Godelsensei

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Sixteen-year-olds are still kids, yet it is legal for them to smoke. It's just illegal for them to purchase their own cigarettes, as dumb as it seems. Legalizing a drug would make it far easier to get ahold of, which would only make more people start, or continue, to use it. [/FONT] [/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Being one who is against the fact that cigarettes are legalized, I don't think that marijuana ought to be, either. Kids still smoke tobacco because they think it's cool. Parents still wouldn't want their child smoking pot, regardless of whether or not it was legal. Also, it's a gateway drug. It's like downloading your first low-quality fan-sub via Kazaa, only worse for your health. The reason that having small amounts of marijuana about one's person was decriminalized is that the police had to arrest so many teenagers who were just trying it for the first time. I believe having one joint results in a $150 fine, but I'm not sure. (A friend of mine had to do a small report on this issue.) Dealing it, growing it, etc... is still a crime punishable by jail-time, however.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I've always figured it's for the same reason that people are racist. People get some sort of ego-boost out of discriminating against a minority. No one should have to keep things like who they happen to be on a date with shut up indoors just because some one else finds it makes them "uncomfortable."[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]The dictionary definition of intelligence is "the capacity to acquire and apply knowledge." You can be intelligent without having any amount of schooling, but, in an age where any one with a computer ought to have easy access to free education, being able to use a language effectively is a sign of intelligence.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Adahn']I'm going to have a little bit of fun with this. What makes you think that you're going to die? Can you prove that you're not immortal? I wouldn't live my life assuming I could jump off bridges or dance across highways without getting hurt, because faith isn't about testing, it's about believing. I challenge any one of you to prove your mortality to me, in whatever way you see fit. (no, I'm not asking you to kill yourself, though this would be a fun way to go about it)[/quote] [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]It's generally accepted that people who jump off bridges and dance across highways tend to end up in a non-living state. Seeing as everybody's body is built in the same way (barring gender-related features), we can only assume. Unless you were some kind of insane super-human or something... That would be so awesome. I mean, you could, like, fling yourself off of stuff and see the people around you freak out for kicks. : 3 (I'm sure it could be put to some good, too...maybe. If I was in the mood.) Even if I somehow happened to be immortal, I don't think I'd want to test the theory out.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]While running in gym class this morning, Iori, PrincessGoneral, and I saw [i]half a pigeon[/i] lying in the middle of the track route. It was like that scene from Shaun of the Dead, without the zombies, and more feathered. And I've been seeing alot of dead squirrels lying with their feet in the air, all in one piece, not squished at all, lately. Something is coming. o_O[/FONT][/COLOR]

[quote name='Adahn']This merits a response. There are those who can live their lives understanding what they are told to understand. They believe what they are told to believe. It is not one's search for intelligence that shows greater intelligence, but rather a hunger, a desire, for truth and wisdom beyond what is conventionally taught. You have to ask yourself, do you fall into this category? If you do, I have yet to see it.[/quote] [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]That would be curiosity. They're different things, though often related. And in one of my posts I basically said I didn't buy what THE BOARD told me, so your little insult at the end is kind of pointless. On a message board, you can't see some one's "body smarts" or "music smarts" or "art smarts" or other things of that nature. If you catch some one's "emotion" or "self smarts" it's through their grasp of the language. For our purposes, some one who can't post coherently isn't intelligent if they are trying to convey a message in their native tongue.[/FONT][/COLOR]

