Stark

Name: Emma Chantal Age: 20 Race: Human/Innocent Weapon: A small dagger that was a gift from her older brother. Apearance: Due to an unusual genetic condition, Emma is as much a creature of the night as the vampires that roam the land. When seen under the light of the full moon she appears as pale as any vampire, and her blond hair takes on a faint silvery hue. She doesn't go out into the sunlight too often, considering that even minimal exposure puts her at risk for any fatal skin disease, but when she does she is always wearing long sleeves, a coat of sorts, long pants, and a wide brimmed hat even in the middle of summer. She prefers the night, as she doesn't have to go through all of the fuss. Normally she is seen wearing loose, delicate looking dresses that make her appear as an illusion. Or, she'll take a hard turn to the left and dress as a boy when she enters into town so that no one recognizes her. Bio: When she was young her parents learned the hard way that Emma would never lead a life that was quite the same as other little girls. Upon discovering that she burned to the most minor exposure to the sun, and that the burn lasted longer that it should have, they moved to the outskirts of Millam so they could raise her and her older brother in peace without the prying eyes and scorn of the neighbors. She led a good, well adjusted life, however. She was happy with her parents and brother, with no worries of the whispers that went about town. On the rare times she did return to Millam, she could feel the people staring and hear them whispering oddities such as her being a demon or a vampire. It was painful to hear that, so she chose to go to town as little as possible. However, the life she lead would not last for long. Her brother left Millam for Paris, with grand dreams of becoming an actor. Before leaving he gave his sister a small dagger, both for her to remember him and for protection should she need it. Then, not long after, a couple of hungry vampires killed her parents when she was out amusing herself on the countryside. With no where left to go, she disguised herself in her brother's clothing and returned to Millam, intent on surviving as best as she could in the bright lights that could prove fatal, and on finding the offending creatures and giving them a taste of her grief. Emma has better night vision because of her condition, and is better able to sneak through the shadows than any other human. These skills she uses to her advantage in her self given mission. She is wary of strangers, and is quick to prove their misconceptions wrong. However, once she is comfortable, she is more than willing to do what she can to help her friends.

Tokito regarded Haruko for a moment in thoughtful silence. He knew that Motoko had a violent streak at times, and that Haruko had one to match. He also knew that the two of them had known each other for a long time. He sat down near her. "Haruko-San," He said, "You and Motoko-San are very good friends, almost like sisters, yes?" Haruko nodded. "Yeah, that's right." "Well, I know that my brother and I get into fights and arguments pretty often. It's just a part of being a person." He smiled, an attempt to dissolve the heaviness of the conversation. "You never answered my question," Haruko pressed. Tokito nodded. "You feel bad about it, and I'm sure she does too. I don't see how it could hurt." Before he knew it, Haruko had her arms around him. "You're a great person, Tokito-Kun. I'll go talk to her right away!" With that said she got up and bolted down the hall.

"Thank you much!" Tokito cheerfully replied, taking a healthy bite of the melon. As he did so, he picked up the bag of chips that were lying in the sand. He swallowed, and spoke. "I brought this along, too.' He said, "You know how it is at the beach. People swim, people fry, and people get hungry after spending so much time in the sun. I would have brought along my mini grill, but I didn't want it to get messed up!" He laughed nervously, all too aware of his innate clumsiness and awkwardness. "Too true," Haruko agreed. She then turned to the others, "Hey! Motoko! Kota! Look at what Tokito brought along!" Kota glanced over, and seemed to regard Tokito for a moment. Tokito waved, embarrassed by the attention, and waws rewarded by Kota's vague wave back. Motoko, on the other hand, turned around. "Oh my God! Is that Salt and Vinegar?!" She ran over, her long hair trailing behind her in such a way that not even the Greek sculptors could have done better, and leaving Tokito feeling flushed. It wasn't until she was closer that he thought to move, but by then it was too late. She ran into him in a combination of a tackle and a hug, the both of them falling into the sand. Tokito stiffened on contact and was at a loss for words when she snatched the bag from his hand. "Y-yeah, " He managed to stammer, "I like them a lot too."

