And The Pilot Dies

The bell rang all too soon for Les. She was happy. Her friends didn’t murder her. Dick didn’t even flinch. She couldn’t help but laugh every time she thought of Donald’s commentary. She hung back talking to her friends, and yes she could really call them her friends now, while Dick had slinked off to Latin. She slid through the door just as the bell was ringing. The teacher didn’t even look up from his screen to register that Les had just slid through the doorway and scampered to her seat by the window.

                Dick sat stoically next to her. She looked up at his face for signs of emotion before turning to her book, empty-handed. “You seem awfully stoic,” she remarked dryly as she turned pages.

                Dick seemed to be busy taking notes, for the first time in his life. He had a sheet of paper that he was frantically scribbling words on in blue ink. “We didn’t have homework last night, did we?” Les asked worriedly as she leaned over to look at his paper.

                “No,” Dick shrugged her off his arm that she was leaning on. He slid the paper under his notebook and returned to looking stoic.

                At the end of class, Les and Dick stood up together. She looked way up at him to ask him to move out of her way, but he looked as though he had something to say. “Hold on,” she said to him as she put a hand inside his elbow to support herself as she climbed onto a chair. She measured herself against him and said, “Continue.”

                Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He started to give it to Les when Mr. Bowserman noticed Les’s unusual height. “Miss Williams, what do you think you’re doing?”

                “Well if you haven’t noticed, sir, I’m a bit too short to talk to the Big Dick over here.”

                “Get off of there and go to class.”

                Les reluctantly dropped to the floor and Dick had pulled the piece of paper behind his back. As they left with their classmates Leslie tried to deduce the contents of the note. “What is that?”

                “It’s nothing.”

                “No. If it was nothing then you wouldn’t be hiding it from me.”

                “I’m not hiding anything.”

                “Then why don’t you give me the note?”

                “Who said it was a note?”
                “Who said it wasn’t?”

                “Well there is nothing now.” Dick took the paper and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it in Mr. Bowserman’s trash can just as they had left through the doorway.

                “You don’t have to be so childish about it,” Les remarked as they pulled away from class.

                Dick stopped in the hallway before Les noticed, but she quickly turned around and came back to him. He looked down at her and merely asked, “Do you have practice today?”

                “Yes, I usually do.”

                “Okay, well I’ll see you then.”

                Les walked out to the parking lot to not find Dick waiting for her. That wasn’t much of a surprise, but she wondered if he would come at all. She leaned against his little Mazda and waited for him.

                Dick appeared moments later and Les waved to him from her place. He waved as he approached the cars and stood awkwardly in front of her. After a few moments he merely said, “I guess that’s what you meant by ‘not my type.’”

                Les was downtrodden, but then she looked up at him trying and failing to conceal a grin. “Yeah, you’re a bit too tall for me,” she said, concealing her knowledge of the joke.

                “What? No I meant—“

                “You worked on that one all day, didn’t you?” she asked as she laughed at his poorly constructed joke, though she had to appreciate his memory. She went to punch him in the arm, when he hit her first in his friendliest way. She gave off an overdramatic look of shock before hugging him tightly around the waist.

                Dick gasped for breath, “You can let go anytime now.”

Magic

Fifteen years ago today, something magical happened. The first book in the Harry Potter series was published. The childhood of my generation was presented in a story that will last for years to come. I want to thank J.K. Rowling, and if I ever meet her I have a lot of questions I would like to ask if I don't burst into tears worshiping the ground upon which she stands. This brilliant woman gave me a childhood, helped me to believe in magic for the rest of my life, and taught me to not have boundaries on my imagination.
Yeah, I'm a huge Potterhead.
J.K. Rowling is a Goddess in her own right, just like everyone else with an imagination. She created a world with people and love and hate and magic and laws that so many people got lost in and became the home of one emotionally homeless girl that waited until midnight at bookstores and cinemas for one more view of home.
Words cannot express how much each of the characters meant to me. I desperately re-read about Sirius's death, hoping for a bit of confusion on my part. I cried out when Cedric was murdered. I cursed at Rowling when Hedwig was killed. My eyes welled at the engraving on Dobby's headstone: "Here lies Dobby, a free elf." I openly cried when Fred died with the ghost of his last laugh etched on his face. Most of all, I sobbed at Snape's memories of him and Lily, and still do.
On a completely related note: I chose today, completely at random to watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, and to re-read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's [Philosopher's] Stone. I didn't realize until a little before midnight here that it was the anniversary of what might be the most important day of my life so far.
Thank you J.K. Rowling, for giving me Harry to believe in, Hermione to teach me, Ron to cheer on, Neville to surprise me, Dobby to cry for, Fred and George to laugh with, Draco to pity, Snape to utterly confuse me, Luna to fall in love with, Dumbledore to trust, Ginny to inspire me, Hagrid to love forever, Seamus to remember, dragons and Thestrals for my dreams to fly on, Quidditch to play, Hogwarts to dream about, and most of all yourself for giving me a magical childhood that will never end.

