Across the Universe...
As I sat down in the rec area, after helping the kitchen crew clean up, I winced and tried unsuccessfully to rub the pain out of my aching shoulder and neck. My own fault, I guess, for sleeping on a chair outside the New Resident Crash Room.
Not that I think anybody should blame me. I had little trouble sleeping on my first night here, thanks to exhaustion and a sudden onset of... time lag I guess you'd call it (it wasn't morning when I left the People of the Wind, but it was morning when I got to Tabula Rasa, and in all the strangeness, I didn't realize that I was up for twenty-four whole hours). Night two, however, was a different matter.
That new resident crash room is crowded. And some of the residents there? They suck in all the available space. When Mrs. Slocombe and Kirk Lazarus got into a fight over whose bed was whose, I thought a knife was going to be pulled and I wasn't sure by whom.
And, disturbingly, I was reminded of my brothers and sisters.
So I slipped out, picked a chair, slept in it, and probably sprained my neck.
But that's not why I'm sitting here in the rec room, briefly wondering why there's a copy of "The Day of the Locust" shoved down the side of the couch. Mostly, I'm feeling sorry for myself.
I was quite proud over how I'd handled this disaster so far, but this Island had waited me out. Right from day one I said to myself: the important thing is not to panic, and I didn't panic. Day two I told myself not to panic, and I didn't panic. Day three, and I told myself not to panic, and I ended up saying: to heck with that; I'm panicking.
But at day three, the urge to panic is all stale and dried out. And in place of panic comes despair, and the unstoppable urge to just sit somewhere and stare into space.
Oh, god, I'm really stuck here, aren't I? Mother? Daddy? Where are you?
Just then, the temperamental jukebox comes on, and starts playing a melancholy Beatles tune.
"Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass...
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting thorough my open mind
Possessing and caressing me..."
I glared at the machine. I had the distinct impression that this jukebox was taunting me. But that was just silly, wasn't it?
"...Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world..."
[[OOC: The jukebox has answered Polly's question with "Across the Universe". This young woman is sitting in the rec area, feeling sorry for herself. Fortunately, she doesn't bite, so try to cheer her up!]]
Not that I think anybody should blame me. I had little trouble sleeping on my first night here, thanks to exhaustion and a sudden onset of... time lag I guess you'd call it (it wasn't morning when I left the People of the Wind, but it was morning when I got to Tabula Rasa, and in all the strangeness, I didn't realize that I was up for twenty-four whole hours). Night two, however, was a different matter.
That new resident crash room is crowded. And some of the residents there? They suck in all the available space. When Mrs. Slocombe and Kirk Lazarus got into a fight over whose bed was whose, I thought a knife was going to be pulled and I wasn't sure by whom.
And, disturbingly, I was reminded of my brothers and sisters.
So I slipped out, picked a chair, slept in it, and probably sprained my neck.
But that's not why I'm sitting here in the rec room, briefly wondering why there's a copy of "The Day of the Locust" shoved down the side of the couch. Mostly, I'm feeling sorry for myself.
I was quite proud over how I'd handled this disaster so far, but this Island had waited me out. Right from day one I said to myself: the important thing is not to panic, and I didn't panic. Day two I told myself not to panic, and I didn't panic. Day three, and I told myself not to panic, and I ended up saying: to heck with that; I'm panicking.
But at day three, the urge to panic is all stale and dried out. And in place of panic comes despair, and the unstoppable urge to just sit somewhere and stare into space.
Oh, god, I'm really stuck here, aren't I? Mother? Daddy? Where are you?
Just then, the temperamental jukebox comes on, and starts playing a melancholy Beatles tune.
"Words are flying out like
endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass...
They slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow waves of joy
are drifting thorough my open mind
Possessing and caressing me..."
I glared at the machine. I had the distinct impression that this jukebox was taunting me. But that was just silly, wasn't it?
"...Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world..."
[[OOC: The jukebox has answered Polly's question with "Across the Universe". This young woman is sitting in the rec area, feeling sorry for herself. Fortunately, she doesn't bite, so try to cheer her up!]]