I just wrote the ending to my NaNoNovel. I'm not finished with the 50000 words yet, but I thought of the ending earlier and I just had to write it, because I know that I would forget it otherwise. I didn't mean to kill any of the characters in my book at all, and in the end, only one out of eight survived. I feel so emotionally drained. My face is completely deadpan, and I just...well, I just feel like I can't really be bothered. I've only been writing this novel for a month, but after having spent every day for twenty six days with these characters, learning about them and writing their words, it was a wrench to even kill one of them. After the love interest died in my girl's arms, I just sat for about half an hour, staring at nothing. I don't even know where those feelings were coming from, but I stopped, and I stared.

My damn tooth hurts.

I don't want to go to school tomorrow.

I'm actually going insane.

I'm actually enjoying this right now.

Watch this space, y'all.

Hm...Eric from the True Blood series.

But then I wouldn't mind going on a date with Richard Alpert from Lost. Or Ben Linus, but I'd just want to chat with him.

I've pretty much finished writing the bare bones of my NaNo project. What started out as quite a light hearted little thing has become something of a two-faced monster. It has made me a little sad, because for once I wanted to write something that wasn't as heavy as my thoughts or some of the other things that I've written previously.

My NaNo '09

If anyone is taking part in NaNo this year, become my Writing Buddy!

I've pretty much changed my idea completely in the past hour, and I'm loving it right now.

Darlton. Tell me that this is not true. Neither of you is that stupid, and who gives a shit about the Ajira people anyway?

IT'S ALL ABOUT FLOCKE/MIB/NOT!LOCKE.

And Ben.

And Ralpert.

Honestly I have no idea what the hell this post is all about.

I'M JUST SO DISAPPOINTED.

IT SHOULD BE BEN. ILANA IRRITATES ME LIKE TOILET ROLL MADE OUT OF SAND-PAPER.

I hate Ilana.

What does she do for the Island? All she does for me is bring an Ana Lucia-esque stench back to the Island.

>:(

I have so much homework I actually want to cry.

The idea itself strikes fear into my heart, but I've realised that planning it is a sure-fire way to rack up some CAS hours.

THE TO DO LIST:

1. Create all 5 main characters and fill out a detailed biog. for all of them (estimated 5+ hours)
2. Plan all chapters for each character
3. Sequence the chapters I have planned
4. Write 50000 words.

On paper it looks easy, but I can already see that I'm going to be twitching by the end of #1.

I would be sleeping right now, but of course, I'm stressed. And stress means INSOMNIA.

Joy of joys.

Is it bright where you are? Have the people changed?
Does it make you happy you're so strange?

-

He sits in a café, calm and content, browsing the newspaper that lies in front of him. The coffee that rests to his right has gone cold; the steam has long since stopped reaching for the ceiling. He still doesn’t know why he bought the coffee – he supposes that it looks more authentic. A man sitting in a café without a coffee is a man who is up to no good, and for one, he cannot have people questioning his business here. It would be far more problematic and complicated if he did not have the coffee. You might say; the details are everything.
The newspaper is, at best, dull today. Despite being a mere prop, he has been reading the paper. He paid money for it. He may as well read it. The news is useless and boring, the celebrities are overexposed and desperate. Newspapers aren’t quite what they used to be, he decides as he folds the paper carefully, leaving it flat in front of him.
He sits back in his chair, taking an absent-minded sip of the coffee. His face contorts and he hastily replaces the cup on its saucer. Not only is it cold, but the coffee is cheap and bitter. It hardly reflects the golden type that stands proudly above the door. He looks over at the short, plain woman behind the counter. Neither does she, but he supposes that it is a clear reflection on life.
A man walks into the shop, wearing a dark suit and an even darker expression upon his face. The man looks around for a moment, and quickly takes the seat opposite. He shuffles nervously in his chair before settling.

“Why so nervous, Sayid?” He says, motioning for the waiter to come over. He orders two coffees, sending the cold, untouched cup away with the waiter. The man, Sayid, glowers at him. His hair is brushed, professionally cut. His suit is expensive. The watch he is wearing looks designer, but to the discerning eye it is a fake. Sayid leans in as far as he can across the table.
“I expressed my concern at meeting in such a public place,” he says, his voice low, “And yet you still ignore me, Ben.”
Ben smiles, knowing that he has gotten to Sayid. Why make him comfortable when he does what he does? When he knows what he knows.
“Yes, well,” he says, silently thanking the waiter as the coffees are placed on the table, “Nobody here cares about our business. They’re all trapped in their affairs. Not one of them is bothered by the two business men drinking coffee.”
“But we are not business men!” Sayid hisses, quickly looking around at the couple behind him.
“Well don’t tell them that, Sayid, because then everybody will want a slice of the action.”
Ben raises his eyebrows innocently as Sayid looks at him, and he pulls a polaroid from his jacket pocket, sliding it towards his acquaintance. Sayid looks at the image for a few seconds before pocketing it.
“Everything you need to know is on the back,” Ben says casually, taking a sip of his coffee, “You can let me know when it’s done.”
“Thank you,” Sayid says, although the courtesy is laced with poison. He gets up, and makes to leave.
“Aren’t you going to finish your coffee?” Ben asks politely, even though he already knows the answer.
“No,” Sayid says curtly, and leaves.

