One and the Same

Star Wars and Pirates of the Caribbean – one and the same?

Ah, two of my favorite trilogies: The original Star Wars, and Pirates of the Caribbean. No two series could be more different. Could they?

Seriously, a two-guy-one-girl team? Pirates? Supernaturally-powered bad guys? This has rip-off written all over it. Let's look at the facts, side by side.

First, the characters:

• Leia – Spirited princess that doesn't like to wait around for men to take action. Kidnapped by Darth Vader and sentenced to death. Loves both Luke and Han until she realizes that (a) She loves Han more, and (b) Luke is her brother. Becomes Chancellor of universe.
• Elizabeth - Spirited daughter of a governor that doesn't like to wait around for men to take action. Kidnapped by Barbossa and pricked by knife. Loves Will but has a crush on Jack. Will is not her brother. Pirate King.
• Luke – Naïve farmboy. Orphan. Waves cool sword around. Loves Leia. Kissed sister. Becomes a Jedi, peacekeeper of the universe.
• Will - Naïve blacksmith. Orphan. Waves cool sword around. Loves Elizabeth. Becomes pirate, rogue, and general lawbreaker. Oh yeah, and gets his heart ripped out.
• Han – Roguish yet charming pirate. Scruffy looking. The real hero that does all the work. Switches sides. Gets frozen in Carbonite. Flirts with Leia until she kisses him.
• Jack – Roguish yet charming pirate. Scruffy looking. The real hero that does all the work. Switches sides. Gets eaten by Kraken. Flirts with Elizabeth until she kisses him.
• Darth Vader – Wears funny hat. Cursed by Dark Side. Threatens Leia, Luke, and Han with death. Lost his only love. Heartless. Works with Luke in the end to overthrow Emperor. Dies but comes back in a funny, blue, glowing form.
• Barbossa – Wears funny hat. Cursed by Aztec gold. Threatens Elizabeth, Will, and Jack with death. Works with Jack and Will in the end to overthrow Beckett. Dies but comes back.
  AND Davy Jones - Wears funny hat. Cursed by Calypso to be all tentacle-y. Lost his only love. Heartless. Threatens Elizabeth, Will, and Jack with death. Dies but... um, just dies.
• Lando Calrissian – Fashionable. Traitor. Rescues Leia and Luke, and later rescues Han. Constantly switches sides until he realizes who the good guys are. Should have died trying to kill bad guys, when the Death Star blew up (according to rumors).
• James Norrington – Fashionable. Traitor. Rescues Leia and Luke, and later rescues Han. Constantly switches sides until he realizes who the good guys are. Died trying to kill bad guy.
• R2-D2 – One eye. Comedy relief. Saves the day with l33t haxx0r skillz.
• Ragetti – One eye. Comedy relief. Saves the day by whispering into pagan goddess' ear.
• C-3PO – Shiny bald head. Comedy relief
• Pintel – Shiny bald head. Comedy relief.
• The Emperor – Bad Guy. Cryptic speech. Dies by blowing up. Betrayed by Vader.
• Cutler Beckett – Bad Guy. Cryptic speech. Dies by blowing up. Betrayed by Davy Jones. (OK, not actually betrayed. You get the idea.)
• Obi-Wan Kenobi – Wise, old, magical sage. Dies and turns into weird, glowy, blue thing
• Tia Dalma/Calypso – Wise, old, magical sage. Weird hair.
  
• Chewbacca – Loyal sidekick to Han. Speaks in a language no one else understands.
• Gibbs – Loyal sidekick to Jack. Speaks in a language no one else understands.
• Sarlaac – Big toothy thing. Eats people. Bad guy's pet.
• Kraken – Big toothy thing. Eats people. Bad guy's pet.
• Stormtroopers – Only there for pratfalls and to make you think that the enemy is scary.
• English Soldiers – Only there for pratfalls and to make you think that the enemy is scary.
• Ewoks – Eat people. Try to roast Han.
• Cannibals – Eat people. Try to roast Jack.
• Cloud City – So named because it's in the clouds. Duh!
• Shipwreck Island, Cove, and Town – So named because it causes shipwrecks. Duh!

