Below are the 9 most recent journal entries recorded in morte351's LiveJournal:

Monday, June 21st, 2004
10:43 pm	Drabble: Senesence (Harry Potter, HG/MMcG) A personal challenge to write something in the forty minutes it takes me to get to work on the bus. Don't know if it's any good but here it is. Lyrics, in italics, belong to Sixpence None the Richer, THe Police and Alanis Morisette respectively and are used without permission but much gratitude. Senescence I don’t know what to think anymore. I use to think that I was special. I used to think I had my life firmly in hand. All I needed was my wand and you. I still have my wand, though I don't use it much, and the rest of it has gone to waste. I stopped ‘living up to my potential’ years ago. Harry defeated the Dark Lord and became an Auror. Ron found his niche as a sports commentator for the Chudley Cannons. Ginny worte a choldren’s book and Dean Thomas illustrated it, they got married last year. Neville teaches Herbology and his skills as a gardener have even garnered him fame in the Muggle world. Luna publishes the Quibbler, under her leadership it has become one of the most respected publications in the Wizarding world. Even Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil have done something with their lives, granted it was Padma’s idea to get them started on one of those psychic hotlines Muggles love, but still it’s something. Me, I manage a baked goods store. I read. I do crosswords. I write short stories that no one reads. I come home and feed my cats. An ex once told me I lacked ‘passion’. But I don’t think that’s all together true. I was passionate about you, once. Sometimes I listen to the radio at the shop and the songs speak to me. Speak so clearly they spark memory. Kiss me under the moonlit starlight Memories of the first time we kissed or rather of the first time I kissed you. You tasted of the gingersnap biscuits you favored with your afternoon tea. We were in your office, the air was heavy with the scent of fresh rain and some first years were outside playing tag around the courtyard. Young teacher the subject of schoolgirl fantasy She’s watching and waiting, knows where she wants to be I was seventeen. I knew what I wanted. But I hadn’t a clue as to what I needed. Why did you say ‘Yes’? Why didn’t you stop me? If it wasn’t for your maturity none of this would have happened If you weren’t so wise beyond your years I would have been able to control myself I used to like to think that it was because I was special. But this morning I opened The Daily Prophet and the headline screamed, literally, SEX ABUSE SCANDAL ROCKS HOGWARTS. Apparently I wasn’t so special after all. (Comment on this)
Sunday, June 6th, 2004
11:53 pm	Drabble: Under Rug Swept (HG/MM, PG-13) Drabble: Under Rug Swept Paiting: Hermione/McGonagall Rating: PG-13 Website info: This will eventually be on the Realm (give it a day or so) http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/morte206.htm Okay so my computer ate my original entry for the Springtime Seduction Challenge and this was all I could cough up in such a short time. Lyrics from Alanis Morisette's Hands Clean which can be found on her album Under Rug Swept. Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? How you’re setting that child up the same way you set me up all those years ago. It’s obvious. She craves your attention, your approval. And it’s obvious to me that you are stringing her along, encouraging her infatuation. Will you say to her what you said to me? Will you tell her that you adore her, will you say you can’t help being drawn to her, to her cleverness and her maturity? Will you say that age is just a label and not an impediment? Will you take her innocence under the guise of love? Will you tell her to keep it all a secret because ‘What we have is so precious none will understand.’? Will she agree like I did? More importantly will you do to her what you did to me? Will you move on as if nothing ever happened? What part of our history is reinvented and under rug swept? What part of your memory is selective and tends to forget? What with this distance it seems so obvious. If I do nothing to stop this will I be as guilty as you? (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 21st, 2004
12:09 pm	Drabble: Chasing the Chill ( Chasing the Chill ) Current Mood: giddy (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 16th, 2004
7:18 am	another day another hairball I hate hairballs. I have two cats that are shedding. Do the math. I think that Dickens (aka Fat Bastard) purposefully waits to hack up the wretched things until I get out of bed and can step on the newest slimey 'gift'. My life is spent cleaning cat vomit stains off of my beige carpeting. Beige, you may ask yourself 'Why get beige', trust me it wasn't so that I could spot the huge black hairballs easier. So with all these stains, all naturally occuring, why the hell can I not find a fucking product that will get them all the way out. My carpet is starting to look like a splotchy tan job. Martha Stewart is of no help, she can make butter and grease stains disappear into thin air but clearly she just buys new carpet when it comes time for animal stains. I knew we should have stuck with hardwood. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, April 11th, 2004
