Reverse The Earth

This is what I need?

2007-03-15T03:35:13Z

jompyshy posted this and I thought it was neat

Diamond needs to figure out if she wants to move forward, maintain old friends, or what kind of friends she has eh? maybe?
Diamond needs to realize what she has gotten herself into okay this is very true
Diamond needs a girl or to find a girl first who is both in the same state/interesting
Diamond needs your help! No, i'm okay, thanks
Diamond needs color in her world? No, she has a girl who does that ;)
Diamonds needs to hear from you that would be you, Milan

This is fun!

If you burn the letters, what will you read?

2007-03-14T02:51:27Z

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
fingers of
purient philosophers pinched
and
poked
thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy
beauty .how
oftn have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true
to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover
thou answerest

them only with

spring): e.e. cummings

Promo

2007-03-12T23:49:04Z

<lj comm ="tangled_wishes"> is the source of a number of my icons! Please check her out--lots of good stuff.

And Nothing Is What It Seems

2007-03-12T18:43:15Z

all ignorance toboggans into know
e.e. cummings

all ignorance toboggans into know
and trudges up to ignorance again:
but winter's not forever,even snow
melts;and if spring should spoil the game,what then?

all history's a winter sport or three:
but were it five,i'd still insist that all
history is too small for even me;
for me and you,exceedingly too small.

Swoop(shrill collective myth)into thy grave
merely to toil the scale to shrillerness
per every madge and mabel dick and dave
--tomorrow is our permanent address

and there they'll scarcely find us(if they do,
we'll move away still further:into now

"Swoop(shrill collective myth) into thy grave" may be the line I needed to write the folklore story I've been wanting to write.

What's in a Name?

2007-03-12T05:43:24Z

“I Name you Echthroi. I Name you Meg.
I Name you Calvin.
I Name you Mr. Jenkins.
I Name you Proginoskes.
I fill you with Naming.
Be!
Be, butterfly and behemoth,
be galaxy and grasshopper,
star and sparrow,
you matter,
you are,
be!
Be caterpillar and comet,
Be porcupine and planet,
sea sand and solar system,
sing with us,
dance with us,
rejoice with us,
for the glory of creation,
seagulls and seraphim
angle worms and angel host,
chrysanthemum and cherubim.
(O cherubim.)
Be!
Sing for the glory
of the living and the loving
the flaming of creation
sing with us
dance with us
be with us.
Be!”

– Madeleine L’Engle, A Wind in the Door

What makes us think we are special? Is it our name? Our socioeconomic background? Our nationality? Our education? Our looks? Our friends? What we know?

We do not know what we do not know. We know what we don't know. And we know what we do know.

We know our names. We do not always know the meanings of our names. The real meanings. Not the 'Megan means pearl' and 'John means god is gracious' meanings. The real meanings. What does it mean in your family to be named Rebecca or Rachel? What happened that day when your parents named you? If you changed your name, what brought you to your new name?

Naming is such a fascinating part of culture. Why do certain countries have certain manners of passing down names? My roommate last year did not have a surname, while I had to explain this past summer that the manner of embroidering initials on ratcatchers symbolized the importance of the last name in gentrified England.

I think I'll do more on naming perhaps when it's not so early in the morning, but I suppose I'm just throwing this out there. Food for thought.

Because We're Dancing in the Dark

2007-03-12T03:23:41Z

"It was always different--with you."

"I tried to be unique. It's on my business card. 'Unique, Interesting, Unusual--I'm The Extra Edition of the Sunday Paper'."

"Stop that. I never meant it to be--"

"Like that? The Saturday nights? The dinner, movie, wine and sex routine? Really? Because after four years of that, I'm pretty sure that's what you wanted it to be."

"Wanted, maybe. But meant, no."

"There's no difference."

"You rarely saw the minuet details and differences back then. Nothing's changed."

"Things have changed. I don't sleep with men anymore."

"Any men?"

"You were my last."

"You were my last."

"You sleeping with men now?"

"No. I just haven't gotten to the sleeping part of a relationship yet. We always seem to break it off before then."

"Funny. You and I started at that part of the relationship."

"Maybe that's why we lasted."

"I think it's because I'm good in bed."

"I don't remember."

"You lie."

"I do."

"Do you miss me?"

"Like hell I do."

"Is that yes or no?"

"What are you doing right now?"

"Pacing up and down my living room talking to you on the phone. Holding a glass of wine. Checking out the window. Why?"

"Who are you waiting for?"

"She's coming over soon."

"It's two a.m. on a Saturday night."

"I guess I really like these Saturday night sex relationships."

"I miss you, Lei."

"I know."

"Do you miss me?"

"No, I can't. Because if I let myself miss you, I won't be able to move. I'll curl up in my bed and stare out the window and I'll wait for you to wake up next to me. And you won't, because you're on the other side of this goddamn country and you haven't woken up next to me in seven years."

"If you asked me, I would fly out there tonight and wake up next to you in the morning. All you have to do is ask."

"She's getting out of the taxi."

"What does she look like?"

"Tall shapely blonde. Great legs."

"I'd like to meet her."

"Oh yes, that wouldn't be awkward at all. Let's see. 'Mary, I'd like you to meet Van. He's the ex I never told you about.'"

"You didn't tell her about me?"

"What's there to say?"

"We were together for a long time, Lei."

"Doesn't mean I have to talk about you to her."

"Lei--"

"Don't say it, Van. I can't hear it tonight. Not tonight. Call me tomorrow night. She's at the door. I've got to go get it."

"Wait, Lei, before you hang up--does she stay around until morning? Do you wake up next to her?"

"No. She leaves before dawn."

"I'll call tomorrow."

"Good night, Van."

"Good night, Lei."

Housekeeping

2007-03-10T21:48:08Z

AIM: Ayli ad astra
which, I suppose, puts something else out there. On here, I thought it'd be easier to go by Diamond and I still think that's true. But Ayli or Diamond are fine. I use both of those as alias online and I respond to both (actually, if you ever spoke to me on the phone or in person, I'd respond to Ayli and probably Diamond too).

My horse was very good today, albeit angry at me for working him so hard for so long. He was decent enough. Better than I could have asked, considering the crowded ring, the miserable weather, and his lack of outdoor time lately. I really wish there was a more ideal situation for him...but there isn't.

And I have to take out a loan from my parents, and it's going to be both embarrassing and terrible. What if they say no?

Don't breathe too deep

2007-03-08T20:56:42Z

Chapter Twenty-Nine

This Glory

1^st Month of the 803^rd Season

A loud rapping on his bedroom door awoke Alex from his nap and he groaned audibly as he rolled over, rubbing at his eye and the scars. Reaching for the window, the man pressed his fingers against and was startled to feel the midday heat cooling down. Did I sleep for that long? He heard the door open and he sat up in bed, listening to the footsteps. “Fiddle.”

Her footsteps were hesitant, rolling rather than rocking from heel to toe as she cross the room. The steps grew soft as she moved onto the carpet by his bed. He sat still, waiting for her to speak. Unreasonably, his heart began to pound. What, Fiddle? Alex’s left fingers found the oath scar on his right arm and he rubbed at it, a reassuring gesture that calmed him down. Alex flinched as Fiddle’s calloused fingers touched his bare shoulder. He turned his face to her, feeling the warmth of the sun. “Fiddle?”

Her fingers touched his hair, and he was growing uncomfortable in her silence. It hung in the air like a thunderstorm rumbling overhead without dropping any rain. He felt tension through her fingers, and her fingers began to tremble against her scalp. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her wrist. Her fingers jerked and stopped. Her wrist was trembling now and her other hand rested on his shoulder. Her voice, rich and thick with emotion, said as steadily as she could manage, “Alex---a soldier group found Hallie and Zair. They just returned. Zair’s home, Falcon.”

His hand tightened its grip on her wrist and he inhaled sharply, “Don’t joke, Fiddle.”

“I’m not, Alex,” She whispered in a choked voice. “He’s alive and he’s well. Two guards and a maid are with him now. He’s just dirty and hungry.”

“He’s—alive,” The spymaster gasped and realized for the first time that he had doubted that Zair would make it back alive. “Oh gods—.”

“Come, get dressed. Mirami and Snow are with Hallie. Snow was nearly crying, Alex. You should have seen her. The only time she was as happy as this was finding you alive in here.” Fiddle’s voice vacillated between anxiety and happiness, her arms steadying him as he climbed out of bed. She found him a shirt and tugged it over his head.

Alex stood there in shock, wavering in slightly as he stared straight ahead. “He—wait, why are Mirami and Snow with Hallie?”

Fiddle’s hand began to guide Alex towards the door. “Hallie was in rough shape. She killed two of the soldiers when they found her and Zair. She doesn’t appear aware of where she is, she’s very weak, and she’s got a few broken bones. She hasn’t talked yet.”

Curses! Alex shook his head furiously, “I—she knew the risk—she got him home—right? That’s what we asked of her…and she’s alive.”

Fiddle was silent and did not answer his stammering panic, feeding it with her lack of response. Alex’s mind spun and he didn’t pay attention to where Fiddle was leading him. He followed her mindlessly, stumbling over his own feet as he walked through the palace. The stone walls channeled cold air through him and he shivered beneath the thin cotton clothing. His breathing was harsh and rapid and he gripped Fiddle’s hand tightly, not minding that he was relying on someone for such basic needs as walking. She squeezed his hand tightly and murmured softly to him but he didn’t need to process her words. It was enough to know she was walking with him, and that the people with whom he surrounded himself cared for the same people he cared about. Alex felt pangs of anxiety and worry for Zair and Hallie, and Jeo, but some other part of him was calm and steady. They walked for what seemed like a great deal of time, up many staircases, and Alex asked Fiddle where his son was.

“I took him as high up in the palace as I could so that if someone is following Hallie and wants Zair back, it takes longer to get to him. The higher he is, the safer he is. I put two guards on the room, but there are guards lining the hallways. We didn’t leave anything to risk.” Fiddle answered briskly. “Here we are.”

“Where’s Hallie?”

Fiddle answered slowly, “The commander arrested her…after she killed two of his men. She’s in a prison cell until Snow can sort out what happened to her and what she did.”

“You put the girl who saved the crown prince in a prison cell?” Alex repeated carefully, unsure of how they intended him to take this information. “Are you fools?”

“You know we are not, Falcon,” the woman answered sharply. “It’s safer for her and everyone. Hallie’s not in a right frame of mind.”

“I don’t care, don’t you dare treat her as a prisoner.” Alex said coolly and heard a door open. His heart beat quickly and Hallie faded from his mind. “Zair?”

“Da-da!” screamed a small voice and someone put a small, scrambling child into his arms.