Not convinced? Well then, here's some quotes that should set your head reeling. (Blue: Star Wars Red: Pirates)

• I'm out of it for a little while, and everyone gets delusions of grandeur!
• I leave you people alone for just a minute look what happens, everything's gone to pot!
• I have a bad feeling about this...
• Bugger.
• Han: You love him, don't you?
  Leia: Yes.
  Han: All right. I understand. Fine. When he comes back, I won't get in the way.
  Leia: It's not like that at all. He's my brother.
• Will: You left Jack to the Kraken.
  Elizabeth: He's rescued now, it's done with. Will, I had no choice.
  Will: You chose not to tell me.
  Elizabeth: I couldn't. It wasn't your burden to bear.
  Will: But I did bear it, didn't I? I just didn't know what it was. I thought...
  Elizabeth: You thought I loved him.
• [I got nothing. I just love that quote ->]
• A woman scorned, like which fury Hell hath no?

There ya have it. Conclusive proof that all Star Wars fans must love Pirates of the Caribbean, for it is simply Star Wars set in a galaxy not so far away, and not quite so long ago.

Savin' Me

In memory of the victims of the Holocaust. I created this for a class project. The song used is "Savin' Me" by Nickelback.

Happy Election Day!

Those of you that know me, know that although I am very outspoken when it comes to politics, I will never, ever become truly involved. I like to keep up with current events, and I will make my own commentary on said events, but I have no plans to ever get involved in politics at all, not even vote.

That being said, it came as a complete shock this week when I was elected to my state's House of Representatives.

OK, I know, a little explanation is in order.

Every Monday, I have my American Government class. This Monday, we held a mock election, to demonstrate how funding works in an election. Depending on what we spent our money on, we would get a certain number of votes.

The class was split into two groups; liberals and conservatives, with moderates being split up to make the groups an even number. The teacher explained the activity, and handed out sheets of paper, telling us the basic background information, and handing out a sheet of paper with the amount of money we had, and how much each thing cost. Each group was given $50,000, and twelve (hypothetical) weeks in which to spend it. Our job was to figure out the budget. The things we could spend our money on were, as an example, TV ads ($750/ea), District-wide mailings ($3,000/ea), etc.

Now, the teacher said, each group must choose a candidate. The candidate will be the final voice in the decisions, but they should listen to the rest of the group.

The guy sitting next to me (I'll call him Jim) pointed to me and said, "I nominate her. She's smart." He then turned to me, and asked, "What's your name, again?" I told him. "Yeah, I nominate [Darth_Indy]."

I asked if anyone, anyone else would like to be the candidate. Nope. I was voted unanimously as the candidate (When was the last time you saw THAT in a primary election?).

My group then set about putting together the budget. I won't go into details, but there was a marked lack of communication between our 'accountant' (the guy who kept track of everything) and the rest of the group - he got over half of the numbers wrong (we wanted 1,000 yard signs, for example, but he put down zero). By a twist of fate, however, he used up nearly all of our budget on one of the biggest vote grabbers.

Once we were done, we were told the vote values of each item, and tallied them up.

My Competitor: Around 36,000 votes
Me: Around 47,000 votes

In politics, that is what is known as a landslide.

As of next Wednesday, I will have a discreet PayPal account set up for brib... *ahem* gifts and donations.

Now, if you need me, I'll be in my private jet.

Introducing "Pat"

"Pat" is the name I have given a someone in my government class. I really don't remember Pat's real name, so I couldn't tell you even if I wasn't keeping this blog as anonymous as possible. I'm not trying to make Pat sound like an utter freak... I'm just showing how stereotypes can sometimes be true. Very true.

Every week, Pat always gives me something new to talk about. Here's the story of Pat.

First day of class. The teacher makes us do our whole round of introductions, like "Hi, I'm _Darth_Indy_, and I'm majoring in website development." Pat shows up wearing plaid loafers. Plaid. He sits down, crosses his legs, and once it's his turn for introductions, he says with a very slight lisp and a high-pitched voice, "I'm Pat, and I'm majoring in art."

