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x_makerSo 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.
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.
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Re: This is my cold fury voice...
Date: 2004-10-30 02:11 pm (UTC)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?