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Dear Pen Diary

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Back from out of town trip.

 

Had a good time.

 

Spent money I don't have.

 

Need to cause problems to make myself feel better.

 

Stomped on some dust bunnies.

 

Feel a little better.

 

Where's Wyvern?

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Is it normal for a cat to enjoy repeated kicks to the head?

 

Well, kind of got lazy last few days with the evil and stuff. Will endeavor to refocus my attention on that. Believe the reality dust bunnies may have slipped some Zanax(sp?) into my hot chocolate (evil enjoys hot chocolate - little known fact.), causing me to let things sit for a while.

 

Also could have been little vacation I took last weekend.

 

Did you know the streets of Juarez, Mexico are covered with Mexican military? That only used to happen during riots. Downtown is NOTHING like it used to be. Hardly any tourists. I didn't think it could get any more 'third world' - but it did. Yet, for some reason, I still fit in. Kind of disconcerting.

 

Oh well, back to the evil and stuff. . . where IS Wyvern!?

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

(hello? hello? is this thing on?!?)

 

Went to the hockey game Friday. Much yelling and drinking of beer. We won! The other team did not score once.

 

Saturday, went to the opera. Don Giovanni is not a nice person. He scored repeatedly.

 

Sunday, played Call of Chthulu. We did not even use a computer! Pencil, paper and those hard little RNGs that you roll on the table... dice!

 

Monday: head exploded.

 

 

To Do List

 

1. See another opera (next year maybe)

 

2. Be a contestant on The Price is Right

 

3. Get a new head.

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Dear Diary,

 

Found my way out of closet today. Think it may have been a while.

 

Still not dressed though. Probably should be. Will that mean returning into closet?

 

Also, how long has it been since I cleaned that closet out? The number of dust bunnies are disturbing. Must clean closet. I could have sworn they were moving.

 

Agenda:

Get dressed

Clean closet

Go to garden

Go to woods

Go to fields

Go to other plant related places

Eat?

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My dearest diary of the beloved Pen,

 

It has been a full day, being Polite, listening and counseling, giving advice and hugs both impartially. The fatigue I feel is mild compared to the ripples at pleasure at having cherished and loved others.

 

Have agreed to spend a quiet evening watching Elladan play Warhammer Online. He does so endure his little games.

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

It's been a few days, hasn't it?

 

Well, my parchment seems to be behaving itself lately, I can only hope it stays that way. No more Parchment Pop-ups! Yay!

 

On with life I guess. I am figuring out a new costume and being a rabid, squeeing fangirl over DragonCon news, but other than that life is completely normal. Having just discovered a marvelous site known as Livejournal, I am attempting to ensconse myself there, but to no avail I am afraid.

 

~Freya B.

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OOC: I'd be looking into active script-blocking if you're going to be clicking on those silly quizzes on livejournal, or else it's back to pop-up purgatory for your computer.

 

Dear Pen Diary--

 

I still question why I'm participating in diaries. Better my touch than Aardvark's, I suppose.

 

Reaffirmed several characteristics of creative writing as a form of exorcism:

1. Only the best quality is effective. Half-hearted writing leads to half the cancer being chopped out.

2. When the best quality exorcism is touched again (and by that I mean read), it can evoke the moods of the moment of its creation.

2.1 It's still not possible to objectively judge--for _me_ to objectively judge _my own_ exorcisms.

2.2 The level of emotional involvement, while a relief then, is now a deeper entanglement from the base state.

3. A new act of creation is needed to quiet the mood thus evoked, creating a sort of stepped series of emotional controls.

3.1 Is the curve the same as the descending curve of quality in many commercially produced book series?

 

Jabbed myself in the ears with an accidental touch of the volume dial. Good gods, but unexpected volume hurts. The only mercy is that it hurts further back in the head than other people's idiocy hurts. (Tried doubling over in exaggerated pain when someone presented me with an idiotic argument. Person, while now more aware that something was hurting me, did not understand that person ws the source of the pain. Person maintained, in jest, that trying to understand what I write gives person a headache as well. Clowns, clowning at one another.)