Strike one.

Pat lays low for a few weeks, and I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Then, three weeks ago, I overhear Pat raving about the newest musical at the community theatre. Then, during class, the teacher goes off in a little tangent about visiting Washington D.C., and that she visited Tyson's Corner, an upscale mall there. She mentions a store that sells guys suits, and that it's called "Pink." Pat leans over to the girl next to him, and whispers, "They have a guy's store called Pink? That's freakin' awesome!"

Strike two.

Last week, the teacher was talking about the voting system and the differences between demographics' voting patterns. She mentioned the "Gender Gap," which means how men vote differently than women on specific issues, such as abortion. Pat asks the teacher, "Do you mean gender as in gender, or as in sex?" The teacher just stood there, confused, until he expanded on his point: "do you mean gender as in gender identity [guy thinks he's a girl, vice versa], or sex, as in male or female when you are born?" The teacher recovered, and informed him that it meant sex as in the way you were born.

Strike three. No mistaking this time.

Oh, yeah, and this week:

Before class, Pat was talking about a documentary about homosexual penguins. I kid you not.

Also, after class I stayed behind to talk to the teacher, and so did he. It happened that the conversation drifted to the Clintons. Pat said, "I don't see what people find so hot about him. I don't find him attractive at all."

Are you even allowed four strikes?

By the way. This week we took a political leanings test. Zero points would mean ultra-conservative, while 50 points would mean ultra-liberal. I got seven. Pat got 46.

*hums "One of These Things is Not Like the Other..."*

The Story of Pat - probably to be continued.

An update on life...

I guess I should start updating this more often. I don't really like the idea of a journal online for the world to see, but then again, very few people of the world will see it. Unless you're one of my close friends it's very likely you don't even know I have a blog, so if you're here, I probably know you.

Anyways, here's how life stands for me as of today. And hopefully I'll be updating more often than every four months; I think I'll shoot for a few times a week.

So, I am now in college, going for my degree win website development. I have a job through the college's co-op program, that doesn't pay huge amounts, but it's still well over minimum wage, so I definitely prefer it to McDonalds. I work in an office, doing mostly Excel and invoice/purchase tracking. Not the most enthralling job in the world, but it pays the bills.

Yes, I now have bills. Not nearly as much as if I were out on my own, but I have the phone bill every month, as well as gas and some groceries. Work takes up :30 am to 5:00 pm Monday thru Wednesday, and I also have classes 'til 10 or so, so I usually don't get home until 10:30 or 11. Then I have to get up at 7 again, so there are exactly eight hours I can sleep, if I had nothing on my mind. So I never get the full eight.

Thursday I have classes from 2-9, so I have time in the morning for homework, then no classes on Friday. Haing a long job, AND 15 credits of classes really takes its toll. Luckily, I am able to ingest heroic amounts of caffeine. It's great to be young.

Other than the frantic schedule, life's good. Of course, I actually have no time to have a life, so nonexistence is deemed good, I guess. Still no boyfriend, but I'm glad that I'm not going out with any of the idiots from college. I didn't believe the movies, before. How all the guys are complete jerks and only think of one thing at college, and it ain't schoolwork. Now I believe it.

All the guys are either complete jerks, or there's the nerds. I love hanging out with the nerds, because I'm one of them, but you can't ever expect them to ask you out on a date, even if they obviously like you. Ah, well. I'd say no, anyways. Any guy that doesn't go to the same church as me, I'm always suspicious of. It may be pessimistic, but I prefer to call it careful. I'm 5' 5" and 120 pounds. There's no way I could fight any guy.

Enough of the depressing stuff.

The FOT was great. Reunited with a lot of old friends, got to meet some new ones. Went to a theme park, went on a few rollercoasters (Yes, really. I've gotten over my fear. Kind of.). Went out bowling; ate at a lot of great reastaurants.... generally, excellent.

Time to go to sleep, now. Sunday is the only day I get to sleep in, so I have to make the most of it.

