Raiha

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Majusra leaned against the curve of her bedroom wall. Both were showered and cleaned and for the most part packed. Manjusra was still rolling over her options. She didn't mind flying, provided the pilot knew what he was doing and wasn't a hunter himself. Chase assured her that it wasn't the case, so she packed her normal gear and opened her closet, deciding on which coat to take. Chase leaned over her shoulder, one arm wrapped around her waist.[/i] "Go with the German trench coat. It's sexy." "You would think that wouldn't you." "'You got me." [i]She pulled it off of the hanger and pulled it on, finding her hood next to it and pulling it deep across her forehead. He picked up her relatively light duffel and his own and she pulled open the door, locking it behind her with a quick movement he barely saw. She dropped the key into one of her inner pockets and pulled on her shades, walking towards his car, her eyes scanning the area ahead and behind them in what would seem paranoid on anyone else. In her case it was just an extra precaution. No point in taking dumb risks that could get both of them hurt. Chase started the engine and the two cruised towards the municipal airport, or at least that's what he'd told her. She leaned back and cracked her neck a few times. After they'd cleaned up and showered, she'd collapsed into bed as lifeless as a swamp log, halfway through his explaining of where they were going and how they were getting there. Part of her felt bad, but since he had full use of all his limbs again, he didn't give her a hard time about it. Instead he'd kissed her repeatedly to wake her up an hour and a half later and she'd shown him what she'd called "Manjusra's special Pile Packing method." It involved her throwing the clothes she was going to wear in a huge pile on the bed before sorting and rolling them so neatly he half wondered how she'd learned how to pack so efficiently.[/i] "We used to travel to places with great night life when I was little." "Such as?" "India, Buenos Aires, that's where I learned how to tango." [i]He let that image sink into his head, the two of them swirling around a dark, almost abandoned warehouse late at night while tango music poured from the speakers in the ceiling, and shook himself a few times to clear his head. The pulled up to their destination with several minutes to spare, and he pulled out their duffels from the trunk while she lit up two cigarettes and passed one to him with an almost careless gesture.[/i] "You're a doll." "Says the guy who has all four appendages working again thanks to me." [i]He leaned over to whisper something into her ear when the pilot walked out of the building they parked next to and headed towards them.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Now if they only gave you a general anesthetic before giving you mamograms... Since the experience is pretty much like a truck driving over your chest. A refrigerated truck at that.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Late at night or perhaps very early in the morning, Jeffery sat at his desk, thinking that he should've really slept, since he'd be going into work at 5 this whole week. He idly scrolled through the backlog of messages on the boards he frequented in his spare time, when his aim icon began to blink. Curious at who of his friends would be up at 2 a.m. he accepted the message and found someone he thought he'd never hear from again. She had dogged his steps, pushed the limits of his imagination and patience, asking him questions he'd never thought he'd hear from anyone. She'd always pushed him, his sanity, his comfort zone, far beyond what he thought were his limits. And now, six months after he'd insulted her gravely to her very face, there she was again. Unperturbed as always, and full of that same effusive cheer that had always seemed so out of place on such a dark mind.[/i] "Are you lonely Jeff? Do you ever feel that you're the only person left in a world of empty thoughts and pale dreams?" [i]His fingers shook slightly. Sometimes he could've sworn she was seeing across the entire continent and staring straight into eyes from her own computer screen. And this time he was almost sure she was in his mind.[/i] "Sometimes I am. Sometimes I think I'm going crazy and I just want to run in the forest and die far away from everything. "Well, you know what they say." "Curiosity killed the cat?" "Every living thing dies alone." [i]He considered for a moment. She wasn't wrong. No matter who you had with you in the end, you would still die. And you couldn't take anything with you. Can't. Won't. Not anymore. No wars to die in, no plague, no cause worth dying for. Just the job out of college that he had taken for lack of any better offers. And here she was. Rattling his cage again like she knew how it made him feel. If he were the abused and hunted animal, she was the girl who would gently run a stick across the bars of his cage, before disappearing again. Maybe that was unfair. She'd never intentionally hurt him. And plenty of times he'd lashed out at her. But an animal in pain and fear does all sorts of things. And she caused him plenty of fear. Not