Coming Out

Lunch came around on one of these days. Les arrived later than usual, but her usual seat was still waiting for her. Dick was unsuspectingly eating his lunch when she appeared beside him, startling him slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. He was gladder to see her.

                “Look who decided to show up,” David announced.

                Les glared at him as she pulled out a notebook. She opened to her Latin Vocabulary, but Dick moved his textbook over her page. She moved it aside, but he placed it right back on top. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

                “You don’t need to study. Give it a break.”

                “Maybe I do, and you’re going to be the cause of my failure in life.”

                “I don’t think that one quiz will kill you.”               

                “Oh really? I have a pretty impressive combo streak going. You want to break it?”

                “And there’s why you don’t have to study. Now give me that.” He reached for her notebook, but she pulled it out of his way. She moved it as far away from him as possible and turned her back to him to study in peace.

                “Oh come on, don’t be like that.”

                “I think I know why you don’t want me to study. You didn’t at all.”

                “That is not true!”

                “Do you want my notes?”

                Dick paused for a moment, as if uncertain of what to make of her offer. After a moment he reluctantly answered, “Yes.”

                She handed him her notes and pulled out a different notebook. “Oh, come on!” Dick announced as she turned to a fresh page for Italian.

                “You can’t judge me!” was all she said, and all she usually said on such things.

                Dick sighed in exasperation and returned to his borrowed notebook. Dick and Les returned to their individual studies while lunch wore on, but all the while Les was thinking. I’ve got a secret. Every once in a while a second voice would pop up. “Why are you keeping it?”

                This is a bit much to think about.

                “Why are you bothering to think about it?”

                I don’t want them to know. That’s kind of the point of a secret.

                “Who is ‘them’? Why can’t they know? What’s wrong with you?”

                What’s wrong with me is that I am. Why can’t you leave me alone?

                “Maybe I don’t want to leave you alone. Maybe I can’t until you feel better.”

                No, actually what is wrong with me is that I’m talking to you.

                “Ooh, harsh. But come on. Why don’t you tell them your dirty little secret?”

                “I like girls.”

                Only one head turned at this announcement. Wouldn’t you know it had to be David. He smirked and looked at Les with an eyebrow cocked. “What was that? I don’t think we heard you.”

                “I don’t need them to hear me. I said it; that was enough.” Wasn’t it?

                “Hey guys! Leslie wants to share something.”

                All the people at the table turned expectantly towards Les. David tried to coax her to repeat herself. Dick looked on in confusion.

                After a slight hesitation on Les’s behalf, she piped up once more: “I like girls. Okay?”

                There was something of a variety in their response. David leered still. Dick looked on in utter confusion. Jessica was the first to speak, “oh? Since when?”

                Catherine looked on in disgust, “Oh dear Jesus. Why would you do such a thing?”

                Renée and Donald were the only ones who didn’t seem to hear, but after the questioning and the impaling died down, Donald looked in confusion and asked, “You mean you weren't out of the closet?”

                Les couldn’t think of what else to do at this moment, but merely smiled at Donald’s remark. Dick sat stunned into silence and remained there after the bell had rung for lunch to end. He was the last one in the cafeteria when the security guard had to coax him into moving on to class.

