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So.
Kinda went incognito there for a while. Whoops.
Thing you may not know about me: I work in residence at my university. We call'em community advisors (CAs) here and you may know the position as an RA, a don, a facilitator, whatever. I've been a CA the last two years and this year I'm an Area Coordinator, which means I have CA staff below me. Yep, they trust me not to fuck too badly with the heads of eight fabulous, enthusiastic people for an entire year. We, me and my co-workers are the most senior student staff employed by the university, and thus have a hell of a lot of pressure placed on us.
It was training for this position that brought me back to school in the middle of August instead of at the beginning of Septemeber like everyone else. And fuck, did we train. 12 hours a day for fifteen days. Seriously. We're the front lines with most residents, we're the first responders to things like suicides and accidents and basically deal with any students in distress while the police/doctors/whomever can get to them. And we do on calls, and the way it works out I'm on call every third day. Oh yeah, I'm also the one who coordinates the break up of parties at quiet hours and so I've been likened to both a nazi and a narc this week. Yay.
Regardless, it's a great job and I love it. I'm doing something, I'm helping change people's lives by giving them a safe place to live and learn and just be while they figure out who the heck they are and what they're going to do with their lives. But hey, that means meetings and training and training my staff and meeting with my staff and fuck, I've been run off my feet. And oh, yeah, classes have started and I got fucked over by my department and thus wasn't actually registered for any classes and spent a week sitting outside profs offices and begging to be let into their classes. Yay.
And so internet time became tertiary to work and sleep and all I've had a chance to do has been to scroll the flist and read the occasional piece of smut (Hi Lyss, hi Julie) and that's sucked.
Things are slowing down now, thank God. Sorry I've been MIA. I'm trying to go back and figure out what everyone's been up to but I'll never make it.
I've been writing a little. Mostly I've been writing about work, trying to work some frustrations out, but I do have some stuff written out long hand that needs a serious edit and some reworking but is kinda sweet.
So. Hugs to everyone who needs or wants them, apologies to everyone I've neglected to reply to emails from and yeah. I've got papers and assignments due in the next little bit, which ensures a large amount of procrastination.
And hello to the new people on the flist. You all seem pretty darn cool. I'm cooler than this entry, I swear.
Kinda went incognito there for a while. Whoops.
Thing you may not know about me: I work in residence at my university. We call'em community advisors (CAs) here and you may know the position as an RA, a don, a facilitator, whatever. I've been a CA the last two years and this year I'm an Area Coordinator, which means I have CA staff below me. Yep, they trust me not to fuck too badly with the heads of eight fabulous, enthusiastic people for an entire year. We, me and my co-workers are the most senior student staff employed by the university, and thus have a hell of a lot of pressure placed on us.
It was training for this position that brought me back to school in the middle of August instead of at the beginning of Septemeber like everyone else. And fuck, did we train. 12 hours a day for fifteen days. Seriously. We're the front lines with most residents, we're the first responders to things like suicides and accidents and basically deal with any students in distress while the police/doctors/whomever can get to them. And we do on calls, and the way it works out I'm on call every third day. Oh yeah, I'm also the one who coordinates the break up of parties at quiet hours and so I've been likened to both a nazi and a narc this week. Yay.
Regardless, it's a great job and I love it. I'm doing something, I'm helping change people's lives by giving them a safe place to live and learn and just be while they figure out who the heck they are and what they're going to do with their lives. But hey, that means meetings and training and training my staff and meeting with my staff and fuck, I've been run off my feet. And oh, yeah, classes have started and I got fucked over by my department and thus wasn't actually registered for any classes and spent a week sitting outside profs offices and begging to be let into their classes. Yay.
And so internet time became tertiary to work and sleep and all I've had a chance to do has been to scroll the flist and read the occasional piece of smut (Hi Lyss, hi Julie) and that's sucked.
Things are slowing down now, thank God. Sorry I've been MIA. I'm trying to go back and figure out what everyone's been up to but I'll never make it.
I've been writing a little. Mostly I've been writing about work, trying to work some frustrations out, but I do have some stuff written out long hand that needs a serious edit and some reworking but is kinda sweet.
