My first reaction was to shout, at the top of my lungs, attracting all attention from the rest of the 50 or so girls crammed in there, "You took a picture?! Green!"
She giggles her way out of the locker room, telling me all the while how she had to go through so much trouble trying to get the company's phone to work and take a picture before finding time to text it to herself. Here I am going, "What the fuck why why why would you go through so much trouble to take a picture of me on Santa's lap" in my head.
So while we're on the subject of Santa, I learn that Santa told Green to "take care of Big Guy (oh lawd, he actually thought I was a dude)" and while I laughed it off, I really hope she didn't ask Santa, "Why do I need to take care of him/her?"
Because, well, uh...
If Santa revealed anything, Green would know it's her. And I really don't want to make things awkward like it was for us for the first 3 years of high school when I confessed to her 3 times. Jesus.
I don't even know. I just... I don't even.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Operation
He went to work as usual, of course. Woke up, brewed his coffee, brushed his teeth, patted his already balding head down, got in the car, parked the car, got out of the car, went inside the hospital, entered the elevator, exited the elevator, found his office, unlocked his office, set his laptop case down, took his laptop out, plugged the power source in, booted the laptop up, logged in. Nothing changed much that day. People gave him looks, tried to comfort him, but he dismissed them without pause. Only one operation was scheduled, and he got through that operation quickly and efficiently. Another woman’s face reconstructed, another couple thousand dollars for him. Perhaps the only thing that did change was the thought that his wife, for all her imperfections, could certainly have impressive timing and aim.
Time passed, and he reflected on what he could have done wrong. He treated all his possessions quite nicely, kept himself nicely shaven, did the dishes, cleaned the house when she asked, and he never dared risk his reputation by sleeping with the much prettier ladies he met at work. Really, he thought he was the model husband. Never once did he touch her if she did not touch him first, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little they touched if at all. Perhaps the occasional touch while they slept side by side, purely accidental in nature, was the extent of their physical relationship. Was that the problem, then? Was he not affectionate enough? But, he remembered, did he even know how to show affection at all?
The realization unsettled him for a day, but then he realized that he was being ridiculous, so he moved his mind onto other subjects. He had to. The ER called his mobile and let him know that they had to perform an emergency facial reconstruction on a woman, so he had no choice but to forget for a couple hours. The woman in question was involved in a severe car accident, a product of the drunk man who had died before the ambulance arrived, and nobody knew who she was or what she looked like (other than the bloody mass that the doctors salvaged). As he stared, he pondered what to do. Since a DNA check would take too long and they had no way of knowing who she was, he had to decide her appearance quickly and begin the operation. But who should he model her after? Would she want to look beautiful or average? More feminine or masculine?
Chewing his lip, he fingered a strand of dark, blood-stained hair and saw the vision of his wife lying in bed, sleeping peacefully and with a complete disregard for his presence. It was decided, then.
The operation lasted quite a while. There was more damage than he originally thought, but he was determined to mold the woman’s face perfectly even as his assistants grew tired and his hands shook. A touch here, a scalpel there, he concentrated until his eyes watered and his assistants pried him away to tell him that they were finished, that there was nothing more they could do. Only when he finally left the curtained-off area did he notice the stench of blood that followed wherever he went. Quickly, he stopped by the sinks and peeled his gloves off.
He thought this operation was his most successful yet.
“Excuse me, sir, but a woman wishes to see you,” a hesitant nurse asked. She was peeking into his office, body posture stiff and fingers white as a ghost from where they gripped the door.
“Who?”
“It’s the woman from the car accident. She just regained consciousness and began screaming after we brought food to her. Then she demanded a mirror, and, well, it seems as if the appearance you chose for her has sent her into a sort of shock.” Wetting her lips, the nurse shifted uneasily in the doorway. The surgeon unconsciously mimicked the same action and stood from his seat, the wheels rolling along the tiled white floor and sighed.
“Room 234?” The nurse nodded. She moved aside and allowed him to pass, eyes pressed into his back as he walked down the bleak hallways to the elevators. Although he appeared calm to the patients and nurses he passed, inwardly he was pondering the consequences of his decision. The foolishness of his actions struck him and he physically staggered into the elevator, weakly pressing the little button that read “2” and clutching his forehead, a sudden pain embedding itself into his skull. His fortune, his position in the hospital, everything! His wife was a replaceable loss, but if he lost his position at the hospital, then he would truly become nothing. A nobody.
He heard the screaming before he left the elevator. The sound pierced through the wall like nails and claws, and he wondered if he had summoned a banshee or stepped off into a different plane altogether. Knowing that he could not delay the inevitable, he hurried along to Room 234, entered through the open door, and brushed past the privacy curtains, the screaming never ending and steadily increasing in volume. What awaited him looked startlingly like a banshee, he thought, but if this was the banshee he had summoned, he was quite alright with the end product for the sight that greeted him was not the patient from the car accident nor the bloody mass she had become, but it was his wife that lay curled up on the white hospital bed, shrieking, clutching at her injured face and paler than a ghost. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, right down to the fold of her eyelids and the curve of her porcelain lips.
To hell with his position at the hospital; it was worth everything to see her again.
“Excuse me, Doctor–”
He brushed the nurse off and waved her away, stepping closer to the bed and watching with curiosity as the screaming and writhing stopped when her eyes turned to focus on him. In a split second, they widened with something akin to terror, and she began trembling violently on the white bed, too paralyzed to scootch away and too terrified to do anything but tremble. All this he observed with scientific curiosity, and a fleeting question broke through his mental notes: was she really that upset with his choice in her appearance?
“She never loved you.”
Perhaps she did want a look more masculine and ferocious, rather than the weeping nature of his wife’s expression.
“They never loved me, but she loved me. But she never loved you.”
No, perhaps she wanted a look more fitting of a supermodel or an actress to compensate for the unfortunate accident that had fallen upon her.
“I can’t believe it’s you. She never loved you. Look at what you did to me!”
The sharp shriek brought him out of his ponderings and he blinked blankly back to the heart rate monitor on the other side of the bed before focusing his attention on the woman. The terror had been replaced by hatred, he noticed. He had no time to wonder at the reason why.
