Land of the Mad Pea

ANIMALS!

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 00:50:41 GMT

So as people might now, I have a chinchilla named Míriel. Today, I went and got a rat. I named her Indis. She's the most preciousest thing ever!

GIBS ME THE WARMTH OF NORWAY PLEASE!

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 01:48:55 GMT

Seriously! I wants NORWAY!

I'm doing a lot better, btw. I... Had a bit of a DO-WANT-HOME attack the other day and decided to whine online, like we do. Anyway.

North Dakota is, as I've gathered and experienced the last couple days, FREEZING in winter. And it's not the cold that feels OMGFREAKIN'COLD when you're outside if you wear the right clothes. No, it's the kind of cold that kinda creeps up on you and settles after a while when you've come back indoors. And as the sensible norwegian I am, I wear wool underwear with silk inlay to keep the warmth in, and then several layers of wool and cotton on top. And still... FRICKIN' CHILL!

So I remedied it by taking a bath and making a cuppa of wonderful TEA. I loves me some tea. It's a bloody shame that the Americans don't have tea time. Really.

Update on me

Tue, 08 Dec 2009 13:37:48 GMT

I am not quite sure how I'm doing, exactly.

I feel like there's a huge, empty place inside my chest right now, and it's called Norway. To put it this way, I'm desperately homesick and though I know I'll get to go home in about a week, I don't really know how to get to the airport. I wish I did - because that would've lessened my worries greatly. As it were... I feel like the ground is slipping out from underneath me.

I guess I probably just sound melodramatic, but.. I don't really have anyone to talk to right now, and I need to get this out of my system.

Right now, I don't really know if I want to return. Yes, I like the school. I even like some of the people that go here - though not that many. What I absolutely hate is being away from my family for so long. I don't know if I can manage another semester.

Now, most of the semester hasn't been that hard, but right now... Right now it feels unmanageable. I can't even go to class today because I feel too depressed to walk out the door.

I'm not sleeping properly, but that's my PTSD speaking, basically. I'm not the same timid girl as I was when I left Norway, but at the same time I don't feel like I'm one hundred per cent, either, and I'm finally starting to realize how sick I've been.

That was one hell of a depressing post. Sorry, guys...

GRATULERER MED DAGEN SOM KOMMER, MARRIS!

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 06:42:09 GMT

GRATTIS MED DAGEN VAFFELDAMEDAMEN! Jeg kaller deg Jacob nå. :P Neida.

Håper du har en vanvittig flott bursdag og at alt går bra på dagen din når den endelig ruller rundt! Kjempeglad i deg!

If anyone wondered, I was just telling my friend that her birthday should be happy and wonderful. And that I will now call her Jacob. :)

Prodding Shells

Mon, 25 May 2009 23:04:47 GMT

I've been in a major slump when it comes to writing for a long time, and thanks to the encouragement of delaese , I was finally able to come up with something. This little story of how Rude become a Turk is dedicated to her, with my utmost gratitude. Any constructive criticism to improve my writing would be appreciated - I haven't written anything decent on my own in ages.

Prodding Shells
Rating: PG
Warnings: Cursing, violence
Disclaimer: FFVII belongs to Square. Unfortunately for me.
Summary: A young man sees the people in the dark suits, and wants to reach for the stars

Rude had always been a quiet man. Though Reno understood him better than others, he couldn't quite crack the shell around him. He would think he had, only to find a new layer beneath the old one, and those new layers would seem harder than the previous ones.

It would often seem like Rude was annoyed by Reno's attempts at figuring him out. Though his curiosity seemed like pestering to other people, Rude appreciated it. He just had a very hard time expressing himself. Not that he was shy or anything. He just couldn't seem to get out of his own shell. Sometimes, he'd think he was the turtle who kept crawling into its shell, hiding from others, until the shell was too small, and he couldn't get back out into the world.

The shell had once been a good thing. Protection from bullies when he was a kid – Gongaga was a small reactor town, and life was harsh when you were small, skinny and had a different skin color. Though one would think that the bullying would end with time, it grew worse. And Rude's shell became thicker. In time, he withdrew into himself, focused on building up what was inside. He'd always been bookish, smart. Books were his companions and friends, and he'd find solace in them.

