Refocus?
ICly open to Xavier friends only, minus the adults. ;-)
If only I could get into that corner of your head
where things finally match and meet the standards that you set
oh how I wish I was the treasure that you were lookin' for
bet I would feel better if only I could find the door
I am cryin'
you aren't tryin'
I am melting away
I wait for the words on the tip of your tongue
I'm only as good as the last one
well you decide and I abide as my song goes unsung (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I had another short chat with Forge this morning. I thought that maybe, just maybe, since I hadn't abruptly woken him up this time, he wouldn't get so ornery when I tried to talk to him about my ideals regarding the X-Men. Well, as it turns out, I was right and wrong. Neither of us were so grumpy, but his opinion wasn't different. I just got a better chance to hear what he was saying.
Jean told me earlier that, as odd as it sounds, I'll never be ready to join the X-Men until I don't want to. o_O Which doesn't really make much sense. She, along with pretty much all of the adults here, think I'm crazy/stupid/ignorant/naive to try and willingly join. I told Forge that maybe the team could use some members that are a little more optimistic, and saw it like a great opportunity to help others directly and indirectly, instead of treating it like a burden like they all do. And he told me that being optimistic about it would make things even worse for me.
Now, I'm sorry, but since when was being pessimistic and feeling burdened a requirement? Maybe it's just me, but why only pick recruits who don't want to be doing it anyway? I mean...what the hell? Where's the point in that?
Everyone assumes that by desiring to be on the team, I'm desiring to get myself glory and, subsequently, get killed. I don't know...does that make any sense to any of you? Because that's not why I'm interested. I'm just like any of them, except I'm optimistic about protecting the ones I love, while they're apparently hesitant about it. Forge also went on to say that, with my 'optimistic' attitude about helping others, I'd be better off in the Peacecorps. Umm...right.
But...whatever. Guess I'll just wait until I'm out of college to say anything else about it. [sarcasm]Because, as we all know, college is best known for its magical ability to transform all of us immature little kiddies into real-life adults with important careers and ways to make it through the day! Yay!![/sarcasm]
Drake, you better come up with some ideas for X-Factor quick. :-P I'm bored out of my mind, and I could really use some time spent with people that understand me. You know, teenagers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
<> Forge's Room - Lv3(#1969RC)
It's not a room that exudes attractiveness. The basic layout is nice enough, but these nice layouts are often inhabited by people who have the designer sense of a blind elephant. There's a desk pressed up against the wall, mostly occupied with a souped up computer -- which is to say a standard Mac with enough extra wiring and add-ons to appear like a set-piece for a dystopia. The rest of the room is about as bad. The curtains are a dun brown color and are pulled back, always, from the windows, by makeshift metal hooks that look faintly lethal (but aren't). There's a few large chairs scattered at haphazard over the floor, a cheap looking wolf throw-rug pushed up to one side of the floor, and plenty of clutter, although Forge has been kind enough to scoot most of it to the edges. Said debris is primarily comprised of, you guessed it, mechanical parts. The usually-open door to the bedroom shows your regular bed, with a strange mix of black sheets, Southwestern-theme blankets, and Batman pillows, just for kicks. The mechanical debris extends in here, too. The bathroom, usually shut, is to the right of the bedroom door.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Forge ]
Forge's room has gotten exponentially messier in the past week or so. His workshop or anything that /could/ be used as a workshop item has been gathered into scattered piles. Scattered piles which take up a good percentage of the floor. Forge is sitting in the middle. His eyes are glazed with enough-pain-medication-as-he's-safely-able-to-take in, and he's able to use both arms on the wired mess just beyond his knees.
Quark walks up to the door and, pausing for a moment to take a breath, hesitantly knocks on it before peeking his head in. Spotting Forge by a pile of mechanical stuffs nonetheless, he arches an eyebrow and asks quietly, "Mind if I come in...? I was...umm...well, I wanted to apologize for last night." And he leaves it at that.
"No, not really," Forge says. He doesn't look up. "Be careful walking in. Some of this stuff is sharp."
Quark is, luckily, wearing shoes. So there. Biting his bottom lip in thought, he idly crosses his arms across his chest and slowly wanders in. He looks around the room as if for a place to sit, but opts to stand instead, now placing his hands in his pockets. Pausing in silence for a few moments, he finally says, "Umm...sorry about last night, then. Sorry for waking you up and irritating you with that argument." There, that wasn't so hard. Keep going... "And...umm. Yeah." Sighing, he rocks back on forth on his heels before continuing, "Look, I was thinking more about what we were talking last night. And deep down, I think the reason I really want to do this is...well, because I never -did- get asked if I was interested in joining the X-Men. No one ever did come up to me and ask if I had thought about it. And...when some of my friends, and other people I thought were just like me, started getting asked...I just wanted to know why."