“She never loved you!” she howled.
“Who are you talking about?” he finally asked. The answer he received in return, however, put him into further silence. With surprising strength, the woman struck her hand out onto the tray in front of her and fumbled with a flash of silver and white, a flash that seemed, to his growing unease, like metal, and when she finally managed to get a good grip on the thing, she slipped it around the middle finger of her right hand and pointed the back of it toward him. It was a ring. A ring he recognized. A ring he knew quite well and had wondered, for the longest time, where he had misplaced it.
“You proposed to her with this ring,” she whispered, and then suddenly she wasn’t a banshee anymore but a frail and fragile human, “and you ruined everything.” Then her hand lowered and she was fingering the engagement ring with fondness and pain. “You ruined everything for my sister and I. And now you’ve ruined both of us again.”
“Your sister?” he hollowly echoed, finding his voice again. “Who?” He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he desperately needed to know. The confusion was too much for him, a foreign feeling of being in the dark and hopelessly lost. And yet–
“Your wife!” she yelled. “Your wife! My sister! My sister! The only one who ever loved me! The only one!”
For a moment, he was unable to move a muscle. Then he laughed. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Why,” he cried, “if she had a sister, then I would have seen her at the funeral! But not once did any of my in-laws mention a second daughter! You imposter! You liar! You dirty, filthy whore!”
He could not comprehend why, but to his irritation, she smiled, and the smile made him regret all the words he had ever spoken in his life. “She didn’t tell you many things, sir. I was disowned, if you must know. The black stain upon the family, and for what! Standing up for my sister in the first place. But nevermind that. Nevermind it at all."
“What?” His heart pounded against his ribcage. “You’re lying.”
“My sister was the liar,” she cackled with glee. “Tell me this, sir: did she ever kiss you? Did she ever let her lips touch yours after the one time she said ‘I do’? Did she ever tell you where she went every weekend when you worked double shifts and slept at the hospital? Did she? Did she ever tell you anything at all besides ‘Hello Husband’? ‘Goodbye Husband’? Hm?”
Time passed, and he reflected on what he could have done wrong. He treated all his possessions quite nicely, kept himself nicely shaven, did the dishes, cleaned the house when she asked, and he never dared risk his reputation by sleeping with the much prettier ladies he met at work. Really, he thought he was the model husband. Never once did he touch her if she did not touch him first, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little they touched if at all. Perhaps the occasional touch while they slept side by side, purely accidental in nature, was the extent of their physical relationship. Was that the problem, then? Was he not affectionate enough? But, he remembered, did he even know how to show affection at all?
The realization unsettled him for a day, but then he realized that he was being ridiculous, so he moved his mind onto other subjects. He had to. The ER called his mobile and let him know that they had to perform an emergency facial reconstruction on a woman, so he had no choice but to forget for a couple hours. The woman in question was involved in a severe car accident, a product of the drunk man who had died before the ambulance arrived, and nobody knew who she was or what she looked like (other than the bloody mass that the doctors salvaged). As he stared, he pondered what to do. Since a DNA check would take too long and they had no way of knowing who she was, he had to decide her appearance quickly and begin the operation. But who should he model her after? Would she want to look beautiful or average? More feminine or masculine?
Chewing his lip, he fingered a strand of dark, blood-stained hair and saw the vision of his wife lying in bed, sleeping peacefully and with a complete disregard for his presence. It was decided, then.
The operation lasted quite a while. There was more damage than he originally thought, but he was determined to mold the woman’s face perfectly even as his assistants grew tired and his hands shook. A touch here, a scalpel there, he concentrated until his eyes watered and his assistants pried him away to tell him that they were finished, that there was nothing more they could do. Only when he finally left the curtained-off area did he notice the stench of blood that followed wherever he went. Quickly, he stopped by the sinks and peeled his gloves off.
He thought this operation was his most successful yet.
“Excuse me, sir, but a woman wishes to see you,” a hesitant nurse asked. She was peeking into his office, body posture stiff and fingers white as a ghost from where they gripped the door.
“Who?”
“It’s the woman from the car accident. She just regained consciousness and began screaming after we brought food to her. Then she demanded a mirror, and, well, it seems as if the appearance you chose for her has sent her into a sort of shock.” Wetting her lips, the nurse shifted uneasily in the doorway. The surgeon unconsciously mimicked the same action and stood from his seat, the wheels rolling along the tiled white floor and sighed.
“Room 234?” The nurse nodded. She moved aside and allowed him to pass, eyes pressed into his back as he walked down the bleak hallways to the elevators. Although he appeared calm to the patients and nurses he passed, inwardly he was pondering the consequences of his decision. The foolishness of his actions struck him and he physically staggered into the elevator, weakly pressing the little button that read “2” and clutching his forehead, a sudden pain embedding itself into his skull. His fortune, his position in the hospital, everything! His wife was a replaceable loss, but if he lost his position at the hospital, then he would truly become nothing. A nobody.
He heard the screaming before he left the elevator. The sound pierced through the wall like nails and claws, and he wondered if he had summoned a banshee or stepped off into a different plane altogether. Knowing that he could not delay the inevitable, he hurried along to Room 234, entered through the open door, and brushed past the privacy curtains, the screaming never ending and steadily increasing in volume. What awaited him looked startlingly like a banshee, he thought, but if this was the banshee he had summoned, he was quite alright with the end product for the sight that greeted him was not the patient from the car accident nor the bloody mass she had become, but it was his wife that lay curled up on the white hospital bed, shrieking, clutching at her injured face and paler than a ghost. She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered, right down to the fold of her eyelids and the curve of her porcelain lips.
To hell with his position at the hospital; it was worth everything to see her again.
“Excuse me, Doctor–”
He brushed the nurse off and waved her away, stepping closer to the bed and watching with curiosity as the screaming and writhing stopped when her eyes turned to focus on him. In a split second, they widened with something akin to terror, and she began trembling violently on the white bed, too paralyzed to scootch away and too terrified to do anything but tremble. All this he observed with scientific curiosity, and a fleeting question broke through his mental notes: was she really that upset with his choice in her appearance?
“She never loved you.”