Alex buried his face into the boy’s shoulder and released a horrible, shuddering breath. He stroked his son’s hair, felt the newly cleaned soft skin brushing against his own, felt the small hands clutching at him, and the body shaking and sobbing. He cradled his son to him and rocked him slowly, his eye closed, and hummed the lullaby that Analei used to hum to Zair. The boy calmed down eventually, slipping into sleep, and the nurse took him back and lay him down into a crib. Alex sat next to the crib, Zair’s fingers wrapped around two of his fingers. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his son, his last piece of Analei, until he touched a finger to Zair’s lips and felt the soft whispering breath against his skin. Little Zair…I will protect you forever. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again.

“Alex—,” Fiddle’s voice was sharp and rising. “There’s a problem with Hallie. You need to come quick.”

The screams came first to Alex’s ears as he and Fiddle raced down flights and flights of stairs to the prison cells at the bottom of the palace. Alex felt panic, an unusual feeling for him, rising in his mouth like bitter bile. He heard those screams echoing in his head, his own voice emitting the sounds of fear and panic. He heard the words, the violent pain in bright colors and shadowy figures and the words that saved him in Mirami’s soft voice. “I will save you, Falcon, but not now. You have to survive, you hear me? You have to stay alive. I promise I will come back for you.” The screams that rose from the prisons—the dungeons—were petrified, fearful and full of pain and Alex wasn’t sure who was crying now. His feet pattered down the stairs at amazing speed and his hand burned as it brushed against the wall at such speeds. Fiddle was in front of him, and shouting out instructions.

“Falcon!” Snow’s voice echoed up the stairway. Her voice was hoarse and concerned. “We can’t get in there. She pulled my dagger from my waist and nearly killed Mirami. She—“

“Let me in there!” argued Alex, pressing forward and reaching for the bars that he knew where there. A blade nicked at his skin as Hallie howled and Fiddle yanked Alex backwards. “Good gods, what happened to her?”

Mirami’s voice was soft and pained. “She’s had very little if anything to eat…she’s hallucinating. It’s possible that such—an experience—could have brought back memories of traumatic experiences, such as the abuse suffered at Curtus’s hands.”

“Curtus!” hissed Hallie vehemently and there was the shuffling of feet. She was limping. “I’ll kill him.”

Alex took a deep breath and rubbed at his hair. Slowly and carefully, he took a step forward. “Hallie—Curtus has been dead for years. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know what he did to me—all of us.” Her voice was muffled but her footsteps came closer. Alex took a step back and felt spit pass his face. The girl laughed manically. “You don’t know! Not even you.”

“Don’t I?” Alex said softly, reaching out towards her. He could not see her. She was only a voice to him, a faint memory of laughter and poised accuracy. There were people he only knew by their voice and he only knew Hallie by the way she was in the school. Under the pale ghost of a voice in front of him, he could hear that defiance he had grown to respect. It had kept her alive all these years, time after time. “Don’t I know, Hallie?”

“No.”

“Hallie, we just need to help you.” Mirami said gently, moving next to Alex. “Hallie…”

“No!” The scream. Alex shuddered and Hallie said quietly after a moment. “Does it bother you to be down here, Falcon? Do the memories haunt you? Does it hurt to remember that she’s gone and there’s nothing left to fight for?”

“What?” Alex took a step backwards.

“What does it feel like to devote your life to someone and to an idea? Do you know anymore? We did, Jeo and I. We didn’t go out there to find Zair because he’s the prince. We went to find your son because you gave us life. You saved us and it is only right that we save you. Jeo’s gone for your cause. There’s no Curtus to fight against and no Analei to protect. Do you know what it feels like to go through life without a cause? Do you know what it feels like not to be sure whether what you’re doing is the right thing or not? Do you know what it feels like to be hunted? Jeo is gone to protect the one thing you have left to fight for. He died so you can continue bumbling along to protect a single entity? When are you going to protect the country, Falcon?”

Alex was shaking violently and he felt Mirami take a hold of his elbow, thinking she could keep him on his feet. Mirami, you know better, don’t you? Tell Hallie that I believe in more than my dead princess. But the words didn’t come out and wouldn’t come at all.

Hallie’s breath was short and rapid, her words hissed through teeth and full of venom. “When are you going to find something greater than this to believe in? When are you going to stop dreaming about her and dream about Falor? Do you realize how many people are out there dying for a cause you no longer believe in? I know that your dream for Falor died with Analei. I know it did. But how could you do that to us? We gave our lives for you!”

“How dare you speak to him like that!” cried Fiddle, stepping away from Alex’s elbow.

“Fiddle!” cried Alex sharply as Hallie yelled at the top of her lungs, “Because I can!”

The room was silent, save for Hallie’s forceful breaths. Alex took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After a long moment, he said quietly, “You’re a Seer. And you walk in the Dreamworld”

A murmur rose from Snow and Fiddle but Mirami added quietly, “Alex and I thought you might be…awhile ago.”

“Yes.” A blade drew down metal bars. “We gave our lives for you, Falcon. We gave our lives. You make us, destroy us, shelter us. What more can you ask?”

“Let us help you, Hallie. You need that wrist splinted and your ribs wrapped. You need a hot meal, and you need to sleep. You did the job you set out to do.” Mirami said when Alex would not speak. “We ask no more of that.”

Hallie was crying now, her voice choked up. “They chase you down, and tie you up, like an animal. All my life I’ve been treated as lesser. You don’t understand. No one has ever treated me as someone. None of you ever lost your sense of self. You are heroes in this place, gods among mortals. We are the dregs, the crossed out words and the dust under the rug. We exist, but only when you need us to exist. We are heroes when you need heroes. We are beautiful, when you need faces. But we are never people. We have never been people, and there is nothing more frightening than knowing what you should be and failing to be that no matter how hard you try.”

Alex tried but failed to come up with a response. He closed his eye and shook his head. No, no, you’re always more than an animal, Hallie. How can I tell you that? How can I say that you are a better and more wonderful person than you give yourself credit? I can’t, can I. I can’t just pretend nothing bad ever happened that we haven’t trained each and every victim of Curtus to serve us. How can I ask you to forgive me for making you just another tool?

“Hallie…can I…” Mirami said tentatively.

“No.” Snow said forcefully. “Before you drug her up, we need to know a few things. I’m sorry, Hallie.”

“I understand,” replied the girl and Alex thought she understood far too well.

“Alex—Falcon?” Fiddle said quietly, tugging at his elbow.

Alex turned from Hallie and the others, following Fiddle’s guiding hand towards the stairs. He was shaken, and his knees felt weak in the creeping painful sweaty sensation that seemed to come whenever the fever was returning. He gripped Fiddle’s hand hard and stopped short in his tracks, swaying slightly. Her hand rested against his back, keeping him from tipping over backwards but she didn’t speak. The flush climbing up Alex’s neck to his face receded in gratitude and he tried to breathe. How many steps he had taken across the room? He couldn’t remember. He hated being disoriented. Behind him, he could hear the low murmurs of Snow and Hallie talking back and forth, and Mirami fussing over the girl. Alex was glad that Mirami had two more patients with the return of the girl and the prince; she fussed over him so often that he was growing irritated with it. I’m fine. But he couldn’t figure out which foot he should lead with and how far he was from the stairs. Refusing to ask Fiddle, Alex simply stood still and pretended to be thinking about something.

“You’re seven and a half steps from the stairs. They curve up to the right so lead with your left.” The soft, young and tired voice that was not Fiddle’s. Hallie? “Does that help?”

Alex inclined his head forward. “Thank you.”

“You will look for him, won’t you?” She asked hesitantly and Alex heard Snow grunt. No one believed Jeo was alive if they were separated. Neither young student was particularly good at weaponry. “You have to look for him.”

“Snow--,” Alex opened it up to his longtime military advisor.

“See Omo. Maybe the remainders of the Eye will want to go out for the boy.”

“The remainders?” Hallie’s voice cut sharply upwards, making both Fiddle and Alex jump. “What happened?”

“The Tresni problem in the north was solved at the expense of hundreds of lives. Advisor Arkia found that boy you chased away from the Royal School, and the bodies of her three daughters. Captain Taly and his men suffered heavy casualties and Taly made the decision to dissolve the Eye.” Alex fell back into a report mode, straightening his shoulders.

“Arkia’s daughters?” Hallie sounded faint. “Bodies?”

“They were kidnapped with you. You were one of the lucky ones.” Snow’s tone was harsh, no pity or understanding filling her aging voice. “Arkia’s daughters were killed years ago. Kajel Kebber found their skeletons under a barn floor in a hiding space.”

“You were lucky.” Alex said after a moment of silence. “You and Jeo were among the lucky ones. There’s something different in you that kept you alive. You refused to die, and you refused to be broken, and that was the difference between life and life-in-death. There were others, Hallie.”

“There are always others.” Her voice was soft, cracking at the edges until Alex was sure it would shatter in the air.

“They will look for Jeo, Hallie, but if they don’t find him…” Fiddle murmured uneasily. Alex squeezed her hand.

“He gave up himself for the Crown Prince. You owe him--,” Hallie objected, voice rising again in panic.

“We owe him nothing!” roared Alex abruptly, spinning around. “We owe him nothing, Hallie. I do not owe him anything. I do not owe you anything. No one in here owes anyone else anything, especially not their lives. You cannot owe someone what you are expected to give. There is something greater than us standing here, you said it yourself. We cannot search for gratification or validation when there’s a world full of hurt surrounding us. The world owes us nothing, and we owe it nothing, for there is no debt in life. We owe you nothing, and you owe us nothing. We are even. Jeo understood that, or he never would have parted from your side. He did not owe you that. It was simply what was expected of him.”

“Will you stand here and tell me what glory and satisfaction feels like, Alexander Sarjio?” Hallie’s voice was shrill, piercing like a falcon’s cry striking a crisp fall afternoon.

Alex shuddered at her words. “Glory is not tangible. You cannot wrap your hands around a moment and lift it to the sky and say this is what I was searching for. No, things that can be understood are not what we desire in life. You and I are more alike than you think…we desire things that cannot be understood nor held nor contemplated even in the darkest nights.”

“I want to live without fear.”

“And I want to live without regret. Neither can happen if we want to truly live. We will look for Jeo. But perhaps he is the freest of us all. Snow, Mirami, come see me when you’re done. I assume she will be moved?”

“To the West Bedroom, I suppose.” Mirami sounded afraid. “Arkia’s in the Gold Room.”

“Alex, I will tell Hudson. Do you want to see Zair again?” Fiddle walked again towards the stairs.

Alex reached forward to touch her elbow and as he began to walk up the stairs, he paused and said quietly, “Thank you, Hallie Ziro.”