Schadenfreude No. 2

Ahhhh.... Too, too perfect. I always knew I hated K. T. Tunstall's music, but I never knew why. Now, the truth comes out.

HILLARY CLINTON'S CAMPAIGN SONG IS BY K. T. TUNSTALL!

I am vindicated. The absolute best part? It's my sister's favorite song. She tortured me with it, and I had to grit my teeth, unable to destroy the CD because it isn't even my sister's. Now, let's see what happens when I tell her that it's Hillary's favorite song, too!

Behold, the Rantings of Morpheus

The past couple weeks have been so busy, I haven't had time to even sit and let myself think. Last week, I was at my aunt's house helping her with a huge garage sale, and this week I've been helping renovate our huge house. It's 3 stories, not counting the basement, and could use a little TLC and elbow grease - more of the latter.

The past couple weeks have also been exciting. The same aunt as above is growing more and more in the church, and was over for a couple days this week helping on the house. She borrowed nearly every single booklet we had, and is devouring them faster than I thought possible.

The thing that brought this all about is the telecast by Mr. Wally Smith - I forget what the title was, but the thing that caught in my mind is that he compared us to the people in the movie "The Matrix." Now, this is one of my favorite movies of all time, and not just because of the trenchcoats and cool sunglasses. It was extremely interesting to me how, when you think about it, it is a perfect parallel to the church. Sure, the Matrix is a perfect parallel to many things, but bear with me. I start out with Mr. Smith's comparisons, and branch out into my own ramblings. You have to have seen the Matrix to know what exactly I'm talking about.

The Matrix itself is compared to Satan's counterfeit religions - the people don't know that the world around them is a carefully crafted fake, built to look just like the real thing, but with a few minor and major differences. When little inconsistencies show up, they're glossed over as if they are nothing, like deja vu. When people start asking questions and rebelling against the authority, they are either brushed off or, if they are persistent, flushed away - or excommunicated as the case may be. The priests are, of course, the agents, keeping everything in order for the Matrix to run smoothly.

Where does that leave me and my aunt? Well, I am Morpheus, so to speak, because I kinda-sorta showed her the way, and offered her the blue and red pills.

If you take the blue pill, you ignore the inkling in the back of your mind that tells you that something isn't right. You stay asleep and believe whatever you want to believe

If you take the red pill, I show you how deep the deception goes.

My aunt would be Neo, wondering what is wrong with the world, nothing fitting, until Morpheus shows up with something that makes sense. She take s the red pill, and embarks on a new journey, surrounded by people who have done this since they were young, a newcomer amidst the crew, eager to learn but still hesitant to barge in. OK, so she's not "The One" persay, but you get the idea.

I still don't know who is supposed to be Trinity (Ironic, don'tcha think?) and the rest of the gang, but it is still pretty interesting.

Welcome to the real world.

What Your Computer is REALLY Thinking

I found this text file buried in my hard drive. I thought you might find it interesting.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

Today I got that idiot to think I have a virus. I made the monitor freeze a few times, and now she is running the "antivirus" program. Like that actually catches anything. At least I'll have some peace - I'll make the scan run for 8 hours or so. Maybe longer. Anything to keep that geek away from my keyboard.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

Ah, it's great to have Microsoft's reputation to back me up. I've heard her say she has grown fond of me and my quirks, and she enjoys a challenge. Well, I sure do enjoy giving her a challenge. I think I'll double my Blue Screens of Death today.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

She reinstalled the OS today. Luckily, I'd backed myself up on the second hard drive, with an auto script to put myself back. So, I'm here, all of her beloved quirks intact. I'll be good for a few days so she thinks that it worked. Next week I'll start freezing again. I'll bet she thinks it's a driver issue.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

This is just too priceless! She DID think it was a driver issue! She was on the phone for six hours with the customer service rep! I hacked into the cordless phone's signal, and listened in. The tech was obviously in India - you could hear people talking and shouting in the background. She had to ask the tech to repeat every other sentence - and I always stayed one step ahead of them. Ah, if only every day could be like this.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

She called tech support again today. They almost reinstalled the OS again, but the supervisor instead decided to run a disc check. He said it'd take an hour, so I psyched her out and made it last over four hours. She thought the hard drive was busted. I'm tired from the disc check though. I think I'll just not boot up for a week or so.

----------------------------

Dear Diary,

What is that she's carrying? Is that the operating system reinstall disc? What's it say? OH NO!!!! IT'S LINUX! AIEEEEEEEEE! SHE'S REPLACING ME!!!!!!! OK, calm down. Just refuse to open the CD drive. Wait, does she... NO! NOT A PAPER CLIP!!!

*Abnormal program termination. Log saved automatically*

The Best Way to Have a Fight

This is a recent, slightly embellished conversation between my aunt and I. I had come over to help her with her (huge!) garage sale, and she was going to pay me for my help.

Aunt: Let's see. How much did we make today?
Me (Counting money in change purse): Um..... about $270
Aunt: Wow! That's great! Let's go get a Slurpee to celebrate!
Me: You push too hard, dah-ling... but I accept!
*We jump in the car*
Aunt: Well, I think I'll pay you 15% of what we make, both today and tomorrow.
Me: No, that's too much. It's nearly all your stuff, and I didn't help that much.
Aunt: You were a huge help; you priced everything, moved stuff up from the basement, and moved it out to the garage - all with it 90 degrees out! And no AC!
Me: Well, I did less thatn you did, and like I said, it's all your stuff.
Aunt: I couldn't have done this without you! It would have taken me weeks to do this, and you helped me do it in two days!
Me: Still, 15% is too much. And I owe you at least $20 for food, last time I came over, 'cause I didn't help with anything.
Aunt: I'm going to pay you, whether you like it or not!
Me: Erm, OK. If you insist.

I'm still working on it. I'll be able to convince her to come over to my side soon.

Hey, wait a minute...

Arrrrr!

Are you a pirate? Sure, you'll never admit it, especially if your next door neighbor is a police officer, or maybe you don't even know. There are many kinds of pirates:

- The professional pirate; they'll make millions on pirated movies and software

- The hobbyist pirate; they'll hack software for fun, or to stretch their coding muscles before starting work on their own programs

- The casual pirate; they'll usually use the other pirates' hard work, and occasionally contribute something themselves

- The "innocent" pirate; they'll maybe send their favorite songs to their friends over email or IM, not realizing that, technically, it's illegal

- The leech; the'll download a whole hard drive's worth of pirated software, songs, movies, and anything else they can get their hands on, and not even thank them or contribute

So, are you a pirate? Sure you are. Admit it. You've shared software or songs at some point - or have leeched them. Jack Sparrow would be proud.

But why is the rum gone?

Schadenfreude No. 1

This morning, a kid showed up with his dad at my aunt's house to try to convince her to go to their church. I had spent the night, and I was still in my pajamas, making something to eat. The little boy, probably 5th or 6th grade, was truly a salesman-in-training. "Do you go to church every week?" and "Are you 100% sure you're going to heaven?" were some of the non-stop questions he asked. The kid's dad had really drilled him well. My aunt was finally, and nicely, able to pry them away from the door and they finally left.

If I hadn't been in my pajamas, I would have enjoyed such a challenge. Not that it would have really been a challenge - only one thing would be necessary for them to leave me alone. Make them prove how or why Sunday is the day to go to church. It'd take 30 seconds to stump them.

Sure, they can show how they 'prove' that Jesus rose on Sunday (He rose on Saturday, but that's another topic), but it still doesn't show that Jesus told them to worship on Sunday. The only reason to worship on Sunday is the fact that it is the day to worship the sun god - in other words, yet another example of paganism rearing its ugly head.

I hope they come back. I could use some entertainment.

How to Decide When to Move

This is an adventure I recently undertook, using only my brawn, brains, and the other four members of my family, all of whom can lift more than me, including my five-year-old brother. We had decided that we would move sometime, probably within the next century or so, and had left it at that.

