Today was fucking surreal.

There is a charitable foundation in NYC, Earth Angels, a non-profit strictly no-kill shelter which was founded, and still run, by a 71 year old woman.  (Who, I swear, doesn't look a day over forty.)  It's been in the papers a few times.

Anyways, they've been in the neighborhood for years, in the spring and summer she sets up outside on the sidewalks of Union Square collecting donations, accepting dropped off animals, and trying to get the dogs adopted or fostered.  When it's cold out she is inside the Pet Co. there doing the same thing.  She is a devoted and passionate woman who has raised two upstanding sons, one of which is adopted

I pass her by often, usually stopping to make conversation at the very least, and sometimes dropping off a donation as well.  (I do that with all animal shelter displays, if they like me I get to pet the animals and maybe take them for a short walk.)

I've minded her table a few times for her while she runs to the bathroom or for some food, walked the dogs so she doesn't have to get up, etc.

In short, she knows me.

Last night I was buying cat food at Pet Co. before they closed up shop, she was there also closing up for the day outside.  That day she got four drop offs--animals people brought for her to take in.

While she was cleaning up I took a little poodle, gray and white un-neutered male, out for a short walk while they cleaned up because he was crying and upsetting another dog.  (The other dog had the look of a pit-bull, and would have been put down in other shelters because he guards his food.)

I brought him back, noting that though he lifted his leg often (and he half circled the trash cans while doing it) urine rarely came out.  I was told he has a urinary tract infection and he just finished his antibiotics and was getting his surgery tomorrow.  I was further told he was a drop off that came in today, and she couldn't fit them all into the car, she had four drop offs, the cages, the supplies...   The woman, she...

I don't know how it happened.  Somehow I got roped into fostering the dog for the night.  I dug out my ID card that I rarely ever have on me, and filled out the papers and signed it all while she was praising god that I came and said I was sent by him, etc.   We set up the pick up time, she gave me food for him and I was off on my bamboozled way.

I took the dog, Donny, home--slowly because he tried to pee on anything sticking out of the ground on the way over.  I called my grandma telling her what I did; and ended up making a toy and a blanket for him out of a pair of children's pants in my grandma's scrap pile.  While I had a migraine.  I don't know what came over me.

Today I got up 4 and a half hours early so I could turn over the dog.  I waited for an hour and she didn't show, making calls to her cell only to be informed her mailbox was full.  I left a note in the building door with the business phone number on it so she could call me, held in place by the deadbolt.  (Somehow my grandma didn't see the white piece of paper there and ripped it in half while coming in.  There was enough scrap so I could set it up again.)

I went upstairs with the phone, waiting for her call, some hours later it comes and so I come down and let her in.  Her phone was dead and she had spent a significant portion of time on the sidewalk begging people to let her use their cell phone, even willing to pay for it, but no one did until this one lady.

I let her in, she's carrying this largeish pekineses dog because he had started bleeding last night and just had surgery and so...Anyways, I let her charge her phone and am treated to her story as my grandma comes in from outside.

Her van had broken down last night.  Aamco refused to take her in because she had so many dogs, and she couldn't leave them, there.  So she slept in her van with the shivering dogs, not even getting out to eat because she was afraid someone would come for them.  She got off a few phone calls before her battery died and, her boys were worried sick about her--apparently it was all over the police networks too.

Anyways, she walked to me this morning while some police officers were fixing her car and her boys were bitching out Aamco (she told them to be polite, I doubt they listened).  Aamco made a note in her file to accept her in dogs and all next time.

She started to work, going through the messages, getting backup, telling people she was okay, so I went and helped my grandma.

Turns out this woman hadn't eaten since 5 o'clock yesterday, I insisted on treating her to an omnimeal at the family restaurant.  (BBQ, 8th Street between 5th and 6th Avenue, north side of the street.)  I get her order and call ahead to grandma so it will be ready when we get there.

Homemade coleslaw, and sweet potato pie, chicken soup, cornbread, and a whole rack of ribs (which we split) and saved the bones for the dogs.

Donny (originally Don, but he's tiny and only a year and a half old.  I call him Quixote because his face and coloring looks like when Cervantes puts on the beard and eyebrows to play Quixote in the play), was apparently abused.  The family that had him were apparently not allowed to have animals in the building, so they hid him, not even taking him out for walks--by keeping him locked in a closet for 4 months.