“Just doing my job, Alexander Sarjio,” she answered tiredly and then she laughed softly. “I see things falling out of the sky, golden feathers and black arrows bleeding ink and paper covering the city. Zair in the ocean, a terrible storm, and a fire that consumes everyone. It’s the downfall of seeing things most people don’t see: I can’t stop myself from dreaming and seeing. For once, I want to see something worth seeing again.”

“I wish you could hear yourself, the way I’ve heard you,” Alex replied sadly. “You’re the strongest person in this room, and I admire you so much. You can’t stop yourself from seeing bad things, but you can also look for the good.”

“Doesn’t work like that.”

“You haven’t tried,” Mirami inserted gently. “Alex—“

“I’m leaving,” he finished the sentence for her and followed Fiddle up the rest of the stairs.

Of course, I haven't tried to publish it. But that is a side point. I do love this chapter.

Reactions?

A Medley, A Sampler

2007-03-08T17:13:44Z

I figure, since I friended a few people through add_a_writer, I should put up some of my writing. Right now, I only have time to put my roleplay up. Look for a poem or two, a short story, and a chapter from my second fantasy/YA novel tonight.

Morning Came Too Soon

And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
Billy Joel “And So It Goes”

Naneem woke groggily, confused and alarmed. The sheets were not hers. The blankets smelled of roses, and lavender oil. They were dark green, whereas hers were a plain brown. Her fingers curled around the hem of the blanket, and her green eyes widened as she stared at the bare, olive-skinned shoulder of someone on the other side of the bed. Vague recollections of the previous night were floating back to her but as she sat up, the heaviness of her head hit her and she groaned, laying her head back down on the pillow. I don’t…who is…she. She. Oh, no. She. The woman on the other side of the bed, with her back facing Naneem, was sleeping soundly. Her shoulders rose and sagged again as she sighed deeply. Her long dark hair lay across the pillow and Naneem touched it with a ginger hand. The soft, silken feeling of the woman’s hair sent shivers up Naneem’s spine and a warm, delicious sensation crawled up her body. Naneem smiled without realizing it. Nadia. That’s her name. She’s a Youngling too. The woman had been raised a year or two ahead of Naneem. They hadn’t known each other too well. Not until last night, apparently.

As the heaviness in her head cleared, Naneem began to remember how she ended up in Nadia’s bed. The events of the previous night unfolded quickly in her head, and Naneem resolved never to consume that much ale ever again. Not that she would give it up. Nadia’s kisses still lingered on Naneem’s lips and the red-haired Youngling ran her tongue across her own mouth. Yes, the other woman was still there. She tasted like mint leaves and ale. Naneem swallowed slightly, trying to make the dryness of her mouth go away. Chilled slightly, she slipped her arms back under the blankets. She was naked as the day she was born, but her skin was warm and she crossed her arms below her breasts. Nadia’s shoulders rose and fell steadily. She had yet to stir from her own alcohol-induced heavy slumber. Naneem gingerly reached out with a foot and touched the other woman’s legs. Smooth, firm muscle lined the woman’s calf, as short and powerful as Naneem’s own stature. Something deep within Naneem stirred and she reached out, sliding her arms around the other woman’s waist and pressing herself close to the woman’s back. Their bodies touched, curving into and against each other. Naneem sighed and her whole body shuddered against Nadia’s. It felt right. Too right.

She pulled her arms away and rolled so her back was to the woman. Her eyes wide, Naneem studied the wall in front of her. Plain painted white wood boards, the paint curling off in places and the nails making the wood split in others, stared back at hers. The pure white split and cracked as she stared at it, trembling as her mind raced. This wasn’t supposed to feel right. Women do not love other women. It was wrong. She felt Nadia awake. The breathing changed and the bed shifted as the other woman stirred. Naneem swung her legs out of bed and sat up, glancing around the room at the clothes strewn to opposite corners. She needed to leave right away, before Nadia woke up, before they both realized what had happened. It will save both of us the embarrassment. Naneem touched her lips with shaking fingers. She could barely think, and she did not pull away fast enough when Nadia reached out with a cool hand, touching the small concave area of Naneem’s lower back. Naneem closed her eyes and tried to will away the warmth and tingling that spread from the woman’s touch. No. I was drunk. I didn’t know.

Sleepily, the other recruit murmured, “Awake so early?”

“I have to go,” Naneem snapped abruptly and stood up. The blankets slid away and flushed, she covered herself and hurried around to the piles of clothes, trying to find her shirt, britches and small clothes.

“Naneem?” Nadia’s voice was gentle, and almost knowing. Her feet hit the ground and Naneem heard the floorboards creak. “Neem. Wait.”

“I really have to go, I have to practice and I’m rather hungry and I shouldn’t be here,” Naneem babbled, jerking away from the woman’s touch. She stared at her hands on a pair of britches. Her whole body was shaking and her voice was tearfilled. “I really have to go, Nadia.”

“Neem,” Nadia said pleadingly, stepping closer to the younger Youngling. She touched Naneem’s neck, pushing a lock of red hair behind Naneem’s ear. Naneem irritably shook her head and it fell in front of her ear again. She looked at Nadia, at the woman’s dark eyes. She knows. “It’s okay, Naneem.”

“No, no, it isn’t. I don’t think you realize how bad this is,” Naneem said in a choked tone but she didn’t move away.

Stepping close to Naneem, Nadia closed her eyes and kissed Naneem. The red-haired Youngling closed her eyes as her mind spun off into a downwards spiral of lights and tastes. Nadia’s tongue snaked into her mouth, and Naneem obligingly allowed it to graze her own tongue. She murmured slightly and pressed herself against Nadia. Nadia’s warm, goose-bumped flesh grazed Naneem’s quivering, chilled flesh. Fingers traced over her breasts, down her breastbone, and resting on her hipbone. Nadia pulled away and kissed the underside of Naneem’s jaw, releasing her breath softly. Naneem rested her head against the other woman’s head, wanting to pull away but finding no capacity for such actions.

“It’s alright, Neem,” whispered Nadia, pressing her cheek against Naneem’s temple. “Come back to bed.”

Reluctantly, but agreeably, Naneem allowed Nadia to lead her back to the two pallets pushed together. Naneem crawled back under the blankets, the warmth of the blankets that smelled like lavender oil and roses and closed her eyes. I should have left. But as Nadia slid in beside her, Naneem rolled towards her and pushed that thought out of her head. Nadia wrapped an arm around Naneem’s waist and tugged her close. Softly, the woman whispered, “Just for a little longer, stay here.”

“It’s chilly out this morning,” Naneem said awkwardly, by way of a reply. She closed her eyes and nestled her face in the crook of Nadia’s neck. She felt the woman’s cheeks pull back in a smile.

“Mmm,” Nadia replied and wrapped her legs around Naneem’s own. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Slowly, Nadia slipped back into a deep slumber, leaving Naneem to her own thoughts.

econd Star to the Right

The mood is feeling right
I'll kiss you on your neck
People will stare but we won't care

We're high above the ground
We're nowhere to be found
Empowered by adrenaline
Feel I've been born again
Red Jumpsuit Apparatus “Damn Regret”

Left alone in her thoughts, curled up at Nadia’s side, Naneem tried to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, she saw her mother leering at her and asking her why she went to the Tower, why she wasn’t married, and most certainly, why she was resting her head on the shoulder of a sleeping Domani woman. Naneem smiled faintly as she saw her sword resting on the bookcase by the doorway, and Nadia’s quiver of arrows besides it. Figures I would fall into bed with an archer. Her skills lacking with a bow and arrow, Naneem often joked with her friends that she’d end up in an archer’s bed. And how true that ended up. She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling and stretching every quivering muscle and bracing her body. She winced as her back popped and cracked and an old injury shuddered deep in her leg. Ow. It seemed strange, to be lying under the same blankets as someone else. Fiercely independent, Naneem had prided herself on not sleeping around with anyone. Until now.

She tried, without success, to think if she knew anyone else who had slept with Nadia. Was this a mistake by both of them in a drunken stupor? Naneem wondered if she were merely a pawn, a means to an end. Tipping her head sideways, she studied Nadia’s face. The high narrow cheekbones, the dark eyelashes lying against the olive colored skin. The narrow pinched nose with the bump that gave her a proud look. The dark hair that fell over the woman’s neck, ending just short of her breasts. The hands that once belonged to a wealthy merchant’s daughter were now rough and calloused. Naneem gently touched the woman’s first two fingers on her right hand. They were thick and calloused, a permanently brighter red, where she drew her bowstring. She was a pretty woman, sharp and keen from what Naneem remembered on the practice yards. And yet, gentle, she thought, heat crawling up her neck to her face as she tugged the blankets back up to her chin.

It seemed impossible that Naneem was lying next to a woman, and she oscillated between feelings of horror and feelings of contentment. Since being raised five years prior, Naneem had traveled very little from the Tower and, though she never felt trapped by her home, she had always felt as if she were lacking something in her life. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was simply somebody who…loved me. This way. Elsin and Azar and Rayna and Allin…they all love me but not like this. No one has ever loved me like this. She felt shallow, asking only that someone take her to bed, but it was an interesting feeling. To be wanted was something that seemed greedy, selfish and terribly conceited, but the more Naneem thought about it, the more that she felt that was the missing component. How terrible is that. She wanted to deny it but once the thought was in her head, and she had accepted it, it was there to stay. She shuddered and closed her eyes. I’m above that. Everyone just wants to be loved. But it was more fundamentally physical than love. She wanted to be held. She wanted someone to kiss her tenderly and tell her that she meant something to her. Everyone just wants to be wanted. Desired. Coveted.

But this isn’t love. This was pure…sexual attraction. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Yes, sexual attraction. She almost rolled out of bed again, a second attempt to flee the reality that slept soundly beside her again. She wanted to pull her clothes on, and jog out to the practice yards and watch the Gaidin and Youngling men practice. She wanted to know that the woman next to her was a mistake, a mistake she could forget. Mistakes are forgivable. You repent, do your penance, and you move on. You forget it happened, as do those around you. It fades from memory, a pebble in your road. Nothing significant. But something terrible was growing in the back of her head. I can forget this, I am sure of it. She did not stir from the bed, and she silenced her thoughts. The only sound in the room was the steady hush and swish of air as it exited and entered Nadia’s mouth.

Naneem opened her eyes and studied the woman next to her again. She was exquisite, when Naneem allowed herself to think of Nadia in that fashion. Naneem reached out and delicately touched the woman’s cheek. Nadia barely stirred under Naneem’s forefinger and, with a shiver, Naneem watched her finger run down the length of the woman’s jawbone. Her finger ran down Nadia’s throat, down the softer and more delicate skin, and over the ridge of her collarbone. Here, Naneem paused, hesitated as she studied her finger resting ever so lightly on the line between the skin darkened by the sun and the paler skin hidden by cloth. Nadia took a deep shuddering breath and exhaled slowly, making Naneem snatch her hand away. She closed it in a fist against her own chest, and watched as Nadia opened her eyes.