?You think maybe she?s a lesbian or something?? They were sitting on the subway, Toru managing to somehow take up three seats, despite his quite possibly being skinnier than his brother was. It had something to do with the way he sat. Nobuhiro thought he would have probably made room for any one else if they had been on the train during rush hour: right now, it was almost empty. ??no.? ?Didn?t you say her friend was gay or something? They have schools for gay people in America, you know. That?s what I heard, anyway.? ?She?s not from America. And I wouldn?t recommend lighting that cigarette while we?re on this train.? His brother scowled and took the thing from his lips, then handed it to him. ?Here. For later.? Nobuhiro took it. ?You shouldn?t smoke, you know.? ?You do.? ?Hm.? He put it in the pocket at the front of his shirt and leaned back, letting his head softy tap the window. They had just come out of the tunnel, but would re-enter it in a matter of minutes. ?Did you talk to them yet?? ?No. Why would I do that?? ?Just wondering. So, Dad actually kicked you out of the house for real this time.? ?Hai. It?s none of your business, anyway.? His headphones were emitting noise that Nobuhiro could not identify as anything specific, sitting about his neck, making every one aware of the fact that he didn?t care about noise pollution and whether or not it offended them. He lifted them with the tip of his forefinger in order to pick at a scab that he had somehow sustained there. It was not a big scab. ?How?d you cut yourself?? ?Cat scratched me.? ?Her, too, huh?? ?Guess so. You talked to Junko, huh?? ?Yeah.? His brother turned to look out the window. He was the picture of despondency, Nobuhiro thought. ?I picked up the phone when she called home last night. Remember when Mom made him get a phone?? ?Better than you, probably.? ?Yeah, well, she talked to me, and then I told her to find a guy that was less Japanese, less like Dad, and she laughed. But he heard and then he was yelling and telling me to get out of his house. You know, I don?t know how the other two still live in that place.? ?They?re just like Dad, that?s how.? ?You know, niisan, Mom didn?t try and stop him or anything. She just sat there on the couch, and I looked at her once, and she wasn?t even paying attention.? ?Sou ka.? He glanced at his watch, absent-mindedly. The next stop was his brother?s, and the one after that his own. He?d told Junko he would meet her there. ?Yeah. I don?t think she cared too much.? He took his foot from the seat it currently had all to itself and stood up, shouldering his bag. ?She never liked me too much, I don?t think. She never really wanted the last three of us, did she?? He gave out half of a muffled laugh and looked up at the ceiling. Nobuhiro noticed that his eyes were glazed over, and imagined that his throat probably hurt. He didn?t have anything to say to his brother, the learning disabled, dropout, never-worked-a-day-in-his-life nineteen-year-old they had given up on years ago, in response to that and just when he thought he might have, a familiar sound alerted the passengers that the doors were opening, and his brother stepped out of the car. As the train began to pick up speed again, Nobuhiro noticed him put another cigarette to his lips and reach into his pocket for his lighter. Having triplets after your fortieth birthday would probably take a lot out of any one, he thought. [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I'm not sure about whether or not I like this chapter. Regardless, it's what came out. Enjoy. Hong Hing: Gai-jin = foreigner Onna = woman I leave it to you to figure out the rest.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]When you die, your body decomposes and you rot into nothingness. Unless you're held in some kind of giant freezer or are thrown in a swamp etc... If you drown, your body swells up and is either devoured by fish or washes up on a beach and is eaten by crabs. I can't imagine what it would be like to die, but the firing of nerve-endings in your brain might give you the illusion of an "infinate" amount of time. I am not exactly an expert on neurology, however. I read a book about death a while ago: "Passage" by Connie Willis. Give it a flip-through--'twill get you thinking.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]You seem to be arguing that some n00b posting while victim to a case of "lamer condition" (Who's banner was that in a while ago?) is actually brighter than the rest of us. And you missed a whole lot of paragraph breaks in your first thread, too, btw, so I'd get off the poor old man's back about poor moonication skills. (He's senile, anyway, so those are bound to go pretty quick, mind you.) THE BOARD tries to tell us that there are different kinds of "Smarts" (ie: "body" smarts, "writing" smarts, "self" smarts...), but intelligence is basically your IQ number. Your bit about how "seeking intelligence" is actually greater intelligence is like saying that having a positive attitude makes you smart. It just doesn't work that way. Often wanting to gain knowledge and working very hard can make up for a lack of "god-given" intelligence, but the fact remains that some people can determine that those cans really ought to have labels in less than five seconds by the time they're eight years old and some can't. This has nothing to do with what language you speak; it's just how easily one can detect that something is wrong with the picture they're seeing. "_______ recognition is intelligence." "Pattern recognition is ____________." Now fill in the blanks.