7:16 pm	Happy Easter Esther Years ago I worked for an insurance company in Manhattan as a call taker in their 24 hour medical emergency/authorization hotline. I started with several men and women I was privilaged to eventually call friends. Two always come to mind at this time of year. Halim King, a gentle giant of a man, a Muslim convert who barely made it out of HS but was determined to see his wife through her PhD studies and that his daughters would 'have everything in the world'. The other was Esther, I can't recall her last name but I know she was Hispanic. What I remember is Halim wishing all of us who celebrated it a Happy Easter. I'm not sure why but for some reason we thought it hilarious when he said 'Happy Easter Esther'. Years later in a bio-chem class we learned about Esters and I was reminded of Halim too. I wonder what ever happened to him. His daughters must be in HS and I am sure he is proud of them as they should be of him. He was a man who helped show me that men could be gentle and strong, even if they don't look like they would be. I wonder about the other men I met at that job. The first time I really had the opportunity to make friends with adult men, not college boys or HS bozos, but men. Men with jobs, families and mortgages. Adult men who weren't hitting on me or being disparaging. Adult men who respected me as a friend and co-worker, equally. Ramon Franklin. Kevin Carter. Claude Peele. Michael Zaccaria. Paul Ojeda. Happy Easter Esther. (Comment on this)
Saturday, April 10th, 2004
9:54 am	another day and fewer dollars Ever notice that the harder you work the less you seem to have. And i'm not talking time in which to spend it, the money simply isn't there. Which is why when some little pischer puts his hand in the tip jar to help himself to the fifty cents he's short I finally felt I had to say something. So perhaps shouting "Hey genius hand out of the tip jar" wasn't politic but I certainly don't think it was worthy of being reprimanded at work. Granted we aren't talking about scads of money but that's just the point isn't it. I work hard for the five or six bucks in that fucking cup, jar whatever and some snotty rich kid, who should be in school not at the mall, that doesn't want to break the fifty in his wallet should leave my fucking money alone. Okay done ranting about that. There's more but on other topics that I shant bore anyone with. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 8th, 2004
7:00 am	Sruck in Limbo I think i'm in a rut. Stuck in limbo. I get up, I feed the cats, check my e-mail, make breakfast, shower and go to work. At night I do it in reverse. In between I take all sorts of shit. I have to get a backbone. I should probably get one soon. (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 7th, 2004
8:11 pm	Holidays and such Easter is coming up and lapsed Catholic in good standing that I am I am dreading it. Why? I'm tired of having the bigger holidays at my house. J's house whatever. It's my home too. Not that you'd know that to look around. The notable exception being the bong and my pipe there is little around the apartment to even indicate I live here. I like cooking but not on demand. And not for the holidays for a bunch of perfectionists. Why bother I can't do it right to begin with. There is no wat on God's green earth I can manage to swing it for a big to do. I really miss the holidays of my childhood. Hanging out with my cousins playing stoop ball (I grew up in the Bronx) and bike riding while the grownups drank coffee, argued politics and gossiped inside. I miss the smell of garlic permeating everything in my Aunt Rosie's house. I miss arroz con habichuelas. I miss lechon. I miss tostones. I miss my father. I miss him so much. I can't believe he's gone. I can't believe I didn't get to see him one last time. I can't forgive myself for not calling him like I kept saying I would. I can't stop crying. (Comment on this)
Monday, April 5th, 2004
8:23 am	Virgin post Okay so perhaps this sounds dorky in the extreme but I feel way proud of myself for having managed to set up this account. It's interesting what can motivate people. When LJ first started I was invited by many friends to come on board and for some reason I resisted. So what's my motivation you might ask? 'I don't know' for sure is the best answer. I wanted to be able to post to various communities not just answer posts. I want to share my fics and mostly I want a place to vent. Of these the last is not in any way, shape or form, the least. It is in fact probably the greatest. Doesn't it suck that I can't afford therapy. (Comment on this)