My Calender is Slow

It really, really is. It still says April. Maybe I want to remain in denial that I'm sixteen. Sixteen-year-olds are meant to have grown out of cartoons and video games and Disney movies and constant introspection that can be used as laziness. But then, so do fifteen-year-olds, and girls, for that matter, aren't meant to do that stuff either. I'll just deal with the fact that I am a walking incongruity. It will give me an excuse to work less.

So, today I was in the car going home from school and doing my usual impression of a corpse, when my head happened to flop back and see the sky. It was a nice day, slightly larger amount of clouds than usual, with the sun having to fight its way past this big lump of the things to shine out all pretty and halo-like. It just occurred to me then how big the sky is.

It's very large, in fact. And beautiful. I looked down at the horizon and thought that we are very small, two-dimensional creatures. All of us. Even the trees. No matter how large we build, our "sky-scrapers" never even come close to living up to their names.

I like it.

My favourite teacher from my favourite subject in leaving at the end of term. She is going to Brisbane because her family is there. I am thoroughly sad. She was too, and the rest of my class-mates (there's about seven of us - for some inane reason Drama isn't terribly popular). We cried. Well...I didn't. But most of us did. I got kind of blurry and didn't talk much for the rest of the lesson. Usually I am a hyperactive ball of squeals, victory dances and smart-alec comments. I constantly dance to the music in my head.

I didn't feel much like dancing.

On a slightly less depressing note I appear to be inspired again. In fact, more so than ever before. I have half-a-dozen ideas in my head and they are all clamouring to be OUT.

So here's one. I'm afraid Mr Valentine has been quite persistant in occupying my thoughts of late, so it's just a retelling of some of his past. And it is merely an opening. Don't expect explanations this time:

"Thirty years before the events of Meteor, Shinra was less overt in its moral-defying activities. In fact, one might have even said they were pretty decent - if one was not employed by them, and did not live in Gongaga. People tended to keep their mutinous mutterings to themselves. People who didn't keep their mutterings to themselves learned to, very very quickly. But they usually didn't die. It was not a way of life, not then. Not an oppression. Not a dictatorship, as it would become.

Which was why, when a buzzing airship that did not sputter smoke like most did and was surrounded discreetly by guards, no one glared at it and planned assassinations. Not that it would have mattered much if they had - there were only four people on it, and only two of them were very important.

And only two of the people on board would live through the next three years.

One would be shot.

One would die horribly and hopelessly, in pain.

Ome would go mad with power and devotion.

And one would fly the airship back to its dock, and participate in a doomed project, and end up washed out and drinking too much in Rocket town.

This is not his story."

There we go. Guess who is who. If you know FFVII, it will be disgustingly easy.

I LEAVE NOW! *ninja poof*

EDIT: It has come to my attention that the dates in that little FFVII craziness are off by a few decades. Fuckmonkeys. Oh well, it still stands...