Romance

I'm pretty much in love.



I am *so* in love. XP

Yippee Kai-Yay, Mofo

Die Hard is a great movie. The second one sucked, and the third one was totally amazing, but the first one is the original awesome.

Alas, it's the edited-for-TV version. The original quote was butchered. I'm glad someone else doesn't appreciate that.

I should buy this on DVD. It really is a great movie. Well-acted, well-directed, and I seriously love Alan Rickman. More than I love Bruce Willis. I'm sorry, I just do. It must be the accent.

Out Traveling

I'm in Moscow.

I'm in town as a part of my singing group, singing at the jazz festival, until Friday.

Oh, that's, ah, Moscow, Idaho. ;)

I so appreciate being able to tell people that I'm in Europe and not tell them at the same time. It's far too amusing to me.

Internet Connections

I love the Internet.

I went from researching the board game Lotus, to looking through octopus photos, to learning about sword swallowing.

I'm not really sure how I made those leaps, either.

Also, the board games Ishi, Stare!, King Me!, Surakarta, Luxor, and Score Four look fascinating. I also found the game No Peeking!, which I had played as a kid and then totally forgotten about. Fun game, actually. I cheated at it all the time. :x

Extended Leave of Absence

So I've been sick. Really, really sick. With flu. Full-on influenza. Chesty cough, stuffy/runny nose, plugged ears, headaches, throat aches, full-body aches, fevers, the works. I was flat on my back for four days straight, hardly any food. I lost seven pounds.

Yeah, I know, I just got finished being sick. That's pretty much what I said. Alas, I pushed myself too hard, and I DEFINITELY shouldn't have gone to that retreat, staying up late and going for that long walk on the beach without giving myself enough recovery time. Well, now I know.

The important thing is that I'm almost totally over it now. Got most of my sense of smell back, but I'm still trying to cough stuff up. Other than those two symptoms, however, I seem to be pretty much fine. I should still take it easy, though. I don't want to get sick again. *shudder*

A Mere Memo

I must remember to look into this kirigami. Strange I've never heard of it, but have done origami for years.

Notes On Prayer

I rather like this picture. Notes from the weekend retreat I went to... And I got a bit carried away.

Investigations

jan 25 2008 – english 276

freedom rocks!

hw assignment: Write a short story wherein you create a character’s background and setting based on props presented

He withdrew the newly made key from his coat pocket, slid it deliberately into the brass lock, and twisted. The deadbolt gave a satisfyingly audible click as it retreated, and Ryan opened the door to the girl’s apartment.

The calm of the interior was unperturbed by the noisy neighbors downstairs, and Ryan could smell the girl’s perfume lingering in the air like an aftertaste. He slid into the apartment and closed the door softly behind him, using a gloved hand to re-secure the lock.

A knee-high black leather case standing on the tile in the entryway caught Ryan’s eye. Curious, he bent to unfasten the silver catches, and opened the lid. Paper rustled restlessly at his intrusion, and a piece of sky from the window reflected off a glittering length of polished silver set in red velvet. “Hm,” Ryan muttered, glancing over the papers. “Gaelic sheets of music for a flute… she’s a musical.” Ryan refastened the case and stood, casting a practiced gaze over the room.

Blue sky could be glimpsed through wide windows along the opposite wall, daylight fringed with tall dark curtains illuminating the apartment. White walls stood in abundance, unchallenged by portrait or wall hanging, to support a high ten-foot ceiling. A simple overstuffed couch and matching chair in nonthreatening beige tones squatted on scuffed wood floorboards, which creaked under Ryan’s feet as he stepped forward. A conservative flat-panel TV screen perched on a simple black entertainment center across from the couch, and a universal remote lay on the small coffee table in silent homage to the blank screen. A dirty plate, bowl, and fork, an empty wineglass, the remains of a banana peel, and some paperback science fiction novels accompanied the remote on the glass surface.

“Single,” mused Ryan, breaking the stillness, “without too much social life, or self-discipline.” He glanced over his shoulder and stepped sideways to look through the doorway, his feet curving against his flip-flops to prevent their flapping against his heels.