Then President ShinRa came to oversee the reactor. Before it blew to pieces, that is, and Rude saw a Turk for the first time. Sleek, strong, quiet, serious. They looked like gods to him, especially in the presence of President ShinRa, a blob with a taste for overly extravagant colors and designs when it came to clothing. Rude focused on the Turks in their dark suits, and he wanted desperately to be among them.

That night, when he lay in his bed with a book he'd forgotten open on his pillow, he thought about his future. Fantasized about it. It didn't seem so dark anymore, not now, after he'd seen the Turks. At the age of ten, Rude Simmons knew what he wanted to be. He knew who he wanted to be, and he would do anything to reach his goal.

First thing the morning after, he announced to his mother that he wanted to be a Turk. At first she laughed, and ran a pale hand through his dark curls, told him how funny and sweet he was. When Rude looked at her with his dark eyes and told her once more that he wanted to be a Turk, she understood he was serious. Tears welled in her eyes and she lowered her head, nodding softly. Looking back at it now, Rude supposed it tore her up inside. They never discussed it again, but Elise Simmons did sign her son up for martial arts classes the next week.

The following months and years, Rude kept working hard to reach his goal. He pushed himself over the brink of exhaustion many times, kept studying, kept working real hard to find his calm. Many a time he thought he'd fall apart and give up, but when he did, he remembered that day, when he'd seen the Turks for the first time. He remembered the feeling he'd had then, and pushed harder.

To keep his mind sharp, Rude kept reading books. He read about work out methods, to make sure he didn't do anything wrong that would potentially fuck his body up beyond repair. Every morning he'd get up just before sunrise, he'd go out into the front yard and sit down so he could watch the sun rise over the horizon, and meditate. It helped him find his core of focus, and made him better able to focus through the day, on getting better and becoming greater.

Changes in his life came with the changes in his body. As he grew taller and bigger, the bullies backed off. Rude remained quiet, though. He hadn't let the bullies affect him much when they were mocking him, and he refused to get cocky now that they had finally left him alone. It felt better to sit down with a book, or push himself in the dojo until he passed out – he didn't need to push anyone down to make himself feel better. Rude was happy with how things were working out for him, and he wasn't going to ruin things for himself by becoming a class A asshole.

The years passed by, and Rude kept fighting for his chance, kept hoping and waiting for that one day when a person in a dark suit would approach him and say "I've been watching you for a while," and hand him a card with a number on it, in case he'd be interested in joining Turk. Or maybe they'd approach him in a different way. He wasn't sure, of course, because he didn't know anyone else who had joined Turk before, or been recruited by them, and he guessed it was pretty rare. Since there appeared to be so few of them.

By the time he was sixteen, Rude's dream still hadn't been realized, and he wondered if it was because he was too young, or if they hadn't been around. Teenage worries, but he kept wondering and hoping, every day, for something to happen. An answer to his prayers. Nothing had happened, and behind his stoic mask, Rude began to waver.

They say that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. Rude has always thought this is an incredibly funny thought, because he thinks that when things keep going sour the truly spectacular stuff happens. The first Wednesday after Rude's 17th birthday was the worst day he'd ever experienced.

He'd lost his wallet on his way to school, only to find out that he'd forgotten his lunch when lunch break rolled around. By the end of the day, he was cranky, hungry and had a vicious burn on his hand from a chemistry project that had gone seven ways to hell and beyond. Besides, he wasn't looking forwards to going home, either. His mother was sick, and constantly needed his attention. For a seventeen-year-old kid, this was difficult to stomach. Especially when it was the mako reactor that was causing it – he was affected in some ways, too. His eyes had gone from being brown to a mix of blue and green, and they glowed faintly in the dark. Or so he'd been told.

At times like these, he wondered why the Turks worked for President ShinRa, who was working so hard to destroy the Planet. He also wondered why President ShinRa had gone straight to the Lifestream, too. Yes, electric power was a good thing, but the costs where often too high, and Gongaga had become a dump, according to the old men in the pub down by the outskirts of town.

Rude wished desperately for something to happen, and that this something would lead him away from Gongaga forever, or at least a very long time. He kicked at a stone and watched it skid and jump across the dusty road. Nothing happened.