"Listen," Forge says. His eyes remain on his device as if he were incapable of meeting a human gaze today. Ah well. "I really don't think the X-Men is open invitation. And it's not to exclude wannabes or inepts. I don't think anyone thinks you're inept. I think it's that they would really just like you to do other things first. If you want to be considered, I'd say drop this now. Really. Go to college, do something else. Then ... if you're not asked ... you'll have something of equal or greater importance to do. It's not a career choice, Quark. It's not something you apply for. I think there are other reasons. And don't ask me what, because I don't know. Just ... look at the permanent residents of the school, if you like. Make your own conjectures."
Quark sighs, but there's no anger or irritation to it. "I know...I am planning on going, really. I've been looking at NYU, I think their science program is pretty good. That's what Mom says, anyway," he shrugs with a small smile. "I just feel like I'm trying to convey something and it's not getting across. I'm not thinking about the X-Men as a career, just something I wish I could do. A great responsibility, sure, but...I don't know. All I know is that I care about people too, and it's not about heroicism for me. Sure the X-Men help people, but it's more than that. Saving someone's life isn't about the glory--it's about that person being able to go home to his own life, with his own family, and still have people to love him. Sometimes I think if there were more people out there like that, then maybe my father's murder could've been prevented." He sighs again, eyes falling to the floor. He half-chuckles once, with little mirth. "I don't know...maybe you're right. Maybe I should just give up. Sounds like I don't even know -what- I want, and my debating is going in circles anyway."
"Not give up. Refocus. There's a difference. And, listen." Forge finally glances up. Now that Quark is looking down. "All the X-Men in the world couldn't save everyone. I understand that you're still grieving for your father, Quark, but it couldn't have been prevented. Not by X-Men. By a world wide heightening of sensitivity and observation, maybe. Not by X-Men. I'm serious, Quark. There are other ways to save lives. And if you get the opportunity, you don't need to be an X-Man to do it. No, not at all."
Quark shrugs, still looking down. "Refocus...hmm. Well, whatever. I'm not still trying to talk about my dad, I'm just trying to make a point. Notice I didn't say I wish an X-Man had been there the help save my dad. I said that I wish there were more people with that kind of love for others. If we had more people in general that cared about other peoples' well-being, we wouldn't need the X-Men. That's the difference I'm talking about." Shrugging again, he sighs and pauses for a few moments, pondering in silence. Shifting his feet a bit, he purses his lips and says, "I guess I'm just trying to view the role of an X-Man in different ways that everyone else is. I'm used to trying and making things seem better than they are. People call that ignorance--I like to call it optimism." Glancing up from the floor at Forge, whether or not his eyes are still on himself, he adds, "It just seems like Jean, Jubilee, everyone--all view the X-Men as an obligation, as a burden. I'm just trying to think of it as a role that helps save lives, directly and indirectly. Is that wrong? I just think that another view, another way to make the whole thing seem easier, would help a lot. Even if it might seem naive."
"Quark. Save lives in your own way. The idea you have in mind is more suited to Peacecorps, man. So join the Peacecorps. The X-Men isn't Peacecorps. And I think it's been drilled and re-drilled that it's invite only. So, seriously. Stop banging your head against it. And don't presume that you can walk in and make the X-Men a sunny thing, either. It's that kind of attitude that is going to make them leery. Even if it's optimism and not ignorance, it makes you look /very/ much like you don't know what you're walking into. I'm not an X-Men, Quark. I don't want to be. I couldn't handle it. And I know very well you think you can. But you're not proving it by pushing and /pushing/ man. Do something else." Forge keeps his eyes up for another moment before letting them droop back to his project.
Quark sighs and idly runs a hand through his hair, once again slightly irritated. Although, he's starting to wonder if he's irritated at everyone else or more so himself. Bleh...right. Refocus. Maybe that's not such a bad idea. "...Whatever," is his eventual reply. "I just don't understand. I try to be optimistic about everthing. That's who I am. Who says I suddenly can't be about this? Refocusing is one thing. But I don't understand how being -less- optomistic makes me a better person, and even if you think that makes them leery, I'm sorry. But I don't think I should have to give that up." He shrugs, leaving it at that instead of trying to press the conversation. He's already starting to get the feeling he's pressed his limit in the room, so he turns around and heads for the door. He pauses for a minute as he's just about to leave, looking over his shoulder at Forge by his project. He wants to shout at him, wave his hands like a crazy man and stress his own ideals, his beliefs, what he understands could help the team and more. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead sighs and finishes instead, "Sorry for interrupting again. Hope your project goes well." Forget it. Save it for another day, in the far future. Maybe time will help. He just wish 'refocus' didn't have to sound so much like 'give up on it already'. With that, he waves, offers a short "Goodbye," and walks out the door, heading to go do something else.