Perhaps she did want a look more masculine and ferocious, rather than the weeping nature of his wife’s expression.
“They never loved me, but she loved me. But she never loved you.”
No, perhaps she wanted a look more fitting of a supermodel or an actress to compensate for the unfortunate accident that had fallen upon her.
“I can’t believe it’s you. She never loved you. Look at what you did to me!”
The sharp shriek brought him out of his ponderings and he blinked blankly back to the heart rate monitor on the other side of the bed before focusing his attention on the woman. The terror had been replaced by hatred, he noticed. He had no time to wonder at the reason why.
“She never loved you!” she howled.
“Who are you talking about?” he finally asked. The answer he received in return, however, put him into further silence. With surprising strength, the woman struck her hand out onto the tray in front of her and fumbled with a flash of silver and white, a flash that seemed, to his growing unease, like metal, and when she finally managed to get a good grip on the thing, she slipped it around the middle finger of her right hand and pointed the back of it toward him. It was a ring. A ring he recognized. A ring he knew quite well and had wondered, for the longest time, where he had misplaced it.
“You proposed to her with this ring,” she whispered, and then suddenly she wasn’t a banshee anymore but a frail and fragile human, “and you ruined everything.” Then her hand lowered and she was fingering the engagement ring with fondness and pain. “You ruined everything for my sister and I. And now you’ve ruined both of us again.”
“Your sister?” he hollowly echoed, finding his voice again. “Who?” He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he desperately needed to know. The confusion was too much for him, a foreign feeling of being in the dark and hopelessly lost. And yet–
“Your wife!” she yelled. “Your wife! My sister! My sister! The only one who ever loved me! The only one!”
For a moment, he was unable to move a muscle. Then he laughed. He laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Why,” he cried, “if she had a sister, then I would have seen her at the funeral! But not once did any of my in-laws mention a second daughter! You imposter! You liar! You dirty, filthy whore!”
He could not comprehend why, but to his irritation, she smiled, and the smile made him regret all the words he had ever spoken in his life. “She didn’t tell you many things, sir. I was disowned, if you must know. The black stain upon the family, and for what! Standing up for my sister in the first place. But nevermind that. Nevermind it at all."
“What?” His heart pounded against his ribcage. “You’re lying.”
“My sister was the liar,” she cackled with glee. “Tell me this, sir: did she ever kiss you? Did she ever let her lips touch yours after the one time she said ‘I do’? Did she ever tell you where she went every weekend when you worked double shifts and slept at the hospital? Did she? Did she ever tell you anything at all besides ‘Hello Husband’? ‘Goodbye Husband’? Hm?”
“What are you saying?” he angrily begged. “That she cheated on me? But how could she? Not once did I ever smell the scent of another man upon her!”
“And that is exactly it!” the woman cackled with glee. “You never smelled a man upon her! A man! A male! And that is the problem!”
It was as if a blanket had been lifted from over his head, a surgeon had removed his tumor, and scenes throughout his marriage assaulted his addled mind in rapid succession: it all made sense now. Every flinch, every twitch, every touch of their relationship, it was all a lie. So it wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to show affection! He had done nothing wrong, he happily realized. Only, he had been born the wrong gender. Surely this was a sign from God that he had a chance to start anew and find a wife that would faithfully not leap out the the side of an open building window.
A sudden thought struck him, and following the impulse he grabbed the sister’s hand, a hand that looked so much like his late wife’s, and fingered the ring. “I think,” he said, “the more important problem is whether or not you don’t prefer males as well.”
She looked at him with the same expression that his wife had given him when he proposed to her five years ago.
So here's what happened today...
This is... less thoughts and more of a post to the world about my life, but... Eh, maybe you all will derive some amusement from my day.
Let us begin with me going to the mall to buy Christmas gifts for my families and, of course, with the motive of seeing the girl I love (let's call her Green). It was convenient that she works the Santa photo visit thing in the mall for a job, and so I decided, "Hey, why not go give her some company. I know I sure as hell get bored at my job."
Here's some back-story: I've been in love with Green for 6 years. I've confessed already, and she's straight, so by all means, I should move on. My heart is stubborn and refuses to change, though, no matter how badly I want it to.
I tell you this because I ended up talking with her a lot longer than I should have. I'd go shop, get some stuff, stop by, chat for some amount of minutes, then go back to shopping. I did this until I had most of my shopping done, and then she still had an hour left of work. After picking up some stuff at Spencer's (nothing dirty, you pervs), I spent my last hour there with her at the Santa station.
Me, being me, jokingly joked about sitting in Santa's lap, even though I am well above the age that people should be for doing such things. Green told me to go for it. Then I told her I didn't really have anything to wish for. She still told me to go for it. I then thought of a wish and told her so, but I still didn't want to do it. She asked me what my wish was, and I couldn't tell her, but she went ahead and kept encouraging me to go for it.
Under her smile, I caved. Blushing like an idiot, embarrassed beyond embarrassed, I stood in line with kids a quarter of my size. The employee managing the line (Green was working the cash register) eyed me before asking me whether or not I wanted to take a picture or simply chat with Santa. She had seen me throughout the entire 4 hours I spent at the mall, and I knew she thought I was strange.
Still, Green smiled brightly and encouragingly over at the register, and I persevered.
"Just a chat," I said.
Finally, it was my turn. I awkwardly tried to sit to the side of Santa so I wouldn't crush him under my weight, but he chuckled and told me, "No no no, lad! You get to sit on Santa's lap!" So I did. I sat down, amused that he thought I was a guy (I'm androgynous, if I do think so myself). We exchanged pleasantries like two normal people. "Hello! How are you?" "I'm fine. How about you?" "Pretty good! Pretty good!" It was strange since I was sitting on his lap.
Eventually, I said, "Alright, I'll keep this quick since I know I'm heavy."
Santa looked at me curiously.
"I've been in love with someone I can't have. And... And it's been 6 years. All I wish for is... i-is for it to go away. "
"It's been what?" he asked. I was speaking too softly, I realized, deathly afraid that Green could hear us. I repeated my words and he made a noise of understanding. "Ah. How old are you?"
"17," I replied.
"Wow. Since you were 11, huh."
"Yup."