He was sheered last night, the woman begging Pet Co to do it before they closed up because his fur was so matted he couldn't even turn his head.

Anyways, we finish our meal, she goes to get her van and I head to Pet Co. with Donny.  I help them set up there, etc.  While I was looking for the woman to help her unload some stuff--well her assistant doesn't give good direction.  (Yes, direction, turn right--never minding the exit is literally on a bloody corner.)  So I wander and get the correct directions (I knew she was parked in front of a certain store) and head back.

I see a small gray, nylon shoulder bag (like a small duffel bag) in the middle of the street.  I blink, bewildered, and run out and rescue the damn thing before it's run over.  There's plastic bags packed ontop in the main pocket and I cautiously pick through it to find out if I need to call the bomb-squad or not (there are tons of "If you see something, say something" ads all over the city), and I find a wallet.

Now I'm in the restaurant business by association.  If someone leaves their cellphone, you open it up, get a likely number from the contacts, and call to tell them that the person who's phone this is left it here.  The same thing can apply to wallets, driver licenses have your home address on them; if your stuff doesn't get lost an honest and nonlazy restaurant can return it to you.

So I start picking through the wallet.  I see money, and I say, quietly, "Why do I have to be tempted?"  I find a prescription, an appointment book, an American express gold business card, and a platinum one before I find the ID.  Seeing that the person lived near by I packed everything up but the ID and go looking for the address.

As I stand outside the door looking at the buttons to see who I'm supposed to buzz someone comes up behind me, guiding their bike.  Lo and behold it's the person who's ID I have in my hands.

Apparently this person rides with their 'purse' on the back of their bike, has done so for years, but she was so tired and stressed out she forgot to secure it today.  The person had gotten to the bank and found their bag missing, so the person turned around to look for it, "And here you are," she said, sounding like she was marveling.

There is small talk, during which I rescue her fallen glove.  She insists on rewarding me and gave me all the money in her purse.

I shit you not.  I did 3 good deeds and was fucking rewarded for it, right out of a fairytale.

(It was mostly singles, but when you do restaurant business those are a life line.  I counted it later, 33 dollars, so I donated some to Earth Angels and headed to the restaurant to help grandma.)

I am Karma

Life runs its course; thought and action, instinct and reaction. There is movement, waves crashing, swells and undertow. There is balance, but it is hidden, perhaps distorted, by the motion.

My grandmother is Strong, Rightous, giving and kind. She is also cruel. She is beyond cruel. When I do something to anger her, when my mistakes anger her, she questions "What did I do to deserve you?"

She raised me, but did not. She spent money on me that I did not ask for. I leach off her like a lifeline because she did not teach me to live on my own.

I love her, I love her more than I love myself, but that is only natural because I hate myself. I love her more than I love anything else, than I could love anything, or anyone else.

And when she hurts I can't care anymore. Maybe it is something in my brain, some inbalance because I seem to have hallmarks of autisim. Maybe not.

She's cruel though, so very cruel and she hurts me. When she's upset, not even at me, she will yell at me for the slightest reason: to make herself feel better, and to get it off her chest. When she's mad at me she'll hurt me with her words, with emotional and mental abuse. And that is why, maybe, I cannot care any more.

She said she'd throw me out, the day after my birthday no less. Perhaps she's just angry though.

She's cruel, there is motion, there is balance.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You are cruel. You are mean. And I, I am Karma.

(no subject)

She talks to herself, you know, and I realized that so do I. She talks out loud, perhaps hoping someone will hear; and I? I keep my monologues internal for the most part. But I must express myself outward this once because if I do not I feel as if I will die from either great pain or by my own hand.

I am a consummate writer, so while hers is about what she feels and is doing mine are like stories. I am a nobody my thoughts are as fiction, she is as a great lady, worthy a thousand times more than I or any of you, and thus she speaks fact.

I was in tears last night. I did something--and in my mind she would be proud. I found out where the expression of your knees knocking together in fear comes from because I was afraid after the fact--my knees tried to buckle and turned inwards. Easily I could see how they could knock together. It will serve me well when I need to write fear.

She felt otherwise.

I have morals, in my mind there live villains and heroes, so codes of virtue stand within me to write.

She said to me before that she took me in because I was her flesh and blood. She said to me that it was why she cared for me and loved me.

She said something to me in the weird time after midnight and before sleep, between All Hallows Eve and All Hallows Day.

