Volunteer Work

Today, just like every other Wednesday for the past month or so, I'll be heading over to the animal shelter to volunteer. I'll probably be just walking dogs, but I think I'll try and play with some cats, too.
It's interesting. I was very skittish about doing this at first, though I can't really figure out why. I think it must have just been nerves, though. There's certainly nothing bad about volunteering. I think I was just nervous to be around new people. Strangely, I've never been nervous around animals I didn't know. Just people.
Obviously, animals don't judge as often as people do. To an animal, all humans seem to look the same, so why worry? Sure, they recognize us once they've gotten to know us or have some reason to fear us, but they don't judge by appearance. It's refreshing.

I had never walked a great pyrenees before, but James was nothing but a fluffy ball of love. And the cats are sweet as can be, if not a bit skittish at first.

However, I think their skittish nature can be easily forgiven. Being in a new place, not knowing when you'll leave, it must be startling and very scary.




God of Dreams

Long ago, he had made his first appearance. I hadn't known it at the time, but he was to be one of my most beloved acquaintances. Had I known, I like to think I'd have had the good sense to thank him for his trouble of saving me from oblivion, but I was too young at the time. Or perhaps it was not my youth but rather the fact that I am not adept at lucid dreaming. For this man I cherish so was not a man I met in the waking world. No, he came to me in sleep.
It was a party in a white plantation house that brought us together. I was not paying attention to him at that time, but I knew he was nearby. He took a few forms. One moment, he was a fish. The next, a great blue heron. After danger came to me he made his last form known to me.
The party's host was smiling broadly, proud and excited. I thought it to be for the party he was holding. But after I saw it tear through his chest, I realized his real excitement was for the black hole that would consume us all. I don't know what happened to anyone else at the party. They were gone. But I was still in danger of being dragged into the black hole in the host's chest. He still smiled, happy to be providing the black hole with a host. Then, he stepped in. He, the one who had taken on the forms of both a predator and prey animals, came forth and took me away. He flew over the moor surrounding the plantation house. I didn't look at him myself. I saw us both flying. His white wings spread wide, purple suit of armor shining bright in the sunlight, long, blonde hair streaming as the wind blew through it. I knew his name. His name was Gabriel.
Gabriel and I landed in a valley. It was lush and beautiful, with shafts of sunlight streaming from the sky from no discernible clouds. He made sure I was safe, then I woke. I never forgot him. His kindness to me, his protection. I felt he was my guardian angel. I never believed this in a religious sense, though. I knew no religion could do justice to the comfort I had been brought in my very own dream. I immediately drew a picture of him as best I could. The armor had been in somewhat of an anime style, if you will. It curved smoothly along his body, following its own unique abstract curves. His long hair was loose, not held back in any ties of any sort.
Eventually, my home life grew more and more stressful. My parents finally started to drift apart, and I hoped now and then that I would get to see Gabriel again. I prayed for it, even, when times were harsh. But no matter how I remembered him, no matter how I hoped, he didn't come back.
It wasn't until after I turned twenty years old that I again dreamt of a winged man who looked out for me. This time, however, the winged man was in a demon's form. A demon named Illidan. That was the form I recognized, but it was not the same character. I knew it was Gabriel. But could I even call him that? In the dream, he and I flew about, searching for trouble to stomp it out. There was evil hidden in the houses below inside the fireplaces, and we had to stop it. We handily took care of several trouble spots. But even more, he flew with me in his arms. He let me glide below him, holding me up by my upper arms. It was glorious.
When I woke, I felt nothing but love in my heart. I could do nothing for that day but pine for him. My heart full of love quickly shattered as I realized the problem: I was in love with someone I would never be able to meet by choice. Perhaps I would never meet him again at all. The thought depressed me, but it also brought me clarity. This was why I had never felt very attached to any other men in my life. Even Dereck, the man I'd married in good faith, hadn't meant as much to me as I found my angel now did.
But who was he really? I had been sure of his name at first, but when I met him again in my second dream, I felt there was no name attached to him. I still think of him as Gabriel, of course, but to take on such a monstrous form was startling to know it was the same man. I wondered about this for a while. Perhaps I hadn't seen anything different of him. After all, he was still kind. He still cared for me in my sleep. He took me in his arms, and we flew. I felt even more companionship now, since we had been a team.
Today I was at the mall. As usual, I wanted to stop by the Earth Magic store. I really can't resist going in there when I see it, so it wasn't an unusual trip. I was there with Josh, my boyfriend. We were looking at the various statuettes at the back of the store, and I saw one in metal of an armor-clad angel raising a sword to strike down a demon under his foot. I stared at the statuette for a while. It wasn't quite him. He was certainly impassive enough to pass for Gabriel, but it wasn't him. I saw another statuette on another shelf. This was a statuette of a shirtless, winged man holding a human girl in his arms. Her face was set gently on his shoulder. I took a picture of it, but can't stand to look at it. He was a blonde angel with white wings. His hair was long. The girl looked as though she wasn't clinging to him, nor about to kiss him. The girl looked as though she simply needed his shoulder for comfort.
I've been at a loss for what to think of this man of my dreams for a while now. I've thought about it. Perhaps he's Hypnos, the god of sleep himself, insuring I get good rest when he's got time. Or maybe he is just my own guardian. Or a guardian of many, making the rounds to me only at certain times. Anyone rational and smart would say that this is just a dream, and it's interesting that it's recurred at all. I would be better off believing it, but I can't. You could say that it's just a sense of ego that some humans have more of than others. An ego that says "I know what I saw" when questioned and suggested other possibilities. In this case, I fear I will go this route. I feel too deeply that this dream man wasn't a part of me. I knew his name, this is true. But I didn't know him. I wondered if he'd ever come back. He struck me that deeply. I've met other people in my dreams before, but I never remembered any of them. Just him.
If only it were so simple to just dream whatever I wanted. If I had any hand in it, though, I'd know it was faked by my own imagination. It wouldn't feel as good. Again, my ego. I want to believe, even if it hurts.
I have to wonder, though. It feels as though I ought to have known him even before the first dream. There was an earlier dream I had that consisted of myself on the ground, holding to a sitting German shepherd while people crowded around. When the people would try getting close, all of them shadows, the dog would keep them away. The whole dream, I heard "Look What You've Done" by Jet playing. It was strange. But it was comforting. I felt safe with that dog.
Maybe it's just the feeling of safety that clings to me. Maybe that's why I remember these dreams and not others. My other repeating dreams are only repeating in terms of theme: I leave one place and arrive somewhere else. I do have a history of trying to avoid the lot in life I seem to have in terms of home and family.
All I hope is that he'll be there when I need him again. Though I want him now, I know that if it's not the right time, he won't be here. I can wait, though. I've all the patience in the waking world to devote to him.