Ben smirks to himself, taking another sip of his coffee. He can’t stand to finish it, so he gets up, slides a ten pound note onto the counter, and follows Sayid out of the café. He watches as he disappears in the swarm of people, and he knows that what he needs to be done will be. He trusts Sayid - purely on a business level of course - even if his ‘colleague’ does not return the feeling.

He looks up at the sky. He has become accustomed to the English weather over the month that he has been here. The sun is out, he notices, if only for a moment. A thick, ominous cloud covers it completely. The world seems darker. Ben sighs.
A girl walks past him. For a second she looks so familiar that Ben finds himself reaching out slightly to grab her arm. She notices the gesture and glances at Ben in disgust as she keeps walking. Even her face is the same. The hair, the eyes. The disappointed curl in her lip. He sighs again, walking in the opposite direction to the girl, his mind suddenly muddled with conscience. The things he has done. The things he is doing. The things he inevitably will do.

Would she understand, were she still alive?

-

And here he is again, in an airport, going to another country. She would refer to it as ‘running away’. He will send for Sayid when he needs him again. It’s one of the perks of a ruined man – with nothing to lose, they will follow you to the ends of the Earth. A good job too, really, because one day Ben just might need him to.
Once again he finds himself people-watching in the departures lounge. It isn’t something he used to do. He used to have direction. He would know what he was doing every single second of the day. He was never without things to do. And now, it’s not like he’s >
without things to do. It’s just that now…everything takes longer to happen. Nothing is as fast as it used to be. There are gaps in the action, there is silence in the noise.

-

He leaves to get on the plane. To go to another country. To run away. Again.

Succeeding at life while doing all the things I want to do.

No, actually. It's the IB resitrip that's bothering me the most.

I only discovered this meme last night.







MMMMWHACHASAAAAAAAAAAY

For philosophy_20 #17. Lack of God

A chill wind picks up around her as she looks out over the island, and she subconsciously folds her arms across her chest for warmth. The ocean is surprisingly calm today, sparkling gently in the sun. The sky still bears the sluggish grey of morning, though there are some holes in the clouds. The blue of day is breaking through.

A pillar of smoke rises into the sky from somewhere in the south. Juliet knows that it comes from the mid-section of Oceanic flight 815. The tail-section fell somewhere far behind her. If she turned around, she would see no smoke, as it crashed into the ocean. There are survivors despite this. She knows that.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He says beside her. She barely hears him, introspective as she is right now, but she catches the tone of his voice. She thinks she hears admiration.
“Do you mean the island?” She asks, not looking at him. “Or the plane crash?”
He chuckles to himself, but he doesn’t answer her question. They fade back into silence, the way, she feels, they should be.

“Juliet?” He breaks the silence again, and despite her chilled demeanour and hardened expression, touches her shoulder. “I hope you don’t think any different of me after what I’ve done.”

It takes her a moment to compose herself. His comment did not, admittedly, surprise her in the slightest. He had caught her off guard. As always.

“Of course not,” she says. “You did what you had to do.”

Even though she was lying through her teeth, he seems happy with her acquiescence. He looks down for a moment and smiles to himself before saying goodbye to Juliet and leaving her alone.

She watches him leave. When she is sure that he’s finally gone, she looks back out over the island, and she allows herself a short, desperate sob. It’s not much in the face of the emotion she feels, but for some reason it helps. It helps because she’s alone now, with Ben, and she has nobody else. The others…they put on a smile around her, but she knows that she is unwanted.

“Oh, and, Juliet,” Ben is back, suddenly, and he grabs her wrist and pulls her around so she faces him. He steps closer, too close, so she can feel his breath on her face. He pulls her wrist away from her, and she almost falls into him, steadying herself at the last moment.

“Don’t fuck me over, Juliet,” he says.

And this time he leaves her for good.

She stands still for a while, frozen. Her hand is still out in front of her where he let her go. She was, in truth, startled. In all of three years, she’d never heard him swear. He was more careful with his words than the average man, she knew that. He knew how to turn a simple sentence into something of a poem, so the word fuck had seemed wrong coming from him. The way he’d pronounced every letter, the way he’d lingered on the k. He’d said it so slowly, with so much control, it was almost as though he’d meant to say it. It wasn’t flippant, a slip of the tongue. It was for effect, to hit home. It did. Hard.