So. Hugs to everyone who needs or wants them, apologies to everyone I've neglected to reply to emails from and yeah. I've got papers and assignments due in the next little bit, which ensures a large amount of procrastination.
And hello to the new people on the flist. You all seem pretty darn cool. I'm cooler than this entry, I swear.
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From:
no subject
I do notice these things. Just... don't always comment.
And, sadly, I have nothing uplifting to post, so I will leave you with an angsty fragment...
She only thinks of him on the bad days. The days when everything she does is so utterly fruitless that things are setback by days. Or weeks. Months. The days when one step forward is accompanied by twenty steps back. The days when she wants to sit in a corner and cry miserable tears of frustration and self-pity.
Then he's there in her thoughts, like a security blanket, like an icon she can cling to. He is something she can focus on outside of herself. And so she does.
She remembers his smiles and his smirks and the sarcasm that made her laugh inside when she was supposed to be staying oh so very dignified. His way of looking at the world and the decisions he had to make. Sometimes she remembers she didn't always agree with him.
On the days when it's really bad, when she forgets to eat lunch--and Janet's not around anymore, and that adds to it, because she can't ever talk to Janet again--and stayed up too late the night before and it's now half-passed midnight... She thinks of different things. Of what it would have been like to have his fingers tangled in her hair, his lips sliding across her skin, his tongue--she always believed his tongue would be talented.
There are, sometimes, moments when she almost forgets him. Doesn't recall the way he'd saunter in, hands in pockets and fiddles. Doesn't miss the accidental swiping of half a dozen pens or the way he broke her laptop with Daniel's 'rock'--not that he hadn't apologized.
Half a dozen times she even realizes that she can't quite remember what he looks like.
Were his eyes dark brown or light brown? Were they really wrinkles or laugh lines.... Although she remembers he went silvery grey early on. She likes to blame that on Daniel.
The few times she's forgotten herself enough to mention him she gets sent to the psychs. And they tell her over and over that this fantasy man she keeps building has never existed. She knows they are lying. But there is no proof, no way of accessing the records she knows have to be out there.
And so she can never wave anything in their faces.
For in this reality, the one that she can't quite believe is real, Colonel Jack O'Neill has never existed.
There are no other changes. Dr. Daniel Jackson is here, he broke the last translation to start up the stargate. Teal'c is here, the ex-first prime of Apophis. Sometimes, she is almost certain they are lying when they smile at her.
General Hammond, Dr. Janet Frasier... Well, not Dr. Frasier of course.
But she had been here.
Careful questioning has turned up that a Colonel Johnathan O'Neil led the first Abydos mission. He was killed there and Dr. Daniel Jackson stayed. The rest, as they liked to say, was history.
She has a hard time accepting that the man she knew for nearly seven years has never existed.
But even now-Colonel Louis Feretti has no recollection of the man who saved the planet with his sometimes stupid plans half a dozen times. Or more. And none of them want to remember.
It scares her, at night. On those nights when it's been a bad day and she lets herself think about him.
They never seem to realize that she is not who they think she is. Not their Sam Carter, and she hopes their Sam Carter is all right, but she's more concerned about herself. Because if they haven't realized then she can't explain. And if she can't explain (they'd send her to the psychs again. Parallel dimensions don't exist, after all) then she can't go home.
And so she quietly works on quantum mirror theory when she's supposed to be taking downtime. Or sleeping. There are nights when she doesn't see the dawn because she's asleep on her laptop.
From:
no subject
elly- *waves!!*
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What can I do to make you write more? What? I'll do it. I will.
From:
no subject
(ok, so that won't make my fic write itself faster, but it would be nice to read. ;)
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Gah!
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Re: Gah!
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Re: Gah!
From:
no subject
Forgive my Stargate-geek-less-ness, but is this Sam from an actual parallel universe in canon, or one you made up yourself? Not that it matters so much since the story *rocks* anyway, but I'm just pathologically curious. :)
Spiffy.
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no subject
From:
no subject
You are a Stargater--which is, in fact, even cooler than being a Trekkie. :D