OOC: Thanks to Forge for a good short scene, due to my time limitations with work and all. I had fun. :)
If only I could get into that corner of your head
where things finally match and meet the standards that you set
oh how I wish I was the treasure that you were lookin' for
bet I would feel better if only I could find the door
I am cryin'
you aren't tryin'
I am melting away
I wait for the words on the tip of your tongue
I'm only as good as the last one
well you decide and I abide as my song goes unsung (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I had another short chat with Forge this morning. I thought that maybe, just maybe, since I hadn't abruptly woken him up this time, he wouldn't get so ornery when I tried to talk to him about my ideals regarding the X-Men. Well, as it turns out, I was right and wrong. Neither of us were so grumpy, but his opinion wasn't different. I just got a better chance to hear what he was saying.
Jean told me earlier that, as odd as it sounds, I'll never be ready to join the X-Men until I don't want to. o_O Which doesn't really make much sense. She, along with pretty much all of the adults here, think I'm crazy/stupid/ignorant/naive to try and willingly join. I told Forge that maybe the team could use some members that are a little more optimistic, and saw it like a great opportunity to help others directly and indirectly, instead of treating it like a burden like they all do. And he told me that being optimistic about it would make things even worse for me.
Now, I'm sorry, but since when was being pessimistic and feeling burdened a requirement? Maybe it's just me, but why only pick recruits who don't want to be doing it anyway? I mean...what the hell? Where's the point in that?
Everyone assumes that by desiring to be on the team, I'm desiring to get myself glory and, subsequently, get killed. I don't know...does that make any sense to any of you? Because that's not why I'm interested. I'm just like any of them, except I'm optimistic about protecting the ones I love, while they're apparently hesitant about it. Forge also went on to say that, with my 'optimistic' attitude about helping others, I'd be better off in the Peacecorps. Umm...right.
But...whatever. Guess I'll just wait until I'm out of college to say anything else about it. [sarcasm]Because, as we all know, college is best known for its magical ability to transform all of us immature little kiddies into real-life adults with important careers and ways to make it through the day! Yay!![/sarcasm]
Drake, you better come up with some ideas for X-Factor quick. :-P I'm bored out of my mind, and I could really use some time spent with people that understand me. You know, teenagers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
<> Forge's Room - Lv3(#1969RC)
It's not a room that exudes attractiveness. The basic layout is nice enough, but these nice layouts are often inhabited by people who have the designer sense of a blind elephant. There's a desk pressed up against the wall, mostly occupied with a souped up computer -- which is to say a standard Mac with enough extra wiring and add-ons to appear like a set-piece for a dystopia. The rest of the room is about as bad. The curtains are a dun brown color and are pulled back, always, from the windows, by makeshift metal hooks that look faintly lethal (but aren't). There's a few large chairs scattered at haphazard over the floor, a cheap looking wolf throw-rug pushed up to one side of the floor, and plenty of clutter, although Forge has been kind enough to scoot most of it to the edges. Said debris is primarily comprised of, you guessed it, mechanical parts. The usually-open door to the bedroom shows your regular bed, with a strange mix of black sheets, Southwestern-theme blankets, and Batman pillows, just for kicks. The mechanical debris extends in here, too. The bathroom, usually shut, is to the right of the bedroom door.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Forge ]
Forge's room has gotten exponentially messier in the past week or so. His workshop or anything that /could/ be used as a workshop item has been gathered into scattered piles. Scattered piles which take up a good percentage of the floor. Forge is sitting in the middle. His eyes are glazed with enough-pain-medication-as-he's-safely-able-to-take in, and he's able to use both arms on the wired mess just beyond his knees.
Quark walks up to the door and, pausing for a moment to take a breath, hesitantly knocks on it before peeking his head in. Spotting Forge by a pile of mechanical stuffs nonetheless, he arches an eyebrow and asks quietly, "Mind if I come in...? I was...umm...well, I wanted to apologize for last night." And he leaves it at that.
"No, not really," Forge says. He doesn't look up. "Be careful walking in. Some of this stuff is sharp."
Quark is, luckily, wearing shoes. So there. Biting his bottom lip in thought, he idly crosses his arms across his chest and slowly wanders in. He looks around the room as if for a place to sit, but opts to stand instead, now placing his hands in his pockets. Pausing in silence for a few moments, he finally says, "Umm...sorry about last night, then. Sorry for waking you up and irritating you with that argument." There, that wasn't so hard. Keep going... "And...umm. Yeah." Sighing, he rocks back on forth on his heels before continuing, "Look, I was thinking more about what we were talking last night. And deep down, I think the reason I really want to do this is...well, because I never -did- get asked if I was interested in joining the X-Men. No one ever did come up to me and ask if I had thought about it. And...when some of my friends, and other people I thought were just like me, started getting asked...I just wanted to know why."
