((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm.))
Note to self: Going to bed and sleeping for more than three hours is advised.
( Private )
Note to self: Going to bed and sleeping for more than three hours is advised.
( Private )
August 8th, 2008
August 3rd, 2008
August 2nd, 2008
August 1st, 2008
( Private )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm))
If everyone died right now and their souls were met on the other side, assuming there is one, and were asked if they'd really lived how many people would say "No"? How many people would believe it when they said "yes"? Why do people always wait for retrospect to realise what they should have done? Unanswerable, I suppose, but worth asking.
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm))
If everyone died right now and their souls were met on the other side, assuming there is one, and were asked if they'd really lived how many people would say "No"? How many people would believe it when they said "yes"? Why do people always wait for retrospect to realise what they should have done? Unanswerable, I suppose, but worth asking.
July 26th, 2008
( Private )
( Private to Charlie )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm.))
Points to Madoc for nearly giving mum a heart attack at dinner tonight. He brought a woman, which hasn't happened since before the war. A lot of women split so quickly it's not worth her meeting any of us only for us to break out the claws when she leaves for some ridiculous reason or another. I swear, Haul's the most broken up with man in England. Some days I'm truly convinced of it. They smile a lot together and that's pretty much good enough for me. Well, that and she passed my rigorous interrogation. Then she dealt with mum's immediately thereafter. Mum's interrogations aren't nearly as bad as mine, but she has this quietness and this probing look that makes people suspicious and paranoid. Angie came through without a scratch, I'm impressed. Almost as impressed as I am that Madoc kept her a secret for the past three months. My bet is on at least half of his mates having known about her since at least the third date. Though mum did do that thing where she grumbles half-heartedly about how there is no hope for future generations if at least one of us doesn't marry an academic. Poor mum, the last of the professional bookworms, what ever will she do? Hopefully it doesn't involve her threatening to play match maker between myself and a librarian or research assistant or what have you again. I remember the last time. It was somewhat traumatic.
I wonder sometimes if a person was asked if they could be anywhere they want with anyone they want where would they be and with whom what the odds are of them saying they'd want to be precisely where they are with the person they are with. This is assuming an impartial third party asked the question rather than the person the questioned party was with at the time. I don't imagine the odds of such an answer being given are very great, if they at existent at all. Everyone wants they don't have, right? Too bad when they get it they usually realise it wasn't what they wanted at all.
( Private to Charlie )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm.))
Points to Madoc for nearly giving mum a heart attack at dinner tonight. He brought a woman, which hasn't happened since before the war. A lot of women split so quickly it's not worth her meeting any of us only for us to break out the claws when she leaves for some ridiculous reason or another. I swear, Haul's the most broken up with man in England. Some days I'm truly convinced of it. They smile a lot together and that's pretty much good enough for me. Well, that and she passed my rigorous interrogation. Then she dealt with mum's immediately thereafter. Mum's interrogations aren't nearly as bad as mine, but she has this quietness and this probing look that makes people suspicious and paranoid. Angie came through without a scratch, I'm impressed. Almost as impressed as I am that Madoc kept her a secret for the past three months. My bet is on at least half of his mates having known about her since at least the third date. Though mum did do that thing where she grumbles half-heartedly about how there is no hope for future generations if at least one of us doesn't marry an academic. Poor mum, the last of the professional bookworms, what ever will she do? Hopefully it doesn't involve her threatening to play match maker between myself and a librarian or research assistant or what have you again. I remember the last time. It was somewhat traumatic.
I wonder sometimes if a person was asked if they could be anywhere they want with anyone they want where would they be and with whom what the odds are of them saying they'd want to be precisely where they are with the person they are with. This is assuming an impartial third party asked the question rather than the person the questioned party was with at the time. I don't imagine the odds of such an answer being given are very great, if they at existent at all. Everyone wants they don't have, right? Too bad when they get it they usually realise it wasn't what they wanted at all.
July 23rd, 2008
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm.))