My morals scream out at what she said. They say no one deserves what happened, that no one deserves what she said to me. That what she said should never be said to anyone, let alone your own flesh and blood.

While she castrated me with her words I had a monologue. I wrote us out like characters in a book. What would I do if I was a real person, how she would react if she likewise was real.

Real. Realer in my mind that how she and I truly are. Maybe I'm not real, but she's not reasonable. I should do group psychology with her, be counseled at the same time and be led through our arguments, be allowed to speak my mind. But it wouldn't work. She wouldn't leave it behind in the room. When we left she'd be angry at me, yell at me and scream and take it out on me.

I am wearing my glasses and the view is a bit cloudy out of them. They are dirty and I have no intention of cleaning them any time soon. They are stained on one side, my tears are on another, and I imagine taking them off and showing them to her, speaking carefully chosen words that will reach her and make her understand. But I cannot finish the scene because I do not know how it will turn out. I cannot imagine a 'happy ending' as I am wont to do. I would most likely end up crying or stammering in the middle of my finely crafted speech. She may slap them out of my hand, and would definitely yell once more at me. In my mind I do not know what would happen, what could happen, thus she is struck dumb as my fantasies.

And yet I do not clean my glasses, clinging to that dream of a scene worthy of books.

The woman is wonderful, she is great, and right and everything good. She is everything to me. But she cannot listen.

There is a moral question out there: What would you do if you had a leader, a president a senator, who was leading the way towards all that was good in your world view. He was a leader and making headway against all opposition. If this leader seemed as the great Doctor King. Speaking and acting and being according to Truth and Justice and Liberty. But in private beat his wife. In private was abusive and cruel. What do you do?

But more, I wonder: How can a being like that exist? How can you be good on one hand and cruel on the other?

I have experienced a woman like this, and I still cannot write a character as so.

I hate her, I think, or I should. I must hate her and no longer love her for the sake of my sanity, I feel. But I love her. When she took me in she taught me a word to call her by, and I have, along with the english equivalent, nearly my entire life. But when I learned another word in her language, and it's meaning, that word was more true to my feelings for her. So when I call to her "Obaachan," as I have for so much of my life, I have to remember to call her that because a word only years old to my mind is just as close to my tongue. In my heart she is "Kaachan," even now when she said this to me.

Someone spat in my face today. And my grandmother said I deserved it.
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(no subject)

"It's the most hor-ri-ble time...of the yeaaar" despite the cheerful tune he sung he didn't smile. Joy went up, and so did suicides. And with suicides came those who were desperate to hide it from their families.

In all things there were levels, there were fakers, amateurs, professionals, and people like him. Unfortunately in demon summoning faking it could get you a demon as well, and without protective wards, and without the ability to send them back. The problem was professionals, who summoned little demons to do tasks for them; sabotage and spy, and make the dice roll in their favor. They sold the same things to other people. That was fine, he supposed, except for the ruining of other people's lives bit.

But as always they got ahead of themselves, over their heads. And at Christmas, well, everyone and their auntie was after defiling something holy (Dante preferred a church wine, personally), but add in all the willing sacrifices, many of which probably sold out to demon summoners a while ago... Willing Sacrifices to fuel their power and summon up something nasty

Well you had a recipe for some interesting incursions. Kept him busy, kept everyone busy, really.

Christmas, all about family and love and peace, and killing yourself, or at least letting yourself be killed. It really wasn't his type of holiday at all.

word count: 226
how tired I was when I wrote it: very
Extra notes: my LJ is a commenting one and I don't post in it any more so don't bother looking back
  • Current Mood
    tired tired


My school gives laptops out to students every year. I have one.

I gave my computer to the tech help desk month(s) ago because to date I've had to have it reformated at least four times.

I've had it for two years.

I just got it back today.

They replaced:

Mouse buttons

and reformated it ontop of all that.

And I can't install AIM!
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    aggravated aggravated


Could someone tell me why my introduction post is immortalized in Nosgothic Realm's Forum to save threads, but NOT my post on how Raziel was going to go back in time and become the spirit that infests the Reaver? That was met with derision with my peers yet prooven right much later?

Something is going to happen to the purified blade, leaving unpurified Raziel there--after the elder god gets his tentacles served up in a sushibar.

I half suspect that the Elder God is NESSICARY. That there is some truth to his "Engine of life" schpiel. There is, after all, something to be said for oblivion, ne?