that it had really ever made any sense to him. She was just a girl. Well that's unfair. She was a strong, tall, sensitive girl that was deeply in tune with the feelings of the people around her, whether they were close at hand or far away. She'd drawn some people out of their shells and he'd stubbornly clung to his, terrified that she'd be successful and he'd have new, raw painful emotions to face. The shell was safe. Cosy, and he didn't have anything creepy and different to face. Except her. He could've blocked her, but like you bite a sore tooth just to feel the pain shooting across your jaw, he let her talk to him because he wanted to see what new ways to torment him she'd try out. Sometimes he wondered if she really knew what she was doing to him, or if she was just extremely lucky. He didn't believe in luck.[/i] "I have to go now. Are you afraid of dying alone?" "Not too afraid. My life isn't really living anyway." "Don't die just yet." [i]And before he could type his response, she was gone. Faster than he could blink. Cursing her, he looked up and realized he only had fifteen minutes to get dressed and go to work. Where he'd be another warm body, not awake and not aware of what was happening.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]The children came down first, with Crystia bouncing Kiwi cheerfully on one hip. I tipped the sausages onto the blue china platter Sevara had put together in her ceramic's class and gave the potato salad from the fridge one more heaving stir. Gavin put his hands behind my shoulders appearing after his fingers had fully materialized, partially to perfect his sneaking technique, which was utter crap by the way, and partially to see how I'd react. My left ear gave a pointed twitch and he leaned over to bite it only to feel my right elbow slam into the side of his head.[/i] "Out Cassanova. Out of my kitchen." [i]Picking up the potato salad in one hand and the platter in the other, I set them down on the drop leaf table, going back for the milk and lemonade, and once more for the beans and rice. The children organized themselves quickly, Neil bounding over to claim a place next to Crystia and Billy. I sighed and crossed my arms over my plate. Gavin got the picture faster than he had last time and prayed quickly, then before everyone had finished raising their heads and unclasping their hands, Billy had tipped six sausage links onto his plate with one hand and managed to pour his mug full of milk with the other. Without spilling. I blinked a few times and began shredding pieces of sausage and potato for Kiwi. For a few minutes, the only sounds were those of close mouthed chewing, early on I'd instituted a 'no chewing with an open mouth, much less talking' policy that had a pretty stiff penalty. (Ball Crushing) And since then the table had been blissfully quiet and free of the sounds of bad table manners. I noticed Sevara giving the sausages a wrinkled nose look while serving herself more beans. At least she wasn't putting the legumes out of her diet entirely. One of these days we're going to have to have the weight gain talk. Saiya-jin females and Siyannans typically had a hefty weight gain as they entered the last years of puberty and the first years of fertility. Maybe she was artificially pausing that time by not eating the enormous amounts of proteins usually required to kickstart that step in our biology. Oh well. Better me than Gavin or my mother. Or Neil's mother. Sevara would go on a hunger strike if that happened.[/i] "School tomorrow. Is everyone packed?" "I am. Billy's stuff is still all over the floor where he dumped it." [i]I noticed Crystia shoot Sevara a dirty look for telling and I made a mental note to deal with that at some point too. Gavin looked over and was about to say something no doubt unhelpful when the console in the den beeped the little sound that meant e-mail from someone I knew personally. I stood, snatching a piece of sausage from Gavin's plate as I went. Sliding into the chair, hoping Gavin would keep feeding Kiwi, I opened my e-mail and found a memo from Vicky and Eriju. Looking back over at the kitchen table where my family was happily eating, I debated telling them and having them all rush over, doubtless knocking furniture aside in their eagerness to get to me, and decided instead to read it quietly to myself. [/i] [b]"Tharn bitch, We're fine. On our way back. Expect us sometime next weekend. Iki and his twin sons sends their love from the new homeworld. Keep the milk ready."[/b] [i]Okay, so not from Vicky, from Eriju. I sighed with a fond exasperation and leaned forward to check the message for any secret messages that the two had resorted to doing just incase someone was spying. Nothing actually for a change. Maybe deep space really was as quiet as we'd left it after dealing with Morrigan and Sella. I hoped so anyway. I signed off and went back to the table, Gavin giving me a pointed look over Sevara and Crystia's heads. Billy and Neil were both too busy seeing who could clear a pile of potato salad from their plate using only their mouths. I sighed and raised my right hand, pointing with two fingers at each of them.