“Morning,” Naneem said shyly.

Forgotten Reasons

Forget about the reasons and
The treasons we are seeking
Forget about the notion that
Your emotions can be swept away
Intentions are not wicked,
Don’t be tricked into thinking so
Soon we will all find our lives swept away
Dave Matthews’ “Seek Up”

“Morning, Neem,” the other woman said cheerfully.

Nadia untangled herself from Naneem’s limbs, smooth skin sliding from smooth skin and both women felt their bodies prickle with heightened sensations. Nadia paused at the edge of the bed but stood up. She shook her head, her long dark hair cascading down her back, making her skin seem paler. Her ribs and spine stretched and strained beneath her skin as she stretched towards the ceiling of the room. With a sharp exhale, Nadia let her arms fall back down to her sides, her muscles relaxing. Naneem lay still, curled under the blankets into a small ball as she watched Nadia dress. The woman pulled on britches, and then a blouse, before she threw open the curtains of the windows on her side of the bed. Bright sunlight spilled into the Youngling’s quarters and Naneem wrinkled her nose, squinting miserably at Nadia. Silhouetted in the brilliant light, the woman leaned down and brushed a kiss over Naneem’s lips. Surprising even herself, Naneem eagerly sought out another kiss but Nadia had moved away.

“I haven’t a clue where your clothes ended up,” Nadia called, her voice twinkling with amusement. “But I would check in that far corner. There seems to be at least a pair of britches that don’t belong to me.”

The sunlight spilling across the bed and onto Naneem’s face made her grumble. The pounding in her head, exacerbated by the intensity of her thoughts and her hangover, was increasing as Naneem slowly relinquished her sleepy desire to stay under the covers. Nadia had let cold air under the blankets, and goosebumps prickled on Naneem’s arms and legs. She drew her knees to her chest, stretching her back muscles and trying to stay warm. Naneem yawned and buried her face down in the pillow. “My head hurts.”

“Does it really?” teased the other woman as she moved about the room. “Come, get up, beautiful. It’s nearly midmorning. We’re lucky we don’t have classes today.”

Naneem froze. The warm thrill that had run through her body when Nadia called her beautiful stopped and turned to a cold tremor of fear. Classes? Oh Light, classes! “You’re sure, right? We don’t have classes today? We aren’t late for anything?”

How would I explain that? I’m sorry, Jari Gaidin, I ended up in someone’s bed and I’m really not sure how it happened. Yes, I can tell you whose bed. Nadia’s. Yes, sir, I know. She played out the conversation in her head and she shuddered violently to think of his reaction. She would be punished for sure, as would Nadia. A small voice in the back of Naneem’s head reminded her that relationships were not against the rules. No one would say anything when she walked out of Nadia’s rooms, but Naneem felt the guilt building up nonetheless.

“No Youngling classes today unless Kya Gaidar’s making you take Bow again,” Nadia’s smile was understanding but her eyes twinkled merrily as she laced up her boots. Her expression grew more serious and she continued quietly, “You settled with yourself yet?”

Naneem sat up in bed, letting the blankets slide off of her and settle in her lap. She drew a knee to her chin and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Embarrassed, and aware that an indecent flush was crawling up her face, she shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

For a long time, Nadia seemed focused on tying up her boots. Naneem watched the woman’s fingers expertly cross the laces and knot them at the top. Nadia turned away for a moment, reaching back and grimacing as she braided her hair into a long braid and then wrapped it into a bun, pinning it securely on the back of her head. Most women in the Garrison chose to keep their hair short, like Naneem’s, for practicality. Nadia, and a few select Gaidar, chose to keep their hair long.

Interested, Naneem asked her, “Don’t you worry about someone hitting the pins into your head?”

“Be a lot worse if they could grab the braid.”

“Why not cut it?”

“I happen to like my hair,” Nadia quipped in response, giving Naneem an arch smile over her shoulder as she checked her hair in the mirror. “Besides, you never know when you may need to look like a lady, Naneem.”

Naneem wrinkled her nose in disgust, “Never.”

Chucking soft mouse gray breeches at Naneem, Nadia laughed, “Get dressed, lover girl, and let’s get something for your headache.”

Naneem caught the breeches and, feeling truly content for the first time that morning, she rolled out of bed and began to dress.

Explanations Take Time

But then all is fair in love
(All this breathing in, never breathing out)
Ben Folds Five's "Fair"

Pressing her heel into the stone and stretching her toes to the sky, Naneem braced backwards, stretching the taut and tense muscles on the back of her thigh and knee. Grimacing as her muscles screamed, Naneem ducked her head and closed her eyes. Muscles fibers were stretching thin, unlocking, and unknotting with other fibers. Fingers sliding together, struggling to grip each other through a slick of sweat. Arms pushed up above her head. Tangled, gasping for air that never seemed to fill her lungs enough to satisfy her. Fingers breaking away from her own, a firm palm pressing into her thigh. Knotted muscle gave way beneath heat, contact and pressure. Naneem inhaled sharply, opening her eyes and focusing on the ground of the practice yards. The memory surely was not her own. Her own recollections of the previous night were weak, fuzzy and most certainly vague. Naneem's right hand wrapping around her right knee, fingers pressing into the ligaments behind the joint. Rolling her fingers expertly over the sore muscle, Naneem worked out the pain. The sun was high in the midday sky, and most people were at the mess hall but, having only recently rolled out of bed, Naneem could hardly justify making up for her missed morning workout.

She switched to the other leg, reaching all the way down and grabbing her toes. Stretching her toes towards her, she inhaled slowly and exhaled. She could hear Haraia Gaidar reminding them how to breathe ("Inhale so the sides of your ribs rises and exhale so the sides of your ribs collapse and your abdominal muscles press against your spine. Careful breathing keeps you alive."). Inhale, sides swell sideways. Lips running up her ribcage, rising and falling rapidly as they dipped and rose over each individual bone, nipping lightly until her mouth reached the delicate underside of Naneem's breast. Her tongue flicked out, grazing the pale, cool skin. Inhale, breasts rise, ribs swell sideways. Naneem gritted her teeth. She needed to keep Nadia out of her head, if only for a few hours. The older Youngling was off practicing hand to hand combat with a few Gaidin and Gaidar. Naneem swallowed the lump in her throat. I am, in no way, jealous of someone flipping her over and--no, I have to work on my sword forms.

Naneem tucked her chin towards her chest, curled her hands into fists and pressed off the ground, breaking into a short-strided run. I will forget her. This will work itself out in the end. I may not understand it. But this I do. I run five laps around the yards in each direction. I do this every day. I stretch. I run. I move through my forms. I spar. I stretch. I run. I sleep. But the monotony of her day had been destroyed that morning, and it would not return. Naneem pumped her arms by her sides as she turned down the third side of the practice yard, raising her head. More than once, she had sprinted past the gates to the practice yards with her head tucked and collided with somebody of relative importance. While colliding with a Gaidar or Gaidin would be humiliating, Naneem was not that lucky. Twice she had collided with Aes Sedai, and young ones who were eager to demonstrate their power, and get to know a female Youngling. "I bet they were eager to," Azar closed his mouth around the end of his sentence, looking faintly pink around his ears. "Never mind."

After her run, Naneem fetched a dull steel blade and wrapped her hands around it, checking her basic positions. She was still getting used to the heavier blade so she decided to run through her new forms slowly with the desire to perfect her accuracy and technique. She had heard enough from Jari Gaidin about sloppiness, or poor posture, or poor grip. It had taken two disarmings by her sparring partner the day before until Naneem realized that poor grip could mean too tight as well as too loose. Today, she checked her grip by flowing easily through the forms she knew well. The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, Lion on the Hill, River Undercuts the Bank, and Kingfisher takes a Silverback slipped between each other and Naneem felt as if she could close her eyes and perform those techniques by heart. They felt right, and her muscles knew them, eagerly spinning her through the motions. Muscles tightened, relaxed, twisted, lunged, drew back, paused. There was no thought involved in these forms.

The Cat Dances on the Wall was the most advanced sword form Naneem had learned yet in any class, and she struggled enough with the one hand sword forms much less one as complicated as this one. It required strong arm and abdominal muscles to maintain balance and control as the sword was forced to twist, dive, jerk and swoop in a single form. The dull hiss threw the air as Naneem began to practice the form and move from that form into the Kingfisher form. As the sword twisted from an upwards guarding position, she stepped forward eagerly, leading with her left foot and twisted her blade sharply down and into an invisible figure and pulled back into the second basic position. Sharp tongue, pulsating, rocketing into her mouth, bring with her the taste of desire, but slipping away again. Naneem shivered again, her body crawling and prickling with the memory of sensations. Where was Nadia, after all?

“Naneem!” She heard an all too familiar voice, and it was certainly not the voice she wanted to hear at the moment. Where is Nadia?

Elsin was cautiously crossing the practice yards to where she stood. He tipped his head to the side, his dark eyes curious. “You skipped out on us.”

“Hmm?” Naneem looked up with open confusion. She lowered the sword, though Elsin seemed to hardly notice it. “I skipped out on what?”

“Playing stones? Like we do every night with Eri and Azar?” Elsin looked genuinely concerned as he peered at her face. “Light, Neem, how drunk did you get last night?”

“I didn’t get drunk,” she said defensively, wondering how he could tell. Do I still smell like ale? Oh light, what if I smell like her?

“So, then where were you?” he challenged her, his dark eyes probing her light green ones and purposefully ignoring the dangerous glitter in her eyes. She was daring him to ask her again, and he had accepted the dare without much formality. “Why didn’t you at least stop by to let us know you wouldn’t be coming? You’ve never missed a game before. Are you ill?”

She stepped back and ducked her head away from the hand that reached towards her forehead. Scowling darkly, she shot him a dark glare and muttered, under her breath, “I woke up in someone else’s bed. Happy now?”

“Neem!” Elsin looked something just barely short of horrified but Naneem imagined that when the information was relayed to Azar, Azar would be rather appreciative. Elsin was proving to be far too protective. “Who?”

“Nosy git, you are,” Naneem answered loftily, walking over to the weaponry pile used for lessons. She dropped her sword lazily in the pile. “Why does it matter?”

“What if he is a git? A slimy, disgusting git who has pride bigger than the Tower and an ego the size of the Westlands.” Elsin argued, trying to sound rational and yet failing so miserable.

“If you really want to know,” Naneem said after she grinned as his worrying. “It was Nadia.”

There was a long silent pause behind her and she stiffened, preparing to take whatever verbal assault Elsin could unleash against her. But then he said in the same cheerful, genuine tone, “That solves the mystery of where you were last night. Are you coming tonight?”

She spun on him, her mouth dropped open and eyes wide. “That’s it?”