Tokito had been having second thoughts when he arrived in his room, and those second thoughts were becoming louder by the time he finished watering his plants. The image of Motoko in a two-piece haunted his awareness, as did the nagging thought of bringing his two liter bottle of soda to the beach, and perhaps a bag of chips. He gazed vaguely at his DVD collection, First Contact waiting patiently on top for him to pop into the DVD player. As much as he would love watching Picard and Data go after the Borg, the idea of frying himself on the beach to see Motoko in her bathing suit was stronger. Tokito sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, the messes I get myself into." He muttered, grabbing a towel and his swimming trunks. "Looks like I won't see a drunken Deanna tonight," He smiled, hunting around through the pantry for snacks. "Because..." He continued, "It looks like I have bigger fish to fry!" With that declaration he darted out of his room and toward the beach, his steps echoing through the vacant corridor. It was only when he was half way there when he realized that he had forgotten his sandals, and cursed aloud as he doubled back to get them. Sandals retrieved, he followed his original path toward the beach, and was heartened when he heard the shouts and laughter of his peers. He saw Motoko, Kota, and Haruko, instantly making the decision to join them. But, alas, disaster struck when he was only a few yards away. The sand was too soft, the sun too bright, and, much to his chagrin, he fell face first into the sand.

The pressure of the decent had gotten to him, but Mori managed to bear the growing pain deep in his ears with little more than the tightening of his hand around the armrest. If he bit the bullet, so to speak, the pain would pass with no problem and no attention. Even knowing that, he still cursed. It hurt like hell. In a daze he followed the rest of his comrades off of the plane, a growing uneasiness settling over him. He knew of these people, yes. But he didn't know them. Without his usual partner he felt exposed, and slightly paranoid. If any of these people should shoot him in the head, no one would have been bothered to clean up the body or pay any respect. No one, save his usual partner... He snapped the thoughts out of his head, "Stop dreaming of the dead," He muttered, an order directed at himself. Edgar Allen Poe would have been proud if he had continued that thought. He didn't give the dead man the pleasure. Dead people. That was all he was worth. Once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, he recalled doing a skit with the other people in his drama class and having the audience roar with laughter. It was a touch of improvisation, and the one rule that had to be followed: Never disagree with anything. In using that as a guidline, a whole group of them could make an audience howl in laughter over something as mundane as making a sandwich. Thanks to Sir, all that was gone. He waited with the others outside as everyone stood in relative silence. He glanced around, and the only one who seemed to be doing anything was Miss Umeko. She was twirling around her parasol. It was a touch childish, and Mori felt his lips curve upward upon seeing that. There was hope yet in the world. Umeko closed her parasol as a vehicle came to a stop before the group. The smile fell from Mori's face as he took it upon himself to play the role of a Ninja Assassin. If nothing else, it would keep him amused. As the others entered, he made it a point to be the last. Mori took a deep breath in as everyone got settled and the vehicle started moving, both for his nerves and to breathe in what little fresh air he could. The silence that permeated the vehicle and it's occupants was heavy and suffocating. Somehow, he thought he caught the smell of something rotting along the surf, and was reminded of an eternity of darkness within a sarcophagus.

[COLOR=Blue]Blue[/COLOR], because I find it to be a very calming color. Yes, it is often associated wtih coldness and depression, but no one seems to look at it otherwise. The sky is blue, and beautiful. The ocean is blue, and calming in spite of it's ferocity. Even the hottest flame is not orange, but blue. So, blue is a calming, beautiful, dangerous, and passionate color in my eyes. That is why I like it so much.

For me it's a toss up between Saiyuki and Mobile Suit Gundam (The Universal Century timeline). I'm just astounded that no one else wants to ride around in a jeep on a seemingly endless journey and kick as much youkai butt as they please. Then again, with so many unpredictable characters and the very real threat of getting shot, it shouldn't be too surprising. I also said Mobile Suit Gundam because it is a very plausible future, with people colonizing in space and the weapon of choice for space combat is a humanoid robot. Plus the advent of Newtypes, a very real possibility if we do go into space, and further tensions between Zeon and Earth that could explode into a full out war. It seems very realistic, and very possible. Besides, who says that I wanna pilot a Gundam? I'll take a Zaku, thanks.