"Listen," Forge says. His eyes remain on his device as if he were incapable of meeting a human gaze today. Ah well. "I really don't think the X-Men is open invitation. And it's not to exclude wannabes or inepts. I don't think anyone thinks you're inept. I think it's that they would really just like you to do other things first. If you want to be considered, I'd say drop this now. Really. Go to college, do something else. Then ... if you're not asked ... you'll have something of equal or greater importance to do. It's not a career choice, Quark. It's not something you apply for. I think there are other reasons. And don't ask me what, because I don't know. Just ... look at the permanent residents of the school, if you like. Make your own conjectures."
Quark sighs, but there's no anger or irritation to it. "I know...I am planning on going, really. I've been looking at NYU, I think their science program is pretty good. That's what Mom says, anyway," he shrugs with a small smile. "I just feel like I'm trying to convey something and it's not getting across. I'm not thinking about the X-Men as a career, just something I wish I could do. A great responsibility, sure, but...I don't know. All I know is that I care about people too, and it's not about heroicism for me. Sure the X-Men help people, but it's more than that. Saving someone's life isn't about the glory--it's about that person being able to go home to his own life, with his own family, and still have people to love him. Sometimes I think if there were more people out there like that, then maybe my father's murder could've been prevented." He sighs again, eyes falling to the floor. He half-chuckles once, with little mirth. "I don't know...maybe you're right. Maybe I should just give up. Sounds like I don't even know -what- I want, and my debating is going in circles anyway."
"Not give up. Refocus. There's a difference. And, listen." Forge finally glances up. Now that Quark is looking down. "All the X-Men in the world couldn't save everyone. I understand that you're still grieving for your father, Quark, but it couldn't have been prevented. Not by X-Men. By a world wide heightening of sensitivity and observation, maybe. Not by X-Men. I'm serious, Quark. There are other ways to save lives. And if you get the opportunity, you don't need to be an X-Man to do it. No, not at all."
Quark shrugs, still looking down. "Refocus...hmm. Well, whatever. I'm not still trying to talk about my dad, I'm just trying to make a point. Notice I didn't say I wish an X-Man had been there the help save my dad. I said that I wish there were more people with that kind of love for others. If we had more people in general that cared about other peoples' well-being, we wouldn't need the X-Men. That's the difference I'm talking about." Shrugging again, he sighs and pauses for a few moments, pondering in silence. Shifting his feet a bit, he purses his lips and says, "I guess I'm just trying to view the role of an X-Man in different ways that everyone else is. I'm used to trying and making things seem better than they are. People call that ignorance--I like to call it optimism." Glancing up from the floor at Forge, whether or not his eyes are still on himself, he adds, "It just seems like Jean, Jubilee, everyone--all view the X-Men as an obligation, as a burden. I'm just trying to think of it as a role that helps save lives, directly and indirectly. Is that wrong? I just think that another view, another way to make the whole thing seem easier, would help a lot. Even if it might seem naive."
"Quark. Save lives in your own way. The idea you have in mind is more suited to Peacecorps, man. So join the Peacecorps. The X-Men isn't Peacecorps. And I think it's been drilled and re-drilled that it's invite only. So, seriously. Stop banging your head against it. And don't presume that you can walk in and make the X-Men a sunny thing, either. It's that kind of attitude that is going to make them leery. Even if it's optimism and not ignorance, it makes you look /very/ much like you don't know what you're walking into. I'm not an X-Men, Quark. I don't want to be. I couldn't handle it. And I know very well you think you can. But you're not proving it by pushing and /pushing/ man. Do something else." Forge keeps his eyes up for another moment before letting them droop back to his project.
Quark sighs and idly runs a hand through his hair, once again slightly irritated. Although, he's starting to wonder if he's irritated at everyone else or more so himself. Bleh...right. Refocus. Maybe that's not such a bad idea. "...Whatever," is his eventual reply. "I just don't understand. I try to be optimistic about everthing. That's who I am. Who says I suddenly can't be about this? Refocusing is one thing. But I don't understand how being -less- optomistic makes me a better person, and even if you think that makes them leery, I'm sorry. But I don't think I should have to give that up." He shrugs, leaving it at that instead of trying to press the conversation. He's already starting to get the feeling he's pressed his limit in the room, so he turns around and heads for the door. He pauses for a minute as he's just about to leave, looking over his shoulder at Forge by his project. He wants to shout at him, wave his hands like a crazy man and stress his own ideals, his beliefs, what he understands could help the team and more. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead sighs and finishes instead, "Sorry for interrupting again. Hope your project goes well." Forget it. Save it for another day, in the far future. Maybe time will help. He just wish 'refocus' didn't have to sound so much like 'give up on it already'. With that, he waves, offers a short "Goodbye," and walks out the door, heading to go do something else.
OOC: Thanks to Forge for a good short scene, due to my time limitations with work and all. I had fun. :)