Nov. 26th, 2012

ladyofnonsequitur: (Default)
For whatever reason, when I stumbled upon this website a few days ago, whilst procrastinating from both schoolwork and NaNoWriMo, I decided that I should make an account here. As I basically just discovered this website, and haven't really spent any time searching for things here... I don't have any good reason to HAVE this account... but I suppose that will fix itself in time.

So, instead of rambling on about nothing much... I guess I'll post some writing! That's what this is for, right? Like a newer, shinier livejournal? Is this actually shinier? I don't know. I suppose I shall find out!

As I don't anticipate writing much about myself to post here, this seems like as good a time as any to say something about myself, in the odd juxtaposition of overwhelming honesty and anonymity that the internet inspires.

So, I shan't say my name here, but I will tell you bits and pieces of things I might not share with my closest real-world friends.

I will probably post writing. Lots of it, by some system of measurement; less by others. Most of what I write I have to work on and over for months or years at a time before I feel like showing it to anyone at all. So there won't be much of those things, really. Maybe a paragraph or two, here and there. Maybe more, depending on a whole range of things.

But sometimes I write things that appear, unprompted, with little to no effort, really. Things that, I think, are complete as they stand, or perhaps are part of a larger whole, which will show up at some point, or not at all. It's hard to say, really. Those things, I tend to place in various spots on the internet, both hoping and fearing that people will look at them, read them, and tell me what they think. 

Those are the things that will probably be posted here, as many of them as I write, because they are snapshots of fictional words and situations that need to be in positions where they can be read by those who aren't me, even if they never are. 

So, if you happen upon this little corner of the internet (Which is pretty much made entirely of little corners, once you wander away from the big, loud places, into the worlds that we create out of endless miles of text, collectively and all alone) read what you wish, and tell me you have, or not, as you wish. I hope you find something you like here, because, as someone who writes stories, or tries to, I would prefer it if people enjoyed them, but if you don't, that's fine too. Either way, I wish you well on your quest to find something interesting to read or do!
ladyofnonsequitur: (Default)
So, this is something. I wrote it, suddenly, with no real explanation, after re-reading homestuck and wandering through ao3 reading every bit of fanfiction that looked as though it might be interesting and well-written.
It doesn't, however, have anything to do with homestuck. Well, except for, perhaps, the 2nd person point of view.

I should probably mention- I am not especially good at coming up with titles. This story, and all related stories that I may or may not have already written, are called some variety of 'Time Cliff,' which really isn't much of a title at all. 

**************

One of the benefits of living on the edge of time is seeing how life goes. You can meet someone one day, then see them born the next. You dash in and out of their lives, always watching, never once truly getting involved. It's just what you do.

 It's only lonely sometimes, when you stop and consider how long it's been since you had a real conversation with another person; your interactions with those outside in real time don't count, because you never make any effort to connect with them. They aren't real to you- they are toys, like the video game you aren't sure why you know anything about, a game you are certain you've never played, since you've never had a computer capable of playing it- but that doesn't prevent you from remembering long hours spent watching little simulated people live out their lives. In your memories, it reminds you of watching the people living in "real" time, in the same way that watching them reminds you of the game. Perhaps this is something that will happen in the future, then, and you only remember it at all because you are living in your own strange time pocket, that you describe, to yourself, since there is no one else to describe it to, as being on the edge of a cliff, watching the world below move on without you, without even the tiniest glimmer of an idea that you exist at all. People, as someone once told you, rarely look up.

You wonder who told you that.

 You also wonder if you've ever spoken to anyone at all.

 But then you force yourself to abandon that train of thought. You need food, and other necessities, and going down into 'real' time in the wrong frame of mind will make acquiring such things more difficult than it should be, and you really, really need more supplies.

 So you gather your things- the things that will protect you in the scary larger world, your time-compass, which appears to everyone as an ordinary clock, except in the instants that you need it to tell you how to get home. Not that you need it very often- you are an expert, by now, at navigating time- it's the other things you have problems with. Like buildings- they are never the same, from one trip to the next, and, sometimes, if you aren't concentrating, they change from moment to moment. You like dealing with people, even if they find you strange, but can't they keep their homes neater?! Don't they know that some people have difficulty navigating if furniture is moved from year to year? And finding anything in stores is PAINFUL! But you've heard others complain about that, too, so maybe that's something the stores do intentionally- somewhere, you've heard or read someone discussing the things stores do to make you stay and buy-buy-buy!!!! In any case, you spend as little of your time as possible in large stores, preferring the little specialized stores, where you can almost always ask someone for the things you need, and they can help you, thus serving as socialization as well as enabling you to acquire those things you must buy.

 Not that you ever pay for things, of course. That would be absurd! Where would you get money? You remember that bothering you, or maybe it will bother you, but for now, it's just a fact of your life. You never take more than what you need, partly because you feel guilty (or feel as though you should feel guilty- is there really a difference?) and partly because it's difficult enough to get those things that are absolutely essential back to your home. You remember it being easier, once, when you first were learning how to live on your cliff in time, when, perhaps, you weren't alone. But you don't know who could possibly have been there with you, nor how long ago that was. Or why that person left you there, all alone.

 You get back to your home, your arms and bags filled with as much in the way of supplies as you can carry, and you find yourself almost calling out, as if there were someone around to hear you, to care when you got home. You dump your newly acquired goods on the floor of your kitchen, not caring about how they fall, ignoring the cans that roll away across the floor, under the table, trying to roll past you out into the hallway; a pathetic escape attempt, easily thwarted by your foot, or, if you were especially apathetic, the slight unevenness of the hallway's floor. And the carpet- there is only so much friction a dropped can can overcome. You stand there, watching things roll and shift and settle into a new, stable, stationary configuration, waiting for you to add more energy, to shift things. Even your groceries are bound by the laws of physics.

You leave them where they fell, dropping your backpack as well, though more carefully, as it contains things that could break, if handled roughly. There will be time, later, to put things away, to take careful inventory, to place things precisely where they belong, anchoring them in this time and place, so they don't go bad before you eat them. There is all the time in the world for that. All the time in the world, after all, runs past outside your windows. Like a river, except in all the ways it isn't. You head back outside, to watch life rush past, back and forth and around again in an endless dance that is always so familiar and so very, very strange.

 How did you get here, anyway?

Sometimes, like today, you sit with your heels dangling down over 'real' time, watching people and things change and change back and replace themselves and unreplace themselves, and you wonder why you never just decide to go down there and stay. You could, you think. You could do it. Take only those things that really matter to you, walk down to where time flows and loops around itself, into the whorls and eddies and curves until they are all but invisible, hide your compass and pretend you can't see those twists, tie yourself to one thread and follow it, until your personal time is all behind you, most of it bound to a almost entirely linear past. You could do it, really. It wouldn't be that hard to nudge time until you had a place to be, even. A life with a family, and friends- it would be hard, for a while, as they would remember things you had never done... though, of course you remember things that haven't happened yet, and perhaps never will, or have and will never happen at all all the time, you'd have to pretend you didn't, and those memories wouldn't mesh with the timeline you would cause to exist around you.... You dream about it, sometimes, but you don't do it. You stay where you are, outside of 'real' time, watching people live and relive their lives, and you always come back when you leave, though you don't know why.

 You wonder if there is anyone else who lives like you do, and if there is any way for you to contact them.

 What would you talk about?

You get up, brushing time-dirt off your legs, and go back inside. There are chores to do.

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ladyofnonsequitur

December 2012

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