"So what's stopping you two from being together?" he asked me curiously. This made me pause. He thought I was a guy, but... I bit my lip, thought for a moment, and told him a vague, but true, answer.
"Many things. Things I can't control," I told Santa. He nodded. His eyes scrunched up a bit underneath the white fluffy fringe of his red hat, and he thought for a moment, struggling to come up with words. I was starting to get disappointed (what was I expecting in the first place? I don't know) when he spoke.
"Sometimes," he began, "relationships aren't meant to be. And then all you can do is move forward. Let time do the rest. Time heals all wounds." I looked at him. It seemed to be ordinary advice. Cliche. But it was true. I wasn't as disappointed as I was mere seconds ago, but I still wanted more. However, he had more to say. "When my mother died from cancer, I couldn't believe it for about 3 months. Sometimes I still feel like she's around. But, eventually, little by little, I got better, and well... That's how life goes. You just got to keep moving on."
From my close proximity, I could see that his eyes were red, and I felt a little guilty for somehow bringing up painful memories for him. It made me swallow thickly, and all I could concentrate on was Santa's watering eyes.
"If you two can't be together, then all you can do is let her go. Seperate," he gently told me. I nodded. I understood completely. It was what I had been hearing from my close friends thoughout the past 6 years, and although it was the same advice, it was somehow liberating to hear it from Santa, a man who was just as ordinary as I, thrust into a position of giving little children happiness and inspiring happiness even when his own situation was probably worse than the spoiled children he saw. His next few words earned my complete respect. "If you two were ever meant to be, she'll come back to you. If it happens, it does. If it doesn't, it doesn't."
"You're right," I said. "Completely. I understand. Thank you, Santa. Thank you." By this point, my voice was weak and shaky and I couldn't trust myself to say much more than thank you. I knew I had already talked too long, so I made my way out.
"Stay safe and out of trouble! No violence!" he hollered at me. I managed a small smile and wave and turned.
"Thanks, Santa."
"Hey!" Green shouted at me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. For a brief second, I thought she had heard every word I had spoke to Santa, but then: "You forgot your sticker!"
"Sticker?" I asked, confused and somehow relieved.
"For talking with Santa."
Laughing, I walked back and picked one up from the basket. I made my way over to her. "Better?" I peeled the sticker off and stuck it on her uniform. She smiled brightly at me, and my heart was racing from the combined stress of what I had done and how pretty she was even in such an ugly black apron.
Once she had adjusted the sticker elsewhere, she looked at me curiously. I raised an eyebrow back at her. "What did you talk with Santa about? You were there for a while."
"I can't tell you," I told her. She stared at me, and I felt like she had a notion of what I was talking with Santa about. But whether or not she knew I was talking about her in particular was a fact up for grabs. "I... It was interesting. You were right. This Santa's good."
I stayed with her for half an hour more, chatting about nothing and everything, both of us dead tired and me watching her back when she had to work. I thought she was brilliant when she acted so confident with the costumers and was so business like.
I felt Santa's eyes on me at times, and I wondered if he had figured out who I was talking about. For all he knew, though, it could've been someone else. But if he guessed that it was Green, then he was truly the wisest Santa I've ever met.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Beauty?
For the first of my thoughts, I’d like to talk about something more personal and hope it can relate to you. It has to do with the perception of beauty.
I noticed that when I look at the girl I like, she just... glows in my vision. Her eyes sparkle, and I can’t pull away (at least not until I realize what I’m doing and I get embarrassed). Even when she got her new haircut and looked awful, I found that I eventually started to like her physical appearance just as much as her old one.
Does love blind? Because my other friends have agreed that she doesn’t look as great as before, but it’s not like she’s ugly either. My opinion gradually changed over time, and as I came to see her more, she simply seemed to get more and more attractive, especially as I got to talk with her this year more than I ever got to in the past (including all 7 years we’ve known one another).
Maybe it has more to do with this emotional connection than anything else. We’ve never had so many classes together before (and by “so many”, I mean 2), and it’s a new experience to be able to talk with her every day for 50 or so minutes. So we’ll see. Certainly, things might become more clear as second semester approaches and I’m not in any of her classes anymore.
Meh.
I noticed that when I look at the girl I like, she just... glows in my vision. Her eyes sparkle, and I can’t pull away (at least not until I realize what I’m doing and I get embarrassed). Even when she got her new haircut and looked awful, I found that I eventually started to like her physical appearance just as much as her old one.
Does love blind? Because my other friends have agreed that she doesn’t look as great as before, but it’s not like she’s ugly either. My opinion gradually changed over time, and as I came to see her more, she simply seemed to get more and more attractive, especially as I got to talk with her this year more than I ever got to in the past (including all 7 years we’ve known one another).
Maybe it has more to do with this emotional connection than anything else. We’ve never had so many classes together before (and by “so many”, I mean 2), and it’s a new experience to be able to talk with her every day for 50 or so minutes. So we’ll see. Certainly, things might become more clear as second semester approaches and I’m not in any of her classes anymore.
Meh.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The City, the Mountain, the Stars, and the Booze
“You ever think this is all for nothing?” she asked.
“What? What’s all for nothing?” He turned his body on the grass and looked at her.
“Everything. Getting an education, finding a job, making money, living...” She gestured at the city below, vodka bottle swishing in hand. They were a good distance away from the reaches of society, but the city lights were still bright, and she squinted.
“Shit, man. You dragged me up the mountain to talk about this?”
“Nah. Wanted to get out of the city, off the campus, mostly,” she softly stated. Trying to see if she could see individual people from her spot, she gave up and took a swig. They weren’t too far out, but they had driven fifteen minutes and hiked another two hours to reach their spot on the side of the mountain. It was part of the public trail, but no one ever made use of the plateau they claimed. City people were too damn lazy.
“If that’s all you wanted, then we should’ve joined the boys and hit the club where they serve real drinks.” He pointedly swished his bottle of vodka and tilted his head back for a large gulp. His lips left the bottle with a smack and a sigh. “Burns real good. Damn.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Which club? Strip? Or the dancing kind?”
“Both. Could’ve hit both tonight, man,” he laughed, winking. “But I know you gave that kind of thing up, right? No more partying hard, picking up chicks, waking up on the other side of campus...”