Antiquated methods of deduction certify I'm sane. Imagine that. Surely there is a gross, and obvious, error in this judgement. A solid case could be made against the use of such measures based on my clear insanity, dementia and/or psychotic tendencies. I aspire to one day be a sociopath but I will simply never be charming enough for that. Terrible tragedy that is, isn't it? The world needs more sociopaths, if the world manages to differentiate between sociopathy and antisocial disorder ever again. The wonders of psychological simplification. The wide spread embracing of that is a bit worrying. Once a person is diagnosed with the incorrect mental illness it is quite a feat to be seen as having anything else. Muggles did an experiment once where people were given a list of symptoms to report having in order to have themselves checked into a mental institution or mental ward or what have you. Once inside they were to act like themselves. Simple, right? Well, they had to get themselves cleared for release by simply being sane. Many of them found it a rather difficult task.
Funny that I'm reminded of that now.
( Private to Pritch and Rabbit )
Antiquated methods of deduction certify I'm sane. Imagine that. Surely there is a gross, and obvious, error in this judgement. A solid case could be made against the use of such measures based on my clear insanity, dementia and/or psychotic tendencies. I aspire to one day be a sociopath but I will simply never be charming enough for that. Terrible tragedy that is, isn't it? The world needs more sociopaths, if the world manages to differentiate between sociopathy and antisocial disorder ever again. The wonders of psychological simplification. The wide spread embracing of that is a bit worrying. Once a person is diagnosed with the incorrect mental illness it is quite a feat to be seen as having anything else. Muggles did an experiment once where people were given a list of symptoms to report having in order to have themselves checked into a mental institution or mental ward or what have you. Once inside they were to act like themselves. Simple, right? Well, they had to get themselves cleared for release by simply being sane. Many of them found it a rather difficult task.
Funny that I'm reminded of that now.
( Private to Pritch and Rabbit )
July 20th, 2008
Lovely, I get more ink blots and the like tomorrow. There are only so many inkblots in the world people! Stop asking me to make images out of what equates to spilled ink.
July 19th, 2008
July 10th, 2008
( Private to Pritch )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm))
Three days and a handful of hours later I'm finally done with having my mind subjected to incessant prodding. Now I just wait. I actually don't want to think at this point. I'm so over the barrage of seemingly inane questions that come with psychological evaluations. No, that inkblot does not look like my father, it looks like a spot of ink on parchment. Oi. I want to sleep, but only for my mind. Maybe I'll go see my father. Animal skins do wonders for resetting one's equilibrium.
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm))
Three days and a handful of hours later I'm finally done with having my mind subjected to incessant prodding. Now I just wait. I actually don't want to think at this point. I'm so over the barrage of seemingly inane questions that come with psychological evaluations. No, that inkblot does not look like my father, it looks like a spot of ink on parchment. Oi. I want to sleep, but only for my mind. Maybe I'll go see my father. Animal skins do wonders for resetting one's equilibrium.
July 7th, 2008
My brain feels like it's been removed, mushed up a bit, shoved back in and liquefied. Lovely.
Thirty percent of all the grey wolves in Europe live in Romania. That is likely the reason for the prevalence of the werewolf myth in the region among muggles throughout history. Myths of werewolves are only present in the areas of the world that have wolves, other regions have myths about feared predators indigenous to the area (weretigers, werehyenas and the like). Romania has one of the highest concentrations of wolves in Europe, if not the actual highest. Between the population of the animal and the mythology about werewolves it's natural for the country to do research on the creatures.
People once considered lycanthropy a curse, something you could force onto an enemy. I suppose you could, if you could convince another werewolf to bite someone you hated. It is not a curse, though, it's a disease. Lycanthropy is a very interesting disease for anyone who has ever studied it. A very fascinating one, actually. Despite centuries of attempts, lycanthropy cannot be prevented. There is not any sort of vaccination one can take to ensure one survive a werewolf attack if the attack itself doesn't leave a person too injured to heal. There is no cure for lycanthropy. There is Wolfsbane potion, but that is as far as the control over the disease extends, even after centuries.
Lycanthropy is a killer, though not just of its victims. It kills every disease introduced to the system without fail. Fatal diseases there are no cures for among muggles or wizards have vanished after a werewolf attack. The person, unfortunately, is left as a werewolf, but they are without any and all other diseases in their system. Nothing can survive when confronted with the disease, which is as predatory as the animal it changes people into it seems. With the exception of the lycanthropy itself, lycanthropes have an extraordinary immune system. They suffer fatigue and exhaustion, but never illness. Much of that is from an improper diet, honestly. If they ate as they ought to they wouldn't have as many problems with energy exertion as they do. There is a reason lycanthropes don't go to Healers because they've gotten the flu, have a head cold or have contracted a sexually transmitted infection, such a thing is biologically impossible.