 

When have I become an elementalist of the earth, or was that quality present all along, and just now exploited? I could have saved some time with testing Rydia's soil, but then missed the scientific rigor. More importantly, what lies in a meteor that science could not divine?

 

--Tzimfemme, the naked mage

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Found you adding stability to a wobbily table, sorry about that.

 

Been a while.

 

Have not been able to finish story I'm working on and no insperation for anything else.

 

Do have one idea for an alternate story on Signe, but stuck on that one also.

 

Must be the Reality Dust Bunnies, again.

 

Well, need to find a missing possessed doll (thinking he's joined the dust bunnies in some nefarious plot against me).

 

Maybe I'll get some insperation when I find him.

 

Write to you later.

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Well, still have writers block and can't find a solution so I can finish what I'm working on.

 

Or start something else.

 

You'd think being gagged and tied-up in the attic for about a week would give me time to become unblocked, but I might as well have mentally eaten a 10lb. cheese and Immodium sandwich for all the good it did me.

 

Anyways, figure my muse will show up drunk and half dressed - eventually (once the Reality Dust Bunnies are done with her).

 

'Till then, I got two 20lb. bags of rice for the innards of the doll I'm going to make for the next One-Man Hide-and-Seek game. I'm thinking the bigger and more arms the better! :grin:

 

Will update later.

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Another semester, another creative project due by the end of the day, week, or month.

 

I wonder if anyone really finds graphite and charcoal under a womans nails attractive?

 

Trying to keep things in order as I move to the new house the Rents have built...so far so good...helps when you only move your clothes, bed, and tv stand over. *giggle*

 

Teacher talking...back to work!

 

Aurora <3

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DEar diary,

 

Met lots of new faces today. Good runners, most of them.

 

Found hole in cloak. Not sure what from. BinkY>? Attempted to patch. Sewing difficult without thumbs. Everyone here rubbish with a seam.

 

Shoulds ask Rose; she seems good with fabric.

 

 

Still not sure how to opertare postal system. Nuisance.

 

Priest to the left side of the priest of the priest to the left side of GGPN's bloody dustbunnies STIll making messes about. Can't seem to drop em- who kills these??

 

Bollocks. Must go piddle in Zool'sshoes.

 

That always turns a day around.

 

Sincerely,

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It was near midnight when he finally arrived. It was a warm, clear, calm night. The full moon cast inky shadows from the forest and through the hedge along the road. A lone hoot owl near by was the only sound to break the loneliness.

 

He stopped at the edge of the lowered draw bridge and looked into the darkness of the open Keep, a tall thin figure concealed in a monk's robe and hood, it's rich blue color bled gray by the mid-summer moon. All was dark and quiet inside. The high walls loomed above and far off to the sides. No one greeted him, or challenged him.

 

He had never been here before, and it had been many years since he had taken up the journey which now ended on this night. He silently took in the thick weeds and overgrown vines, and recalled the old Gypsy woman's warning that, "...what will seem in the end like a fool's quest was really just the beginning..." just might start to make some sense if what was inside this delapidated and seemingly abandoned old Keep made it worthwhile. Thinking about it, it was the only thing keeping him from just walking on at that moment. Perhaps that is why she said it...

 

Was he at the right place? There was a large shingle next to the gate, but the moon was at the wrong angle to illuminate it. A lantern hung next to it at the edge of the arch. Using a simple flame spell he lit the lantern and then stood back to read. Carved in thick relief into the wood were letters which still had some paint clinging in random patterns. They spelled out:

 

Welcome all ye travellers

of stout heart, with a story to tell

Welcome to the Keep of the mighty

The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword!

 

Yup - this was the right place. Yikes - it was little like he had heard! He had a heard that it was a crowded, boisterous, warm place that welcomed all and amde all feel welcome - a place that was alive! He could not imagine what had happened to reduce such a place to this... but looking closer he saw the place wasn't completely abandoned - at least two pair of foot prints were clear in the dust of the wide entrance.

 

Advancing cautiously, he melted into the darkness of the gaping portal.

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Stealthily he stole through the open door and into the dark hall, the moonlight shining through high skylights his only illumination. That left a lot of dark corners and stretches. He used his hearing and a little bit of psi-sense to guide him.