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I do believe it was PrincessGoneral who was saying, the other day, that any one who can't read or write their native tongue and do the most preliminary of mathematics by the age of 12 ought to be shot... Basically, as I see it, if you want to fit into the label THE BOARD uses to define intelligence, you have to be 1) an elitest bastard 2) entirely unwilling to do any amount of work 3) aware of your shortcomings and allow the slightest of them to take large bites out of your self esteem. Oh yeah, and another criterion they value is "Prefers the company of adults." Hope that clears some things up. EDIT: [Quote]I should have clarified. When I spoke of not having a perfect grasp on the language, I meant in terms of spelling, punctuation, grammar, etc. One can have a very large vocabulary and not be able to spell half of it. You make some good points, and I apologize for not making myself clear. If one pursues knowledge of abstract concepts, one will find oneself with a very large, complex vocabulary indeed. It is those who have these kinds of vocabularies, but don't have the best mechanics that I am speaking of. I do appreciate having my posts picked apart, so please, continue. It helps me to understand better what I was trying to say in the first place, and also to expand on concepts already presented, or even to form new ones through thought and discussion.[/Quote] Did you know that the first Russian revolution was innitiated by the printmakers of St Petersburg demanding they be paid the same amount per punctuation mark as per letter? Now tell me again that punctuation is irrelevant.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I don't know about road-kill, but my uncle's friend once killed a deer by shooting it not in the face (or anywhere else, for that matter), but through the gap between its horns. Don't ask me how he achieved this, because I honestly don't know. O_o"[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]The extent of the gore is a guy having his stomach ripped open by undead zombie fingers, then having his bowels ripped out and devoured, without the camera turning away. You can see his intestines being unraveled and whatnot. I didn't have to turn away, but I'm afraid you might. : P [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]My favourite side-kick would probably be Shizune, from Naruto. Though she's more of a student than anything else, and that most side-kick properties apply better to TonTon the pig, Shizune is capable of much more than hunting for truffles. She has a distinct personality, but we are given none of her backstory or any explanation to what she is doing with Tsunade. (I'm half certain we will get something eventually, but eh.) However, she succeeds in kicking much *** and saving a certain huggable guy ([spoiler]NEJI!!![/spoiler])'s life. Therefore, she is cool. I have always had a well of hate reserved for Yamcha from DBZ, originating back in the day. That bastard. He's such a loser. >:^O [/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]My first instinct is to say [spoiler]omfgz dud getting ripd and eaten lolzorz[/spoiler]!!! But that wouldn't do SoD justice, now would it? I can honestly say, gore and everything, that this is one of the greatest movies I have ever seen. It's hilarious while being tear-jerking and utterly watchable. The characters were all individuals, and there were actually some surprises when it came to [spoiler]died and how[/spoiler]. I love the scene with the toy slide. *laughs *** off* [Spoiler](Daphne beating the zombies up with David's legs was pretty funny, too.)[/spoiler][/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]My ideal anime would involve traditional images of things like ninjas and samurai in a contemporary setting, the internet, and would take place in a city named after an obscure food. The animation would be fluid, not particularly stylized, and would be accompanied by the most exquisite combination of classical, techno, and anything else, when it came to the sound-track. During the saddest of scenes, the least predictable of tracks would play, setting moods that would confound to a complete lack of end, and there would be at least one table-flip scene per episode. It would follow the exploits of high-school students who go on zany mystery-solving adventures by night, during which they have to put their m4d n1nj4 sk1llz to work. There would be lots of brilliantly-coreographed fight-scenes that were entirely berreft of silly moral inhibitions. That is: blood. Everywhere. For little or no reason. >: 3 It would, of course, involve unbelievably heart-wrenching and brain-hurting emotional and pyschological dilemmas, which would provide no end of tears, laughter, and eagerness to watch the next 20 minutes of sheer godliness. The opening theme would be The Pillows' "Crazy Sunshine" and the ending would be "Unmei" by AKFG. Oh yez, oh yez...