You do realize that pornography can cover a lot of things, right. For instance, the poem 'Howl' by Alan Ginsberg can be considered pornographic. Just figured that I'd say that. Anyway, in this society people consider porn as another means of profit. In my humble opinion, I say that, so long as no one is being hurt emotionally or physically, then I don't see what the ruckus is about. It's been around forever and it will be around forever. If you don't like it, then don't expose yourself to it. I have to admit that I am a noted Anne Rice Junkie. If you don't get that, then I'll explain. While Anne Rice is most noted for writing in the Gothic/Horror style, there are several sexual undertones in her tales, mostly between males. But that's me. I'm not saying you have to like it. There's a choice in everything, and you can choose to allow yourself to be offended by some aspect of your friend's site. And you can choose not to go there again, for that point. You don't have to agree with it, but you can't necessarily stop people from looking at it. It's been around, and will be around. You do realize that these sites make up over 70% of all internet sites, right? It sells, and people want money. In this money hungry world, people do what they can to make some more of their obsession.

"Hi, Tokito-Kun!" Tokito jumped at the sound of Motoko's voice, his history textbook falling onto the tile floor as he did so. He stiffened as the succeeding bang echoed through the hallway, and flushed as he looked up at Motoko. "Ah...Tsurigane-San..." He said, at a loss for words. His heart was beating too fast, and the coherent portion of his mind was begging to know the reason for the unnecessary stress. Motoko laughed. "I've told you before, call me 'Motoko-Chan'. She had changed since the final bell had rung, and was wearing a pink two-piece swimsuit with a daring collage type pattern. Tokito felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he noticed that, and barely managed to stammer out a reply. "Y-yeah, Tsurigane-San." She pouted. "You never learn, do you?" Tokito, saying nothing, vigorously shook his head. Motoko paid no attention, noticing the fallen book instead. "You know, you've dropped your book." She stated. "I'll get that for you." She dropped down to retrieve the book, and Tokito forced himself not to watch. She was...too much to take at the moment. The way her lips pursed in thought as she examined the book, the way her long hair fell over her shoulders, the way her sunscreen smelled faintly of coconut...She was going to the beach. The thought clicked as if a switch had been flipped. She was going to the beach... The beach meant sun. And water. And burgers. He knew how to make burgers, and hotdogs, and grilled chicken too. And, to finish, he would make a smoothie out of some wierd and exotic fruit. Like Kiwi, for example. Or even chocolate, a lot of teenaged girls liked chocolate... He forced his attention back to reality as Motoko stood up and handed him his book. "There you go," She chirped, "You really need to be careful." She smiled at him as she moved away. "It's break, so I'll be seeing you around!" Tokito stood, rooted at the spot as she moved further and further down the hall. Then, he had an idea. "Wait!" He called, running after her. She turned around, a question in her eyes as he caught up. "I...can make some food if you want to have a party over break..." He said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "That's so sweet of you, Tokito-Kun!" She cried. "I'll be sure to consider that if a party comes up. Thanks!" She continued on her way down the hall, leaving Tokito almost stunned. "No problem." He said vaguely, then turning around to head to his dorm. He had to change, eat, water his plants, then carry out his plans of having a Star Trek marathon. Tokito smiled as he walked down the hall. Yep, that would be the perfect way to bring in the temproary reprieve from school.

Tokito maneuvered swiftly and steadily down the hall, intent on delivering the package his history teacher, Mr. Sanada, had told him to. The package itself was little more than a manila envelope, its contents unknown, with the words 'Ms. Niwa, room 2-A' written on it in black marker. Normally it would have no problem, save that Tokito didn't know Building A very well. "8-A, 7-A, 6-A..." He muttered, when the sound of a few people arguing caught his attention. He looked up, eyes widening as he saw Motoko. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, but then he saw the teacher. "Ms. Niwa!" He called, running over. "Mr. Sanada asked me to deliver this package to you!" The teacher looked over, as did the other two students. Motoko looked surprised, and the new student, Kota, was as impossible to read as he was earlier that morning. "Oh.' The teacher said, "Thank you, Mr..." She didn't seem to know his name, but Tokito wasn't surprised. "Sagara," He said, nodding to the teacher. "I'm Tokito Sagara." He looked at Motoko one last time, not seeing Kota, flushed, and fled back to his classroom.