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So here I am staring face first into the yawning pit of my day tomorrow morning at the dentists. The endodontist assures me it is time for a root canal. Two root canals. Maybe three. And now that I have dental insurance again, the catastrophic kind by the way, it's time to see the damage and get it fixed. Back molar on the left side has a visible cavity, but having no insurance for five years of course meant it went untreated. Sure I brush but sometimes you just can't do a thing. I mean I've had cavities filled before but never had a root canal. I've had teeth extracted while awake for it and wisdom teeth coming in crooked and braces for three years. And yet I am terrified. How bad will it be?[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Tried it. Hated it. I like all the people in this, I just don't like musicals of this...er...caliber. In point of fact I did not have a good time watching it and there's no point in saying I did like everyone who apparently loves it to death. And while I do generally like Joss Whedon, I'm not going to blindly worship everything that comes from his fevered brain. Example: I hated Buffy, the characters were so dreadfully annoying and let's not go into the cliches beaten to death so savagely it's a wonder the show didn't inspire occular bleeding on my part.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[IMG]http://cache.kotaku.com/assets/resources/2007/05/killer7_rumor_smash.jpg[/IMG] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So after banging around six different Gamestops in my area, I finally found and secured my own copy of Killer7 for the Ps2. Yes, I know, it was better on the Gamecube but having never played it and still heard glowing reports from various friends and people from comiccon, I've decided to give it a whirl. My first rail shooter. Oh how exciting. I tend to shy away from this sort of thing because a: I am generally pathologically afraid of things that are creepy like stumbling hulking monstrosities trying to eat you. And b: my aim sucks. This is why I like rpgs where you auto aim and just press buttons until things in front of you fall apart. So wish me luck. And if you have any USEFUL advice on how to navigate this game and rail shooters in general, tell me so.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Vicky'][SIZE=1] A little obsessed, maybe? =p[/size][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Just a leetle. I on the other hand obviously love Final Fantasy to the point of obsession.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Just a few posts I should think, and then we can all take our joy rides to the southern coast. Oh goodie. Mosquitos and swamps.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Dahler sat down on the ice that had once encased the creature now currently circling around the cave, waiting for the sun to finish setting. He began to prod her mental defenses, seeing how much she revealed of herself right away. Immediately he found her name written in her thoughts the way her brother had called her once, but got no further as he immediately felt his mind repulsed by what felt like a shock wave. Abruptly she snapped her neck around to get a good look at him from her vantage point on the ceiling, and her eyes shined a brilliant gold.[/i] "Don't like that little one?" "You're peeking. In my clan we ask first." "Well then Linnett Ip Dynn. May I take a closer look?" "I'll know if you try to circumvent my free will. Daddy tried and failed when I was just a darkling. But you can try." [i]Dahler frowned at that pronouncement. He knew that she wasn't evolved enough to form a working lie, so that meant she was either so chaotic finding her will amidst layers of psychosis was impossible or far more structured then she appeared at first glance. It turned out both guesses were almost accurate. At first all he saw were two shadowy images of two young male vampires, both old enough to have fleshed out properly in her mind anyway. Then before he could take a closer look, he found Dynn himself towering over her thoughts, huge and imposing with only his eyes visible behind a heavy cowl. Annoyed, he tried to look beyond but found himself pushed back once more. Linnett cocked her head at his attempts, then dropped down to sit across from him, both hands resting palm up in her lap. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her own thoughts. Dahler felt almost nothing. Plucking at his thoughts like a harp, he barely registered her feelings and realized that someone had taught her how to keep from broadcasting her emotions. In short, he could tell almost nothing of her. He idly considered forcing his way in, but that would trigger another feral outburst and probably ruin his search entirely. Linnett purred and receded. In her mind, Dahler was just an older, more bemused version of her father, and she knew how he would treat her immediately. Granted, to Dahler, Linnett was a little enigma, utterly perplexing, and very difficult to read. Young vampires, at least ones her age usually revealed themselves without even a read. He paused and opened his eyes to stare into Linnett's.