[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I don't have any pictures from the con on my computer, but last time I went as Kenshin, and my friend was Temari. Her little brother had Naruto hair and wore some orange, but that doesn't count. : P It was great fun running down the street before we left and having the old ladies out for a walk stare at us. *chuckle* I always feel sorry for the people who get clutched up about doing things like that. It's just fun, and no convention would be the same without it. I'm going to the con as Raquelle Cathule this year, and I'm being Blue Link for Halloween. Sewing + anime/video games = great fun : )[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]I like my last name, for all its being French. Also, there is no reason for a woman to change her name to that of her husband, unless hers is something utterly detestable. In a marriage, both parties are equal. When I get married, I'll go with the hyphen. (This reminds me that Kenshin's name is actually [spoiler]Kamiya Shinta[/spoiler] towards the end of the series. Heh.)[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Just watched episode one, and my innitial reaction is, "eh." Bleach is okay, though the main character's design is rather blatantly "borrowed" from a certain brilliant manga you can probably guess the name of. The opening theme was pretty cool, but the ending I didn't like all that much. Having read a bit (okay, four volumes...) of Zombie Powder and coming to the conclusion that it wasn't too great, I'm hoping that Bleach will be rather better. As far as the begining goes, everything is still pretty generic. I did like the table-flip scene, though. Heh.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Aside from a few points I made you aware of in our conversation, I love it. (If any one got to commenting before me, you know I read it first, Shin. xP) I like how you fail to include the name of the character, or those of any of his friends, hobbies, or interests, yet still manage to give us a clear depiction of his character. You don't feel like you're missing anything after reading this, and I found myself summing up the presence of the girl to either insanity or some strange effect of his claustrophobia. Very cool. You get a cheesecake. : D[/FONT][/COLOR]

Once again, they were walking down a sidewalk in Tokyo, at some time in the vicinity of two in the morning. Winnie was clutching an overflowing bag of comics, DVDs, and quite possibly a few other things he hadn?t noticed, to her chest, having somehow rid herself of her sleepiness in its entirety, laughing and smiling at almost everything he said. They had been talking about his job for a while, and their similarity in having to deal with from-hell editors and various other half-superiors. He had worked on two series before his current job, and had once tried to submit his own manga to the magazine, but it had been rejected: he actually still had it lying around somewhere, gathering dust. Winnie said she wanted to read it, and proceeded to ask him for all the details concerning it. It had been a long time since any one had shown any amount of interest in his story or characters, and Nobuhiro found himself detailing more than what he would have even put down on paper for fear of embarrassment. She listened the whole time, nodding and agreeing, and asking questions, which he answered. ?You?re an author, Winnie-san, but how many books have you written? Two?? ?Er. Eight or nine, I guess. Every time one gets out, I worry it has less to it than the rest.? She grimaced slightly as they turned down a less-busy street, quite possibly heading for a pleasant little sushi-house he knew of, and a book fell out of her bag. Immediately, he bent to pick it up, not letting it create a gap in their conversation. ?I?m sure they are all very good. I?m sorry I can?t read English?I?ll have to learn so I can read your stories, Winnie-san.? ?Oh, they?re not that impressive. Just things that come to mind and get expanded on over time. Most of them are pretty weird, anyway. I get a lot of mean-spirited reviews.? He did his best to place the book in a position from which it would not once-again fall, and insisted that anything she came up with would most definitely be brilliant. ?Not so sure about that. Is that the place we?re looking for?? She jerked her head in the direction of a small restaurant, and he nodded. ?So I guess you could say I?ve never had a real job in my life.? Gingerly, she picked up another piece of sushi between her chopsticks, dipped it in Soya, and ate it. She