It's very hard in Romania telling the difference between a wolf attack and a werewolf attack during the moon. As a Healer in the area you study them extensively to learn the nuances of the creatures. That may be why the healthiest werewolves I've ever come across were in that country. Granted, the ravages of lycanthropy are present, but it's not nearly as bad as it is in the werewolves you see here in Britain. There are legends among the wizards in Romania of werewolves who ruled the country, healthy and in control of themselves. If such a creature existed, Merlin, it would be exterminated because of the threat such a thing could pose. Faster. Stronger. Hard to kill. Healthier. Immune to disease. Then again, this is why such creatures are only legend. A hope, I'd think, for children afflicted with lycanthropy. A bedtime story for them. Aye, and for the humans it is as well. Though lycanthropes are not shunned as badly there as they are here. Perhaps these legends are part of the reason why.
Given that, I would be very interested to see hard proof and data that there is a disease killing lycanthropes, even if it is a mutation of a disease. I wouldn't be surprised if they could contradict this new strain of Dragon Pox on a temporary basis or to a very mild degree, but ultimately lycanthropy has destroyed anything else ever introduced to the system. That is part of the reason why you cannot cure it, nor prevent it. I suspect it isn't half as dangerous to lycanthropes as it is to humans, if even that much. I think I'll contact people, to see if there is proof of the claim that this dragon pox strain is actually killing werewolves. If such a thing was true then one could use the disease to cure a person's lycanthropy. Once a cure for the new strain of dragon pox was developed you could effectively introduce the new strain of the disease into the system of the lycanthrope, wait for it to kill the lycanthropy and then cure the person of dragon pox. They'd be left human and healthy. After centuries upon centuries of trying to no avail you could suddenly eradicate the problem of lycanthropy.
It seems awfully easy, to me, and as such is not very likely at all. Any disease that survives for that long becomes too strong to die so easily. It would have developed the immunity to the standard strains of dragon pox ages ago. Evolution is still very much in effect where lycanthropy is concerned. Weak strains of it die off, killed by other diseases or killing the person it infects before they can infect others. The lycanthropy present in werewolves currently has gone through so much evolution that it is one of the oldest diseases we know of. It has survived plagues time and time again because it can mutate.
Much in the way the muggle AIDS virus mutates and renders treatments ineffective over time as it develops immunity lycanthropy mutates and destroys other threats to its dominance in a person's system. In order for dragon pox to kill a lycanthrope it would have to do so swiftly enough for the lycanthropy to not have a chance to account for the new threat, to be rendered useless in fighting it. This strain of dragon pox would have to be vastly different from the standard strains if it is killing that quickly. I suppose it could lend itself to an interesting research project, testing to see how fast lycanthropy could mutate to exterminate a new threat to the system. Aye, but as it's a mutation of a long standing disease it's not exactly a completely new threat either.
The likelihood of the new dragon pox strain killing them is so small it's laughable. Aye, but I'll inquire with those who know the disease best. Even if only satisfy my own curiosity. Curious, though, that a vaccine has already been developed to a brand new strain of the disease. That doesn't seem suspicious, not at all.
People once considered lycanthropy a curse, something you could force onto an enemy. I suppose you could, if you could convince another werewolf to bite someone you hated. It is not a curse, though, it's a disease. Lycanthropy is a very interesting disease for anyone who has ever studied it. A very fascinating one, actually. Despite centuries of attempts, lycanthropy cannot be prevented. There is not any sort of vaccination one can take to ensure one survive a werewolf attack if the attack itself doesn't leave a person too injured to heal. There is no cure for lycanthropy. There is Wolfsbane potion, but that is as far as the control over the disease extends, even after centuries.