As he came closer to home, his despair was building in his throat and he slowed down. He pushed a hand through his dark curls and looked up at the sky. It had been burning all day, and it hurt his light-sensitive eyes. Fuck, he wanted sunglasses, but thanks to their shitty economy, he couldn't afford them.

When he was about five hundred feet from his home, he halted, senses tingling. He narrowed his eyes and looked into the shady alleys on either side of him. Something didn't feel right, and it was making him incredibly uneasy. Peering into the darkness of the alley on the right, he could make out two rather large shapes, far in the back, their backs facing the mouth.

Rude snuck closer, attempting to make out what was going on. They were talking to each other in low voices, clearly amused. Over the smell of sweat, he could make out the horrible tang of urine and blood, and if he consentrated, he could hear soft whimpers.

He didn't think twice. Following his first instinct, Rude darted into the alley and lunged. He kicked out to the right with both feet, hitting the first thug in the ribs with an audible crack and thump, even as he grabbed the second thug around the neck. Using his momentum, Rude swung himself around the large body with a firm grip on the man's head, until he heard a loud, sickening snap and the man sank to the ground, utterly lifeless.

Without stopping to think about what he'd done, Rude grabbed the heap of trembling limbs that stunk of urine and blood and ran for it, out of the alley, as fast as his long legs would carry him, all the way to the local police station. When he entered, his eyes were wide and he was heaving for air, but he put the little girl down on a chair and looked at the two donut-munching and rather fat officers who sat there with fierce determination. "I just killed two men," he declared.

The officers were utterly perplexed. They looked at the young man with wide eyes, and one of them dropped his sticky donut onto his shirt without even noticing. As the pastry slid down, it left a sticky trail of pink icing.

The standing officer – the one without the icing – responded first. "Pardon?" He said, looking up at the resident bookworm with astonishment. He knew Rude's mother well, and from what he knew of Rude, he was unable to believe that this young man could harm a fly.

"I found them standing over her in an alley, and I responded instinctively. I heard bones break." Rude looked at the pink icing on the sitting policeman's shirt and suddenly felt an urge to laugh. Long and hard. The icing just made the whole situation that much more unbelievable. He, boring, old Rude Simmons, was standing there, admitting that he'd killed someone to two disbelieving police officers.

"We'll... Look into it," the sitting policeman finally said, and made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go home. We'll take care of the kid."

Rude was unable to move for a moment. He'd been so sure he'd sealed his fate, that he'd end up locked up for murder, and the officers didn't believe him. Finally, he gained his bearings, nodded, and turned to walk away. He could still hear the little girl sniffling in the background.

His feet moved on autopilot, and before he knew it, Rude was home. He opened the door and walked inside, prepared to go upstairs to check on his mother, when two figures in dark suits stepped out of the livingroom and halted, right in front of him. The whole thing happened so suddenly, Rude almost walked into the shortest of them – a woman with long, silver hair and a stern expression. The other person, a man with an unruly fringe of black hair, stood at ease, an indifferent look on his face.

"Rude Simmons?" The woman said, and her voice was of the no-nonsense type. Harsh, brutal, crispy. Rude could only nod.

The woman gestured to the livingroom. "Go inside and take a seat. We want to talk to you."

Again, Rude felt he had no choice but to obey, so he walked over to a chair and sat down, almost in a daze. The two people in dark suite and leather gloves followed him, and while the man sat down, the woman remained standing. She gave Rude a once-over and looked at her companion, who gave a slight shrug and nodded at her. The woman nodded in return, then turned her attention back to Rude.

"My name is Thula, and this is Kazuo. We have a proposal."

The rest was history.

Now, Thula and Kazuo were gone. Rod and Verdot were also gone. The remaining Turks were Reno, Elena, Tseng and himself.

The life of a Turk was a dangerous one, and Thula had been the first of them to die. She'd taken a bullet for Rufus, and hadn't recovered. Rude had remained in the room while Reno grabbed Rufus and ran off to get a medic. When they returned, Rude, Kazuo and Tseng were standing outside, heads bowed. Rufus had been stunned, but Reno, who would show every single emotion, was heartbroken.

Rude had put a comforting hand on his shoulder and let him bawl his eyes out.

