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ravenOn the first day of my adult life, George W. Bush took office for the second time with fanfare and pomp and what he called "capital"; at any rate, he was president by a mandate greater than the slimmest majority on the Supreme Court and he said, "I've earned capital... and I'm going to spend it."
The rest, I guess, is not just my history.
Almost four years later, I have spent the day in G&Ds on the Cowley Road, drinking coffee and chai and supposedly working on involuntary manslaughter, whilst they play a playlist that is probably entitled "Iona, Here Are Your Teenage Years" (I mean, seriously, they played the Goo Goo Dolls, "Slide" - a song I played into oblivion in 2003, and as such to me, connotes Sirius/Remus) and then meant to do some more work in the evening but ended up watching Being Human with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sebastienne (it's awful and fantastic; if you're missing Merlin, like we were, it's just what you've been looking for!) and trying and failing to eat actual food.
Now - I don't know what to say. Four years later, I think the world is a worse place than it was on the day I turned eighteen. The Iraq War was only one year old then; it seems ancient as dead things now. The 7/7 bombings happened within a few months. Hurricane Katrina happened when I was nineteen. I went to school and got good grades and went to university and got a degree. Unlike last time, the future is not a closed book; I know where I'll be a year from now, probably right here on this chair, probably, with the same clock on the wall. Four years from now is less clear, but there's more direction in my life. And there's a sweetness to that, too. I like plans, I like having somewhere to go and someone to be. When I was twenty-one years and ten months old, I was sitting here on this sofa at five o'clock in the morning, drunk and overemotional and crying at the man on the television who just got up and told billions of people that he was a liberal, and he was proud of himself and them. He has plans.
I was born at 12.05am; I am turning twenty-two in a perfectly quiet house. The housemates have all gone to bed,sebastienne has left me with a package to be opened after midnight, Small Cat has fallen asleep in a fit of pique after I told her she smelled. It's perfectly quiet and in Liverpool, it's snowing. I love this, the silence before a whole new world.
The rest, I guess, is not just my history.
Almost four years later, I have spent the day in G&Ds on the Cowley Road, drinking coffee and chai and supposedly working on involuntary manslaughter, whilst they play a playlist that is probably entitled "Iona, Here Are Your Teenage Years" (I mean, seriously, they played the Goo Goo Dolls, "Slide" - a song I played into oblivion in 2003, and as such to me, connotes Sirius/Remus) and then meant to do some more work in the evening but ended up watching Being Human with
sebastienne (it's awful and fantastic; if you're missing Merlin, like we were, it's just what you've been looking for!) and trying and failing to eat actual food.Now - I don't know what to say. Four years later, I think the world is a worse place than it was on the day I turned eighteen. The Iraq War was only one year old then; it seems ancient as dead things now. The 7/7 bombings happened within a few months. Hurricane Katrina happened when I was nineteen. I went to school and got good grades and went to university and got a degree. Unlike last time, the future is not a closed book; I know where I'll be a year from now, probably right here on this chair, probably, with the same clock on the wall. Four years from now is less clear, but there's more direction in my life. And there's a sweetness to that, too. I like plans, I like having somewhere to go and someone to be. When I was twenty-one years and ten months old, I was sitting here on this sofa at five o'clock in the morning, drunk and overemotional and crying at the man on the television who just got up and told billions of people that he was a liberal, and he was proud of himself and them. He has plans.
I was born at 12.05am; I am turning twenty-two in a perfectly quiet house. The housemates have all gone to bed,
sebastienne has left me with a package to be opened after midnight, Small Cat has fallen asleep in a fit of pique after I told her she smelled. It's perfectly quiet and in Liverpool, it's snowing. I love this, the silence before a whole new world.
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no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:14 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:14 am (UTC)Here's to things getting better!
no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:15 am (UTC)Dear Loneraven,
Happy Birthday! Apparently there's some little shindig going on in DC today, but I'm sure that needn't concern us. To commemorate the more imporant occasion of the anniversary of your birth, here is a special episode from the lives of two of the finest officers of the Starship Enterprise (NCC-1701). Enjoy, and I will see you on Saturday xxx
Decisions, Decisions
Pavel Chekov leaned his chin on Mr Sulu's shoulder and gazed hopefully at the Exobiology files on the computer screen in front of them.
"Well," began the older man, "it says here there's an oil found on Bollivus VI that has proved a most effective barrier."
"I've tried that stuff before. It smells wery bad. No good."
"What about this pill the Nizars have been using for the last three centuries? Orally ingested, makes the body highly resistant to infection for 48 hours?"
"Yes, but it also turns your skin blue, which isn't a problem for the Nizars, who are that colour anyway, but we might just as well walk round with matching t-shirts as take that."
"Pavel, we are wearing identical t-shirts."
"Point taken, but still..."
"Not my best idea, I understand. So, the Yarrans have a chemical injection which kills off the top level of skin, turning it into a protective layer..."
"And contains enough sedative to render Terrans unconscious. You know, the Keer'n have been known to amputate the lower half of their bodies."
"Yes, it would be nice to be able to regenerate any part of your body provided the head survived. There's always the Vulcan method?"
"Hikaru, we're 3 years into a 5 year mission. That leaves us rather short on time."
"True. I guess there's only one option then. The old fashioned Earth way."
"Of course! You know condoms were inwented by a charming little man from Wladiwostok?"
no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:21 am (UTC)Second: supposedly working on involuntary manslaughter: I think that if you work on it, it's not involuntary anymore ;)
*more hug*
no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:23 am (UTC)omg. I love you guys. I love you THIS MUCH. I love you like Kirk loves Spock (i.e., a LOT.) They are SO CUTE with their little matching t-shirts and their LITTLE FACES. And their skin that is not blue.
thankyou! I will see you sooon! <3 <3
no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 12:39 am (UTC)I'm honored to have known you the little bit I have and let's hope your 22nd year proves wonderful for you and the world.
*birthday squishes*
no subject
on 2009-01-20 01:15 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 02:57 am (UTC)And yes, agreed, change is coming, and it will be lovely.
My regards to Small Cat!
no subject
on 2009-01-20 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 08:49 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 10:07 am (UTC)Happy birthday, you. (http://community.livejournal.com/grimandancient/6136.html)
Love,
the internets
no subject
on 2009-01-20 10:34 am (UTC)Hope you have a great day, a brilliant year and a bright shiny future.
no subject
on 2009-01-20 10:47 am (UTC)Happy birthday.
no subject
on 2009-01-20 10:48 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 11:54 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-20 01:43 pm (UTC)