[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Monday, September 12th, 2005|
Irony: noun. Getting physically stabbed in the back after the metaphorical one I delivered upon the captain. At first, I only paid attention to the overwhelming pain of being stabbed, but after saving him, I had time to reflect on it. It made me feel even more awful. Even though I tell myself it was all Bester's fault...a part of me feels responsible. Hell, all of me does. I left a friend to rot. I don't know if saving him cancels that out.
I really have to be more careful with my back. Shot, stabbed...what's next?
|Thursday, September 1st, 2005|
|A joke: (while security chief on B5)
Oh man, Ivanova told me the funniest joke the other day, but I completely forgot it! Susan, what was the joke again? Post it in here, so other people can get a great laugh from it.
My daughter is truly shaping up to be quite the athlete. She gave Stephen a run for his money, and he's always been a great tennis player. I'm pretty good, too, but the cigars have slowed me down just enough where I know it won't be too much longer before she can whoop me. And that will be up there as one of the proudest days of my life. She's going to go so far.
Edgars Industries is as steady as it has been for the past fifteen years. Sure, there've been a few spikes, and a constant net growth, but steady ain't sexy. I miss those days of heavy risk and adventure, not knowing if you were going to make it through any given day. We were all heroes, then. I let down a lot of people, but there was salvation at the end of the road.
So I guess this nostalgia trip, this missing the danger of the past, is pointless, because it's taking away my focus from the products of salvation: my beautiful wife and daughter. Hell, a longtime agnostic babbling about salvation will probably get on some peoples' nerves. But if there is a god...thanks, big guy.
|Saturday, August 27th, 2005|
I wake up after being out for a couple of weeks, and all hell has broken loose. The president's been assassinated, Jeff's been relocated to Minbar of all places, and some EA hotshot has been installed as the new head honcho around here. And I still don't even know who shot me. Right now, I trust this new captain maybe just a little more than whoever shot me. He's been brought in suddenly over the heated disapproval from the Minbari; some yes man for Earth is the last thing we need on a station that's supposed to be the galaxy's best hope for peace.
At least Talia's still around, and I trust her as much as I can trust a teep. This universe could only get more skewed if she somehow found a way to betray all of us, too. But that's just downright silly. She should be able to help me remember who shot me. I don't care how much gray matter she has to scour, or rip asunder, I will remember.
And then that SOB will be sorry. I have to swing by Stephen, otherwise he'll start pestering me about my lack of checking up with him. It'll give me a great chance of telling him just how little I trust this new captain, Sheridan. I can't imagine him doing anything that could change my mind.
|Monday, August 22nd, 2005|
I've been having these dreams I recall in fragments. At first, I was just in a murky cloud, screaming something indecipherable. I would stumble upon a mirror in the midst of the nothingness and just see a jigsaw puzzle caricature of my face, as if I was rearranged and stuck back together in a methodical manner of bad intent. My mirror face was still me, but it somehow wasn't, as if a composition of parts of my worst nature lurked just behind the surface, given form and aim, instead of aimless ambiguity.
Hell, I'm already starting to forget the dream.
There was a lot more. But I can't remember.
I TOLD YOU I CAN'T REMEMBER!
|On B5, late 2258
I finally got a message back from L, so I know she's alive. Small comfort, since that's where the good news ends. Somehow she found the time not only to tie the knot, but she also got knocked up by some arthouse jerk named Franz.
She looked so beautiful.
After the message, I fantasized about popping the top off a bottle of whiskey and drinking my way to the bottom. The thought was only there for the briefest split hair of a second, but it was there, and in some ways, that shook me just as much as the news about L. I can't afford another relapse. I'm stronger than that now. The commander needs me.
Maybe the Daffy Duck vids I got my hands on will help. Gonna find out if laughter really is the best medicine.