After speaking with Sakura, the rest of the trip had been uneventful for Mori. He couldn't help but notice that Ruika had approached Ayame, as he was sure the others did, and amused himself for a little by just watching their interactions. Their voices were too low to catch, but their body language was enough. It was a discussion, of sorts. Maybe even a challenge, as far as he could gather, between the child raised in the hellhole and the girl who was captured and trained like himself. He could sympathize, Ayame was hard to get along with, but he would leave it to them. What right did he have to intervene? He turned his attention back to a book of word puzzles he had picked up at the airport. Cross words, riddles, logic puzzles, and anything else that may have been included in a game book. Anything to keep his mind busy, so that it would not dwell on memories and concerns. He heard Ruika break off her conversation with Ayame and head to the back of the plane towards where the restrooms were, and he spared her a glance. The girl seemed pale, and if she saw him she made no indication of it. Not that it mattered, because most of his comrades weren't as friendly as him. Of course, the only other one who had spoken to Sakura on the plane was Kazuma, not that any gesture from the troublemaker would be worth anything. Except as a possible ally. Once, someone had told him that the only means of escape was through death. Kazuma was the only person who had tried a means of escape that didn't involve death. It failed...but, with the right help... Maybe. Just maybe. He wanted release too. There was nothing he missed more than the feel of the sun on his shoulders without that heavy cloud that constantly hung around him. There must have been other people who desired that, too. Mori felt that the others had given up all hope. Unlike them, he hadn't lost it yet.

There are stuff other than hard rock, you know. My only problem is, I don't know the actual names of the CDs I own, so I'll give you a rundown of the artists in my collection. The Killers Switchfoot Evanescence Josh Groban Avril Lavign Yanni Enya Jamie Cullum I also have a couple of soundtacks, a collection that I hope to add to in the near future. This includes... The Pillows (FLCL Soundtack no. 2) Fithos Lusec Wecos Vinosec (FFVIII Soundrack) I'm not much into buying CDs. I have the radio to listen to music, and that's mostly hits from the 80's or Jazz.

lol, IceRose. Thank you for answering in the best way possible. On to the topic: Personally, I believe that life is what you make of it. It can be as interesting or as hopeless as you make it, so it's ultimately silly to be pondering such questions. Not that it's unusual, because everyone who is human wonders about these things from time to time. [quote name='animeaddict2']But if you were to put the pros and cons of life onto a scale - I have a feeling that the cons would tip the scale. For everything that we create e.g. cars/paper there is almost always a negative effect on something else, the Ozone Layer/ depletion of trees. [/quote] That is the very reason why people think that the most dangerous animal is man. Of course, no one said that you have to follow the norm and commit the same sins that the rest of humanity has. Like I said, life is what you make it. That also means that you could take it upon yourself to be the voice for those who have none (Trees, Animals) and fix the problems you see. It may be quite the task but, if you feel that strongly about it, then no one has the right to stop you. I know that I won't. the people who think that life is an exercise of futility--literally, 'Life is a *****, then you die,'-- may honestly believe that stance. It doesn't mean that you have to. I trust that you'll find your own answers, given time.

I would reccommend Bloodlust to anyone, even to those who haven't seen the original movie. The animation is spectacular, as is the way everything is executed. Besides, D is one of those rare characters who manages to win people over in spite of his relative silence and lack of expression. He is the perfect protagonist for this tale, and all of the stories he stars in, simply because of that. It is a stunning movie. Do watch it. Now. Run, don't walk, to the nearest video rental place and check it out. You'll love it, trust me on that one.

"Mind if I join you?" Mori smiled at the new girl as she jumped, and had seized the opportunity to quench his interest as he saw Kazuma leave. "Um, no. Not really." She said, the unspoken questionh obvious in her face and voice. Mori took that as an invitation and easily sat in the empty seat next to her, ignoring the warning looks he was recieving from the others. She had taken the window seat, so it was easy for him to join her. "Sakura, right?" He questionied, keeping his tone conversational. "Yes," She confirmed. "What are you doing here?" She then asked in a lowered voice. "I'm not allowed to get acquainted with a band mate?" He returned, amused by her stiffness and wariness. She sighed, "I'm not responcible if you get in trouble." "By no means!" Mori laughed. "Since I know your name, you should know mine. Call me Mori, if you will. " "And your full name?" "Is not necessary." He eyed the delicate looking fans that still sat in her lap, and adjusted his glasses so he could study them better. "Hm. Ayame chose well." He murmured, "You may want to put those away. There's no need to reveal your toys before the party begins." She frowned at him, but obeyed. Mori nodded, briefly wondering what kind of girl she had been beofre her capture. She had a sweet, almost innocent look about her. Clearly, she didn't belong there. Just another school girl, really. She was about the same age as Chi was when they had met... He pushed that thought aside. There was no use in comparing his new, inexperienced comrad to a dead girl. Still, it was hard not to. "I can help you, if you need it," Mori murmured, making a subtle switch from Japanese to English. "What was that?" Sakura asked, clearly confused. Along with the confusion, there was a hint of understanding. Not surprising, Mori notied, considering how many students learn the basics of the language as a part of their curriculum. Mori stood easily, "Just what you think it was," He replied. "Now, if you'd exucse me..." He made a gesture to signify that he was leaving. "I will see you later." He moved easily to his seat, silently glad to have made his mistake. She was a sweet girl, but he couldn't help but fear for his sanity. She was too much like Chidori, and he couldn't promise anything if she got herself hurt.