Lycanthropy is a killer, though not just of its victims. It kills every disease introduced to the system without fail. Fatal diseases there are no cures for among muggles or wizards have vanished after a werewolf attack. The person, unfortunately, is left as a werewolf, but they are without any and all other diseases in their system. Nothing can survive when confronted with the disease, which is as predatory as the animal it changes people into it seems. With the exception of the lycanthropy itself, lycanthropes have an extraordinary immune system. They suffer fatigue and exhaustion, but never illness. Much of that is from an improper diet, honestly. If they ate as they ought to they wouldn't have as many problems with energy exertion as they do. There is a reason lycanthropes don't go to Healers because they've gotten the flu, have a head cold or have contracted a sexually transmitted infection, such a thing is biologically impossible.
It's very hard in Romania telling the difference between a wolf attack and a werewolf attack during the moon. As a Healer in the area you study them extensively to learn the nuances of the creatures. That may be why the healthiest werewolves I've ever come across were in that country. Granted, the ravages of lycanthropy are present, but it's not nearly as bad as it is in the werewolves you see here in Britain. There are legends among the wizards in Romania of werewolves who ruled the country, healthy and in control of themselves. If such a creature existed, Merlin, it would be exterminated because of the threat such a thing could pose. Faster. Stronger. Hard to kill. Healthier. Immune to disease. Then again, this is why such creatures are only legend. A hope, I'd think, for children afflicted with lycanthropy. A bedtime story for them. Aye, and for the humans it is as well. Though lycanthropes are not shunned as badly there as they are here. Perhaps these legends are part of the reason why.
Given that, I would be very interested to see hard proof and data that there is a disease killing lycanthropes, even if it is a mutation of a disease. I wouldn't be surprised if they could contradict this new strain of Dragon Pox on a temporary basis or to a very mild degree, but ultimately lycanthropy has destroyed anything else ever introduced to the system. That is part of the reason why you cannot cure it, nor prevent it. I suspect it isn't half as dangerous to lycanthropes as it is to humans, if even that much. I think I'll contact people, to see if there is proof of the claim that this dragon pox strain is actually killing werewolves. If such a thing was true then one could use the disease to cure a person's lycanthropy. Once a cure for the new strain of dragon pox was developed you could effectively introduce the new strain of the disease into the system of the lycanthrope, wait for it to kill the lycanthropy and then cure the person of dragon pox. They'd be left human and healthy. After centuries upon centuries of trying to no avail you could suddenly eradicate the problem of lycanthropy.
It seems awfully easy, to me, and as such is not very likely at all. Any disease that survives for that long becomes too strong to die so easily. It would have developed the immunity to the standard strains of dragon pox ages ago. Evolution is still very much in effect where lycanthropy is concerned. Weak strains of it die off, killed by other diseases or killing the person it infects before they can infect others. The lycanthropy present in werewolves currently has gone through so much evolution that it is one of the oldest diseases we know of. It has survived plagues time and time again because it can mutate.
Much in the way the muggle AIDS virus mutates and renders treatments ineffective over time as it develops immunity lycanthropy mutates and destroys other threats to its dominance in a person's system. In order for dragon pox to kill a lycanthrope it would have to do so swiftly enough for the lycanthropy to not have a chance to account for the new threat, to be rendered useless in fighting it. This strain of dragon pox would have to be vastly different from the standard strains if it is killing that quickly. I suppose it could lend itself to an interesting research project, testing to see how fast lycanthropy could mutate to exterminate a new threat to the system. Aye, but as it's a mutation of a long standing disease it's not exactly a completely new threat either.
The likelihood of the new dragon pox strain killing them is so small it's laughable. Aye, but I'll inquire with those who know the disease best. Even if only satisfy my own curiosity. Curious, though, that a vaccine has already been developed to a brand new strain of the disease. That doesn't seem suspicious, not at all.
July 5th, 2008
July 4th, 2008
( Private to Rabbit and Pritch )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm.))
Can't a woman turn down an offer of a job without being bothered over it again? Maybe Mysteries thinks I've got some deeply hidden knowledge that Regulation's keeping from them that I may share once I am one of them. I really hate to burst the bubble, but Regulation doesn't keep secrets like Mysteries does and if they do they were always kept well away from me.
( Private )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm.))
Can't a woman turn down an offer of a job without being bothered over it again? Maybe Mysteries thinks I've got some deeply hidden knowledge that Regulation's keeping from them that I may share once I am one of them. I really hate to burst the bubble, but Regulation doesn't keep secrets like Mysteries does and if they do they were always kept well away from me.