 

There was something up ahead. It gave no sign, but he sensed it. He peeked around another open doorway, then entered what looked like a large auditorium. It looked deserted, but the feeling was stronger than ever. Slowly he made his way over to the wall, and a large sheet hanging down. The presence he was sensing was behind it.

 

As quick as he could he reached up and ripped down the sheet. Dust billowed everywhere, choking him. He threw the sheet aside and held the fabric of his robe up to his mouth so he could breath. Raising his other hand he struck a powerful beacon spell. The room exploded in light.

 

Before him was a large portrait sized painting of... nothing. Depicted was only a gray green background, surrounding some fuzzy blocks that might have been the ruins of an old castle or fort.

 

Then he saw it - down at the bottom of the painting was rendered in perfect detail a lizard. It was an iguana actually, and a rather small one - with a swooping pompadour that stood up nearly half the length of the body!

 

The man broke out into loud laughter, laughter that echoed off the walls until the shadows themselves seemed to shout back 'Shhh! You're disturbing the cold silence!'. After his good laugh he looked back down at the iguana and knelt down to it's eye level. "Oh Zool," he said with a guffaw. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"

 

Zool blinked uncomprehendingly, then continued his silent hunt for flies.

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Dear Pen Diary, I had a momentous occasion this past Father's Day. My eldest son and my daughter in law are expecting. My wife and I will soon be first time Grandparents. I am overwhelmed with happiness. Sometime after Christmas early January is the due date and trust me, there will be pictures. Sorry for my long absence. I will try and post more frequently. Good bye for now

Regel (soon to be Grandpa Regel)

Edited by Regel

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Dear Pen Diary,

 

Last week, I discovered a little known fact. Gas grills have a slightly evil aura about them. I suspect this is in direct relation to the intelligence of the user, but I don't care to fully test that until I find a worthy test subject. (Other than myself.) I mention the intelligence to evil ratio because on the day of my discovery, I was feeling particularly stupid.

 

It seems that when the gas grills have the opportunity to enact evil schemes they've planned, it always involves their fire-based attack. The strength of this attack also seems to be directly proportionate to the intelligence of the individual using the grill. Allow me to explain by using my incident as an example.

As I noted before, I was feeling rather dumb; not to the point of drool gathering upon my chin, but basic physics had become incomprehensible. The grill sensed my lack of wit and committed to it's plan.

 

It allowed both burners to go out, then filled the area beneath the foil-covered rack and the burners with propane. Using it's evil mind influencing powers(see.. works best on slack-wits), it convinced me to squat down and peek under the rack and look for flames. Having found none, of course, the grill convinced me to push the bright red button labeled IGNITE. On the second attempt, it lit. I swear I heard an evil chuckle as I furiously slapped my face to extinguish the flames. Fortunately, reflexes are NOT disable when intelligence is. Unfortunately, reflexes didn't save my eyelashes, eyebrows, or the fuzzy appendage attached to my chin. Those are all gone now, but hopefully will soon grow back.

 

I have learned my lesson and avoid the evil inherent in gas grills unless I can verify my intelligence is adequate for the task before even the first burger is placed on the grill. Otherwise, it's a sandwich for the dummy.

Edited by Brute

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Dear Pen Diary--

 

I am not amused.

 

I have tried to be ingratiating with this other community of folks. When one of them ran by squealing for a cleric, I stalked after the panic flight, only to have it abruptly flare over to laughter at a firepit where a roast humanoid turned on a short spit, and after that confusion when I made no move toward the meat, and when I snapped for an explanation, they turned to Minta and demanded answers.

 

Oh, they yelped for healing not long after that, but not for very long. She has overpowered herself with magic, and that foul "necro language" is not her native mode of speech. (Inventive, though. Never knew you could do _that_ with a waffle. Note to self: obtain bottle of syrup and willing co-participant.) What's more, she did not reanimate that humanoid on the spit along with the rest of the group, she _resurrected_ it. Standing before me, she casts her own arrhythmic spell.

 

It overrode mine. Here, in this splinter of Norrath, I am not the most powerful spiritual sister.

 

Yet.

 

--Tzimfemme, the naked mage

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