lol. Nothing wrong with that! Anyway, there is only one volume out that I know of, out of a total of six. It's licensed by Tokyopop too, so it's at the standard $9.99 price. As for Asuna...well. I'll just say that she's cute like a ditsy school girl, but she has a heck of a lot more skill. I do hope that you enjoy it.

This Gundam series is...refreshing, to say the least. I've been a Gundam fan for several years now, and I just picked up the first volume of this manga yesterday because I know I can never go wrong with anything Gundam. But this manga surprised me. For one thiing, I have never seen a female main protagonist in any Gundam series. For a while, I actually thought it was impossible. She exists, and her name is Asuna Elmarit. It's a breath of fresh air for me, because Asuna seems to be your typical fifteen year old school girl. She's cute, and not the brightest crayon in the box. This is the first time I've seen a character such as her be the lead in a Gundam series, so that's the main reason why I picked it up. Looking into the book itself, the artistry is the best I've seen in any Gundam series as well, including Gundam Seed. The artist is the same person who drew Macross, so if that doesn't give you a clue of how it looks then I don't know what will. The story takes place in the year UC0085, post the One Year War. There's a lot of talk concerning Newtypes, and I have my suspicions about a few of the characters already. Beyond that, since I've yet to see any of the previous characters , I'd say that it's a pretty good series for a person who is new to the Gundam idea to read. Or anyone, for that matter. What do you think of it, if you've read Ecole du Ciel? Even if you haven't read it, would you? I'm just curious to see what everyone has to say.

Love is love, that's all I can say. But I'll be nice and elaborate for you. I have a couple of uncles who live in the Boston area who are gay and are married, and I have no problems with it. These uncles are my favorite uncles, in fact, and I have better conversations with them than with my straight uncle. The whole marriage bit I have no problems with, so long as no one is getting hurt it shouldn't matter who gets married to whom. I have to say the same for the adoption bit. Who says that gay couples are any less adept than straight couples? Like I said, my gay uncles are the nicest adults I have in my family, and I'm sure that they'd make good parents if they wanted kids. Besides, people seem to know that they are gay before they get married, so it certainly isn't a part of the socialization process. People aren't socialized to be gay, so a child who has gay parents will most likely be as well adjusted as the child with straight parents. Nope. I have no problems with it on either topic, but the higher up people in the government seem to have a problem.

One event lead to another, and Nana found herself leading a person who was a complete stranger to her employer. She huffed, made a noncommital noise, and reluctantly led Tarma in to see Felas. "Hey!" Nana called, her voice a sing-song chirp, "I have a visitor for you..." Tarma gave her a quizzical look, and Nana only giggled in responce. "Yeah, yeah." Felas murmured as she pushed open the door to her backroom. "Of course you do, becuase you are the most ssocial wallflower I know..." She looked up and froze as her eyes locked with Tarma. "Who the--" "I told you I brought you a visitor." Nana said, tipping her hat up so she could get a better view. There was a delighted shriek from Felas, one that was echoed by Tarma, and the two Mahrim rushed toward each other in their elation. Nana smiled at the two, quietly glad that they were happy. They really did look like sisters, in more than just the fur tone. It was something about the way they moved, a little lopsided quirk to their smiles, a kink toward the ends of their tails... She turned around and left the shop, wanting to leave the two alone as they caught up. Beside, there was other business to attend to, most importantly business about a Slake and Wilder that was of her immediate concern.