He looked confused for a moment and then shrugged, “You fight by your own rules of engagement, Naneem, and it’d hardly be right for me to condemn you for it.”

“You aren’t upset about it at all?”

“No, are you?”

Naneem paused, shaking slightly as she stood there in front of him. She wasn’t sure what was really running through her head and she shrugged noncommittally. She was not, could not, find it in her to ask him for anything what he already gave her, and his simple answer was more than enough. His eyes held her gaze as she struggled to find the explanations. I didn’t know. I would have told you if I knew. I mean, well---I was drunk. I was really drunk. But no explanation seemed to capture her frustration, confusion, irritation and yet, interest.

So instead, she simply glared at Elsin, snapping, “Follow me.”

Looking amused, he obeyed and they walked out of the courtyard and towards the mess hall together.

In Love but Not At Peace

Love took a long time, it followed me here
And it landed on light feet, and it whispered in my ear
Love spoke of my past as a valuable test
And smiled, and said she who loves last loves best
Dar Williams “In Love but Not At Peace”

Naneem didn’t see Nadia for most of the day, though she admitted that she looked for her. Every time she saw a dark-haired figure wandering out of the corner of her eye, she spun around, a shy smile blooming on her face. It’d crawl up to her eyes, a sun rising on the horizon, and swiftly dropped off her face. There were many dark-haired men and women of the White Tower, but none of them were the woman whom Naneem sought. Her quiet contemplations throughout the day darted from contentment and curiosity, to anger, resentment, and denial. One moment, she was settled with the resulting conclusions of the previous evening and the next, she was unsure of what this meant to her, and her life at the Tower. Frustrated at her wild and unpredictable emotions, she poured her energy into training and then went for a run around the Tower grounds.

The grounds were quiet, too still for such a beautiful morning. Nearly all of the Novices and Accepted were in classes, however, and few people were walking through the groves of trees. Ahead of her were a few Aes Sedai picking at various wild plants. Naneem could only assume they were Yellows collecting herbs, and she diverted her path to avoid jogging into the Aes Sedai. Sometimes she did not mind exchanging polite words with the women of the ring and shawl, but today, she did not want to explain why she jogged in solitude. Perhaps because I do not know myself. She hated not understanding, not knowing, and not being able to wrap her head around a situation. It always drove her to frustration and she felt a release only as she felt her heel slam into the ground, and then roll away again as her foot caressed the soil. She was running swiftly, but feeling as if she were in slow motion. Inhale, reach, exhale, heel hit the ground, inhale, foot rocking against grass, exhale, push off the ball of the foot. Toes relax within boots, leather stretched and bent, muscles tightened, released, stretched, knotted, untied. Running brought relief to Naneem.

As she ran, head bowed, passed a particularly large large tree, a hand wrapped around her arm and jerked her backwards. Naneem gasped but only slightly before training set in. Tightening all the muscles in her arm, she dug her heels and spun into a defensive position. The trapped arm jerked down to her side and without even looking at her attacker, she aimed her elbow sharply into the other person’s breastbone. As the other person grunted and dropped to the ground, Naneem fell with her, her arm still trapped. She pressed a knee into the bottom of the woman’s ribcage and jerked her arm loose. She opened her mouth, angry gasps escaping her mouth, but she shut her mouth abruptly.

“Nadia?” she asked, surprised, not moving from where she held the other woman pinned to the ground.

The dark haired woman grinned at the compromising position, “You’re obscene. I was waving at you the last time you ran past me but you didn’t see me. I was just trying to get your attention.”

Naneem slid backwards and sat down, letting Nadia go. Blushing, she tried to act casual. Her breathing was erratic from stopping so quickly and she wasn’t quite sure what to say or where to go from this point. So she stayed quiet. She heard Nadia moving and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman crawling towards her hands and knees and then scooting close to her. A hand cupped her face and tipped it upwards, and Naneem stared into Nadia’s dark brown eyes. My beautiful Nadia. She couldn’t stop the thought. My Nadia.

Nadia rested her head against Naneem’s forehead. “This isn’t a fling, Naneem. Or I didn’t want it to be. This could be real.”

Naneem closed her eyes, “I’m afraid to let it be real.”

“Same here.”

They were quiet for awhile, sitting together and simply relaxing. Finally Nadia sighed and tipped her chin upwards. Her lips barely touched Naneem’s. “Neem.”

“Hmm?” Naneem didn’t want to speak. Her lips were trembling at the closeness of Nadia’s lips.

“I have no regrets.”

“I’d have to take you down again if you said you did have regrets.” Naneem’s lips pulled back in a smile and a chuckle rumbled upwards from Nadia’s chest.

“Hmm, perhaps I should try that.”

Naneem opened her eyes and gave Nadia a little shove. “And you said I’m obscene.”

Jaded Words

Chasing after daydreams- I am unafraid
Catch me if I fall- in your arms I'm safe
Chasing after daydreams
World gone mad outside my window
Shades Apart’s “Chasing Daydreams”

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

Nadia was making arrows when Naneem slipped into her room. Her dark hair shielding her face as she bent over a pile of sticks, the Domani woman’s slender fingers ran along the length of the stick, tightened and flexed the stick slightly. Naneem watched her as she set her pack down in the corner. Nadia’s patience and concentration was commendable as she tested the greenness of the wood. The last stick seemed to satisfy her and she picked up a short knife and began to whittle the notches and bark of one of the sticks in the approved pile. Naneem stood there for a long moment, admiring the way Nadia could look elegant even as she sat in britches bent over a pile of sticks. Just the way she held herself, the deft movements of her fingers, how she pushed her hair over to one shoulder so she could frown (beautifully, Naneem noted) at the soon-to-be arrow. Pride and affection filled Naneem. How many other Younglings make their own arrows? Only her. The skill required to make excellent arrows was immense but Nadia had spent several hours learning the craft from Kya Gaidar, and hours alone perfecting it.

After a moment, Nadia seemed to notice Naneem standing behind her and a slight flush crawled up her neck to her cheeks. Her cheeks tightened into a smile and she glanced over her shoulder a bit at Naneem. “Going to stand there all day? I could use your help.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, as it always did whenever Nadia spoke into a silent room. Such a playful, impish voice, even when she’s trying to be serious. Smiling, Naneem replied coyly, “You’re trusting me to make arrows? I can’t even fire one.”

Rolling her eyes, Nadia pat her hand on the ground next to her. “I hope you’re able to notch the ends for the bow string. Do you think you can handle that?”

Naneem crossed the room quickly and flopped lazily onto the ground beside Nadia, “Do you trust me with sharp objects?”

Widening her eyes in mock horror, Nadia tipped her head and glanced back towards her sticks. “Light protect me.”

Naneem picked up the small knife that Nadia offered her and began notching the ends of the sticks for arrowheads and the bow string. The work was steadying, grounding. They sat there in silence, the sound of metal grinding through dried wood filling the small room in the barracks. The hallways were quiet, with everyone out on the practice yards or in classes in the Tower. Occasionally soft voices would pass, accompanied by tired footsteps dragging across the floor. Naneem liked the quiet: the waves of gentle affection sliding between the two young women on the floor, the sound of the Tower peacefully and confidently moving along its path, the murmurs of exhausted but fulfilled recruits climbing into their beds for an afternoon nap. For once, nothing exciting was happening in the Tower. There were no new recruits this week, there were no unusual events amongst the Aes Sedai, and no one had come home with bad news. She liked the Tower when it was peaceful and steady, simply existing within the Pattern. The Tower was home. It was more than where she lived and where she trained. It was hers. It was in her blood. Nadia had helped make the Tower more tolerable for Naneem. Just when she thought she had reached a breaking point, Naneem had woken up in a terrible hangover next to the best woman in the world. Best morning of my life.

“Silver for your thoughts, Neem.” Nadia smiled a bit as she began to inspect her pile of feathers.

“Where’d you get the feathers?” Naneem asked curiously.

“Someone got a goose outside the city.” Nadia murmured distractedly, holding the feather up to the light. “That one will break. Can’t use it. Want a feather?”

Naneem took the feather she offered and twirled it around in her fingers, “What am I going to do with a feather?”

“Haven’t a clue. But you were the last one to touch it. It’s yours now,” teased Nadia, leaning away and then leaping up as Naneem attempted to throw it at her. It only floated lazily to the ground and Naneem caught it, shaking it threateningly at the dark-haired woman. Nadia laughed, “Stop, I need to finish these arrows tonight!”

“No, you don’t.” The Taraboner Youngling argued, trying again to throw the feather. She felt light-hearted. There were no classes tomorrow. She could spend all day with Nadia. “Nothing to do this weekend! We’re free!”

Nadia’s face fell and darkened abruptly and she stopped her dancing away from Naneem. She stood above the other Youngling and stared at her hands. Her lips tightened and twitched. Her chest rose and shuddered as she inhaled deeply. She let it slide back out through her lips. Naneem’s heart skipped a beat. “Nadia, what is it?”

“I was called to be Raised. I leave at daybreak.” Nadia whispered and looked up with her wide dark eyes. They were glistening, full and open. She shook her dark hair, “Naneem, don’t look at me like that.”

Naneem was staring at her with her mouth open, and her guts twisted and explode within her abdomen. Every inch of her wanted to scream that no one could take her Nadia. My Nadia. Mine! Inch by inch, the hair on her arms crawled upwards in fear, trepidation, and denial. Her skin, which had just been warmed under the affection in Nadia’s gaze, prickled and cooled so suddenly that it felt like a fever chill. My Nadia. She wanted to reach out and take Nadia into her arms, but she couldn’t move. The coldness had penetrated her bones, her blood, her heart, her lungs, her very being. It rippled through her, seized her, and ripped her open to every horrible thought. My Nadia! She wanted to scream, but her jaw was now clenched shut—a thousand nails had been driven into her brain and her mouth had closed on the assumption of bodily death. My Nadia. She blamed Jari Gaidin, and every Gaidin and Gaidar that was walking through the Tower. She wanted to scream at them that Nadia wasn’t ready, that they couldn’t take her from Naneem yet. But she knew it was she who was not ready, and that Nadia was more than ready to be raised. But she’s mine. I…I won’t let her go.

“Naneem,” pleaded Nadia, kneeling before Naneem and taking the Taraboner’s cold, clammy hands in her own. “Naneem, I’ll be back in a few weeks. It isn’t that long. And I won’t leave the Tower. Not until you are Raised too. This isn’t anything.”