This Is Hard and I Am Lazy

I really don't like this anymore. What started out as a simple little 5 minute thing in my head has turned into 10 pages of who-fucking-knows-what-I'll-tell-you-who-bullfrog-god-that's-who. I mean what happened? Why is this taking so long? So I may just end it the idea soon. Details can be filled in. Things can be adjusted and edited. Or new things can just pop up like deleted scenes!
Yeah, I'm a little bit not myself at the moment. My painkillers, since I'm allergic to painkillers, have an effect on my brain. I'm not thinking straight, well I never really think straight *pause for expected lol'ing* but you know what I mean. I'm crazy...er than usual.
But Leslie might just decide to end it, since neither she nor Richard has talked to me in a while. I'm getting the silent treatment from them. It's like I'm God for creating them, and I'm too lazy to watch them every second of every day, and they've disappeared on me. Okay, that sounds more like bad parenting than godly powers, but you get it. I created them (yes they are fiction for that one person who asked me if this is based on my life). This is my world. A world that only exists inside my head.
Writers are gods. We create our own universe with things in it. We basically create life inside our imagination. We are Isolus (in a way). I'm not saying that we branched off from God and live as the billions and billions of siblings travelling the galaxy together creating worlds to play in, though that does sound like fun. Where was I? Oh yes, I'm lazy.
So y'all (yes I use "y'all" since almost every language in the world has a 2nd person plural and most "civilized" English speakers refuse to accept it and make a proper one) can expect an end to "Big Dick, Little Dyke" soon. Well at least an end to this chapter of it. The whole thing might take a while. I'll just have to write something else to meet this goal and amuse the (what is it now 7?) readers who are actually interested in, or have nothing else to do but read my insane little stories.

Things I Learned from Disney Films:

• Never trust fat guys
• Harems are everywhere
• Never trust ugly people
• Facial hair=evil (except for dads)
• Accents=evil
• Always have an animal sidekick/servant
• There will always be bras for people to fall into
• All men wear boxers with hearts/polka dots
• A hood is enough cover to hide an identity
• The Bro Code applies to monkeys
• Don't trust people with bad teeth
• No one really dies
• Innocence comes with long lashes
• Only humans and sidekicks have names, everything else has titles
• Hypnosis is broken by ADD
• Drag Queens=Perfectly acceptable
• FEMINISM!
• Mispronouncing someone's name is the biggest offense
• Always beg
• You can tell the protagonist by how much of their face consists of their eyes
• Song lyrics
• You can hug clouds
• Blame disasters of magical things that make people fall in love so no one gets in trouble
• Always go overboard on rescues
• Guilt is enough to get people to confess
• People always mistreat their friends before they realize what is wrong
• Impersonations are always funny
• You have to be crazy to be evil
• No such thing as frost bite
• Villains wish for "love" from the gorgeous chick
• Look at shiny objects for the answers
• PUNS!
• Slavery is bad
• Everybody has an ugly shirt
• Disney memorabilia
• SPARKLY
• Shameless self-advertising

This might be similar to JennaMarbles video, but this is just me listing somethings while watching Aladdin.

Leslie's Escape

The next day, Les pulled up in her elderly vehicle. She parked in her usual spot, next to Dick’s car. He was leaning against the passenger door, waiting for her.  He dangled her iPod in front of her by the headphones. She went to grab it, but he raised his hand so it was out of her reach. She jumped, but his hand went higher. That was one of their games. Dick always picked on Les for her height, but it was only play until she climbed up something or him, or attacked him in some way. She got her iPod back.

                Les blazed through the day, waiting for something, anything to happen. Mostly she was waiting for the end. She self-consciously pulled her sleeves down further whenever someone passed her. When she and Dick were together for Lunch and Latin, she bunched her hands into fists and would not release the hems of her sleeves. She couldn’t let him see what she had done again. He didn’t understand; he would only worry.

                Of course he noticed, but he wouldn’t say anything. He would pretend that he didn’t see anything. He knew her signs, and she knew that. Nothing was said between them at lunch or Latin, and Les sped out of the classroom before Dick could rise to his full height out of the seat.

