Going Forth By Day

In The Shadow Of The Tower | Between The Trees

2007-01-29T12:32:00.000+11:00

All are keeping a sharp look out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the island was.

Going Forth

2007-01-23T12:03:00.000+11:00

...
By the time you read this, I will be already dead. You need be neither confused nor frightened, for I am merely going forth. But you need to know this: that if there is a way for me to return to you, then I shall find it.

The Eye of Silence

2007-01-22T12:30:00.000+11:00

No one else is in the office except me and on all the phones no voices speak.

The Punishment of the Stars

2007-01-21T00:17:00.000+11:00

In sunlight flashing between trees I can hear his voice calling from the dark places. He speaks with a tongue soft like the sound of bees, and above and through all his missives a distant bell rings endlessly.

I'm moving in the slow realms now; you can see me when you look sideways.

In those veiled and intertwined countries there is a thing that you can ride, but you must never show it your face, for it has claws where should be its hands. One must approach it with a mirror, and when it presents the clotted rivers of its back to you, it is still not safe to mount till it has been sated with such fruits as grow in those lands.

It speaks sometimes.

I had a memory but then I left it behind in the high places; the spoor of old gods marks its grave.

While she slept she had a dream. She dreamt that the Neverland had come too near, and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He did not alarm her, for she thought she had seen him before in the faces of many women who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces of some mothers also. But in her dream he had rent the film that obscures the Neverland, and she saw Wendy and John and Michael peeking through the gap.

Sic Temper

2007-01-20T01:25:00.000+11:00

Let us now kill a pirate, to show Hook's method. Skylights will do. As they pass, Skylights lurches clumsily against him, ruffling his lace collar; the hook shoots forth, there is a tearing sound and one screech, then the body is kicked aside, and the pirates pass on. He has not even taken the cigars from his mouth.

I'm tired but I can't sleep over all of the talking.

Weekend!

2007-01-19T18:48:00.000+11:00

I'm free! I have a whole weekend in front of me and no work!

Tomorrow morning I get up early. Sitting at this desk all day, with the phones that never ring, I've had a lot of time to think, and what's been on my mind is the pile of boxes in the spare room of my parents' house. They're boxes of my stuff, some of them more than ten years old, and they've been sitting there since I moved out.

My parents kept a hold of them. I think they figured this whole "independent living" thing wouldn't work out, and some day I'd move back home. But I'm not going to. I don't think I'm ever going back there.

Purging my childhood should take most of the day, because I'm going to sort through things properly. There is no reason why I'm holding on to most of this crap. It's like the dust of my formative years. Boxes not of importance, but of what important things leave behind when they move on. Mementos only make it clear that everything that matters to you will one day seem worthless.

...

Sunday I'm heading out to the Markets to see if I can pick up anything unusual to eat for dinner. If a certain brother of mine wanted to give me a ride out there, I'd make it worth his while.

I Survived!

2007-01-19T01:31:00.000+11:00

The new job is great!

Training was a breeze. It only took two hours of OH&S boredom before I was shown my desk. At the moment there is only one other guy in the department (who is on leave) but apparently they will add people as they need to. Whoever's in charge must work from home or something, because I didn't meet them today.

My job will be PA to the entire department, but for now there isn't much for me to do except sit at my desk and wait for the phones to ring. They’re paying $18 an hour for me to be human voice mail.

The office is actually kind of weirdly empty, considering how big it is. There's a couple of other girls who come in for shifts or something (because they weren't here long today) but they seem pretty nice. Much nicer than Madam Hook. Grrr to her.

The only thing I can find to complain about is the internet access from my desk is locked down tight. No Gmail, no Blogger, no MSN (and that made looking up session times for Hoyts impossible). I can get LiveJournal, and I have a great conversation going on one of the communities there, but I'll go crazy if I'm going to be playing solitare for 8 hours everyday. I'll talk to them in the morning. Maybe by then I'll have worked out who the Boss is...

Who Needs Sleep?

2007-01-18T02:28:00.000+11:00

'Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?'
'Nothing, precious,' she said; 'they are the eyes a mother leaves behind to guard her children.'

I remember seeing a movie when I was younger, where they reset the universe while people slept. They mixed everything and everyone up to try to find a good balance. I think that's when I stopped being able to sleep. It terrified me that the world could change while I slept through it.

Not even a night-light would take that fear away. I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of change.

Over the years I've had a few nights sleep where the whole world has changed while I slept. I don't have to tell you about the feeling of disjointed surrealty that had me zombie-walking though that morning a few years ago in September.

Now it's happened again. My life has switched rails, and now the train's going somewhere new, passing through hidden districts and burroughs whose names I don't know. The countryside outside is strange and terrible and fey lights play across distant hills. It's all new, and all horrifying, and all wonderful.