Naneem refocused her green eyes into the dark ones of her lover. She wanted to tell Nadia that she believed she would pass her Raising. She wanted to whisper into Nadia’s ear that she believed her when she said she wouldn’t leave yet. But there were no words. Silently, Naneem cursed herself for falling too fast. This is what you get! She’s going to get Raised and then go romping off with some Aes Sedai and you’ll never see her again! This is what you get for giving away your heart. Your heart is yours. It’s the only thing you truly own and this is punishment for giving it so readily away. But none of those words came out. No words exited her mouth. She was vaguely aware of Nadia’s pleads and caressing fingers on her hands. She was more acutely aware that she could lose Nadia. She’ll survive. I’m sure of it. There wasn’t a more prepared Youngling in the whole class, and Naneem knew that Nadia could fend for herself in the Blight. Naneem was less sure of her ability to survive without Nadia.

“I love you.” The words slipped into the air and it took Naneem a moment to realize that she had uttered them. They hung there, a dazzling shock in the taut, tense space between the two women. The words faded from Nadia’s lips and her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible. Naneem whispered them again, “I love you.”

“Neem,” Nadia murmured, leaning forward and resting her forehead against Naneem’s. She sounded shocked, startled, affectionate and frightened all at the same time. Naneem tried to process her words. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I will,” Naneem’s confident voice sounded strange and foreign to her still frozen mind and body. I will, Nadia. And I’ll be with you every night out there on the Blight. I love you.

Nadia scooted next to Naneem, resting her head on Naneem’s shoulder. Naneem obligingly rested her cheek on Nadia’s hair and closed her eyes. Inhale, exhale. Nadia was talking, but Naneem didn’t hear any of her words. She tried to breathe, to fight off the tears and the pain of departure. She did not want Nadia to leave, but she did not want Nadia to feel or hear Naneem’s own internal catastrophe. She was shattered. She had not realized Nadia would be raised so early. I love you seemed like the least important words to say at that time, though they had seemingly reassured Nadia. But Naneem felt weak. The words were thrown around all the time between people. They no longer meant anything, but somehow, they had been a powerful force just then. Naneem closed her eyes. I love you, my Nadia. Always. She didn’t care how quickly she had fallen. The words that seemed so useless had worked their magic, inexplicably, and thus, Naneem could not pull them back into her mouth. She had meant them, but she wished there was a more effective way of showing her affection.

Pushing a false smile onto her face, Naneem said teasingly, “Five days all by yourself, Nadia. If you come back talking to yourself…”

Nadia grinned, straightening and punching Naneem’s shoulder. “I’m not going to go insane.”

“You won’t miss me?” Naneem pretended to be offended, switching her face to that of hurt and pain.

Nadia leaned over and brushed a kiss over Naneem’s lips. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Naneem let go of all her thoughts and closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to let the tears flow. She didn’t want Nadia to leave her. She didn’t want Nadia to be alone in the Blight. But most of all, she feared the change in their relationship after the Raising. Right now, however, she knew she had to live in the moment. For my Nadia. She tried to convince herself that waking up in the dark tomorrow to help Nadia pack would be helpful. But as Nadia’s face trembled with heat and love against Naneem’s, Naneem couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end.

End of the Day
She's never going away
And if you want her you can't have her
Break yourself into a million pieces
Howie Day’s Everything Else

Naneem’s spirits soared as she saw Andri Gaidin and Helene Gaidar walk into the courtyard of the Garrison. The tall, wiry Gaidar and the short, stout Gaidin looked quiet, and tired as they glanced at the Younglings practicing in the yard. Nearly getting her head taken off as she dropped her sword, Naneem glanced from them to the gate of the courtyard. Her heart was pounding in her chest, faster and faster until it seemed to break loose from her chest wall and climb up her throat. Her breath was coming fast and the chilly autumn air did not stop her hands from sweating. Her fierce green eyes studied Andri and Helene and then glanced back at the gate. Where was she? She had to come through the courtyard to reach her quarters, even the Gaidar quarters. Forcing herself to relax, Naneem reassured herself. I’m sure she had to take care of the horses. They wouldn’t let her get off easy, even after her Raising. She had no doubt in her mind that Nadia had possessed the skills to pass the Raising. They would not have called her if she was not prepared. Nadia was terribly slow at untacking horses, and she must be in the stables fumbling with the girth and the bridle straps. I could go help her, congratulate her. She had long since prepared her congratulatory words and actions for Nadia.

Jari Gaidin stepped out of his office and walked stiffly towards the Gaidin and Gaidar. The three stopped and exchanged words. Naneem felt the world around her slow as she watched Andri shrug his shoulders and Helene toss her hands in the air in a resigned fashion. They were speaking to the Head Gaidin who was saying very little in response. Finally, he lifted his head, replied to them, and they nodded, spun on their heels and walked away. The Gaidin stood there for a moment, staring at the ground and abruptly stalked back into his office. Naneem took a deep breath. They told him how well Nadia did. He’s finding her pin, and crossing her name out of the recruit book. Perhaps she got out in record time. Oh, maybe she’s at the Aes Sedai. She likely needed a Healing. They always get healings when they return. Crossing the courtyard, her steps grew increasingly bouncier and lighter. Her body felt like and she was dizzy with excitement. Nadia! She hadn’t realized exactly how much she would miss her lover, but the loneliness was incompatible to anything Naneem had ever felt before. But the loneliness was gone. She would be able to run her fingers through Nadia’s silky dark hair, her hands over Nadia’s body, to snuggle closer to the woman at night when it was growing cold.

The Gaidin did not look up when Naneem entered his office and before she could speak, he said gruffly, “Nadia Savvari did not return from the Blight and the Gaidin and Gaidar accompanying her were unable to locate her. It is assumed that the Blight took her, as it does so many people.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Naneem croaked, not sure whether she heard him right. She tipped her head slightly, swallowing hard.

The Gaidin looked up, no sympathy in his eyes though understanding lined his expression. “Nadia is gone, Tishua. She’s assumed dead.”

Naneem opened her mouth to respond but there was no response. Her throat felt thick, dry and swollen. She tried several times to swallow but her chest heaved with the effort of breathing and she gasped and coughed several times, her body shaking violently. Every inch of her convulsed: her stomach heaved and bile caught in her swollen throat. Her lungs shuddered, struggling with the lack of air. The room tipped, drunkenly swaying to the right and then tipping floor over ceiling to flip towards the left and Naneem reached out for something to stabilize her. Her hand hit the wall and shaking, she leaned against it, coughing and gasping for air. Her mind couldn’t focus and her eyes felt like they would swell out of her head. She was not sure to what she reacted, and she was no longer sure that she was standing without assistance. Her knees were shaking until they hit each other and her muscles ached with the fierce burn that came only after a hard exercise.

“Go take a walk, Tishua,” The Gaidin was telling her and she heard a door open. His voice was not unkind.

She staggered out the door and the fresh air hit her, filling her lungs and shocking her body. She straightened her shoulders, her eyes still unfocused. The smell of sweat rose into her nostrils, jerking her senses back into the present tense. Naneem stared at the Younglings dutifully practicing their weaponry in the shadow of the White Tower. She is not coming back. It seemed abstract, as if Nadia had completed her Raising and simply chosen not to return to the Tower. She was out of Naneem’s reach, in a distant land where Naneem could not venture, not even in her dreams. Naneem inhaled. Nadia, the smell of rosewater, waking up beside her, her silhouette in the sunset practicing sword forms, the way her hands felt sliding up my arms, the way she laughed, the way she could walk and make everyone watch her, the ritual of braiding and pinning her hair every morning, waking up and kissing her sleepy smile. She exhaled. The way she sulked when she was angry, the time when she threw a snowball so it hit the collar of my coat, losing her boot in the mud, yelping when she had to bathe in cold water, the rough calluses between her bow fingers, the seriousness of her voice when speaking of duty, her love of her obligation to the Tower. She took a step. Her patience. Another step. Her love.

The tears came then, first one and then dozens that Naneem couldn’t control. They streamed, hot and cold and lacking a definitive temperature, down her cheeks and onto her chapped lips and past her chin and onto her throat. They were tears that once Nadia would have kissed away and insisted stop, but there was no gentle, wise and patient Domani standing next to her now. It was if a piece of Naneem had snapped off, but had not floated away. It was fractured inside of her, destroying her with every breath and step she took. Every memory, every touch, every kiss, every murmur, and smile and laughter, remained a part of her, but she could not have them. She could not hold them and claim them as hers. That piece of her, those pieces of someone else, belonged to the Blight that had taken Nadia. There was no loneliness, just the feeling of abandonment and hurt. Naneem felt a sharp seizing pain twist her chest and she once again fought to breathe. She was mine. She was mine! She cannot be taken from me!

She didn’t know where she was going, or where she was walking. The concept of destination has long since left her. She let the tears run down her skin. She staggered forward—or perhaps it was backwards. She wasn’t quite sure where she was heading. She forgot what she was supposed to be doing, and did not notice the change in footing as she crossed from stone to dirt to grass. Terrain meant nothing. Naneem did not feel the rain on her skin, or the taste of her tears dribbling into her mouth. Her nose was running, her lips were bloodied and chapped, and she did not bother to drag the back of her hand across her mouth. It didn’t matter. There was no one to impress or to kiss anymore. Dimly, in the back of her head, she recognized the sound of her own name. She staggered forward and collapsed onto her hands and knees. Her body convulsed and she inhaled only to let out a hoarse, fluttering, wordless cry. She collapsed onto her stomach, the wet grass and mud soaking through her tunic. There was a hand touching her back, a body close to hers generating heat, and a soft voice reaching her through the rain. But it was not Nadia’s. These hands were bigger, harder, and patient.

“Naneem…” murmured Elsin, as he crouched next to her and tried not to get his white pants too muddy. “Naneem, come now. Sit up.”

Her finger dug into the mud, slipping beneath the surface, clawing at something firm to hold onto but nothing existed. Naneem’s fingers digging into Nadia’s shoulder. Teeth dragging across skin. Dirt squeezed under her finger nails and Naneem’s hand opened abruptly as she pushed herself off the ground and sat up a bit. Her face was now covered in mud, giving her a disheveled look of a young runaway. She looked into the eyes of her longtime friend. His soft, understanding eyes took her in and he exhaled slowly, as if preparing. He reached out with a big hand and swiped most of the mud off her cheek and shook it off his hand.

“There,” he said gently, ignoring the tears that were welling again in her eyes.

“She’s dead, Elsin,” Naneem choked out and gritted her teeth as fresh sobs threatened to break apart whatever sense of self awareness that Elsin had brought back to her. “Dead!”

“I know. I heard.” Elsin whispered softly, his own eyes glistening. “I am sorry, Naneem.”

She collapsed back onto the ground and gritted her teeth. Mud slipped into her mouth. She welcomed the taste. “I thought I was going to be okay, if she came back and then left the Tower. I thought I’d be able to deal with that eventually. But not this, Elsin. This was never a part of those fears. I never thought I’d lose her completely.”