                Once she had made her way to French, Les claimed her seat in the back near the window. She always liked to sit near a window. They provided a means of escape, if she ever needed one. She never had the need, but she liked to think there was always a way out. She sometimes daydreamed about how she would make her daring escape if someone entered the building, she daydreamed about anything and everything, but sometimes she thought too much.

                The sun is bright today. It’s almost as if I can feel the power of the sun in its light. What else could have that power? Is love that powerful? What is love? How would I know what it is? How does anyone?  It really seems like everyone falls in love, but then they fall out of it. I thought it was supposed to last forever. Maybe it doesn’t; maybe I’m just crazy. What’s that over there? Oh, someone just dropped their book. What about Dick? I don’t love him, right? I can’t. He’s my best friend. No, he’s more than that. He’s like a brother, but he’s not. He’s me. Could I love him? I do, but I don’t. He is me, and I don’t even know who I am. I don’t love myself, that’s for sure.

                “Pardon?” a voice pulled Les out of her mental wanderings. A sentence was written on the board, and the teacher stood at the front of the room looking impatiently.

                “Um… La biblioteca dispone di quel libro nella parte posteriore.”

                “That’s probably impressive Spanish Leslie, but this is French class.”

                “Excusez-moi, madame, mais je parlais italien.”

                “Don’t be so smart. I know you’re taking all those classes, but that does not give you an excuse to not pay attention in my class.”

                “I was merely confused. I was distracted.”

                “Are you confused about where the door is?”

                “No, it’s right over there. Why?”

                “Because you are going through to the door, and to the office.”

                “What did I do?”

                “I’ve had enough with your attitude. Leave now?”
                “What did I fucking do?”

                “Just leave.”

                “Merde!” Leslie rose out of her seat, and started to gather her things.

                “Get up now and get out of my class.”

                “I AM STANDING UP!” With that remark, Les, stormed out of the class.

                Going down the hallways, Les made her way in the direction of the principal’s office. At the last minute, Les turned around and strutted toward the math hall. She stopped in front of Mr. Quasar’s class. She looked in the open window in the door. She spotted Dick, and, without hesitation, called out, “Hey, Big Dick!” Not surprisingly, everyone turned around. She shot Dick a smile and hand-heart, before bolting out the faculty exit at the end of the hall.

Reasons I Love Shane (L Word)

Shane McCutchceon is a fictional character on The L Word, which to put in simple terms is a lesbian sex show. It is more than that, but that is the easiest way to say it, because the show itself is sex with the viewers. Watching each episode makes you realize things about yourself that you never realized, makes things happen inside you without you realizing it until it's too late. This show leaves the viewer fucked, high and dry. Few people can watch it without connecting to something. For me, it's Dana, but this is about Shane, the crazy mother-fucker who...well here's a list.

• Unconditional love for her friends
• Has anyone's back
• Gay, but doesn't need to be proud because the world fucking loves her
• Can sit there doing nothing, but still looks fucking endearing
• Doesn't try, but succeeds in making EVERYONE fall in love with her
• Makes all of her friends look beautiful
• A philosopher that anyone can understand
• Is the only person who can pull off driving a truck
• Will listen to anyone's problems without judgement
• Completely bad ass
• She will not stand for anyone fucking up their life, even if she doesn't always take her own advice
• Genuinely cares about people
• Can be the most entertaining person only by placing glow-stick jewelry while seeming to be daydreaming, but actually listening to everything that is being said to her and processing it like a genius
• Loves people forever
• I need a life because the most perfect person in my opinion exists only in a television show that was ended in 2009
• Always looks amazing
• The only honest person in the world
• I wish I was more like her (not the extreme drug thing, but the confidence things along with others)
• Seems to understand everything
• Tries to make people understand others
• Extremely cool no matter what
• Tells the most adorable stories
• Does whatever she can to help

Yeah, I'm in love with a fictional character. Well not really. I just really love Shane, and The L Word, and everything about it even though it is nothing but drama. I guess fictional drama is livable because I only have to deal with it inside my head where it doesn't survive for long/consecutive periods of time. So this is just too much to deal with for a long time. You can probably tell that my list got a little bit...meh...halfway through. I can't remember what I was talking about, and the title is just distracting me. Oh androgyny.