[/i] "Who taught you how to do this?" "Not daddy." [i]Her voice was lilting, singsong. Now that he didn't have her by the wrists, she had reverted to an almost playful, sarcastic tone. Part of it made Dahler want to laugh, and simultaneously break her in half.[/i] "My brother, brother brother... He taught me how." "Why did he want you to know that?" "So daddy wouldn't seeeeee." [i]She giggled abruptly and then leaned forward a little to peer into Dahler's face. Up close he looked both young and old to her, with lines around his multi-colored eyes and little wrinkles in the corners. But his skin was otherwise smooth and as translucent as hers. Not like daddy then. He showed his age and didn't bother hiding it. Maybe Dahler wasn't as old as he smelled. Maybe he was just an illusion. But his mind was too structured for that. Or appeared structured. Linnett paused and then began to nibble on her fingers. Then she pointed towards the curved entrance.[/i] "It's all dark outside now." [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Is now the time for me to drag Darren into posting or perhaps DeLarge? I mean there's nothing really going on and my character doesn't really know what else there is to do but keep looking for coffee. Or maybe Shy's turn? *counts on fingers* It's only been a few weeks right?[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So my spell's fired up and ready. All we need now are some daring volunteers or perhaps the original hirer of Egalia to get this ball rolling. *cough*[/FONT][/COLOR]

[CENTER][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/zelda/egaliaavatar.jpg[/IMG][IMG]http://i228.photobucket.com/albums/ee132/Runaway511/zelda/falvoavatar.jpg[/IMG][/CENTER] [LEFT][COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Egalia gave the silver basin another tug, checking against the compass Falvo was holding up in front of her, mostly illuminated by the torches she'd set him trotting around lighting in the circular chamber. He shirked from her whenever she stared directly into his eyes, and part of that made her half wonder if he'd been raised to fear magicians. Or just transvestites. She shrugged and then made sure the basin was in the exact location specified on her scroll. Falvo peered at the basin, still empty and then over to the table where an enormous marble mixing bowl was sitting. She leaned back and then stood up, satisfied at last. Gesturing with one hand, she walked back to the work counter, consulting the recipe once more. Then she pointed to the beakers and Falvo began handing them to her as she began grinding with the pestle.[/i] "So will this really work? I mean this isn't exactly done every day." "My master claimed the scroll was accurate, and that he'd managed to get it rolling once." "So based on that only you think it'll be a success?" "Well we'll find out. That and we want it to work. Otherwise I won't get paid as much." [i]Falvo blinked a few times. Thus far Egalia had struck him as entirely scholarly, if a bit short tempered. So for her to wonder about the payment struck him as entirely confusing. Either way, she continued to stir, the package of rhubarb adding a very pungent, sickly sweet smell to the entire mix. Finally she picked up the silver stirring spoon and had Falvo count aloud for her.[/i] "Six, seven, eight, nine.." [i]She switched hands and he counted again, then picked up the slingshot she'd brought down earlier and trotted behind her to the basin against, picking up his toes as best he could to not smear the blood. The cats continued prowling around behind him, making him just a bit nervous. Natural predators after all, especially when they were bigger. Egalia set down the marble bowl and pointed to the direct center of the basin, where Falvo placed the slingshot.[/i] "Why a slingshot?" "It's a part of whoever-it-is that I'm going to center the spell on. If it wasn't, we'd just get a random sampling of all the men in the land." "Sounds tricky." "Only if you let it go out of control." "What happens then?" "Well we could either accidentally summon a demon, explode my house, explode us, or perhaps nothing at all." "That last one sounds nicest." [i]Egalia began tipping the bowl into the basin, noting the dark purple color the mixture had assumed while they'd spoken. While the recipe didn't indicate a final color to aim for, she crossed her fingers anyway and kept pouring.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR][/LEFT]

[quote name='Retribution'][font=Arial]Yeah... where I'm from, bros are also beer pong enthusiasts, as well as douchebags. [/font][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Pong as in Bong right? Oh yes, it's another slang moment. But bros also like brohos who are typically the same kind of cookie cutter girl who dyes her hair several different shades of awful, wears a lot of makeup, pants so tight they look like they were robbed from a toddler, and generally have vacant expressions on their faces. This is because they've learned just enough to not stare blankly and drool.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Ich bin ein Berliner isn't slang, it's a common quote used to make fun of J.F.K.'s famous speech at the Berlin Wall. I use heina which means girlfriend or deific lady, cholo which means mexican gangster among other things, and "bro." Brief lesson: "Bro" denotes a kind of white male in southern California usually, who wears socks with slip on sandals, plaid shorts that don't match his designer shirt, and is usually as dumb as a rock.