Juliet, suddenly aware of herself, drops her hand to her side, and looks around as though she’s just woken up. She thinks about going home, finding Goodwin and heading to the secluded beach they’d spent time in before. Hiding there until they forgot they existed. In her head it seems so simple. In reality there are always consequences. Cause and effect.

Action, reaction.

It almost hurts her to think about Ben. Where did this feeling come from? It isn’t much, but it’s definitely there. In amongst the hatred, the fear and the deep loathing she feels for him. Somehow, the tiniest spark of affection has wormed it’s way into her. No, it isn’t affection. It isn’t respect either – it falls somewhere in between the two. The part that bothers her is the fact that it’s there in the first place. She grabs her stomach instinctively, as if she’s trying to rip the feeling out. She hates herself for even feeling a scrap of emotion for that monster.

Monster.

It is strange, she thinks, to call Benjamin Linus a monster. To even think of him in that way seems wrong, like a step into uncharted territory. Sadly, however, she knows that the word monster is applicable. Always has been, probably always will be. Although, when this monster has her life in his hands, Juliet doesn’t want to find herself thinking of him in this way.

And he’d been so great. So charming.

In the beginning.

-

The smoke has long since stopped. Juliet decides that she should go back to the place she has been forced to call home. If she had the choice, she would stay where she was forever, but the sun is setting, and the sky has already turned an ominous shade of purple. For a second her thoughts turn to the survivors, and for the briefest of moments she feels guilty that she has a home to go to. She feels guilty because she was given time to adjust to this weird and, ultimately, wonderful place.

She feels guilty because they have no idea what they’re in for.

-

The compound is empty when she gets there. It’s even more strange, considering that people are usually out until well after midnight. But today, it is empty. The grass is still even though there is a strong breeze blowing through. The lights are off in every home. The curtains are closed. Juliet walks determinedly to her home, head down, arms folded. She thinks to herself, ‘If I can get there and nothing happens, I will be safe tonight’. It is childish, she knows that, but somehow her mind is reassured. Even though it is an empty promise, she is reassured and she does not feel as worried.

“Hello Juliet.”

She stops instantly, head still turned towards the ground. She knows that voice, knows that lilt. She looks up slowly, dreading what she already knows she will see. Ben is standing square in her path. He is wearing his jungle clothes, and Juliet understands why the compound is empty. He looks at her. It’s so hard to read his mind when he’s so flat.
“Ben,” she says, tightening the grip she has around her chest, “I…”
“No, no, Juliet,” Ben holds up a hand dismissively, “Your apologies won’t work on me. We have work to do.”

He holds out his hand – something that would be, if their circumstances were different, an extension of friendship. As they are, however, it’s a leash. Suddenly she is crying, something she has wanted to do all day while looking out over the ocean. Ben does nothing for several seconds, but eventually he steps forward and puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Ben,” she says through her tears, “Please…I just want to go home…”

His hand disappears immediately.

“No,” he says quickly, and he walks away, leaving Juliet on her knees, sobbing the day away.

He leaves her because he knows that she will be back.

And she knows it too.

When I get nervous the first thing that happens is that I get quieter, then I get louder because I want to talk talk talk to take my mind off of the nerves. Then my teeth start to chatter. Then I get sick. Then, just before the thing I'm nervous about happens, I become very calm, very zen, very accepting of what's about to happen.

And all of this happens in the space of about five minutes.

Results day today!

Despite thinking all day yesterday that there was no way in hell that I was going to get a wink of sleep last night, I slept wonderfully. I woke up twice in the night because of my asthma...that doesn't happen usually so it was probably because of stress, but I woke up quite happily at half past nine. Went to pick up my friend and his mum at 10:30 and drove to school. There weren't many people there because the doors actually opened when we got there, so I got my results pretty fast.

I got:

6 A's, 3 B's and a C.

By subject:

• English: A
• English Literature: A
• Science: A
• Additional Science: A
• Resistant Materials: A
• French: A
• Sociology: B
• Philosophy and Ethics: B
• Maths: B
• Social Studies: C

I am very, very chuffed. Mostly about French, because after the Oral exam, my teacher actually told me that there was no way I could get an A, and the best I could hope for was a B. Most unprofessional of her. But I GOT AN A. SO FUCK YOU.

:D

We managed 6.5 episodes.

I never realised that it was so long.

There were so many jokes about John Locke today, I could barely breathe from the laughing. And at various points I would cough *incident* whenever the Hatch was on the screen.

You see, my friend hasn't seen season 5.

So I have power hahahahaha.