She turned her eyes away and focused them on the tallest tower of the city, saying nothing and letting the silence stretch on. He grunted and shut himself up, knowing she would respond in time. Drink swishing in hand, he bided his time and let himself drink until he felt his limit approaching.
“Hey, ease off. I didn’t bring you out here to waste my stash and get smashed.” She snatched the bottle out of his hand and put the lid back on. Shrugging, swaying, he laid back on the grass and gazed at the black sky.
“You ever miss the stars?” he asked. Glad that his words weren’t slurring yet, he felt confident enough to look at his companion again.
“Are we ever going to answer each other’s questions?” she responded. Still, she leaned back and gazed with him. “Yeah, I miss them. I don’t miss home, though.”
“With good reason.”
“Yeah.”
“Yup.”
Listening to silence, they laid there. It was getting cold out, and everything was either dying or dead, so they didn’t have to worry about bugs or living creatures. Kept the drinks cool, too. She opened her mouth and breathed, watching white steam escape into the sky.
“This whole ‘all for nothing’ thing... Is accounting really that bad?” he prodded. If it is, he thought, then you really should have said something all those years ago before you started your senior year of college.
“Nah.” She closed her eyes.
“Then what is it?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “Forget it. Nevermind.”
“You can’t tell me to forget it if you bring it up in the first place,” he shot back. She remained mute, so he sat up, the world swimming in his vision as he did so. “Damn, girl, if you are just going to bullshit me all night, I am going home and leaving you here to walk back.”
“You’re welcome to try.” Confused, he watched her sit up, reach into her pocket, and pull out the keys, dangling them in front of his face. He reached for them. She quickly moved them out of reach.
“Don’t make me fight you.” He glared.
“You wouldn’t, and we both know it.” She smiled, the first time that night, and he scoffed.
“This childhood friend thing sucks.”
“Yeah, but it works out for the both of us, doesn’t it?”
They simultaneously sighed, glared at one another, and burst out laughing.
“Remember how everyone at school thought we were siblings before we told them our last names?” he chuckled.
“And then when we did tell them, they didn’t believe us.” They snickered together some more and talked of old times again, remembering the gas station they used to buy slushies at, the gaming store they first obtained their addiction in, the social studies teacher they hated in sixth grade, people they used to know and how he was convinced that Santa Claus was real...
Tension had vanished for a moment, and although they eventually slipped back into silence, they remained at ease. She set her bottle of vodka down and capped it up, rolling it toward her backpack and returning to her position on the ground. If she looked hard enough, she could see the stars. At least, she thought she did.
By memory, she could try and find the constellations even without seeing the bright lights in the black sky, and she attempted to do so. They faced west from their position, and armed with only that knowledge, she mentally mapped out Orion, Altair, Virgo...
They had laid there for so long that he was about to slip off to sleep. Her voice, however, pierced through the quiet and shook him back awake. “Hey... About before.”
“Yeah?” he sleepily muttered.
“I’m sorry. I... I’m a little... down on life.”
“I noticed.” He opened one eye and sniffled. “What’s got you down? Missing the booze and sex?” She laughed softly, and he knew she appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Maybe.” She glanced shyly at him and rubbed her nose. Surprised, he blinked.
“Wait, are you serious?”
“I mean... Okay, that didn’t come out right.”
“And the way it was supposed to come out was...?”
“I’m lonely,” she blurted out. Their eyes met, and he froze. Rubbing the back of her neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the stars; he simply gaped without moving. “Is it that strange?”
“That you of all people are lonely? Someone call a medic ‘cause I am hallucinating,” he mumbled. After receiving a slap to the side of his head, he shut up.
“Damn it, take me seriously for once,” she growled.
“I always take you seriously. You’re the only person I know who hates her major and tries her best at it anyway, and I understood that you were never free enough to try your hand at a real relationship even if you wanted it,” he replied. “How’s that?”
“You’re right, of course,” she grudgingly accepted. He smirked, then his face fell.
“So what’s changed now?”
Nobody moved. The withered grass beneath their bodies stirred a tiny bit when a small breeze passed through. Then it was gone. In the distance, the sound of a wolf’s howl faintly rode the breeze and carried over to their ears. The call was mournful.
“I fell for someone. Hard,” she whispered. His forehead creased with concern.
“Are you telling me that you’re putting your major ahead of a potential girlfriend?” he asked, incredulous. She shook her head, and for that, small relief shuddered through his frame.
“It’s...”
He said nothing. Only turned his body to stare at her downturned face and grasped her shoulder firmly. His hand was warm.
“I saw her kissing a guy.” And the truth was out in a pained, raspy voice. Ice ran down his spine, and clarity cleaned the alcohol entirely out of his system.
“Oh. Oh, I am so sorry, girl,” he whispered back, wrapping her in a warm hug. He smelled like leather and booze, and the scent was comforting, more so than his whispered words and the hand patting her soothingly on the back. He had smelled like leather even back in first grade. Letting out a garbled laugh, she recalled that he insisted on wearing a tacky leather jacket at all times or, if it was summer, a leather vest.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she sniffed, pushing him away so she could wipe her tears. “I should have known, you know? I really should’ve learned by now.” Her chuckle was pathetic, and he narrowed his eyes down at her.
“You know–”
“I do know. I know that I always fall for the people I can’t have, and that’s why I’ll always go back to the booze and the one night stands and forget it all.”
He said nothing. She stood up and stretched, gaze turning back toward the city. Even as late as it was, it teemed with life, and even from this distance, she could sense the life and depravity that echoed from every party, every club, and every bar. Wiping her eyes, she gave a wry smile and held a hand out. He took it and, with her help, joined her standing.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He was worried, that much she could tell. Shaking her head, she shrugged.
“As okay as I’ll ever be. I needed a cry,” she told him. Her voice cracked with the effort. “Thanks for being my shoulder to cry on.”
He gave her a small smile of his own and told her, “I’m here for you. Always. So don’t go giving me thanks now, you troublemaker. Save it for when you don’t need this shoulder to cry on anymore, and then we’ll start talking thanks.”