And I can't sleep.

Too Excited. Too Afraid. Whatever.

I blame the comet.

A Job!

2007-01-17T19:31:00.000+11:00

As much as it sucks to admit it, Phillip was right. I'm not going to London. At least, not just yet ...

... because I have a new job! Phillip's company found me a position within, like, an hour of me submitting my resume. I start tomorrow morning with paid training. Then into the deep end in the afternoon.

My hands are wiggling with happiness. Better pay, better hours, and it HAS to have better conditions than my last job.

I hereby declare the last seven days to have been the most tumultuous, surprising week of my life, and I don't know how I could ever possibly top it. I'm pretty sure that whatever comes next is going to look boring compared to everything that's just happened.

Unemployment Agrees With Me

2007-01-17T11:31:00.000+11:00

You know, if I wasn't unnaturally attached to the feeling that I need to be a productive member of society, I'd seriously think about giving this unemployment thing a go for real.

Woke up at 7 am today, thought about calling in sick, then the wonderful realisation that I never have to go back to that place sank in. Blissed out, and went back to sleep till 10 am.

Getting a work visa for London is easier than I thought it would be. I'm under 30, so I can get the backpackers one, and you don't need a sponsor. I don't live in China or Kenya, so I don't need to prove that I don't have TB.

I have to go all the way out to the new business centre at the airport to put all the paperwork in, but it should be ready to be picked up by the end of next week.

Of course, when I ask my dear, darling brother to give me a lift out there on his lunchbreak, he imposes conditions that will be counter-productive to my dastardly plan of leaving the country, but I suppose that can't be helped.

I Have A Picture!

2007-01-16T18:43:00.000+11:00

Chase is around right now for dinner and look at the amazing portrait he did of me!

Wow, am I that hot? Chase, you're the best! (He did one of Phillip too, but who'd want to look at that ugly mug?)

Also, apparently Chase already has a web presence, over at deviantart. You should go check it out.

Predictably, Phillip is not amused that I quit my job yesterday, but I cleverly replied using my middle finger. He thinks he can maybe find me some temping work through his recruiting agency. That would really help me save for London, so I said I'd submit my resume to them tomorrow.

It looks like herbed chicken and roasted veggies is going to be a a huge success, by the way, judging from the smells coming from my kitchen. Need to get back to it now; will blog tomorrow!

Free, And With The Wind At My Back

2007-01-15T17:47:00.000+11:00

Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our noticing for a time that they have happened. This morning, for example, I didn't want to get out of bed. In fact, I loathed the idea. It possessed a terror that ran through my bones like acid.

And then I realised that it was not the first work day that I had felt like that, and in fact I couldn't remember a work day when I had felt otherwise for as many weeks back as I could remember, and I knew that I had to get out of this job.

I get into the office late, and Madam Hook is right at my desk, as if she has nothing better to do than hover around my workstation until I straggle in. The heat's beating down both outside and inside, despite the desperate attempts of a stand up fan, and both she and I are running with sweat. I can tell right away that she is pissed off.

"These are no good," she hisses. "They'll have to be redone." She has a sheaf of documents in her hands, and before I even put my bag down she's thrusting them at me. I miss the pass and paper goes everywhere, lifted into widening gyres by the meandering breath of the fan.

I had intended to slog through this day at work, but now I know that I won't be doing that. I know that I won't be doing it ever again; not here, not with her. The paper is falling all around me and I'm not looking at it, I'm looking at her.

For long the two enemies looked at one another; Hook shuddering slightly, and Peter with the strange smile upon his face.

"You'll need to pick those up," says Madam Hook, with all the strength of her bile behind it. I've still got my bag on my shoulder, and I understand now that I don't even have to put it down.

"No," I reply. "I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" she screeches. (Pardon my dramaticisation, but this day deserves it. Plus, she really is a hideous harpy of a woman, and I do her no unjustified disservice.)

"No, I don't think so," I say. "I quit." And my heart's ticking like a broken clock, and everything seems at once preternaturally calm and yet blazingly busy, but my voice, I think, is like ice. It sounds that way in my head, and from Hook's face, I think it sounds that way in hers.

Hitherto Hook had thought it was some fiend fighting him, but darker suspicions assailed him now.

"Pan, who and what art thou?" he asked huskily.

"I'm youth, I'm joy," Pan answered at a venture. "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg."

And I don't know what happened then, but the next I remember I'm free, and on the streets, and the dark clouds have come up from over the world, leaving the sky that wonderous airy Canberra blue. The tower on Black Mountain is catching the sun, and shining, and it's clear in my mind that this has all been inevitable, a mere act of maintenance that I should have performed long ago.