brushed a piece of rice from her bottom lip and chuckled softly to herself. ?Well, that doesn?t really matter, as long as you?ve got money coming from somewhere, I guess.? He looked over at the painting she was regarding with vague interest. It was abstract, of nothing in particular as far as he could make out, but was entitled ?The Bitter Linguist?. He wondered vaguely if she had any idea what the artist was trying to convey, and would have asked her if their meal hadn?t been interrupted. ?Ah! Nobuhiro-san! Nanda koko ni?? Kochira gai-jin wa?? He visibly flinched at the sound of a familiar voice cutting into their discussion. Winnie glanced towards the man standing by their table with a look of confusion, looked over at Nobuhiro, then across the room, at something behind him. ?Ano?Kazuna-san. Konbon wa! This is Winnie.? She looked over, hearing her name, and smiled, dipping her head the slightest bit. She said nothing, however, which managed to surprise him boundlessly. ?Herro, Winnie.? Kazuna?s English was bad, but it was all the same to Nobuhiro. He wondered if his friend had picked any more of the language up of late. ?Hello, friend of Toue-san.? ?Name is Kazuna.? More English. ?Oh, I see: hello, Kazuna.? She took a sip of her drink and looked back towards the painting. ?You guys mind if I join you for a bit, or am I cramping your style?? He grinned as he planted himself next to Winnie, who moved over a couple of centimeters. She looked as though she were wishing she had sat on the aisle half of the booth. ?Um, it?s okay.? Nobuhiro shrugged, having trouble imagining Winnie having any sort of problem with his friend?s presence. ?I?m surprised to see you of all people out late at night. Ano. Early in the morning. Heh. With a gai-jin no onna, no less.? Nobuhiro half-wondered if he ought to tell his friend that she spoke fluent Japanese, but decided against it. It seemed almost as if she had avoided speaking it on purpose, somehow, which confused him to no end. Oh well, he thought, I don?t know Winnie-san all that well, I guess. I wouldn?t know what she?s thinking. She didn?t say anything for the remainder of the meal, aside from a brief farewell upon their departure. ?Mm. Winnie-san. I was wondering why you didn?t speak Japanese to Kazuna-san. He?s kind of an idiot, but he?s a good guy. Sorry if he offended you.? ?Not so much offended as irritated.? She was carrying the bag by the handles now, as though some of the novelty of new possessions had worn off. ?I don?t like it when people refer to me as ?a gai-jin no onna?, to say the very least.? Nobuhiro considered this. ?Wakarimasu yo. I guess it is quite rude. But this is Japan?people are very much like that here.? ?I know. I just didn?t feel like embarrassing him by knowing what he was saying, either. Like you said, he seems like an okay fellow.? ?He is one. I hadn?t seen him in a while, though. Is his English very good?? Suddenly, she burst out laughing. ?No, Toue-san, it isn?t.? [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]At this point, we begin to see a bit more of Winnie's personality developing. She doesn't like being an outsider, I guess. This sort of wrote itself.^^" I hope it's up to standard...[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Just a shorty for today. I like this chapter; hope you will, too. : )[/FONT][/COLOR] There was no visible sign that could have told him Winnie had fallen asleep at her computer, aside from the seemingly endless line of lowercase H?s on the computer screen, a result of her forehead coming into contact with the keyboard when her energy well finally ran dry, when she answered the door to his hesitant knocking a week later. Despite the blue-black bags under her big, white-person eyes, and the disarray of her brightly coloured hair, she smiled when she opened the door, and invited him in without hesitation. Her apartment seemed to be full of everything at once. The floor was almost entirely impossible to make out under the mess of empty Ramen bowls, the wrappers from various chocolate-bars, an assortment of socks and sweaters, multiple heavy books in what seemed like more than three or four languages, and just about anything else he could have put his mind to work thinking of, including her underwear. He did his best to avoid looking at that while she fetched them both drinks from the refrigerator. ?I?m sorry to just show up without calling, but I kept getting your answering machine up until last night.? Then, he realized what he had said, reddened and continued with, ?I was just wondering if you wanted to do anything again, since the last time was pretty fun.? She handed him a can of something he hadn?t drunk since his fourteenth birthday and glanced towards the ceiling, apologetically. ?Oh yes? I?ve been away for a week or so.? ?Where?? She flopped down next to him on the couch, putting her feet up on a pile of magazines on the coffee table. If it