I wonder how "healed" kain is. Obviously still a vampire. But is he pure enough to go blue?

Is it just me or do the Hylden souls look confused in the spectral Realm?


Janos has to come back, again. The Reaver revived him, yet supposedly the Reaver is insane. So either absorbin elements is "healing" it's mind, or janos is going to make a large impact on raziel that will survive the insanity intact enough to WANT to heal Janos. After all he wasn't on too good terms with Janos when he revived him, and didn't seem too sorry.

Who knows, maybe he eats Janos' soul and is "throwing it up" there.

I don't think the Elder God made Raziel, which seems odd to me that some people thinks so. The LoK team said Kain survived without a heart because he is the scion of balance, why couldn't Raziel survive the abyss because he is the hero?

I wonder what color Janos' soul is? Hylden are green, and humans are white. Is it other species or other planes of existance that determine this?

And what if Vampirisim is really Hyldenism?

Let's suppose that the Hylden really aren't part of the wheel naturally, like was surmised from the murals.

Look at the Seer in BO2, and look at the Hylden zombies in Defiance. She doesn't have wings, THEY do. I know that the LoK serries loves to change character models but I don't think this is a mistake.

I think the Hylden go though development stages and metamorphases.

I say that "Vampirisim" was in essance what the Hylden have. They inflicted their state of being on the Vampari (It's what the wild people say, I assume it means Vampire and since they are in the citidel I think it's closer to the orginal word). Well an altered version of their state.

Their seperation from the wheel. Their metamorphing stages, which comes into light when passed down to humans.

It also explains Raziel's Hylden/Vampari thing. His wings were Hylden, but could have evolved further into the fused bone Vampari wings.

And the Immortality. The Hylden are immortal because of the demon dimension, and the Vampires/vampari are immortal because of the curse. But following my line of reasoning, if the Hylden weren't immortal then neither would the anchients be.

No other prediction for now.
  • Current Music
    Kidnap the Sandy Claws --Nightmare Before Christmas

thoughts on Legacy of Kain:Defiance

Fair warning, I'm not goign to bother with an LJ cut cause no one reads my LJ anyways, and everyone that does either has played or doesn't play at all

On the ending: It is, and ever will be, the Legacy [i]Of Kain[/i]

On the Raziel: I don't think we heard the last of him. Seen yes, heard no. Look at the final reaver, Balance aura and blue aura, two souls in it, and later Razel (blue) is going to eat the balance aura so he can be reforged in the next loop instead of getting infinity Raziels in there.

But he's not going to go insane all at once, ya know. I can just see Raziel bitching at Kain from the reaver.

On Hylden: The demon dimension is ouside of Nosgoth's time stream, which is why they can see the future and why no one knew Kain wasn't dead

On Janos: *loves him to death* Anyways, I think he was changed as a young man, but he's going white haired from stress, notice what happens to his hair when he gets possessed.

On the Heart: Is there anything thing signifigant between the heart being used to make Kain, Janos's hair going white (and kain's as well once he turns vamp) and him being the scion of balance?

On the Elder God: I don't think it can see everything--otherwise it would know about the vampires going to forge a weapon that could kill it--I also think it has free will. I'm unsure if the Hylden came from another dimension orginally or not. I DO think the elder god said that the hylden were not part of the wheel and it would fuck up nosgoth to make the Vampires go to war with them. I do not know if he spoke the truth or not

On Vampires: I don't blame them for being duped--they couldn't see it, and here was this voice, that knew the past, knew the future, and knew the afterlife and their own minds. Pretty damn Godlike if you ask me. I also think the upper echelons and seers of the race knew what the hell the elder god was, or began to know. They just didn't tell anyone, including the guardians and Janos.

I don't think anyone told Janos much at all. To do so would to be risking his faith and hope. And considering how dependant everything is on him not offing himself they wouldn't DARE risk it.

On the forges: I think because of Raziel's free will the anchients weren't too sure what he would do, so had to provide many diffrent chances for him to imbue the reaver, hence all the forges

More on the vampires: What if the Hylden and the Vampires were the same species orginally? *points at Ariel's line at the end* And the Eldergod seperated them somehow?

On Reaver Raziel: what effect did the balance forge have on it? Raziel said it was purified--does that include the madness? or perhaps of mind itself?
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    the fight theme from Defiance