Down the street is a travel agent, and they have posters in the window. I can see London shining behind glass, and I think there's a place in it, maybe, for me. I've been waiting to live the life I was born for, and I don't want to wait any longer.

So Phillip's going to kill me, but that's what brothers are for. I have a plan now. I'm going to London. I'm going to get some temping work at some place that isn't run by a bloated whale of a she-bitch, and I'm going to save for a month, and then it's second star on the right and straight on to morning.

You know, for the first time in a long time, I think this is going to be a good year.

Theatre and Visiting

2007-01-14T12:05:00.000+11:00

Friday night I saw the premiere of the Phoenix Players production of Peter Pan. (That's the 80s British musical, not the original play.) They put it on down at Theatre 3, and it was fantastic. Great cast, great set design, great musical numbers. It almost (almost) washed the bad taste of the last cinema version from my mouth. If you want to go see it, it's on until the 27th, after which there's no more Peter.

Phillip, being the wuss he is, needed some nursing after getting an ouchy boo-boo on his shoulder last week, so I stopped by Saturday and showed him why Hiro Nakamura is the greatest character in the last decade of genre television. He took to it like an alcoholic to free cask wine, so we might have to make watching Heroes a regular event. That's only if I can put up with him constantly pointing out the plot holes, though.

I am not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.

In Sleep

2007-01-13T23:41:00.000+11:00

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence.

Madam Hook

2007-01-10T03:34:00.000+11:00

I'm having one of those days.

You know when it feels like you're on the verge of an epic illness, and the walls of the universe are moving inwards, your skin doesn't fit anymore, and reality frustrates you with an endless series of petty revenges?

And on top of it all there's Madam Hook (as I call her), my so-called supervisor. Never have I met such an obstructive, obtuse, ill-tempered bitch of a woman. As Barrie put it: "A rakish looking craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like ground strewn with mangled feathers. She was the cannibal of the seas, and scarce needed that watchful eye, for she floated immune in the horror of her name."

Today she was under full sail, and those in my office with the luxury of making for safer waters uniformly did so. Unfortunately I had actual work to get done, so I was pretty much chained to my desk.

She has this stare, this real eyeballing that she gives people she doesn't like (read: everyone). You're just doing work, keeping your head down, and suddenly you get this feeling, like you've accidentally stepped into an oven, and you look up, and there she is on the other side of the room, her eyes practically jumping out of her head. It's creepy. No, it's disgusting. Ick.

All day today she was doing it. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass in the hot sun. She hates me, and I don't even really know why. Remember how my sandwiches got mysteriously squashed by unidentified buttocks last week? That was her, I know it. I've got to start locking my lunch in my desk.

And then every ten minutes she's asking me stupid questions about how I do reports and templates and junk like that. She sits on my desk in a way that for anyone else would be chummy, but with her it's just like being groped by a dirty old man. I don't think she realises just how hard I work to make this look easy. Or how little work I get done while she's sitting on my desk.

Or maybe she does. She wants me gone - this I know. I can't take much more before I break.

Pretty soon, it's Hook or me.

This Means War

2007-01-08T22:52:00.000+11:00

Yay!
In case you missed Dorothy's screwup on the list today, seems that 10a and 10b are almost betaed.
Is it wrong to like a fanfic better than the original?
I just hope that Hope is next.

Happy Bounce!

2007-01-08T13:02:00.000+11:00

Three reasons to squee in one day:

1) Phillip got a blog too. He's such a sweetie, when he's not being a prat. He had to be coaxed a little, but he got there in the end. Thanks Phil!

2) Found a new cooking site. My mouth is watering. I think I'll cook herbed chicken and roasted veggies for Phillip and Chase when they come over next week.

3) Summernats is over. For a weekend each year in Canberra, Exhibition Park turns into a wretched hive of scum and villainy where ugly guys go to get very drunk, talk cars, and sexually assault women. The streets get all full of bogans. It sucks. So - yay, no more of it for another year.

Peculiar Aristocratic Title

2007-01-07T20:56:00.000+11:00

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is:
Duchess Moira the Blossoming of Deep Throcking
Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Super Villain Quiz

2007-01-07T20:29:00.000+11:00

Your results:
You are Mystique

Mystique		86%
Apocalypse		78%
Poison Ivy		77%
Magneto		75%
Dark Phoenix		75%
Two-Face		66%
Green Goblin		58%
Dr. Doom		56%
Venom		53%
Catwoman		52%
The Joker		44%
Mr. Freeze		43%
Riddler		39%
Lex Luthor		36%
Juggernaut		26%
Kingpin		9%

Sometimes motherly, sometimes a beautiful companion, but most of the time a deceiving vixen.

Click here to take the Supervillain Personality Quiz

Breaking Through.

2007-01-07T18:20:00.000+11:00

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him; as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened.