Beyond Aggravated and Some Observations

"Go write something," she says, "so I can get in your head and work on your story."

Fine. I try. Then she leaves. When she goes, I have to as well.

She claims she doesn't know me well enough to write my story. Yet when I try to tell her, she doesn't have time or she's busy or she's doing gods-know-what!

Tell me how am I supposed to compete with all the busy-ness this modern world throws at her? At anyone?

Why tell the bloody story? If the rest of this gods-forsaken world is anything like this, who would read it if it were to get printed and distributed? Would anyone care?

Why should they?

If Jen doesn't care, why the bloody hell would anyone else? I fail to see the reasoning in it. I must be daft to think the telling of my story would do anything other than occupy a few hundred pieces of paper in a notebook she carries around.

But be that as it may.

I got to meet her neices yesterday. The older girl is tall for her age. She and some other girls played a game where they used a club (correction, a bat) to hit a ball off of a stand. They called it t-ball. Her neice is good. Perhaps too good for the age group she has to play with. But that's not for me to say.

While the game went on, I played with the twins. Two little girls with hair so curly and eyes so blue, you'd have to see them to believe it. Both full of mischief and just starting to walk. One thinks she can run.

There is a lot going on there that I can't begin to get into. Let's just say I don't understand it and leave it at that? Family is important. Why so many people fail to understand that, I will never know.

During the game, Jen wrote in a small notepad, drawing looks and frowns from her sister. Why should she disapprove when it isn't her business? Has she given up on her goals and so she expects Jen to do the same?

I, for one, hope she doesn't even if I am aggravated with her.

Speaking of Jen, it amazes me how she can find so many ideas for her writing seeingly out of nowhere. She saw this car and has an idea for a character based just on that. I won't bore you with that, though. If you want to see it, I invite you to go read about it at Créatif.

I believe I'm at risk of making this entry too long. For now, I will say only:

A seirc.

She Promised

I'm making this public knowledge.

Jen has promised that after the conference she is going to at the end of this week, she will begin working in earnest on my story.

It's about time.

Yes, I'm aggravated. I'm impatient. Wouldn't you be?

She spends all day at this infernal machine. I would think at least part of that time could be spent on my story.

I will rein in my impatience and my temper (yet another legacy from dear old great-great-great-grandfather Kiernan - at least, that is what my father always said, gods rest his soul).

A seirc.

My Notebook Is Done

This may sound silly to a lot of you. I assure you, it is not. It is, truthfully, a big step in the right direction.

For my ancestor's book -- "Kiernan's Curse" -- Jen set up a notebook. She finally has mine set up. She claims she didn't have the right kind of notebook. Now that it is put together, I understand what she meant. There is a clear pocket on the front where she put a sheet of paper. She put the title of my story -- "Devon's Wish" -- on it along with this:

She printed what we have done so far, including some notes and points of interest I told her needed to be included. They are all in the notebook.

Ah, she says if you want to know how the notebook is set up, you can see a description of it here. (Ach, that is a difficult process, the linking.)

A seirc.

I'm Getting Impatient

Nothing has been done on my story this week.

Nothing.

I realize I should be patient, but I'm getting quite impatient. I can't fault Jen, yet... I do.

A week ago, she slept on this thing she called a futon and it bothered her back. Since then, she has sat at the desk only long enough to do her work for the day. And that is with frequent breaks.

I know she hurts. I know she is not comfortable. But I don't want her to forget me or my story. I think she has been working on it in her head, though. At least, that's what she says.

She named my story "Devon's Wish" but, at first, when I asked her, she couldn't say what the wish was. Now she knows. And I agree. It is something I will wish with my entire being when we are finally able to get to that point.

Her back is tightening up again. I can tell by the way she sits and the look on her face. If I don't make her go lie down, it will get worse to the point she will be near tears when she tries to stand.

I don't understand this time I find myself in. In my time, at home, you wouldn't do purposely something that would cause you so much discomfort. Aye, it happened but it was in a day's work and we didn't try to fight our bodies to keep going when we knew we should do what it took to recover.

Personally, it is my belief that if she isn't better by Monday, she needs to go see her healer. Ah, pardon, doctor. It's unfortunate she can't go tomorrow.

A seirc.

Rain (or Homesick)

When the clouds hang low and it rains, I'm reminded of home. The horizon is vastly different and the smells are as well, yet, there is something about rain that can almost take me back home.

Gods, I wish that were possible.

I mean no offense toward you and your modern times, but it's overwhelming to me. I walk around in it and try to understand but it has so far been beyond my grasp.

I am fascinated by the box called TV. The History channel in particular.

At least Jen has began work on my story again. When it is done, maybe, just maybe, I can return home. Though I won't hold my breath on it. I will eventually learn and adjust.

A seirc.

Second Sight

Have you ever tried to live with someone with the Sight?

The Gift?

I;m having a difficult time trying to describe this. Bear with me but a moment more.

Ah. Jen (my creator) says there is a movie (whatever that is) called The Sixth Sense. This is akin to that.

Psychic. Aye, that's the word I was looking for.

In my time, people with such gifts were considered both a blessing and a curse. Then it slowly changed to where they were viewed as a witch. 'Tis a personal concern to me as Aidan, my bride, was considered such.

How is there thought to be something evil in a gift from the gods? Aye, 'tis different from most others. Yet, there is naught evil about it. I wish people would understand that, both then and now. (I'll not go into how it is my belief that Jen has more than a touch of that Gift herself as it makes her uncomfortable and she tries to hide from it, as if such a thing would be possible.)

I admit, though, 'tis more than a bit disconcerting when you are thrust into it unknowing, such as it was with myself and Aidan. It worked out well though it was a bit ... touchy in the beginning when she failed to warn us of a raid because she still felt a prisoner and would do nothing to help us in that way.

Och, but I am getting far too ahead of myself. You will know more about that soon enough.

A seirc.

Stage Fright?

I find I'm being thrust onto center stage before I'm truthfully ready.

'Tis probably for the best, though. Is anyone ever truly ready for such? I think perhaps not.

I don't know what to comment on or about. I have yet to walk about in this modern world well enough to know what to say, what to comment on, what I think. 'Tis overwhelming, that much is certain.

I must say thank you to those who have come by thus far. I understand my ancestor put something on his journal -- probably from prodding by our creator -- about my presence here. 'Tis good to know I am not fully alone here.

A seirc.