( Private )
July 3rd, 2008
( Private )
( Private to Rabbit )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm.))
I find it interesting that when a person speaks of belief or of faith we most often associate it with religion. We rarely associate it with people. With humanity. With nature. With the earth. With the universe. I wonder if it's because people have lost faith in those things. Is it because they no longer believe in them? I remember being a first year at Hogwarts and pulling a stupid prank with Madoc which was meant to terrify everyone nearby. It worked and it involved me allowing myself to fall off the astronomy tower. There are those trust exercises people do where a person puts their arms out to the side and they have to fall back, they have to trust the person behind them will catch them. That's what I did. I stood on that tower, I stretched my arms out to either side and I just fell. I didn't question it, I just did it. I never screamed. I never worried. I soared. And Madoc caught me. I believed he would. I always have had unwavering faith in my brother to keep me safe. To protect me. To not let anything truly hurt me. When people found out it was a prank, that it was planned all they could ask was how I could do that. My answer was simple. "I believe in him." I never understood at the time why I received so many utterly confused expressions. I'd already somehow developed the reputation as the strange girl with her nose in books who liked the insides of dead things. I made my only friends the first month or two of my first year, everyone else thought I was bizarre. That prank made me more bizarre. I believe a fair few thought I was genuinely suicidal as well.
In seven years I never made any other friends. Is that strange? Every friend I had there, genuine friend not simply an acquaintance, I made within the first eight weeks of attending. Those were the only people who were ever aware of how much mischief I caused. I'm sure no one else would have dreamt me capable of it. I suppose they all thought my head was too lost in the clouds, or in itself, to ever bother with anything else. I used to wander into the Forbidden Forest. I liked the trees there. Even Hagrid gave me funny looks when that was the explanation I'd given him. He'd thought I'd gotten lost but I knew exactly where I was. I had faith in myself to find my way out. I had faith in the trees to keep me safe.
I wonder how many people truly have faith in other people? I wonder how many can honestly and truly say they believe in someone? Or even in themselves? I realised in my writing, in my musing, in my figuring of things out recently that I believed in someone. Someone, perhaps, I've no right to believe in. Aye, but belief is about faith, not about having proof. It's risk and if you don't take it you never develop that belief. Believing in a person is difficult. After all, they may fail you. You need to jump off the edge of the cliff, barrel into nothingness and you need to trust they will catch you. And if they don't you have to trust they will be there to take care of you. Sometimes they will fail. Everyone fails, it's human nature. And if your faith is so easily lost then you'll never have faith in anything. I've learnt that from other people. Though, how cold the world must be to walk it alone. Aye, perhaps we're all alone in a way. But to have no hand to hold? To have no arms to hold you? To have no one to catch you? That must be so lonely. I wonder when that happened. When did people stop believing in one another? When did they lose faith? Does it happen collectively or does it happen in a person's life? Are people failed so greatly by someone that they lose all faith in everyone?
I don't have faith in all people. I don't believe in all people. I don't, honestly, really even like most people. But I can say I believe in someone, that I've faith in them. I can honestly say Madoc has never in my life let me down. Aye, he's failed, but he's never left. He's never done anything to lose my faith in him, my endless belief in him. Perhaps this new person will. But though they've given me no reason at all to believe in them, I do. And it feels right to do so. I think I'd rather believe in them. I'd rather be odd and strange if it means I'm able to do that.
( Private to Rabbit )
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated into English via charm.))
I find it interesting that when a person speaks of belief or of faith we most often associate it with religion. We rarely associate it with people. With humanity. With nature. With the earth. With the universe. I wonder if it's because people have lost faith in those things. Is it because they no longer believe in them? I remember being a first year at Hogwarts and pulling a stupid prank with Madoc which was meant to terrify everyone nearby. It worked and it involved me allowing myself to fall off the astronomy tower. There are those trust exercises people do where a person puts their arms out to the side and they have to fall back, they have to trust the person behind them will catch them. That's what I did. I stood on that tower, I stretched my arms out to either side and I just fell. I didn't question it, I just did it. I never screamed. I never worried. I soared. And Madoc caught me. I believed he would. I always have had unwavering faith in my brother to keep me safe. To protect me. To not let anything truly hurt me. When people found out it was a prank, that it was planned all they could ask was how I could do that. My answer was simple. "I believe in him." I never understood at the time why I received so many utterly confused expressions. I'd already somehow developed the reputation as the strange girl with her nose in books who liked the insides of dead things. I made my only friends the first month or two of my first year, everyone else thought I was bizarre. That prank made me more bizarre. I believe a fair few thought I was genuinely suicidal as well.
