Because people LOVE parallel threads on message boards.

[x_maker]

So I'm supposed to be using this journal to express myself and communicate with the rest of the people at the school. The Professor tells me communication's important, and I suppose that it's one of those things that you aren't graded on but it's a test anyway. Fine then.

Apparently everyone here 'does' something. I make stuff. I imagine it in my head, I see it, I make it. If you want some big reason beyond that, just accept that I'm a genius, and leave it at that. Child prodigy, whatever. So that's what I do. Are we "communicating" yet?

Go ahead and stare at the leg when I walk by you in the halls. I know you're going to, and it doesn't bother me. Been used to it for about a year now. Check out the hand, they're a matching set. I don't need your help going up the stairs or opening a door.

Everyone tells me I'm going to like it here, and I'm going to make a lot of new friends. That would be odd, seeing as I'm not certain that I had any old friends, and I'm not sure I'd miss them if I had any. So if I don't run over to shake hands like we're best buddies when you walk into a room, it's not your fault. Unless it is.

This system's set up to buzz me with an email when someone replies to these entries. How quaint. Well, I suppose if this is what passes for communication, it shouldn't be too hard.

EDIT: Yes, Kyle. I've already met you. I can hear you typing like a woodpecker from here.

Comments

[x-snowflake.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, where exactly was I supposed to learn the properties of oatmeal? Is there a class I'm supposed to take? "Things people will do to you because they consider it a legitimate way of expressing their feelings"? Perhaps I've just missed the unit on oatmeal in my science classes?

I'm considering the shoe situation. I'll let you know. At the moment, I'm too busy being someone who has obviously done no work in her entire life to really care that much.

This is my cold fury voice...

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't think you understand. You took my riding boots. My riding boots. No one, ever, touches my riding boots. Take whatever the hell you want, little girl, call it your "revenge" but if my boots are not back by the time I go out for my ride in the morning? Well now.

Have I made myself perfectly clear?

Re: This is my cold fury voice...

[x-snowflake.livejournal.com]

I think you've probably just neglected to check behind the boxes in your closet. Have you?

Did you actually think I'd taken your shoes to Madagascar? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it's not worth my effort.

I may have a broken arm, but I could still kick your arse in about a hundred different ways without breaking a sweat. Is that clear enough for you?

Re: This is my cold fury voice...

[x-crowdofone.livejournal.com]

Oh good, we've gotten to the blustering threats portion of the argument, that usually means either it's almost over or somebody's getting put in the medlab.

Or back in the medlab, in some people's cases.

Can both of you decide in the privacy of your own heads that you are each, in fact, the bigger person, and have no time for silly arguments with that petty blonde bitch when there are things on TV?

Re: This is my cold fury voice...

[x-foliate.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I have been place put in.

The boots are from home. I've had them for five years. They were from my family. They were a gift from when my father wasn't dead. I am sorry for being overprotective of a pair of ratty old boots. My apologies.

There will be a new pair of shoes by Illyana's door by this evening. I had them rushed. Less soggy, I hope.

There will be no more oatmeal. My hypocritical ways have been shown; how can I get angry over people screaming at each other for weeks on end when I cling to a pair of boots from a dead man?

Re: This is my cold fury voice...

[x-jubilee.livejournal.com]

You know, for some reason I just read this subject like as 'furry' voice and wondered where you'd picked up the furr.