Mori gathered his tools in the dusky twilight that was his assigned chamber, a stark room that was devoid of all personal taste or style. The only hint of his personality he kept were some books he read in his leisure time--the works of the western writer Ayn Rand, the Chinese novel Xi-you-gi, or other works of a similar type--and a small 3X5 photograph of his equivalent to the 'Lost Lenore' Edgar Allan Poe referred to in his poem, 'The Raven'. Not that these articles mattered, because they were buried underneath piles of black and denim in his drawers. His roughly pulled a black turtleneck over his head, thinking nothing of his bare room or even his orders. Instead, he contemplated the new girl he would be working with, and wondered why Sir would assign someone so green to such an assignment. He shook his head, finger-combing his thick black hair into place without the aid of a mirror. There was no need for a mirror, unless he wished to torment himself by looking into the eyes of a killer every day. He slipped his hands into his gloves, and tightly tied his steel-toed combat boots onto his feet. Last, but not least, he placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and blinked as the world came into focus. Mori stood, grabbed his knapsack, the tools he would need already inside the battered case, and slung the sack over his shoulders. Before leaving, he took a moment to regard his room once more. It was a piece of clay, ready to be molded into what ever shape the potter desired. It was not unlike himself, he realized, and not unlike the new girl either. If push came to shove, he silently vowed, he would guard the girl?s back and assist her as much as possible.

LOL! That was unexpected. Funniness, definently, and I love the way you inserted those little cameos all over the place. That is saying nothing about the way you use the humor. Bastwing Bladder-Bussles. I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon. I'll pay attention to this. A few laught can never do anyone any harm.

Actually, I only have one name for a weapon at this point, and that weapon is currently being used in an RP. The weapon itself is an antique Smith & Wesson with stylized vine-style engravings and the initials 'M.J. Tanner' on it. It's based off of an actual weapon I found when browsing the 'net, a genuine gun used by a man I believe is called 'F. W. Simpson' in the Civil War. Frankly, I like M.J. Tanner better. I'm not constantly thinking of Homer Simpson when I see it's picture. However, M.J. Tanner is a mouthful, so I simply call it 'Tanner'.

Good stuff here, Nomura. No, your rhymes aren't forced, they seem to work perfectly in the way you write. 'The problem we can't see/ But the answer is thee' in particular made me stop and think for a moment. And, I hope you don't mind this, but your lyrics make me think a bit of Switchfoot... Wonder It really hits on the greed and materialistic ways I see in society. Nobody seems happy with anything anymore, with all of their expensive toys and fragile clothing. People really should stop and take a look, only to see that the problem itself is within their own minds. Faded Such anger and such angst! I've had moments like that, and you're right in this poem. Unfortunately, the same thing will happen over and over again until the chain is broken and the cycle spins out of control. A poet, from what I've noticed, writes with their feelings...well. Find that little bit of control, break the cycle, and ride free on your own set of wheels. No one needs to be chained to that mess.

Starwind, I've told you before that words like that can get you killed should this country head for Totalitarianism. You're quite the idealist, but I can see your point. The world needs a breath of fresh air, and the people in charge are not going to allow that anytime soon. Then again, our parents probably thought the same thing. We are not different. We are not unique in these thoughts. I recognize and acknowledge that fact. I also realize that the world will not change unless something drastic and life-altering happens. People are raised on these ideas, and are socialized in such a manner that they don't know what else they should think. I see that, but I know I can't change it. I also realize that most of our generation just doesn't care. If I recall correctly, Nixon was genuinely afraid of the college students. You just don't see that with Bush. What you are talking about is something revolutionary, something on par of heroic. I've spoken of these things with you as well, so you know that I'm willing to help. But, keep in mind, people with thoughts like these often get killed--Look at Bobby and Jack Kennedy, as well as Martin Luther King Jr. These people are heros, but they only have that status because they were killed. I look at the media, and I see a mess. I know I decided on this very late in my high school career--just within the past few months--but I figure that I'll be a journalist. You just don't hear news worthy news anymore. To fight off the possibility of Totalitarianism, which is entirely possible, as well as Rome's fate, I believe that people need to know what's going on in the world.

I've only had one. I was living in Pennsylvania at the time, and I was in the seventh grade. One winter morning I was up doing my usual routine--wake up, take shower, dry hair, eat breakfast--when I heard the doorbell ring. It was a school day, and I was doing my hair, so I assumed somebody else would get it. No one did, because the doorbell rang again. "Could somebody get that?" I called from the bathroom, hoping that my brother would hear. Again, no one answered. The doorbell rang a third time, and by that point my hair was dry and I was annoyed. I marched up the stairs (The house was a split level and partially underground) and looked through the peephole. Snow there, and nothing more. I backed away, thinking, not for the last time, that I was going insane. Then I laughed as I went upstairs to eat breakfast.