“No one ever truly thinks they’re going to lose someone completely,” Elsin brushed Naneem’s sweaty, wet, and muddied hair out of her face. His face was full of sympathy. “But she would most definitely laugh at you, out here in the rain face down in mud crying like a child.”

Naneem wanted her space, her own time for grief but Elsin seemed to have no intentions on leaving now. She felt bubbles of anger at him. You don’t understand, Elsin. She was mine. All mine. They couldn’t take her. She’s mine. But the angry words that slipped from her tongue were instead, “I’m not crying like a child.”

“Yes, you are,” Elsin affirmed wisely and offered her a handkerchief. He smiled slightly, waveringly. “Not that this will help much. But it is the thought that counts.”

I love you, Nadia. Naneem remembered whispering to the woman before she left the room before the sun rose on the horizon. The definite edges and details of her world disappeared into a watery mess as her eyes narrowed with tears. “She is mine, Elsin.”

“I know,” Elsin said simply. He cupped Naneem’s chin in a hand. “And she’ll always be yours. You were the last.”

The last.

“I want to leave this place. It’s nothing but death for glory here,” Naneem whispered, feeling defeated.

“You’re not leaving. Do you hear me?” his grip was painful on her chin. “Do you hear me, Hananeem Tishua? I won’t let you. You will be raised. You’re this close. You will be raised. You aren’t leaving this Tower until they Raise you. You’ve come too far to be kicked down now. Look at you!”

She didn’t care.

“You’re lying in mud crying and blubbering like a common schoolgirl. But somewhere in there, the gritty, temperamental and determined Naneem is hiding. You have to put this behind you. You don’t have to forget her. Just put it behind you for now. Nadia would have never forgiven you if you gave up now. This was your dream together. This is your dream.” He said firmly, shaking her chin a bit. Her teeth chattered in her head.

“I’m not crying like a little girl,” Naneem muttered defensively.

“That’s my Naneem,” he whispered and stood up, letting go of her chin. He offered her his hand. “I’ll walk you back to the Garrison. And then you should clean yourself up.”

She balked. “It’s not that easy.”

He smiled at her sadly, “Oh, but it is, Naneem. It is this easy. It has to be this easy. You will always lose people. It isn’t this Tower that’s just death for glory. This whole world is death for glory. You can’t escape it. It’s just this easy. Come.”

“Nadia was mine,” Naneem repeated helplessly. “I…I can’t do this without her.”

“You don’t have a choice, Neem.”

She shuddered at the coolness of his tone. It wasn’t a choice to fall in love either.

She hadn’t realized she spoke aloud until his gentle reply came, “Would you give up these four months if you knew you’d lose her today?”

Naneem lifted her face to the rain, feeling trails of mud streak down her neck and beneath her collar. The water trickled with intensity over her breasts and down her stomach in a determined trail down her body. She wanted Nadia to appear out from behind any tree, take her hand and dance with her. She loved to dance in the rain. Nadia loved thunderstorms, and she’d always drag Naneem out into the night. No, I wouldn’t give that up for any knowledge in the world. She couldn’t say goodbye. Not yet

Let me know what you think, particularly if you have a forum rp background. I'm off for lunch with Rutgers (which I just realized I nicknamed her but I don't think it's a city. I think it's just a college but whatever) and then the barn.

I'm Pure Caffeine

2007-03-08T16:55:13Z

<html><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#DABB99" align=center><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are an Espresso</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#EAD3B8"><center><img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofcoffeeareyouquiz/espresso.jpg" height="100" width="100"></center><font color="#000000">
At your best, you are: straight shooting, ambitious, and energetic

At your worst, you are: anxious and high strung

You drink coffee when: anytime you're not sleeping

Your caffeine addiction level: high</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofcoffeeareyouquiz/">What Kind of Coffee Are You?</a></div>

I definitely thought of this quote, "it’s practically impossible to kill yourself with caffeine. Practically. Don’t actually try it! After 1 gram, you’ll be a sad panda. If you manage to even challenge the number, you’ll be a schizophrenic, crazed panda, or a passed out panda." I can't remember where it comes from (it comes up on a thousand or so pages if you google it) but here's another caffeine related thing: http://www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine/

Apparently I'd have to drink 73 cups of coffee to be down on the floor.

C'mon, we're all writers here---do they really think it'd take 73? </html>

Edited: Does anyone know why I can't get this meme thing to show up properly?

A Strange Duet Sung By Three

2007-03-08T07:07:37Z

I may have given away this journal today, by mentioning to Milan that I stalked the LJ spotlights. I was afraid she'd recognize my writing, because she is a smart person and would likely do that. And I don't know if she'd tell me that she found this journal, which is a slightly more frightening thought. For a moment, I nearly went back and edited the entries in which I mentioned her (she knows I love her, she doesn't know I love her) but I took a deep breath and controlled myself. Because if I started that here, it'd be a downwards spiral. This journal is open. This journal is public. No matter who may discover. Should she discover, I do not believe she'd find anything she did not already suspect. Nor do I think that it would change things between us.

I have some of the most amazing friends in the world, and for that I am eternally and forever grateful. With whom else do you go sledding at midnight, in chains, making highly sexual jokes and end up walking back, laughing and smiling though your fingers are frozen and you cannot feel your rear-end?

Today was a good day. It was frustrating, talking to Milan for awhile, about two things that she had said/done that irked me that she knew and finally called me out on, but overall, I feel like it was a productive day. I feel happy. No, perhaps, not happy. I do not feel happy yet. I feel satisfied. Immensely satisfied. Tonight I will go to sleep without taking medication to help me. Tonight, I will go to sleep and not cry in my dreams. Tonight, I will not dream of people dying.

Perhaps. My dreams often consist of situations that I cannot control. I always feel a persistent desire to put myself into uncontrollable situations. I don't know if I want to know how I'd react, or what I'd do, or how selfish I really am. Because, no matter what I say, I know, deep down, that I am very selfish.

I have some ptsd from september eleventh, as I suspect a number of people in this country do (i lower-cased september eleventh on purpose--I am afraid to make it uppercase. it makes it seem more real and like the letters will fall farther) and when I fly, which is frequently, I sit on the airplane and think of all the things that could go wrong. I wonder if I would be amongst the passengers who did not move, or the passengers who charged the hijackers. I decide whom of my neighbors would cry, and who would not. I decide who should be the leader. I sit in the emergency exit rows, not for the legroom--I don't need it--but because I love when the stewardess asks me if I could assist in an emergency. Because somewhere deep inside of me, I want there to be an emergency. When I walk into buildings, I wonder what a fire in the building would be like. When I am around strange men, the fear/wonder/systematic calculations of reaction are based around my fear of rape. I am a crazy person, you may say, but I think more people do this than are willing to admit it.

But I do not think I will have dreams of collapsing buildings tonight. Tonight, I will smile and simply sleep. And for once, that will be okay.

I am hosting prospective students for my college on Friday night. I have two of them. We are taking them iceskating. I hope they brought money with them. If they didn't, I'm leaving them at home and going iceskating anyways. Because I haven't hurt myself enough this weekend. Sledding is rough on my back and well, everything, and tomorrow I am riding my horse and sledding again. And then Friday I will be iceskating and Saturday I will be giving tours.

My friends are wonderful. My Kansas City, Rutgers and St. Louis (to my new readers: I codename my friends after cities that remind me of them--either where they are from, or in character).

Good night, all. Sleep well. And tomorrow, I will have a poem, some talk about my pony, and perhaps a piece of art to share.

-Diamond <>

Down we plunge to the prison of my mind

2007-03-08T03:52:09Z

To my newfound friends from add_a_writer--thank you and welcome, I suppose, to this journal where what is written is written. I don't delete, though I may rephrase and restructure for sense. You'll find that I vascillate back and forth on Milan, one of my best friends and with whom I am...confused.

Apple juice is the way to go.

I admire coffee shops.

Train this Chaos (Turn it into Light)

2007-03-07T20:37:01Z

I came back to my computer last night, after leaving it in my room (I almost always take it with me to the coffee shop) and found four or five messages from Milan. She's flying back to where she should be after her illness, which is a good thing, but it also said she'd talk to me tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath. I've stopped holding my breath for her. No, correct that. I will always hold my breath for her, but I won't kill myself for her anymore. My heart's too good for that and I don't feel selfish for saying that. Self preservation is not selfishness. But, I will always love her. She's my perfect time of day.

I am enjoying this private journal. I feel bravest, I feel most free, and most liberated writing here. I could write whatever I want. I can appear pompous and philosophical--and no one I know in real life will ever judge me on it. Reverse my earth, I say softly (as I listen to I Dreamed A Dream from Les Mis) and it happens when I open up Diamondfeet. I do not know if I have readers yet, but I am joining communities I would not normally join in search of people. Confidants. Trustworthy folk who can read my purest thoughts. Every thought wants to break free, but freedom's nothing more than nothing left to lose. <i>I have nothing left to lose!</i>

I love to read poetry. I consume it by the gallons. I will simply sit on poetry sites and read it everything I can. e.e.cummings is a personal favorite, as is WB Yeats. Shakespeare but I prefer his plays to his sonnets. Wordsworth and Coleridge are just splendid. I want to read Spenser's Faerie Queen this summer. But anyways, I get a poem a day in my email. Today's poem was Rain by Edward Thomas. This poem is excellent, however, I just didn't feel the poem today. Where I am, it was sunny today for the first time in awhile. The sun doesn't shine too often here, and when it does, I rejoice. There's nothing more brilliant feeling brightness on your skin. So, to post, I searched for a poem that matched my mood:

I do but ask that you always be fair
Edna St Vincent Millay
I do but ask that you be always fair
That I forever may continue kind;
Knowing me what I am, you should not dare
To lapse from beauty ever, nor seek to bind
My alterable mood with lesser cords;
Weeping and such soft matters must invite
To further vagrancy; and bitter words
Chafe soon to irremediable flight,
Wherefore I pray you if you love me dearly,
Less dear to hold me than your own bright charms,
Whence it may fall that until death, or nearly,
I shall not move to struggle from your arms:
Fade if you must,--I would but bid you be
Like the sweet year, doing all things graciously.

Additionally, I peeked around the Internet for awhile while relaxing for the first time all day. I have a meeting with my advisor later, and I wanted to sit, listen to music, and read good blogs, see good art, and read excellent poetry. And perhaps think a bit. Milan just signed online, which means that she is back at the residence where she should be, which irritates me because I'd much rather speak to her on the phone than on a screen. Thus, I will be ignoring her. I am childish, my friends, when it comes down to it. Though her lack of speech to me tells me that perhaps someone is on her screenname. Occasionally her mother has a nasty habit of doing that.

I love the LJ spotlight of the week, because it helps me find other people who may read this journal, and with whom I may converse. Exchange of ideas, that's all I ask. So I did the add_a_writer this week. We shall see what comes of that. I am afraid to join photography because I posted my photography under a different journal that is less secret. Will someone recognize it? Why am I so scared?