She owed him much more than simple thanks, but she swallowed her thoughts. They didn’t need that right now. All they needed was this. Their mountain, the city before them, the stars, and each other. And booze. Perhaps the booze, as well.
“There’s a lot of people in one city. Who knows? Maybe one of them will be Miss Perfect for you.”
Not giving any indication that she had heard, she picked her backpack and vodka up and began the long march down, her white breath escaping from her mouth with every few steps she took.
------
(Excuse any inaccuracies with the constellations. I have no idea what I'm talking about there.)
“What? What’s all for nothing?” He turned his body on the grass and looked at her.
“Everything. Getting an education, finding a job, making money, living...” She gestured at the city below, vodka bottle swishing in hand. They were a good distance away from the reaches of society, but the city lights were still bright, and she squinted.
“Shit, man. You dragged me up the mountain to talk about this?”
“Nah. Wanted to get out of the city, off the campus, mostly,” she softly stated. Trying to see if she could see individual people from her spot, she gave up and took a swig. They weren’t too far out, but they had driven fifteen minutes and hiked another two hours to reach their spot on the side of the mountain. It was part of the public trail, but no one ever made use of the plateau they claimed. City people were too damn lazy.
“If that’s all you wanted, then we should’ve joined the boys and hit the club where they serve real drinks.” He pointedly swished his bottle of vodka and tilted his head back for a large gulp. His lips left the bottle with a smack and a sigh. “Burns real good. Damn.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Which club? Strip? Or the dancing kind?”
“Both. Could’ve hit both tonight, man,” he laughed, winking. “But I know you gave that kind of thing up, right? No more partying hard, picking up chicks, waking up on the other side of campus...”
She turned her eyes away and focused them on the tallest tower of the city, saying nothing and letting the silence stretch on. He grunted and shut himself up, knowing she would respond in time. Drink swishing in hand, he bided his time and let himself drink until he felt his limit approaching.
“Hey, ease off. I didn’t bring you out here to waste my stash and get smashed.” She snatched the bottle out of his hand and put the lid back on. Shrugging, swaying, he laid back on the grass and gazed at the black sky.
“You ever miss the stars?” he asked. Glad that his words weren’t slurring yet, he felt confident enough to look at his companion again.
“Are we ever going to answer each other’s questions?” she responded. Still, she leaned back and gazed with him. “Yeah, I miss them. I don’t miss home, though.”
“With good reason.”
“Yeah.”
“Yup.”
Listening to silence, they laid there. It was getting cold out, and everything was either dying or dead, so they didn’t have to worry about bugs or living creatures. Kept the drinks cool, too. She opened her mouth and breathed, watching white steam escape into the sky.
“This whole ‘all for nothing’ thing... Is accounting really that bad?” he prodded. If it is, he thought, then you really should have said something all those years ago before you started your senior year of college.
“Nah.” She closed her eyes.
“Then what is it?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she answered, “Forget it. Nevermind.”
“You can’t tell me to forget it if you bring it up in the first place,” he shot back. She remained mute, so he sat up, the world swimming in his vision as he did so. “Damn, girl, if you are just going to bullshit me all night, I am going home and leaving you here to walk back.”
“You’re welcome to try.” Confused, he watched her sit up, reach into her pocket, and pull out the keys, dangling them in front of his face. He reached for them. She quickly moved them out of reach.
“Don’t make me fight you.” He glared.
“You wouldn’t, and we both know it.” She smiled, the first time that night, and he scoffed.
“This childhood friend thing sucks.”
“Yeah, but it works out for the both of us, doesn’t it?”
They simultaneously sighed, glared at one another, and burst out laughing.
“Remember how everyone at school thought we were siblings before we told them our last names?” he chuckled.
“And then when we did tell them, they didn’t believe us.” They snickered together some more and talked of old times again, remembering the gas station they used to buy slushies at, the gaming store they first obtained their addiction in, the social studies teacher they hated in sixth grade, people they used to know and how he was convinced that Santa Claus was real...
Tension had vanished for a moment, and although they eventually slipped back into silence, they remained at ease. She set her bottle of vodka down and capped it up, rolling it toward her backpack and returning to her position on the ground. If she looked hard enough, she could see the stars. At least, she thought she did.
By memory, she could try and find the constellations even without seeing the bright lights in the black sky, and she attempted to do so. They faced west from their position, and armed with only that knowledge, she mentally mapped out Orion, Altair, Virgo...
They had laid there for so long that he was about to slip off to sleep. Her voice, however, pierced through the quiet and shook him back awake. “Hey... About before.”
“Yeah?” he sleepily muttered.
“I’m sorry. I... I’m a little... down on life.”
“I noticed.” He opened one eye and sniffled. “What’s got you down? Missing the booze and sex?” She laughed softly, and he knew she appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.
“Maybe.” She glanced shyly at him and rubbed her nose. Surprised, he blinked.
“Wait, are you serious?”
“I mean... Okay, that didn’t come out right.”
“And the way it was supposed to come out was...?”
“I’m lonely,” she blurted out. Their eyes met, and he froze. Rubbing the back of her neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the stars; he simply gaped without moving. “Is it that strange?”
“That you of all people are lonely? Someone call a medic ‘cause I am hallucinating,” he mumbled. After receiving a slap to the side of his head, he shut up.
“Damn it, take me seriously for once,” she growled.
“I always take you seriously. You’re the only person I know who hates her major and tries her best at it anyway, and I understood that you were never free enough to try your hand at a real relationship even if you wanted it,” he replied. “How’s that?”
“You’re right, of course,” she grudgingly accepted. He smirked, then his face fell.
“So what’s changed now?”
Nobody moved. The withered grass beneath their bodies stirred a tiny bit when a small breeze passed through. Then it was gone. In the distance, the sound of a wolf’s howl faintly rode the breeze and carried over to their ears. The call was mournful.
“I fell for someone. Hard,” she whispered. His forehead creased with concern.
“Are you telling me that you’re putting your major ahead of a potential girlfriend?” he asked, incredulous. She shook her head, and for that, small relief shuddered through his frame.
“It’s...”
He said nothing. Only turned his body to stare at her downturned face and grasped her shoulder firmly. His hand was warm.