Last week was the trip to the Detroit Institute of Art. Great place! I'm glad that city had money at one point >_>

^best exhibit I saw all day



zomg write it down

I have left everything behind. The family I had, the woman I loved, neither are important now. My power has grown. Outland, the accursed piece of rock I traveled to, held no golden future. Kael'thas' promises led us astray. I will play no pawn of the Legion. And now... I will play no pawn of Illidan's. My own path has been plotted on the map, my own story struck into the chords of history. And through all my life, through every loss, I have decided only one purpose in the world is great enough for one such as myself: To be the spiller of demon blood, to relish my blades sinking into the twisted creatures of the Burning Legion. Archimonde is slain. Kil'jaeden still waits. And soon... Sargeras will taste my fury as I have tasted his. Only this time, he will realize who he has trespassed against. He will learn what it truly means to cross a demon hunter.



Pretty Cool Fanfic

I think The Shadows Grow Longer is a pretty cool fanfic. Eh, captures Jaina and doesn't afraid of anything.


Janus' Intervention

While reading a fanfiction, moments ago, I was nearly overcome by the most terrible fear I've felt.
The fanfiction itself is a hypothetical about if Arthas were to capture Jaina. So far, he has her in a cell, taunting her with memories of what they had. After agonizing words, he says,

“Brave words,” he repeated with a sneer. Then his stance softened, and resting a hand against the wall he leaned to the side. “So,” he began in a ridiculously conversational tone, “how’ve you been these past years, Jaina? It really has been too long.”

At that point, I was gripped with memories of Dereck. It sounded just like the type of jackass, insensitive sort of thing he would say in such a moment. I froze, then shrank away from my screen, staring at the words. I set my head in my hands. My eyes began to water.
But just then, I remembered what I had read on my calendar about the month of January: a time of looking forward, remembering past mistakes and learning from them, but not dwelling.
"Janus," I said, calling on the name of the two-faced Roman god of the new year.
My fear faded instantly. My eyes stopped watering. The heavy weight in my chest lifted.