More white walls lurked in the kitchen, beside brown tiled countertops glistening between a stainless steel sink and a matching refrigerator. A fruit basket sat on the counter with some fresh apples and bananas, and a package of English muffins stood upright beside a white toaster. More dirty plates and glasses crouched in the sink beside a dirty pot, and a few more glasses stood on the counter.

Ryan walked to the fridge and pulled it open, revealing Tupperware containers, a plastic takeout box, an expensive brand of yogurt, some salad mix and sandwich meat, and then the standard eggs, milk, cream, butter, and condiments. Ryan pulled open the containers. Fruit salad, leftover fettuccini alfredo, and Chinese food with chopsticks still inside. He opened the drawer in the fridge to observe five different types of cheese. “Likes her dairy, likes her fruit, and not much of a cook,” he observed. He closed the silver doors and went to the sink. Swinging open the cupboard doors beneath the sink he brought forth the white trash can that resided there. Ryan lifted the plastic can up and tilted it so he could see its contents.

“Just fruit peels and empty yogurt containers,” he said, and it would have taken someone who knew him very well to detect the disappointment in his voice. He put the trash can back and padded out of the kitchen and through the living room, turning the corner to confront the next room.

The small dining area there had been converted to a makeshift office. A window on one wall illuminated the disastrous scene. The white walls in this room were interrupted by the presence of long bookshelves, which supported their overflowing hardcover contents until the ceiling forced their halt. A self-assembled corner hutch housed a widescreen Mac computer, and a blue LED shone from the face of expensive black speakers which were nearly buried behind several huge stacks of papers. Ryan gazed at the multitudes of bound works. “Bit of an escapist, then,” he said placidly, and a smile twitched for the smaller half of a second at the corner of his mouth. Ryan stepped across the dark woven rug to scan the titles on the myriad spines. “Fantasy, science fiction, nonfiction, a couple of romance, how-to books, classics, short stories, compilations…” his voice trailed off, losing itself in the organized stacks. Ryan straightened a moment later, his expression distant. He shut his eyes for a moment, then turned and padded back through the living room to enter the hallway.

He flicked on the light of the first room he came to. As expected, it was a bathroom. Ryan gave a cursory glance to the white towels, green plush rug, and the matching green shower curtain, and stepped over to open the cabinet under the sink. There were some non-prescription pain relievers, some cold medicine, bandages, antiperspirant, a bottle of expensive perfume, makeup in a small bag, toilet paper, and a plastic-wrapped supply of feminine hygiene products. Ryan snorted ambiguously, closed the cupboard, and slid aside the shower curtain. Razor, some bottles of body soap and scrub, a couple of hair care products for brunettes. He replaced the curtain and exited the uninteresting room, continuing down the hall.

The next door led to a room that didn’t belong with the rest of the apartment. It was the bedroom, and the only room so far that had painted walls, in a green the color of the softest moss. Light shone down onto a low bed from a tall window at its head, the light softened by rough white curtains. The bed had white sheets and a beautifully patterned red comforter, and rested on a dark-stained wood stand, with a pair of brown fur-lined slippers at its base. Two dark wood nightstands on either side of the bed housed orderly rows of books, and white lanterns served as lamps. A dark dresser, matched with the set, had a single bottle, filled with aromatic oil, sitting on its surface before an ornately carved mirror. Framed works of art, simple and elegant, were settled on the walls. Urns of bamboo stood in the corners of the room, steadily guarding the peace and quiet.

Ryan took in the scene, standing silently in the doorway. Then he turned, stepped back into the hall, and shut the door softly behind him. He walked down the hall, went into the living room, and slid into the overstuffed chair. He let his vision become unfocused, and a wrinkle appeared between his dark brows, lending him a hooded expression as he considered the case before him.

This girl had only been in her apartment for just over a month, he decided. Her bedroom was the place she desired to feel the most at peace. It was likely she did yoga on the woven mat that she had placed on the floor, Ryan thought to himself, and that elusive smile once again crossed his mouth. He took a couple of deep, slow breaths, and considered. His employers would no doubt find her quite suitable for their purposes… and in all probability they would get far more than they bargained for. But that wasn’t the puzzle. The real puzzle consisted of what kind of man he needed to become in order to get her to say yes.