“I saw her kissing a guy.” And the truth was out in a pained, raspy voice. Ice ran down his spine, and clarity cleaned the alcohol entirely out of his system.
“Oh. Oh, I am so sorry, girl,” he whispered back, wrapping her in a warm hug. He smelled like leather and booze, and the scent was comforting, more so than his whispered words and the hand patting her soothingly on the back. He had smelled like leather even back in first grade. Letting out a garbled laugh, she recalled that he insisted on wearing a tacky leather jacket at all times or, if it was summer, a leather vest.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she sniffed, pushing him away so she could wipe her tears. “I should have known, you know? I really should’ve learned by now.” Her chuckle was pathetic, and he narrowed his eyes down at her.
“You know–”
“I do know. I know that I always fall for the people I can’t have, and that’s why I’ll always go back to the booze and the one night stands and forget it all.”
He said nothing. She stood up and stretched, gaze turning back toward the city. Even as late as it was, it teemed with life, and even from this distance, she could sense the life and depravity that echoed from every party, every club, and every bar. Wiping her eyes, she gave a wry smile and held a hand out. He took it and, with her help, joined her standing.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He was worried, that much she could tell. Shaking her head, she shrugged.
“As okay as I’ll ever be. I needed a cry,” she told him. Her voice cracked with the effort. “Thanks for being my shoulder to cry on.”
He gave her a small smile of his own and told her, “I’m here for you. Always. So don’t go giving me thanks now, you troublemaker. Save it for when you don’t need this shoulder to cry on anymore, and then we’ll start talking thanks.”
She owed him much more than simple thanks, but she swallowed her thoughts. They didn’t need that right now. All they needed was this. Their mountain, the city before them, the stars, and each other. And booze. Perhaps the booze, as well.
“There’s a lot of people in one city. Who knows? Maybe one of them will be Miss Perfect for you.”
Not giving any indication that she had heard, she picked her backpack and vodka up and began the long march down, her white breath escaping from her mouth with every few steps she took.
------
(Excuse any inaccuracies with the constellations. I have no idea what I'm talking about there.)
Saturday, November 24, 2012
The Exile and the Sorcerer (Lyremouth Chronicles - Book 1)
The quest for the stolen chalice is a sham - her family's excuse to get rid of Tevi. Exiled in a dangerous and confusing world filled with monsters, bandits, and sorcerers, Tevi battles demons within and without as she searches for her place in the strange new world.
Jemeryl has her future planned out - a future that will involve minimal contact with ordinary folk who do not understand sorcerers. Her ambition is to lead a solitary life within the Coven and to devote herself to the study of magic. It is all very straightforward - until she meets Tevi.
Two unlikely allies join forces to defeat an insidious evil and on the journey find one another.
------
For a book I picked up without knowing anything about it, not even a summary, it was quite interesting. The title of the first chapter was “A bad joke”, and I didn’t know what to think. Was that implying something?
I quickly learned that the joke wasn’t on me. It was on the main character, the unfortunate, seriously depressed and zero-confident Tevi. (Yes, Tevi. Though I have seen far worse in the way of names, I was glad that the name was unique and short enough to remember.) The beginning half of the story was an introduction to the world and Tevi’s character, her plight, her growth and the loss of innocence. Quite standard in the way of fantasy, and I was pleased with the world Miss Fletcher, the author, created (more on this later in the spoilered section).
This is all I can say before the spoilers come in, so now I’ll begin with my ratings.
Plot: [5/10]
Why? Because most of this book is world-building and character-building. Due to the fact that this is the first book in a series, it isn’t surprising. It does seem to drag on when the plot seems to be going nowhere and nothing really drives Tevi beyond self-preservation. However, the plot kicks in near the last quarter of the book, and I feel that that wasn’t the best move on the author’s part. It was there from the beginning, and it was foreshadowed in a way, but it feels weak when compared to other novels out there.
Characters/Characterization: [8/10]
Tevi’s growth was handled quite well, and from the start, she was a character I could relate to. She might bother people who have never had the same problems as her, but I feel that she accurately represents those of us who are homosexuals and live in a world that condemns our “choice”. I can’t really talk about the other important main character, who doesn’t even show up until the second half of the book, without spoilers (although the character can’t be that hard to guess with the title being The Exile and the Sorcerer). Rest assured, most characters seem to be an accurate reflection on the society they live in and how their society reflects ours.
Prose/Writing Style/POV: [7/10]
First off, I do want to say that I saw several grammatical errors and sentences that seemed to miss a word or two. I saw quite the error with a “>” in front of a sentence at one point. I don’t know if this was due to the version I read, but... Hopefully that is the case. Regardless, that doesn’t affect this grading.
The POV is Third-Person Limited, switching from Tevi to other characters at times, but the focus is still mainly on her. This breaks the flow of the story at some points, and although it greatly annoyed myself at the time, I have come to understand the purposes behind the POV switches. They are bearable and not overused.
As to the style of writing, it works. The majority of the book is spent in subject-verb sentences, and this is quite common with the fantasy genre dealing with swords, fighting, magic, etc. The descriptions are definitely nearer to the higher end of the scale compared to other works I’ve read in the genre (and by genre, I mean fantasy lesbian fiction), so that was a plus.
Final Verdict? [6.5/10] - Worth a Read
I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. It lulled at times, but I loved Tevi as a main character and the small bits of humor thrown here and there throughout the novel. The character growth was handled quite well, and although some people seem to be cast off without a second thought, I’m sure they’ll reappear in one of the later books. Overall, nice experience. I would have liked to see the plot more structured, but for all intents and purposes, Miss Fletcher made the story move along somehow. The only other big problem was the romance, but more on that below.
----Spoilers Ahoy!---- (I shall assume you have already read the book, so characters will be mentioned, and sometimes I will not clarify who they are to people who have not read)
Ah, the beginning had me fooled. I read the first page and thought to myself, “Oh god, not another story with tribes and tomfoolery between villages and simpletons”. The first pieces of dialogue pointed everything in that direction, courtesy of Laff, Tevi’s bitter sister (who we aren’t supposed to like, but I knew better than to judge her for what she appeared to be... Typical character ploy made by authors).