Fairy Tale (With No Fairies...That I Originally Planned To, But Who Knows With My Brain)

To start off: When I trip on my heels, this is what I see: the lamp is spinning and it's staring at me. I got a CAT Scan of my head and I ain't afraid to show, it show, it show it, show it. I'm crazy and I know it.
Okay, enough of that crap.

Once upon a time there was a kingdom. This kingdom was ruled by a family: a king, a queen, and two princesses. The king and queen reigned for years, but when the eldest princess came of age, their power faded.  As the two princesses vied for power, the eldest reigned supreme.
The older princess ruled the kingdom with no cares about how she was viewed. She tried her best to be fair, but her punishments were swift. She was studious and strong. She worked hard for herself, trying not to rely on others.
The younger princess was shallow. She went to the public events. She was always dressed in the finest of gowns when in the eyes of the citizens. Her many servants feared her temper, which was always short and ended in fits of violence, but no one ever dared lay a hand on one of the royalty.
The older princess knew she was lacking in knowledge and skill to rule the country as well as she could. So she traveled far and wide to all the neighboring countries and as many distant countries as she could, to learn about others, and spread welcome from her kingdom. She traveled for over a year, and while she was gone, the younger princess reigned over in a year of terror.
When the older princess returned, peace had been made with the kingdoms of far and near, all except for hers. The kingdom was in shambles. The younger princess refused the older princess access to the castle, and when the older princess broke in at night, she ordered her to be exiled from the kingdom. The older princess snuck over the border, and gathered a group of followers. These followers scaled the palace walls and stole the crown and the rest of the belongings of the older princess.
The next morning, a caravan of wagons was circled in front of the palace. The older princess stood in the middle and called forth all who would follow her. One hundred and twelve people pledged their loyalty to her in hopes of peace and order. The younger princess was awoken just before noon by a chambermaid who warned her of the gathering. After a fit of temper at being awoken too early, she realized that only her sister could have caused a gathering such as the one outside her window. The younger princess rushed down the stairs and out the door, screaming for guards all the way. As she emerged from the palace doors the older princess had flipped up the hood of her cloak, climbed aboard a wagon, and rode off toward the border. The younger princess ordered the guards to follow them, and they did, until they reached the border. The older princess escaped to build her own kingdom, and hopefully to one day unite all the other kingdoms in peace, or at least to overthrow the younger princess. But for now, the older princess had to reign over her newly claimed kingdom.
She and her followers named in Queensland, for the newly crowned queen of the older princess.

Be Prepared!

Yeah, I think I'm just about the best procrastinator in the world, but this time I had (sort of) an excuse. You know with the whole, graduating from high school (officially) thing. Yeah that's not a very good excuse to not write about Leslie and Richard. Maybe this will redeem me: I have been interacting with humans! Mostly just my friends, but some of them are the people I'm forced to interact with because of a stupid thing called "alphabetical order." I don't mind order, I just don't like the people I'm forced to be around from my school. BUT I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THAT ANYMORE! So like I said, I've been around people. Actually the majority of people I was with (by number of people, not amount of time with each person) were my inspiration for Richard. I've been subconsciously observing them. Richard (yeah the name, and the fact that he's really tall and athletic and his nickname "Big Dick"), David (there is not a single drop of fiction in that character, he is real), Mark (the guy with hair), Braxton (the rich bastard), and Matt (the sweet one who will be the last to know). Yeah, they all get credit for inspiring the character of Dick.
So yeah. I'm going to write you guys a story! I won't give up on my deadline, I just have to actually research for the rest of "Big Dick, Little Dyke" and I am just way too lazy to do it right now. I'll write you guys a bit of a fairy tale (honestly I'm thinking of Moriarty right now and Sir Boastalot). Anywhich, I won't be writing it until after my CT scan today. Want to know about that? I'm sure you don't, but I'm going to write about it anyway. I'm getting a CT scan (or CAT scan, I don't know the difference, but they said both so I'm just confuzzled) of my skull today to see if I've grown enough bone from my bone grafting in December to do the second surgery. Surgery on what? My skull of course. Well my jaw-ish area. I'm missing two teeth (my upper lateral incisors), but they just never grew in so my dentist pulled my baby-teeth when I was 10 and said I could deal with it with when I was 18. Well I've been 18 for a while, and apparently I didn't have enough bone for the TITANIUM ROOT THEY HAVE TO SCREW INTO MY SKULL, so they had to do a bone grafting. So to recap, I had to get a portion of my skull separated, then a growth stimulant was stuck in there, 6 months later I get to have them DRILL INTO THE BONE I SPENT ALL THAT TIME GROWING, and then 4-6 months after that I get a tooth slapped on there. I didn't even include the heavy pain medications they have to put me on for that. Wow this is going on forever. Little information about me: I'm allergic to pain killers, well Acetaminophen actually, but I have a low tolerance for Ibuprofen, and I have to take arthritis medicine for pain, but for things like sugery...I get narcotics! Yeah, this shit will be fun to read when I'm recuperating.
Anywhich, expect some kind of heart-something fairy tale after I get my CT scan. It might be a little crazy, any kind of scan of my skull seems to affect my brain. I can't walk a straight line after X-Rays, not since my orthodontist apparently used me to learn how her new X-Ray machine worked.
RAWR! I NEED TO STOP RANTING ON AND ON!
But readers, I would like to leave you with one thing: Don't you forget about me!