*sigh* I am such a pushover. Talking to Milan.

I feel so drained. I feel like I'm on the edge of tears. I can't write. I can't think. I can't sleep anymore. For once, all I want to do is homework.

Frustration is the bane of my existence

2007-03-06T19:05:27Z

I am frustrated with Milan. Don't tell me that you'll call, and then let me down. For days. After days. I love her. I really honestly and truly do. But I'm starting to wonder if this is one of those friendships that needs to end. Because...I'm used. She assumes--always assumes--that I will always be there. And I always am. But she isn't there for me. Consistency is a virtue between friends, and we simply do not have it. I hate bringing drama to this journal, but here it is.

If she calls me this week, which she won't, I will not answer. I am going to try and have some will power. And I will not answer. And I am not going to answer for awhile.

I think, at the end of the week, if she has called, I will return her call. I will be cheerful (like she does) and tell her I'll call her back later that night (like she does). And then I won't (like she does). Because I can. And I want to. I want her to feel what this feels like.

I am so bitter.

Can You Hear the Strings?

2007-03-01T20:15:55Z

Last night, I attended a concert by the Alexander String Quartet where they played two pieces composed by Dmitri Shostakovich and a piece by Ludwig van Beethoven. The two violinists, single violist and the cellist were absolutely spectacular. This is my second time hearing them play, as I heard them last spring as well play a series of Shostakovich pieces pulled together by Quartet member Zakarias Grafilo, one of the most talented violinists I've ever had the honor and pleasure of hearing. The pieces played included: Shostakovich, Prelude & Fugue in C Major, Op 87 No. 1 arranged by Grafilo, Beethoven Quartet in B-flat Major, Op. 130 with the Gross Fuge, Op. 133 and finally, the Shostakovich Piano Quintet in G Minor, Op. 57 with pianist, Alec Chien. Now, I know very little about music, and even less about classical music. But whatever garble I just typed made for a simply splendid evening. The music was melodic, challenging, inspiring, frightening and freeing. I felt truly liberated by the end of the concert, and thus, I applaud once again the Quartet and guest pianist Alec Chien for making my Wednesday night something very intensely wonderful.

I spoke with Milan on the phone, and I don't know if there's one other person in the world that can make me feel so loved and so truly wanted. There are times, of course, when she does not and I admit that I resent her for those times. Occasionally, the friendship--or whatever it is--is one-sided. Other times, it is less one-sided and truly something that transcends all my other friendships. A fulfilling night, indeed.

I also found the most lovely e.e. cummings poem, one I hadn't read before:

this(let's remember) day died again and
this(let's remember) day died again and
again; whose golden, crimson dooms conceive

an oceaning abyss of orange dream

larger than sky times earth:a flame beyond
soul immemorially forevering am-
and as collapsing that grey mind by wave
doom disappeared,out of perhaps(who knows?)

eternity floated a blossoming

(while anyone might slowly count to soon)
rose-did you see her?darling,did you(kiss
me)quickly count to never?you were wrong

-then all the way from perfect nowhere came

(as easily as we forget something)
livingest the imaginable moon

Additionally, I went Googling for a piece of artwork. After all, this is a blog where I want to feel freest with my ideas and others' creative expressions can help free one's own ideas. Instead, I found Art-a-DAY or Art against Depression and Anxiety. This is an organization out of Belgrade that wants to challenge depression and anxiety with creative outlets. I highly recommend checking it out. Some of the art was beautiful, as was the prose. It is in English, so you don't have to struggle with the Cyrllic alphabet if you don't understand it. Please check it out!

I worked with my horse today, doing some ground work. He was full of spirit, very loving and very spooky today. Snow was sliding off the roof of the indoor arena, and that's a frightening sound for humans much less an animal that cannot rationalize that noise. So we only did a little work before calling it quits. I have a friend coming this weekend who wants to ride him, hopefully the snow melt won't be too bad.

I feel a little bit of guilty. I ran out of tampons exactly when I didn't really need to run out of tampons, and yes this information is necessary. My roommate and I aren't friends though we are hardly enemies, but I figured she wouldn't kill me for taking a tampon. When I opened her drawer, next to the box, there was a sheet of paper labeled "Reasons to Transfer". I read it. She wrote it. There were fifteen reasons to transfer, and three reasons to stay. The reasons to stay were rather weak reasons, and I'm afraid that she's going to leave. She won't leave before the end of the year, but I feel guilty. I haven't gone out of my way to be her friend--we merely coexist. She wrote that she has no friends here, and no one that she even remotely likes to hang out with. It is true. I never see her with other people, or even trying to. I feel like asking her to come to dinner would be nothing short of attempting to justify my behavior towards her before she leaves. And that's not right.

But worst? I couldn't believe I wasn't on her list for reasons to leave. And somehow, I wanted to be on that list.

Somewhere Beyond the Sea

2007-02-26T17:42:15Z

Dear A Friend I Shall Call Milan,

There's a zoo in San Diego--I used to have a computer game that told me so. I could navigate around the park, learn about different animals, and learn about the panda cubs. Do you remember the panda cubs at the San Diego zoo? Perhaps you don't. They were adorable, soft, fuzzy, black and white, tumbling and bumbling around as they were raised by humans, adored by humans, endeared to humans. They are so human-like, desiring of affection and giving affection. Somewhere between last night and about twenty minutes ago, I realized that I love you. This isn't some girlhood crush, or understanding of the omnipotence of sexual desires, because I lack any libido. This is not about sex. It's about you being the only person I want next to me on a cold winter night, it's about you being the one that makes me laugh, and cry, and smile and smirk. It's about our inside jokes, and our calmness with each other. It's the fact that we can say I love you, without either of us with our past experiences shying away from those words. I've never been so comfortable with anyone before, I've never wanted to stay in one place forever.

So come back home, Milan. Come back home.

There is a girl across the coffee shop, who is crying as she reads a letter. I wonder what the letter says. Does it tell her of a death? Did someone break up with her? Or are those tears of joy? Did someone tell her that they love her, that they cannot imagine living without her, that she's their best friend and that, that above all other relationships, is the most important? Do you ever look at other people and wonder? She's swiping the tears from her cheeks, and I imagine that she is you for a moment. I imagine that I am leaning against you, pressing my confidence in your ability to heal into your own body. I press my forehead against your own, wipe the tears from your cheeks, and I whisper to you. I whisper words that only you will recognize. I whisper words to make you smile, to remind you that I love you. Because I do. More than I've ever felt before, I love you and for the first time, I want to share that love. I used to be jealous of those who sit beside their lovers, not needing to flirt, or make out, or go too far. That part of the relationship is not nearly as important as being. I want others to have that, though I don't truly have that yet. I look at this girl, sitting on the other side of the room, and watch her wrap two hands around her teacup. I wish she had someone sitting next to her, pressing into her, touching her hair and whispering words of comfort that only she could know. Everyone deserves one person that loves them unconditionally.

The weather here is just disgusting, and I am sure you will laugh at me later when we talk on the phone. You will tell me that I chose a terrible place to live for university time. I will laugh and agree, and we will both fall silent. Hanging between us will be the conscious and recognized knowledge that both of us would rather be living together. I want to tell you that I don't have much time left in university, that the distance between us will close soon enough, but that would be voicing for the first time our desires versus our needs. Perhaps, when one is in love, desires and needs are exactly the same thing.

You sent me a photo, of you in the hospital, and I wish you didn't look so young, so sickly, so tired, so scared. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and tell you it will be alright, that you will be better soon, and you'll get through this. But I am afraid to promise you something that may not be true. I don't know how much time we have left, my love, but I am afraid that it isn't enough.

So let me tell you that I love you, that I think about you all the time. So let me tell you that you are the ice on the sidewalk (I've fallen into love), and the sun behind the gray clouds (that gives me hope for a beautiful day tomorrow). You're the wind caressing my cheek, the bounce in my step, the brightness in my smile. You're all I ever dreamt of finding in my life, and no matter what happens, I meant it when I whispered, "Always".

I love you, Milan. And I hope that you get better and come home.

All hope, love, and friendship,
Diamond <>

My lover stands on golden sands

2007-02-22T19:30:16Z

Anonymity has been prized, valued, and sought after for centuries. Every author seeks noteriety, and relief from celebrity. Every writer, secret or public, seeks to create worlds in unpublished works that allow for a much-needed and highly desired retreat. I am one of these. I am not famous, nor will I ever be for my written works. But somewhere between the lines of distrust, disillusionment, and a persistent desire to publicly express my thoughts without concern of the consequences has led me to create an anonymous livejournal. This is not my first Livejournal, nor will it be my last. This is my attempt to be who I am, at the very heart and core of my being: a writer.

People who are born writers, or consider their lives nothing but prose on paper cannot be themselves if they are constantly afraid of being judged. It does not matter, in the end, if we appeared melodramatic, or emotional 'emo', or depressed, or giddy, or girlish, or gender-defying, or repressed, or confused, or arrogant, or pompous, or wise, or cynical. I do not want those labels attached to another livejournal entry of mine, which is why I created this journal. Regardless of whether I am happy or sad, I will try and post something from the day here. This is not a daily diary. This is a journal, a reflection of life in all its wonders. Someone wise once told me that life is only a prism. On different days, we're looking in a different side and we see a different spectrum of light.

My username is diamondfeet, and I'd like to go by Diamond, or nicknames derived therefrom, to all of the readers I may attract here. To preserve my identity, but also to revel in what a diamond is: one of the hardest substances on earth, made out of a dirty substance and compressed by pressure into something just beautiful. As a social angle plug, I'd like to remind people to make sure you know where you get your diamonds when you buy them for yourself or a sweetheart or a family member. Many diamonds are known as conflict diamonds, or blood diamonds, and fuel terrible civil wars in Africa.

Additionally, Paul Simon's version of "Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes" was an inspiration for my name.

To preserve identities of people, if I even mention people in my real life, I will be calling them by the name of a major city in the world that has some connection to who they are or where they are from. Therefore, there will be consistancy in 'code names' and anonymity. After all, selective anonymity is nothing but poor journalism.

I named the journal "reverse the earth", and this remains the only thing that could possibly give me away to people who know me. Have you ever thought about what the world would be like if it was reversed? If we were like Jupiter on the outside, then layers of rock, and then inside, a small bubble that connected all of us? How would our lives be different? Would we fight more? Would we use our limited resources better? We would have evolved differently, of course, but it is an interesting thought. Think about it.

Welcome to the Reversed Earth. Think with me. Write with me. Reflect with me. And above all, let's do this all outside the box. All is fair here. No opinions will be deleted, and I want comments and thoughtful replies to my posts. That is what this is here for.