Thank goodness that all changed when Brec, the childhood friend and crush, and Tevi’s “family” kicked her out. That scene hit too close to home for me, and I’m sure it will (or has) reminded others of their own similar situations. It was handled well, all things considered, and I think that was what Miss Fletcher intended with that scene: sympathy and empathy. I was pleased that Brec appeared to have been forced, quite against her will, to “out” Tevi, so to speak. No unnecessary bitchery (ahem) was afoot.
(In retrospect, having read the book in its entirety, I have the feeling that the readers will laugh once Tevi inevitably returns to her homeland and shoves her newfound badassery in their faces. Of course, I could be wrong, seeing as the rest of the series is already published, but I digress.)
For all their gripes about Tevi and her weakness, for she was pretty much the runt of the litter in her tribe, the author gave reasonable explanations later in the book to explain that Tevi may not be as worthless as she originally thought. It is always a good move on the author’s part to start the main character off in a position of low power and have them grow and become wiser and stronger, and this takes the twist of “you were always strong, just handicapped”. Getting ahead of myself, but I want to make the connection here. The discrimination Tevi experienced humbled her even further, and that is part of the reason why I cannot get mad at her magical strength over all others in the world beyond her home, although it seems to make her entirely too powerful at times.
Before anyone says anything, yes, she lost her eyesight because of her encounter with a basilisk. She lost it because she was curious and foolish, and even then, her eyesight was restored, better than before. So shush. She is overpowered at the moment. (And to that point, I did like how the author revealed Tevi’s eye color in such a manner).
Miss Fletcher creates two worlds for Tevi to live in, the first of which is her place of birth, an island where your blood determines your place in the hierarchy and homosexual behavior is strictly prohibited and punishable by death. Similar to our own world, hetersexual sex runs rampant throughout the colony and the impression is that pretty much every girl is very... “loose”, shall we say. I see this world as a reflection of the past, where kings and queens did rule, homosexuals were put to death, and people did not seriously consider the consequences of their sexual behaviors (*coughAIDScough*).
On the flipside, the mainland that Tevi travels to is governed by a system that takes into account ability and disregards all ties to blood. From the first family that Tevi travels with, we learn that children are expected to make their own livelihood, that they cannot depend on an inheritance. The government is comprised of the Coven, the elite of the sorcerers in the land, whose abilities are the product of their own work. Homosexual behavior is seen as normal, and to think otherwise is very alien, as seen by the difficult time that Jemeryl had when she tried to understand why Tevi was so “homophobic”. I believe this is Miss Fletcher’s vision of the direction our world should take, so this is a reflection of the future.
Before we touch romance, I want to comment on Tevi’s inability to differentiate between genders on the mainland. Is this another way that Miss Fletcher is saying how the way we dress and the way we act should not define our genders?
But of course, this is all my mad opinion.
Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for... romance. Oh god. I had the horrible fear that Brec would be the eventual romance, but as time went on, that became less and less likely, and then Cayell came along and I almost punched Tevi through my computer screen for her idiocy in that failed relationship. I sincerely hope that Miss Fletcher patches things up between the two someday. By then, I was done expecting a decent relationship development.
Then Tevi took that trip up to the mountains and met the crazy sorcerer. Their initial meeting was... nothing special. Nothing jumped out. Tevi was blind and not really attracted to the person that was supposed to save her eyesight. Jemeryl was very attracted to Tevi immediately, but how are the readers supposed to connect with a character they had hardly met 20 pages before?
Their relationship seemed to develop further and further along, but I was sorely disappointed when they jumped straight to sex, what, 10 or so days after meeting? Granted, the sexual tension was there from the start, but there was no build up. For novels that span over three or so books, the relationship shouldn’t culminate in the span of 50 pages. Take your time, Fletcher! You have book space to work with! I do understand that she might’ve wanted the relationship to be there before the second book started, but it would have been great to tease the readers and end the first book with only a kiss. There’s nothing left to look forward to if they sex it up immediately.
Aaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddd...
That is all, folks. That is all.
---
As an end note, I would like to put a disclaimer that this is all my opinion. Feel free to agree or disagree, let me know, yadda yadda. I plan on reading more of the series and finishing it, unless one book leaves me so disgusted or bored that I can’t get through it all.
Vanui out.
Purchase here: at amazon
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Welcome!
So with the start of this blog, I'd like to lay down the ground rules. As the title states, this is where I, Vanui, shall write.
That is all.
As for the content of my writing, they shall consist of a few things:
1) My personal thoughts and feelings, mostly introspective about the state of the world and whatever strikes my fancy. These shall not be that common.
2) Short stories that come to my mind, stories that will almost always involve some girl and girl loving.
3) Reviews of anime, manga, books, TV shows, movies, etc. that relate to girl and girl topics. These are meant to serve as a basis for others interested in yuri/lesbian material and are looking for recommendations and warnings for what to read and what not to read.
The reviews shall be based on a few things that may or may not change as time moves on.
I shall rate book material on these things: plot, characters/characterization, prose/writing style/POV, and how it stands up to other similar materials in its genre. I will give a spoiler-free portion and a portion with spoilers. Both will have my own personal thoughts and feelings.
From there, it shall be categorized into must read, worth a read, and read only for self-torture.
That is all, folks. That is all.
That is all.
As for the content of my writing, they shall consist of a few things:
1) My personal thoughts and feelings, mostly introspective about the state of the world and whatever strikes my fancy. These shall not be that common.
2) Short stories that come to my mind, stories that will almost always involve some girl and girl loving.
3) Reviews of anime, manga, books, TV shows, movies, etc. that relate to girl and girl topics. These are meant to serve as a basis for others interested in yuri/lesbian material and are looking for recommendations and warnings for what to read and what not to read.
The reviews shall be based on a few things that may or may not change as time moves on.
I shall rate book material on these things: plot, characters/characterization, prose/writing style/POV, and how it stands up to other similar materials in its genre. I will give a spoiler-free portion and a portion with spoilers. Both will have my own personal thoughts and feelings.
From there, it shall be categorized into must read, worth a read, and read only for self-torture.
That is all, folks. That is all.
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