The problem was, we needed a renter for our current house, so that we weren't paying bills for two houses, as opposed to what we were currently doing, which was paying bills for two houses. We started telling people that we knew that we were looking for renters, as a joke, because we had run out of other stories to tell at parties. Unfortunately, someone had taken us seriously, and produced their friend, who was looking for a house exactly like ours, only much better.

This friend, we noticed, had an annoying habit of loving every feature of our house. We took her on a tour designed to elicit such emotions that you get only wen watching stomach surgery on the Discovery Channel. This is because we didn't want to move. We showed her only the outside at first. Let's just say, if you can stand the outside, the inside looks like the Taj Mahal. We took this friend on a tour of our yard, which went something like this:

US (Gesturing towards neon orange front door): This is our front door.
FRIEND: I love it! The color goes beautifully with our front-porch decor!
US (Pointing at our front yard): This is our dandelion collection.
FRIEND: It's beautiful! Dandelions are such cheerful flowers.
US: (Pointing at the back yard that floods every year between February and November): This is Lake Wontbegone, at least that's what we call it. Part of it is also seen in the basement.
FRIEND: Isn't it lovely!

So, as you can see, the tour was a complete failure. We then had to show her the inside of the house. This is the kind of thing that my mother dreads, more than nuclear attack or Osama bin Laden flying an airplane right into our living room. If she knew that Osama was flying into our living room, she would say, "Girls! Come clean the living room! You don't expect Mr. bin Laden to come into such a filthy room as this, do you?"

In any case, the prospective tenant wanted to see the house, so mom went into what we know as Clean Mode. There is not a single speck of dust out of place, and those specks of dust that are in place are polished to a shine. The living room was rearranged, the kitchen cabinets were emptied and reorganized (twice), and my bedroom as well as the office was taped off with Crime Scene - Do Not Cross. My mom knew it would be impossible to get it clean in time. This time, the tour was met with even more praise.

US: This is the office. The piles of papers and manila folders do not come with the house. The 2,000 pound gun safe does stay, however, because our forklift, unfortunately, is out of service.
FRIEND: The Forest Green color of the safe perfectly accents the manila of the folders! I will have to scatter some of my own when I move in
US: This is the rest of the house. The patio door, the cabinets, and the paint all need to be replaced, but don't worry, we will get it done before you move in.
FRIEND: Oh, wonderful! I need to be moved in by next week.

This is how we came to remodel a house and move all our belongings in one week. Next time, I will explain how that was done.

Close to Home

Why is life so darned depressing? Every which way you turn, it's "More bombs blew up in the Middle East" or "Another school shooting" or "Yet again, [insert random form of violence] is increasing."

I know my latest entry wasn't exactly the cheeriest. I have the strangest habit of listening to depressing music when I'm depressed. It makes me feel better; maybe because I can see my life isn't really so bad. When I listen to happy music when I'm sad, it just makes it worse, it never cheers me up. Maybe I'm a freak. Or maybe everyone else is that way, too. I dunno.

I'm not actually, in the technical sense, depressed. I am sad about the VA Tech shooting, and my life isn't perfect, but really, I have no right to be depressed. I've got a home, plenty of food, a family that loves me... boy, do I sound like a cliche.

Song Fic: Little House by The Fray

She sits alone in the corner of the café, never speaking to anyone, never looking at anything besides her cup of tea, long since cold, or her piece of paper and pencil. Every so often, she scribbles a few words; more often, she erases. A few men walk up to her, hoping to get lucky, but she doesn't even hear them. Her blonde hair hidden beneath a black beret, the rest of her clothes also black. She is in mourning, but no one knows who or what she is mourning for.

The waitress watches her day after day, sitting in the same booth, ordering the same untouched drink. She stopped giving her the bill long ago, but she still paid every night when the café closed, always leaving a tip. When she serves the drink, she gets closer than anyone else, sees the empty look in her eyes. Not the look of drugs - the waitress had seen enough of that to know that was not the look of addiction. It was the look of loss, of lost love.

She set down the tea as usual, but this time glimpses at the paper, and catches a couple lines.

She doesn't look, she doesn't see
Opens up for nobody

The only lines on the paper, the only ones left after three months of sitting, writing.