In seven years I never made any other friends. Is that strange? Every friend I had there, genuine friend not simply an acquaintance, I made within the first eight weeks of attending. Those were the only people who were ever aware of how much mischief I caused. I'm sure no one else would have dreamt me capable of it. I suppose they all thought my head was too lost in the clouds, or in itself, to ever bother with anything else. I used to wander into the Forbidden Forest. I liked the trees there. Even Hagrid gave me funny looks when that was the explanation I'd given him. He'd thought I'd gotten lost but I knew exactly where I was. I had faith in myself to find my way out. I had faith in the trees to keep me safe.
I wonder how many people truly have faith in other people? I wonder how many can honestly and truly say they believe in someone? Or even in themselves? I realised in my writing, in my musing, in my figuring of things out recently that I believed in someone. Someone, perhaps, I've no right to believe in. Aye, but belief is about faith, not about having proof. It's risk and if you don't take it you never develop that belief. Believing in a person is difficult. After all, they may fail you. You need to jump off the edge of the cliff, barrel into nothingness and you need to trust they will catch you. And if they don't you have to trust they will be there to take care of you. Sometimes they will fail. Everyone fails, it's human nature. And if your faith is so easily lost then you'll never have faith in anything. I've learnt that from other people. Though, how cold the world must be to walk it alone. Aye, perhaps we're all alone in a way. But to have no hand to hold? To have no arms to hold you? To have no one to catch you? That must be so lonely. I wonder when that happened. When did people stop believing in one another? When did they lose faith? Does it happen collectively or does it happen in a person's life? Are people failed so greatly by someone that they lose all faith in everyone?
I don't have faith in all people. I don't believe in all people. I don't, honestly, really even like most people. But I can say I believe in someone, that I've faith in them. I can honestly say Madoc has never in my life let me down. Aye, he's failed, but he's never left. He's never done anything to lose my faith in him, my endless belief in him. Perhaps this new person will. But though they've given me no reason at all to believe in them, I do. And it feels right to do so. I think I'd rather believe in them. I'd rather be odd and strange if it means I'm able to do that.
July 2nd, 2008
((Written in Welsh. Easily translated to English via charm.))
It seems peculiar that letters would just go missing. All written from one person to another at various points in time and even with different destinations. Yet none of them showed up. There's no reason to think him a liar, I know this, but the coincidence is too great to accept. The truth would have to stretch too far to cover this. Plausibility works just as much in reverse. It's just as unlikely if he sent them that receipt never occurred. He could just as easily believe it a lie they never arrived. Especially the first one. It makes my head ache to think on, honestly. It's another thing taking up space in my brain that doesn't need to be. It's done, it's over with, it's the past. Aye, and the past should remained buried. Where you've been informs where you are, who you've become and why, but it's not as important as who and where you are. The past deserves it's respect, but not to the detriment of the present.
Rabbit will be good to go home soon. Maybe the end of today, actually. Where he goes his brother goes with him. That effectively means two of the things taking up space in my brain don't have to be worried over anymore. That leaves only one. And I suppose a bit of a half. It's terrible to think I'm counting days between now and when I've last laughed. I hope when this is all over I won't have to count in days but in hours. It's alright, though. I think on how lovely I look in cheese, or so I claim, and it makes me smile at the very least. That counts for something, doesn't it?
((Written in English))
William Burke is cleared for visitors between the hours of nine in the morning and five in the evening. No one will be allowed to see him between noon and half noon. There will be no exceptions made whatsoever with the exclusion of family. Anyone unable to get along with said family may want to consider working out a specific time for visiting as family has not left William's bedside and conflict is in no way conducive to his recovery.
Yes, he is still on generous amounts of pain killers. No, he's not hallucinating. I haven't any idea why he's babbling about monkeys. It's certainly not for any medical reasons.