That night, they'd gone out for their after-work pint – Kazuo, Tseng, Reno, Rod and Rude. They'd ordered six beers, and at first it had been silent, but Reno had commented that Thula would probably pitch a fit if they grieved when she'd only been doing her job, and they spent the rest of the night remembering and honoring her.

Reno and Rude had grown closer after that night, and Rude had realized that even Turks could die. It made him all the more protective of those he considered friends, and even more so of his spazzy partner.

The next one to go was Rod, and it was noticed. Instead of two troublemakers, they were left with only Reno, who for a time did no pranks. Then he decided that he had to make up for all the pranks Rod couldn't no longer do, and he became twice as much of a menace. Rude was the only one who understood what lay beneath, and he would show up at Reno's door with beer and movies until he was certain the redhead was okay.

Then Kazuo died, and Elena was accepted into the Turks. It was a difficult loss, but the Turks became closer than ever, and when Verdot finally passed away, Tseng was promoted to Turk Leader.

Reno wouldn't give him any breaks, though he spent a lot of his time pestering Rude and the rookie as well. At times, Rude would watch Reno bothering Elena, and he'd see the worry beneath the pesky exterior, and he'd understand. It was Reno's method of coping, and his way of reassuring himself that everyone would be okay.

Few understood why Rude spent so much time in Reno's company. To Rude, the poking and prodding and endless pestering in public was important. It was his barometer for Reno's moods.

And not least, it made him feel appreciated. Perhaps Reno could teach him how to open up, in time.

My life as it is right now...

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 14:45:01 GMT

Is messy.

To make a long story short - My (now ex) boyfriend was fantastic. When he was in Norway. After he went back to Korea and we agreed on still being an item, I thought he'd put more actual effort into our relationship. Unfortunately, this was not the case.

I waited for him to be the first to contact me, I had to call. Even though he'd promised me he'd call me as soon as he got there. The trend continued, he'd be good and contact me for a while after each time I complained, and then would stop making contact again.

So I decided on not pausing my life for him, and I broke up. Apparently, he doesn't care much. He hasn't even answered the e-mail I sent first, nearly a month ago, enquiring as to his well being. And after that, I waited a week or two and sent him the message saying that I couldn't put my life on hold for him... Until this weekend, I finally said "enough is fucking enough. I can't pause my life anymore."

Other than that, I have much stress with finals, several presentations, a few papers, my grandmother is in the hospital due for her 53rd surgery, which she might not survive... And a very handsome young man asked me out for Friday.

Guh. STRESS

Procrastination

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 20:37:20 GMT

Has reeled me in. It's the bane of all college students, I am convinced.

Still, I'm sitting here, doing anything BUT my assignment. I've got it sitting here, right beside me, like some ominous pea-eater waiting to devour me... But it has to wait until I've finished doing just about everything else. Like playing solitaire.

A lot more important than homework, no?

Also, the pea did not go to school today. She woke up with a fever and a headache and decided that in bed, under the covers, not moving, was a very good place to be. The pea now has make-up assignments to do. Which isn't so bad, all things considered... But, again... Yeah.

Ramble ramble ramble...

FAILURE

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 00:34:31 GMT

So as some of my friends probably know, I've joined a band and we've got a gig going for us in two weeks time. It was all supposed to be real fun and stuff, and serious bizznizz or whatnot, but...

The ~~dickwads~~ upstanding young gentlemen I worked with ~~were too fucking lazy~~ had emergencies all over the place so they couldn't ~~pull their fingers out of their arses~~ practice.

So for me, I doubt there'll be a concert, because I don't want to stand on stage ~~and look like a bloody idiot~~ and not have good chemistry with the band, because it would be a very bad show, and ~~no bloody one~~ the audience wouldn't enjoy it.

To say the least I'm ~~fucking ANNOYED~~ a little irritated.

Beatrisu's Blog-Thingumy

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 21:52:51 GMT

Hullo hullo.... You have now stumbled into my blog-thingumy, and you should be afraid. Very afraid.

I don't really use LiveJournal all that much, though.... Heh... Just thought I'd edit it. So I removed all my entries, and... Yeah.

That userpic is provided by the wonderful boz4pm . Worship the ground she walks on.