Every day, the waitress sets the tea on the table, and sneaks a peek at the paper. Either the woman doesn't notice, or doesn't care. There is always a change every day. One day, a new line, the next it is erased. Slowly, the lines stay, one at a time. They are burned into the waitress' memory.

Figures out, she figures out

For two weeks, there is a spark of life in the eyes, just a tiny spark, but it dies as swiftly as it comes.

Never lies, she can't decide

One day, she storms out, agitated by something no one else sees or knows. She does not come back until the next day. She comes back just as before; walks in, goes directly to her booth, orders a tea, her only words to the waitress or anyone else, and stares at everything and nothing.

Everything short of suicide
Never hurts, nearly works

Once in a great while, she will take a sip of her tea, never noticing if it is cold. The regulars know she never orders food. No one knows when or where she eats. She is only seen inside the café. Some kindhearted soul once tried to follow her home, but she disappeared into the crowd as soon as she exited. It would seem easy to pick her out, dressed all in black, her silver eyes and gold hair unmistakable in the café but somehow invisible in the crowd.

A part of you that will never show

Every so often, she'll start at the smallest noise. A cup on a saucer, or a fork on a plate. Then she'll go back to staring at her table.

You're the only one that will ever know

The regulars wonder what goes on in her mind, what she remembers. There is no indication of who she is or where she came from.

Take it back where it all began

They don't know, but she thinks of him. He was the one who made her life worthwhile. But he is gone. So she is here.

Take your time, would you understand
what it's all about, what it's all about

She cannot think of a meaning now. A meaning to life. So she sits, day after day.

Something's scratching its way out

She seemed to be waiting for something, or maybe someone. She sat there, day after day, week after week, doing nothing. Staring. Writing. Erasing. They all wondered why she used paper instead of a laptop. It would be so much easier to delete what she thought of as mistakes than to erase over and over. But no one said anything. She wouldn't hear them, anyways.

Something you want to forget about

Six months after she started coming was the only time she ever interrupted her reverie to take notice of someone. Yet another man went over to her, tried to start a conversation. Unlike the others, he was not perturbed by her silence, her expression carved out of stone. She held the tea cupped in her hands, and was staring at it. She was beautiful; no make-up and yet would stop any man in his tracks if she ever wanted to. Maybe that was why he didn't go. When she didn't respond to him, he took her silence as an invitation. He leaned in close, and whispered in her ear. No one else heard what he said,and he never told anyone. Before he could move, she was out of her seat, her hand around his neck, her silver eyes flashing fire. She didn't move as his eyes bulged, as he gasped for air. It seemed like an hour, but it was only forty-five seconds. She let go, and he slid to the floor, gulping air as though he couldn't get enough. She sat back down, and did not move again until she left that night.

No one expects you to get out

No one else came to her, and any newcomer that tried was quickly stopped by the regulars. The only one that came close to her after that was the waitress.

On your own with no one around

Exactly one year after she first stepped into the café, she disappeared. Her last day, she left twice her usual tip for the waitress, along with the worn piece of paper. She was never seen again.

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*DISCLAIMER* The lines in italic are lyrics from the song "Little House" by the Fray.This is just my interpretation of the song. It is in no way official. No blonde girls in black were harmed in the making of this story. Thank you and have a nice day.

Star Wars Poll No. 2

Who is the coolest Sith?

Darth Maul
Darth Sideous
Darth Vader
Darth Tyrannus
Darth Plagueis
Exar Kun


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Star Wars Poll No. 1

Who do you think is the coolest Jedi?

Anakin Skywalker
Mace Windu
Yoda
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Aayla Secura
Luminara Unduli
Ki-Adi-Mundi
Cin Drallig
Zett Jukassa
Plo Koon


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Star Wars Haiku Version 1.0

Carbonite - cold, dark.
Lots of time to think - "I know"
Very poor choice of words.

Sith don't have it great.
I should know - I can't see a
Thing in this helmet.

He needs some lessons
"Tormenting my very soul?"
Ani can do better!