Keeping track of ideas

From an AIM conversation, these are my posts:

Dusk watched as the broken bound Leotheras' wrists, prying the warglaives from his clenched hands. He understood now. "Leotheras!" he called out. Leotheras looked up, his face twisted in rage. "You mock me as well, Sorrowdusk?!" he shouted.
Dusk shook his head as his comrade was positioned. "I... I understand now!"
"What are you saying," Leotheras growled. His face sank into impending despair as channelers made their way into the room.
"My brother... I get it. Why you saved me." Dusk winced as he realized that for once, strong and determined Leotheras was frightened.
The bound hunter stared at Dusk. "Well? Say it, then!"
Dusk shook his head. "This is the reason. To save you in return... From yourself."
Leotheras watched Dusk for a moment, growling as he resisted the clench of a spell on him The channelers were numerous, filing the room.
Dusk lowered his head, gripping his glaive tightly.
"I... I have to save you in return." He straightened up, leaping for the nearest channeler. The world slowed down. Blood sprayed as Dusk
slashed through throats, the glaive spreading the blood along its fine curved blade. Leotheras struggled against his bindings, shouting in Thalassian. Dusk didn't listen. He knew his destination now as his blade sang with the vibrations given to it by the channelers' bones
against it. He roared, draining the mana in the air to himself. He was no longer of the Illidari. He was not the Legion's. He was not a Farstrider. He was Sorrowdusk. He was a friend to Leotheras. And he would not allow his friend, his comrade, to be taken so easily by these
wretched, lesser beings. He would not allow them to-- An arrow pierced Dusk's stomach.

this is where the matron of the naga, the serpentine race that have taken the demon hunters in, interrupts, stopping dusk's killing spree.))
and she is this one: http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/wowwiki/images/thumb/e/e8/Lady_Vashj.jpg/200px-Lady_Vashj.jpg ))
she basically tells him "shut the hell up stop what you're doing" and her guards stop dusk.

Dusk looked back at Leotheras, panting. His fellow hunter's skin was becoming darker in its magic hue... Shadows began engulfing him again.
Leotheras stared back at Dusk. A scent reached Dusk's nose.
Fear... Terrible fear.
"I... I can save him! Damnit!" Dusk lunged for Leotheras, but powerful, scaled hands gripped his arms, holding him back.
Leotheras slumped over slowly, letting out a quiet breath. He remained standing, but unable to support himself. The broken channelers recited a spell. Dusk recognized it immediately. It had been used often at the Temple.
Dusk froze against his retainers, staring in horror. *thinking* No...

but dusk is realizing what the naga will end up doing with leotheras.
since when he's in such a state of no control, he'd make a good mindless brute for them to use. he would attack anyone after they let him loose, destroying assailants.
after that, all they would have to do is simply banish him again.


The Abusive Love Affair With My SS WoW Mouse

It was a long time since I had reconnected my simple Logitech mouse. A long time, indeed. I had been using the Steel Series World of Warcraft Gaming Mouse. You know the one. Fifteen buttons, lights up, brushed steel paint job.
Piece of crap when you hook it up to a mac.
First of all, no drivers. None. It's $100 from a retailer. Maybe less online. I don't know. But no drivers for the Mac use of the mouse. Though it is advertised as being OSX compatible. Sure, it is compatible--if all you want to do is hook it up and use it as a two-button scroll mouse. The only button that naturally worked other than the usual buttons and wheel: the little tiny one on the left side. Pressing it would activate auto run, a staple for any adventurer without a mount, or anyone who has to fly across Northrend for no good reason.
About a month ago, I started to notice something strange on the left mouse button: An orange spot was showing through the paint. I had thought at first that the brushed steel look was created through the use of a two-tone metallic plastic. Wrong. It was painted. And I had worn it off with my constant finger presence. I painted some decoupage medium on it and went along my way. It looked stupid. Yes, it did. It wasn't even orange. It was sickly pink orange. Puke plastic under a brushed steel paint job. Yuck.
The auto run button became the next problem. I no longer could simply lightly press it to activate auto run. Now, it demanded that I hold it down for about a fourth of a second. Of course, that isn't much time at all, and I realize that. But I had to press it with purpose. I couldn't just lightly tap it anymore.
An acrylic woven cord covered the mouse's wire protectively, shielding it from damage and looking nice to boot. The mouse's position on the desk's keyboard tray, however, proved to be too much, as it had started to fray in the position it most often came in contact with the corner of the tray. The mouse was bulky. It was hard to move. It was a bit heavy. It had some strange balancing fins on it. These made the cord's abuse even worse as I would desperately try to swing the mouse from my action bar back to the party interface while healing.
The tracking was slow. About 50% slower than any Logitech mouse (the brand I'm most familiar with, obvious by now). Tracking was at max. The mouse didn't seem to give a damn.
It's been a painful time. I've had to get used to a bulky mouse with fifteen buttons that don't all work without the drivers to program them in order to perform better, and all the while the paint wears off.
Awesome mouse, Blizz. Awesome product, Steel Series.
Welcome back, sweetums. Let's lower that tracking speed just a tad, mm?

Lich King Euphamisms

Jaina -really- chases Arthas' balls in Halls of Reflection. Here's some guesses as to what she wants.

chilly slobberknocker
frozen bone
bony boner
rising lich thing
hardened iron shortsword of frozen wrath