hadn?t been for the motion of her feet and their coming to rest where they did, he never would have noticed the pile of Jump comics. Shounen Jump. He wondered if she had them because she was friends with Watanabe-sensei or if it had something to do with what she?d told him about her friends? interest in manga at the bar. ?Oh, my friend got married and didn?t tell me until two days before. I had to jump on the first plane to get there on time? That bastard. I didn?t know they were more than just dating. Shows what you keep track of when you move out of the continent, I guess.? She opened her can, took a long drink, and said, ?They were a pretty cute couple, though. Are. In their matching tuxedoes and everything.? She laughed a bit. ?Matching?? Don?t American brides usually where dresses?? ?Canadian. And yes. But there wasn?t an actual bride there.? He blinked at her for a few seconds. ?It was a gay wedding,? she said, setting her drink down. She stood up and stretched, yawning. ?And this is what teaches me not to stay up ?til four in the morning trying to meet deadlines. I?ll probably have to rewrite all of this crap. Ugh.? She swore in what must have been English, and highlighted countless pages of the same letter. ?Oh. I see.? He felt uncomfortable sitting while she was standing, so he walked over to stand next to her, but on the other side of the desk chair. ?Are you busy today, then?? ?No, I finished this last night. If my editor doesn?t like it, it?s her fault.? She grinned in a way that almost made him burst out laughing, and hit delete. ?Death to superfluous H?s, I say. Nobody needs them.? ?I suppose not.? ?Hey, Toue-san.? ?Yes, Winnie-san?? ?You know Tokyo better than I do, so could you show me around a bit? You know, some cool stores or something? I just know where the grocery store and a bookstore is. And a couple of restaurants.? She looked down at him with a look that said ?Please?? and he nodded. ?Sure. I mean?sure! This will be fun!? He smiled a smile that revealed his teeth, and commented that he hadn?t had one of these drinks since his fourteenth birthday. ?Sou da ka, Toue-san? I just bought a box of the best label I saw yesterday. I?ll meet you in the lobby in forty-five minutes, ?kay? I need to bathe and stuff.? He nodded and, five minutes later, found himself sitting in the lobby, watching the clock with a mix of happiness and excitement that he never would have expected to have been precipitated by his breaking his wrist falling down a flight of dimly-lit stairs. [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New] I wrote this while listening to The Pillow's Back Seat, an song you should run out and download right now. Well, stay seated and download. I had originally started writing another bit about Hiro-kun and his Neesan, but I think this is more fun; what's Engrish without Winnie, after all? : )[/FONT][/COLOR]

[FONT=Courier New][COLOR=Gray]Poor Sarah-chan. She missed out on an essential piece of her childhood. Howsabout we all make her a big, fancy Halloween vampire-witch dress? : D No, really, I think I'll draw one for you, Anatema-chan. : ) Princess Goneral, Kunai, another friend, and I are going as Link Four Swords, which is bound to be endlessly fun.^^ We're making the costumes ourselves, however, which may end in death. *swt* *is thankful for her years of sewing experience, but fears for her friends'* Hmm... We bought some huge-*** pumpkins while we were up in the country this weekend, too, so Halloween is looking to be very fun this year. : 3[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]The title is actually derrived from the name of a short film I saw on Imax a few years ago. I like how this chapter turned out--I think it does an okay job of introducing a very important person to Nobuhiro, as well as revealing a smidgen more of his personality. Incidentally, I love the name Junko. : )[/FONT][/COLOR] The doctor had told him it would take six to eight weeks for his wrist to heal, as long as everything went fine. Watanabe-sensei had told him he needed a break, anyway. Not that he was on paid leave or anything, but it was somehow nice to know that he had a legitimate, obvious excuse for not working for a couple of months. Nobuhiro sat on the couch Winnie had occupied the night before and stared at the picture she hadn?t noticed on the coffee table. It was slightly smaller than the one of Keiko and Yukari, which he was often glad of, as he never really enjoyed looking at it. After a few minutes, he sighed and stood up. It was nine-thirty and he had nothing better to do, so he turned off the lights, made his way upstairs, with the intention of going to sleep. However, upon pulling off his shirt and socks, then sitting down on the bed, he happened to glance at his bedside table. She had left him her phone-number before she left, on a pink sticky note?produced from the kangaroo pocket of her sweater?in case he ever wanted to