championoftime (
championoftime) wrote2012-04-06 05:00 pm
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[Audio]
[Public | Audio]
I've noticed that with all the bickering among us, we've often made pronouncements about the differences between who we are and everyone else aboard the ship. The capacity for mystical powers, psychic ability, physical excellence, or technical skill. Some of this is given by our genetics, through training and dedication, through love and support, through anguish and mad accident.
And yet despite these declarations. Someone standing a universe away can be remarkably like you in thought and presence, and someone who grew up in your own home can be as strikingly separate as an alien creature stepping out of its pod to introduce itself for the first time. It's a mystery of the tallest order.
As many of you might know, I ran away from my own home when I was far younger. I stole a TARDIS and left. I was caught, did my time, paid my dues, had her taken and returned. Since then I have lived moving about for what feels like more of my life than I've spent settled in one location. This is the longest I've spent stationary in a long time, and even then I'm still moving. I've often wondered if those people, the ones that grew up in our houses, share our genetics, the ones we occasionally see a glimmer of our shared selves in their faces are as much a part of us as those people a universe away that we know immediately with a few shared words and a look of utter understanding.
I've quite a bit to think about.
[Private to Jesse | Audio]
Pick out a movie of your choice and I'll bring refreshments. We can talk or we can not. I'd simply like the company.
[Absent Spam for Arkady]
[Before going to meet Jesse, he stops in front of her room and leaves a bouquet of Schlenk blossoms as discretely as possible, checking the hall in either direction to ensure that he won't be caught.]
I've noticed that with all the bickering among us, we've often made pronouncements about the differences between who we are and everyone else aboard the ship. The capacity for mystical powers, psychic ability, physical excellence, or technical skill. Some of this is given by our genetics, through training and dedication, through love and support, through anguish and mad accident.
And yet despite these declarations. Someone standing a universe away can be remarkably like you in thought and presence, and someone who grew up in your own home can be as strikingly separate as an alien creature stepping out of its pod to introduce itself for the first time. It's a mystery of the tallest order.
As many of you might know, I ran away from my own home when I was far younger. I stole a TARDIS and left. I was caught, did my time, paid my dues, had her taken and returned. Since then I have lived moving about for what feels like more of my life than I've spent settled in one location. This is the longest I've spent stationary in a long time, and even then I'm still moving. I've often wondered if those people, the ones that grew up in our houses, share our genetics, the ones we occasionally see a glimmer of our shared selves in their faces are as much a part of us as those people a universe away that we know immediately with a few shared words and a look of utter understanding.
I've quite a bit to think about.
[Private to Jesse | Audio]
Pick out a movie of your choice and I'll bring refreshments. We can talk or we can not. I'd simply like the company.
[Absent Spam for Arkady]
[Before going to meet Jesse, he stops in front of her room and leaves a bouquet of Schlenk blossoms as discretely as possible, checking the hall in either direction to ensure that he won't be caught.]
[Spam]
[He goes quiet again, watching, halfheartedly eating... But when Kumar's father shows up, he mutters:] He's mad I wasn't around. He wrote this letter, and... [He grins humorlessly, scratching his jaw.] He called me an asshole, actually.
[Spam]
[Spam]
[He gets up suddenly and goes to fetch his cigarettes and an ashtray from the nightstand.] You mind?
[Spam]
My own brother's leaving. He just graduated. I wish he'd been around more when I was younger- I keep thinking if he had, I might have been able to help prevent him from becoming an inmate.
I feel a bit sorry for your brother.
[Spam]
Didn't know you had a brother. [He sits back down next to the Doctor, bringing the ashtray with him.] That, uh, that guy... I saw the announcement. I don't know him, though.
[He heard what else you said, Doctor, and he's not sure what to say to it, but after a second, he nods. He feels sorry for the kid, too.]
Re: [Spam]
My brother, he did something horrible while he was here. [He would leave the information a little obscure. No need to talk about the torture while watching... was that Dr. Horrible?! That looked like Dr. Horrible.] You've done nothing to that level, however-
Rather than accepting that you're a terrible person capable of terrible things, remember there's a young man that may wonder one day if it's his fault for not having spoken with you enough. Even if you don't return home, he should know that he's at least some sort of positive influence. I say that more as a younger brother than a warden.
[He points to Neal Patrick Harris thoughtfully, and with a squint. He looks too much like him. Only he seems very interested in those ladies.]
[Spam]
Yeah, but it's got nothing to do with him, pretty much. I mean, I was thirteen when he was born, like-- I was already the resident family screwup way before that.
[Spam]
[Spam] 1/2, split for clarity
[He digs into his pocket, though, and pulls out the crumpled letter, handing it over.] Go ahead. It's real, you know, eloquent. [He draws a knee up onto the bed and rests his chin atop it, flashing a faint, wry smile.] Kid writes way better than I ever could.
[Spam] 2/2
Dear Jesse,
I've been asked to write you a letter. When I said that I didn't know what to say to you, they told me to speak from the heart. This is all I can think to say:
You're an asshole.
Maybe you'll say, "How can you say that? You don't even know me." That's the problem. I don't remember anything from before you left except a lot of fighting, you disappearing for days at a time, and Mom crying a lot. Now, you stop by every few months, and you say we should hang out, and then you mess something up and you leave again.
You never stay to see what happens next. What happens is that all of your failures become my potential failures. Nothing I do is enough to fix what you do.
I said you were the favorite. How do I know? Because I have to work all the time, and all you would have to do is show up and not screw up. You don't even do that. I know that was my fault the last time, but you never even tried. They still worry about you all the time. They worry about you so much that they only worry about me because they worry about you.
So thanks for ruining my life, you asshole. I wish my trophies had fallen on you.
Also, they asked me to write this so you'd have something of me, but this is more than I've ever had from you, so I hope you really enjoy it.
Jake
PS: I went looking for your stash and I didn't find it, so I guess that means you really did quit, at least. I'm trying to think of a way to tell Mom and Dad that much, so maybe they'll relax and stop looking for mine.
[Spam]
The movie is lost on him briefly. It's either helpful or damning, considering.] You should try, I think. He deserves for you to try. Your decisions make it extremely difficult for him. He can be the best he can be, and it won't unmake your bad decisions as they're still yours and not his. Only you can make amends for those- at least prove someone can become better.
[Spam]
[But it seems like he's looking for a certain answer anyway, his eyes on the Doctor, shaded with caution.]
Re: [Spam]
But your parents, your parents, as in the parents that you both share and mutually contributed to your upbringing need to be proven wrong for his sake. So they'll treat him better.
Stop letting him down and making promises you can't deliver. Start delivering regardless of whether you've promised or not.
[He gives Jesse a very unwavering and intent look. This from someone who ran away, but by god still buys his brother socks to remind him he's there.]
[Spam]
So I'll stop by, maybe, if I ever make it out of here. Kid's gotta get something for putting up with our folks all this time, right?