I'M SO PROUD OF MY BEST FRIEND!!!

My best friend-no-my Best Est Ever Friend (my BEEF) has started watching Sherlock. Now, if you don't know what that is...I'm sorry, but I'm going to fangirl out over here.
Sherlock is this Ah-freaking-mazing British television show staring Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch (insert high-pitched squealing from everyone on the planet at his beauty). This is a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous works. Sherlock is gay. John served in Afghanistan. Sherlock does drugs, but occasionally uses nicotine patches when he needs to think. John writes a blog throughout the show about his adventures with Sherlock. Sherlock writes a blog to, filled with amazingly true things, such as you can tell a pilot by their left thumb, anti-social people blink considerably less than normal people, there are 243 different types of tobacco ash, and the list is endless and constantly referred to, but apparently it's too boring for most of the fictional internet, so Sherlock and John get most of their customers through John's blog. Microft Holmes is a successful politician. Now, there is a villain. JIM MORIARTY! An amazingly wonderful evil-doer, played by Andrew Scott, who stole the BAFTA for Best Supporting Actor from under the nose of Martin Freeman (John Watson).
Side story, since I don't want to give too much away, and if you don't need things to be given away and you are squealing while reading every word that is in some way related to Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Andrew Scott, or Sherlock, then you might just enjoy this. I know I freak out over it every time. I also don't want to talk more about it because I'm afraid of embarrassing myself because I have yet to finish watching series two.
My middle name is Murtagh. This is also my mother's last name. During her generation the name was shortened  from Mhuircheartaigh by the British. I'm not sure why, but my mother always says something about school and evil nuns not being able to pronounce her name. Anywhich it was pronounced two different ways. The Southerners pronounced it "Muh-Ker-Tea" while the Northerners pronounced it "Moriarty." That just made me fangirl out so much when I heard about it. So way way way back in the day, when the English had complete control and ownership of Ireland, some of my mother's ancestors moved to England, most of them from the north. Those that moved had to change their name to fit the pronunciation by the English-speakers. So those Northerner Mhuircheartiaghs became the Moriarty family. I HAVE  BEEN DRIVEN COMPLETELY MAD BY THAT PIECE OF KNOWLEDGE! I COULD BE RELATED TO SOMEONE WHO (depending on how long ago they moved over there, my source didn't tell me exact dates before she died, and I learned this story before Sherlock came out...haha...was released) MIGHT HAVE INSPIRED THE CHARACTER OF MORIARTY FOR SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE! THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE SUCH A BAMF!
But yes. I am really really really really (did I mention really?) really proud of my BEEF for finally watching Sherlock after I kept telling her about it's awesomeness and dragging her to the Sherlock photoshoot at Otakon, and getting into a battle with the Doctor (that is an entirely different fangirl-ism), and the amazing people I made her hang out with while we were at the photoshoot, though I will say that I left as they started to pull up the Johnlock. I mean it's cute, but Sherlock is married to his work. He doesn't have time for dating.