go drinking again, or if he ever decided he needed help with learning English. He hadn?t been sure what to make of the adhesive note being stuck carelessly to one of his walls as she walked out, thanking him a few times over, but was rather glad to have it now. Almost without thinking, he picked it up, letting it adhere itself to the end of one of his fingers, and read through the series of numbers several times before reaching for the phone. It was only nine-forty-five, after all: she was bound to be up. The phone rang five times (he counted them, letting his gaze drift about the room, never settling in one particular place) before he heard her voice on the other end of the line. ?Moshi moshi?? ?Winnie-san, I was just?? ?I am not able to come to the phone right now, so sorry. Please leave your name and number.? Then, something in English that he could not understand. Then a beep. The second when he could have left a message asking if she felt like doing anything some time passed. He took a small breath and opened his mouth again. The second passed again, until it became nearly a moment, and he hung up. He looked at the phone for a few minutes, sitting there, innocently, on the receiver, before crawling between the cooler-than-he-preferred sheets and trying to fall asleep. When he opened his eyes, a strong beam of sunlight was shining through a gap in the curtains, spilling out on his face and bed sheets. He could hear a dog barking somewhere down the street, and some one was cutting their lawn. Sitting up, he glanced at the clock, to discover it was nearly noon and rather chilly. Pulling on a sweater, he made his way downstairs, but not without stopping at the bathroom to empty his bladder and brush his teeth. The carpet felt warmer against the soles of his feet than the air did against his face and hands, and his eyes were still partially occupied by the gritty yellow sleep; he had overslept, and was therefore still tired. He let go a yawn and tripped, missing a step. Last time he had been lying on his back after falling down a flight of stairs in much the same fashion, some one had shown up and called an ambulance. He didn?t need an ambulance this time, but it would, indeed, have been nice if any one else had been there. He lay there for a few minutes, on the off-white carpet, watching the ceiling for nothing in particular, until his stomach growled and he decided he needed to eat something. ?I figured since you finally have some time off, we ought to do something together, the four of us.? Junko was sitting across from him, next to his younger niece, who was blowing bubbles in her chocolate milk. Her face seemed to have a few more lines than last time he had seen her, something her dark red lipstick no longer managed to draw attention from. It was the only make-up she was wearing, and her hair was cropped chin-length?it was a startling contrast from the last time he had seen her, nearly two months ago. Her hair had been pulled into a pretty alligator clip at the back of her head then, and mascara had helped to define her longer-than-usual eyelashes. She hadn?t been so tired then, her skin hadn?t sagged ever so slightly from her bones, and she hadn?t spoken in the half-defeated way she did now. His sister was still beautiful, only more conventionally now: she had lost something that made her exciting to be around. Now, three minutes later, she was clearly holding back tears, giving a vague explanation of the current state of her attempt to get a divorce. She didn?t say anything that her daughters wouldn?t have understood or already known, but he caught more from her words than they did, and it saddened him. ?Sorry, Hiro?you don?t have to worry about this. Shouldn?t anyway.? She put an arm around the four-year-old Yukari and wiped a potential tear from her eye with her knuckle. ?Don?t say that, neesan. Anyway, let?s talk about more cheerful things. It?s Keiko-chan?s birthday in a few days, right?? His niece visibly perked up at hearing this and proceeded to give him all the details of what she was hoping to receive. He wondered at the six-year-old?s ability to be so happy when it was so obvious that her family was falling into tatters, but then he thought she was most definitely hiding her feelings, and humored her. Lunch was delicious. [COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Thanks for all the positive re-enforcement, by the way, guys.^^ Appreciate it.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Well, this was fricken hilarious to read. No, really--I had a great amount of fun. And the thing is, [i]it's all true[/i]. I like the way you give the perspective of the five-year-old at the same time as the...you're nineteen, right? Anyway, I think my point gets across. I quite enjoyed the line about the "innatentive bastard". *sigh* I remember when not moving and keeping your eyes closed were all one needed to feel secure. : /[/FONT][/COLOR]