|Personal Log [Stardate Blah Blah Blah]
||[Jun. 1st, 2004|02:43 pm]
I recall once, I spoke of human record keeping in the Starfleet-required security log as ... pointless. How humans had to keep finding ways to sort records in microscopic form lest they over run the civilization -- mind you, the Cardassians are worse. Obnoxious, even. My own long, long memory served very well, until Starfleet started asking for logs and journals. Now, I find them oddly invaluable -- over the War, I found myself questioning my own feelings, recording my doubt and sounding out troubles that I could voice to no one. Perhaps foolish, now that I look back on it -- they hardly respected my privacy, and the Great Link conveyed everything I could have hidden in a log file to the Founder that wished to usher me 'home'. Heh. Home.
The night I started keeping that log, things would occur that would affect my sense of justice, my follow of the rule of law. I started to realize, just how deeply I'd gotten involved with then-Major Kira Nerys. It'd take, perhaps, another year before I could finally vocalize it to myself. Doesn't matter now; I'll -- approach her in my own time. Nervousness is not something I feel often; usually only when Nerys is involved.
Now, the first thing I do on the station -- besides attempt to figure out where I'll sleep since I didn't bring a pail -- is make a log entry. SStrange, how I find myself back here on this station, and feel that all come back to me. Or maybe I'm just reaching for the familiar.
I saw Rom in the bar, but not Quark; immediately wondered if he'd gotten himself killed and Rom had finally inherited. Didn't see Morn, or Nog -- though I suppose he's rising through the ranks as the first Ferengi in Starfleet, which never could settle with me -- and I thought I glimpsed Leeta on the Promenade.
I suppose it's not my concern anymore.
I'll see what I can find here and there -- I wonder if anyone will recognize my name on a passenger manifest, before I decide to make myself known.