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Retribution'][font=Arial]Wow, that's gotta be tough. Just imagine, an [i]entire body of water[/i] depending on one person. But more seriously, how is a woman who is not naturally lactating going to breastfeed a baby?[/font][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Well strictly speaking it is a: impossible and b: a pipe dream. Actually that's not true. It's possible to induce lactation but it involves a lot of hormone therapy, which isn't necessarily healthy for either party involved in the process. This kid is probably already full of hormones of the unnatural sort. Either way she's not going to have an easy time of it and is going to have to find some form of wet nurse or start mixing the formula. To be fair there is absolutely no replacement for breast milk no matter what people say, but formula will keep a baby alive, just not as healthy as it could be.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]Manjusra turned her eyes, blazing with red behind protective lenses towards the glyph, and within moments, it seemed she was stepping up to Chase's beat up car and pulling him across the e-brake to the passenger seat, before taking them back to her place. Pulling with her arms, she dragged him through the back door, into the basement, the place where the chains and weapons were. But also the hose to take care of the blood and other fluids that usually came from torture. Chase was heavy, she couldn't deny it, but he was also dying, and desperate. A reed mat was already laid out on the stone floor, and she dragged him the rest of the way, laying him down. Turning to the wall, Manjusra dropped most of her clothing against the wall, leaving on her sports bra and shorts. Lighting a couple candles in the wall sconces that lined the small, circular room, she locked the basement door behind her and knelt with her knees pointing south, the same direction as Chase's feet. He coughed and tried to speak, and she placed a pale hand over his mouth. With her right hand she picked up the sharpie that laid on the low desk next to her other tools and carefully ripped away his shirt.[/i] "Oh yeah, this is going to be pretty." [i]With the pen, she carefully drew always moving it deosil as she made a circle where his two collarbones met and then another on the only piece of his sternum not shredded open. Then, focus points made, she put her hands together and formed the first of the mudra she used to calm herself. First palms face upwards, fingers pressed together, thumbs extended. After several deeper breaths, the candles flickered, and Manjusra, moving very slowly, pulled her fingers apart and placed her right first finger against the ground by Chase's head, the left simply resting on her left knee, palm upward again. Then she clapped both hands together, pressing for several seconds, before gathering her strength where they met. White light exploded from them as she pushed her fingers towards Chase's broken body. First her fingertips flew over his chest, running like spiders across his broken ribcage, pausing to tug at his heart . Then she ran them down his arms, across his stomach, down his twisted left leg. Pulling back up, breathing hard but suffused with an ephemeral calm, she resumed her meditation position, her eyes focusing on the circles. They disappeared under a sudden bloom of light shaped like flowers, and then vanished, leaving behind a coughing, bewildered Chase. He sat up with a start, turning to see Manjusra rolling with sweat, her hands on the ground as she hunched over, breathing like she'd just run a marathon. [/i] "Manji? Where's the Ghast? What are you-?" [i]As he reached out to touch her, he recoiled and looked at his blood encrusted hands. His wrist didn't hurt from when it had cracked into a wall. His chest seemed just fine. In fact, he felt wonderful. Chase looked back at her and saw a crumbling of what looked like ash in the middle of her forehead when she looked up at him, tears of exertion in her eyes.[/i] "Thank you Manji." "Wel...come." [i]She would've said more, but instead she settled for flopping forward on the mat, trusting Chase to find the hose coiled in the corner around a bucket of industrial strength soap and wash himself before thinking of tracking blood and mud into her house.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Allamorph'][FONT=Arial]No wonder we bicker so much.[/FONT][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]The mystery is solved. Now the universal alignments of planets can begin... [/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Sara'][font=trebuchet ms]I'm an RA, and I assure you... we [i]know[/i], but if there isn't proof, we'll just smile and nod and tell you to be safe and enjoy your evening. It's a delicately maintained balance. =][/font][/QUOTE] [COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]I could've been an RA but I decided not to accept their offer because I have such a low tolerance for college students trying to be cool.