( Private to Charlie )
( Private )
It seems peculiar that letters would just go missing. All written from one person to another at various points in time and even with different destinations. Yet none of them showed up. There's no reason to think him a liar, I know this, but the coincidence is too great to accept. The truth would have to stretch too far to cover this. Plausibility works just as much in reverse. It's just as unlikely if he sent them that receipt never occurred. He could just as easily believe it a lie they never arrived. Especially the first one. It makes my head ache to think on, honestly. It's another thing taking up space in my brain that doesn't need to be. It's done, it's over with, it's the past. Aye, and the past should remained buried. Where you've been informs where you are, who you've become and why, but it's not as important as who and where you are. The past deserves it's respect, but not to the detriment of the present.
Rabbit will be good to go home soon. Maybe the end of today, actually. Where he goes his brother goes with him. That effectively means two of the things taking up space in my brain don't have to be worried over anymore. That leaves only one. And I suppose a bit of a half. It's terrible to think I'm counting days between now and when I've last laughed. I hope when this is all over I won't have to count in days but in hours. It's alright, though. I think on how lovely I look in cheese, or so I claim, and it makes me smile at the very least. That counts for something, doesn't it?
((Written in English))
William Burke is cleared for visitors between the hours of nine in the morning and five in the evening. No one will be allowed to see him between noon and half noon. There will be no exceptions made whatsoever with the exclusion of family. Anyone unable to get along with said family may want to consider working out a specific time for visiting as family has not left William's bedside and conflict is in no way conducive to his recovery.
Yes, he is still on generous amounts of pain killers. No, he's not hallucinating. I haven't any idea why he's babbling about monkeys. It's certainly not for any medical reasons.
( Private to Charlie )
( Private )
July 1st, 2008
June 30th, 2008
((Written in Welsh, easily translated into English via charm))
I appears my official employment status as been upgraded from "Unemployed" to "Rabbit's Personal Teddy Bear." All things considered, there are much worse positions to have fallen into. Sleeping in four hour shifts at time, however, may become trying. It could be much worse.I could be attending a funeral or three. I've owled Radu to let him know I'm delayed for at least a week. He seemed disappointed (much more than the "Oh, that's too bad" he wrote indicated), but I know he understands I'll not leave a friend in the state this one is in. He says he may come up to visit me for a day or two on the weekend. It's been a while since he's come here, though who knows what sort of schedule his job will end up forcing him into.
I'm not particularly sure Pique is alright with having a seemingly random wallaby about. She can't seem to decide if she likes Woozle or if she wants to pick a fight with her. I believe Pique got a bit freaked out when Woozle seemed to try to hug her. My leg has never felt so loved as it does with her around, however. Who knew that a leg could apparently feel neglected? Though, Rabbit's a bit unhealthily attached to her (the wallaby, not my leg). It's frightening. I never knew his maternal instincts were so strong. (Note to Self: If I ever have children ask Rabbit for rearing advice, he's clearly a natural. Much more so than I.)
( Private )
( Private to Charlie )
I appears my official employment status as been upgraded from "Unemployed" to "Rabbit's Personal Teddy Bear." All things considered, there are much worse positions to have fallen into. Sleeping in four hour shifts at time, however, may become trying. It could be much worse.
I'm not particularly sure Pique is alright with having a seemingly random wallaby about. She can't seem to decide if she likes Woozle or if she wants to pick a fight with her. I believe Pique got a bit freaked out when Woozle seemed to try to hug her. My leg has never felt so loved as it does with her around, however. Who knew that a leg could apparently feel neglected? Though, Rabbit's a bit unhealthily attached to her (the wallaby, not my leg). It's frightening. I never knew his maternal instincts were so strong. (Note to Self: If I ever have children ask Rabbit for rearing advice, he's clearly a natural. Much more so than I.)
( Private )
( Private to Charlie )
June 29th, 2008
June 28th, 2008
June 27th, 2008
Fire boils water.
Earth contains air.
Air erodes earth.
Yet you can just as easily be overcome by something similar as you can something different. Air attracts air, seeks it out. We hate the things in others we hate in ourselves. A creature of air may seek out another. It's calling still. I wonder if they'll destroy one another or if one will manage to trump the other. But will it be the one that matters that comes out the other end?
( Private )