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Clearly your best bet is to play rock paper scissors and see how it turns out. Actually dating your sister's best friend sounds like a terrible mistake, and just because she's beautiful and smart, shouldn't really impact your choices. Conversely, dating your other friend doesn't seem like a good idea either. How old are you? Do you even need this kind of drama? Don't be in a relationship, don't pick one over the other and voila. There will be no disaster. [size=1]It's like a miracle...[/size][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So I've reached the packing stage, since I'll be driving down tomorrow night with a friend. And since we're both mainlining about 5 hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, we should be nice and fried for the drive. So I can't decide on if I really want to pack jeans or shorts, since the weather in San Diego is slated to be high 70s give or take. And do I really REALLY want to bring my computer? ....yes. Since my friend's stereo is broken but he has an actual plug outlet in his car. I mean what could happen? Besides us both falling asleep and driving his Ford Focus into a ditch.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]So, have you ever realized that you or your friends of asian descent all turn red when they ingest alcohol? I would've never believed it if I hadn't seen it prom night. Someone spiked my Laotian friend's drink and within the first five minutes he began doing the best lobster imitation I've ever seen. Bright red, and welts all over. Apparently his entire clan is allergic to alcohol. Another friend, also Laotian was at a party and she had one shout. Count em. One. And immediately the same thing happened to her. So of course, when the R.A.s inevitably broke up the party I uttered the age old words that somehow were bought by the second year student stupid enough to sign up for the job of making sure hormonally charged teenagers didn't drink. "Oh it's just a bad sunburn." Now I've seen this in Chinese girls too. They take one drink and alternately waffle between magenta and fire engine red while sometimes also losing their voice entirely. I'm told there's nothing that's to be done besides studiously avoid anything remotely alcoholic and also hurting yourself repeatedly when you get the urge to drink. I for one turn a mottled light pink color and start to get immediately overheated, but I hear the heat part is just natural and not because of my Chinese/German heritage. I was hopping the German side would keep the asian glow away but it turns out that just means I don't get completely thrashed after one drink. Do you have asian glow? Have you seen? Mocked? Laughed at? Well I can't blame you there...I can even laugh at myself. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]These days, when wars are not fought in foxholes but from a distance with computer guided missiles I believe the policy does more harm than good. Apparently Israel of all places, with one of the best militaries in the world, pulls off having gays in the military with zero hitches and since this topic was recently beaten to death on the news cycles more than a week ago, we've concluded. And by we I mean most of society: "Never happening. Not in this lifetime." So now's your chance to bash American and call us a nation of homo haters. Enjoy the cheap shots. If you really want to know something recent about gays, ask the census Bureau why they're not going to count gay couples as married in the 2010 census. Well you see while it's legal in CA and MA, it's not legal federally, because of that Protection of Marriage Act. So. How tragic.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]In America today, when blind school bureaucracies punish both the person who starts a fight and participates in one out of self defense, I'm relatively sure children and teenagers are being taught that they will be victimized by everyone around them if they attempt to defend themselves. It teaches the child that defended himself that to the school administration, he is no better than his attacker. I fail to see how this would have much to do with good self esteem. There are bullies everywhere but in most other countries some common sense has prevailed in the sense of knowing who to punish.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]While you make good use of the pindent feature, I find my brain assaulted by the format. Specifically the lack of space between paragraphs. It translates mentally into WALL OF TEXT and any time I try to immerse myself in the concrete details and vivid imagery your writing calls forth the formating comes back to kick me like one would kick a homeless person dragging at your ankles. That out of the way, I couldn't help but feel tragically sad for your protagonist, selling a house almost overburdened with memories of life and death and your phrase concerning the smell of cookies was particularly poignant. Why you might ask? Because soon my own grandmother will die and I'll be there with my father doing the same thing to her house. It says we have to in her will.[/FONT][/COLOR]