Diary, September, 21, 2009
College life…you gotta love it. Actually not. I don't see anything special about it, really. Wake up at God awful hours of the morning to avoid the dreaded "Parking Lot Wars" for a class that doesn't start until 9am or later—and then there's the hours upon hours of homework. It's enough to make you sick! Whoever said it was easy to be a college student should just die and rot. I mean, seriously! I have a life that doesn't involve school! Though I don't have any time for myself, I still have a life!! …Even if it's really not much of one.
That's the problem with being tossed around. I'm in one state for a week and then another for just a few days. Guess no one likes me. It's not my fault—I don't think. I can't help it if those bloody foster home people don't like people who are…different. I'm not like normal kids that were up for adoption, and that's what people want. Normal people.
I'm far from normal, and I don't get many friends because of that. I don't like conforming like the others—it's just not my thing. Everyone everywhere I go is wearing those uppity, "Jock and Cheerleader" type of clothing from high end designers…the one's that charge like a hundred bucks for a really shitty t-shirt.
Huh…this is weird, Diary. I never quite know what to write for a first entry—and people keep giving me these things. What exactly am I supposed to say? Well, I'll start over again. Rough day at school—like normal. I hate people.
Okay, so, my name is Istas Smithe. (And yes, it's Smithe with an E. If you start pulling a "Pirates" thing on me, I swear I'm going to Poodle you!) My name means "snow" and I'm always teased about my name. Everyone thinks it's some sort of modern Pocahontas type of thing—with John Smithe falling for a beautiful Native American maiden, blah, blah, blah, and all that Disney crap. In truth, I don't rightly know what my real last name is—it was the first thing that the nurses gave me since my mother died when I was born. Never knew my father and quite frankly, I could care less. He wasn't there, why should I want to know? Ugh…Men.
So there I was, little Orphan Annie—err, rather Istas. I guess I was born in Naperville, Illinois, United States of America. From here, I was constantly tossed back and forth between foster homes. I spent a great deal of time at an orphanage, but I've long since forgotten the name. Bad memories, you know?
After being tossed around across the country, some weird family decided to keep me for more than a month. And here I am, back in Illinois and about 20 minutes away from the city where I was born. I wish it was in Naperville, but instead I'm stuck in a little hodunk town full of craptastic people. Seriously, I don't recommend going to Downers Grove. It. Sucks. Period.
I'd like to say that I live in a big house with a lot of room, but that'd be a huge lie. I live in a rather…cramped house. My foster parents, Bonnie and Mike are rather dull. Mike likes to argue a lot and is incredibly bull headed. Bonnie is very timid and the complete opposite, I like her most. Mike gives me a terrible headache every time he opens his mouth to speak. My foster sister, Katherine, is exactly like him—only she's more tolerable. She's odd and a bit of a loner. She hasn't got a lot of friends, but the ones she has are pretty cool. I don't talk to her much—she's always got her nose buried in a book, knitting or sitting in front of "The Black Monster." "The Black Monster" is her and Mike's name for her beastly desktop. I'm not lying, that thing is scary—and temperamental…just like her car--Tank…which I stole. (I'm serious; her car can get through anything. Solid steel and all American made. Built Ford Tough.)
Because of her, I attend the local college, College of DuPage, and met a whole bunch of people who are odd like me. Katherine and I aren't normal. Sadly, she went out of state for school, leaving me to discover all her hobbies. I rather enjoy the whole belly dancing thing. It's oddly fun to do—and yoga. The yoga tapes Bonnie and Katherine have are…scary. This lady instructor is psycho and expects everyone's a contortionist. (When I first started, I just sat on the mat and stared at the television. I hadn't a clue what she was saying or what she wanted me to do. Needless to say I eventually got the hang of it. I'm still pretty bad at it, but I'd like to think I'm improving.)
I think it's kind of funny that what she likes, I ended up taking on as well. She did archery and tried to teach me. I fail at that even more than I do at yoga! She's nowhere near being "Olympic" or anything, it's all for fun and general enjoyment.
Okay, this is starting to bore me, no offense, Diary. More or less, I'm a belly dancer, yoga-practice-er, avid runner—which Katherine hates with a burning passion of a thousand—no million—burning suns, archer, wannabe singer (and I so fail at that!), and a pretty good Seer. I love dance more than anything. That's really the only thing I'm good at—well, besides running. It's a really close call between running and dance. I think dance wins though. Running is great for clearing one's mind, but with dance you can set your mind, body and soul free.
So, there you have it. Most of who I am. I'm a no body that doesn't really fit in.
Chapter One, Anywhere Out of the World
"And maybe it's easier to withdraw from life, With all of it's misery and wretched lies, Away from harm." ~Dead Can Dance
Istas sighed and closed her journal and laid her head onto of the leather cover. She groaned and glanced at her watch.
Time to get to class… she thought bleakly and packed up her things. She stuffed them into a black messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder.
"Hey! Istas!"
Istas stifled a groan and turned around. She put on a smile and gave a small wave. "Hey, Eric," she greeted in a tired voice.
"What was for homework in English?" he asked and fixed his pinstripe suit coat that bunched up at his waist from struggling to keep hold of his burgundy briefcase.
"Whatever was on the syllabus—wait…no. Carter passed out a short story. It's not on the syllabus because he can't decide whether or not he wants to kill us with extra work or what we already know is going to destroy us."
Eric laughed and set down his burgundy briefcase to tie his old, beaten up shoe.
"Great…" he groaned and looked up. He shoved his square framed glasses back up the bridge of his nose and rolled up his pinstripe slacks. "Death by paper."
Istas raised an eyebrow at his footwear. "No kidding—don't you think it's time to get a new pair of shoes? Those are dead—like the guts of the shoe are sticking out."
Eric glanced up to Istas, pushing his glasses back up before flashing a grin. "They're my lucky Converse though."
Istas snorted and shook her head. "Lucky, but dead."
"They're not dead yet! They're just…--you know what? Once the soles completely come off or the little plastic heel thing starts digging into my heel, then, and only then, will they be dead."
"You're funeral, my friend." She paused and shifted her heavy backpack. "Where're you going next?"
"Home, thankfully!" Eric replied and jumped to his feet. "My girlfriend and I are going to finish watching Star Trek."
Istas frowned as Eric's girlfriend came up, but quickly recovered her cheery smile. "Figures that you two would be Trekkies."
"What's so bad about Star Trek?"
"Nothing, but 'warp speed'? C'mon now…there's no such thing."
"Who are we warping?" asked a voice from behind Istas. Immediately, the dark woman beamed and spun around.
"Ian!"
Ian smiled and half waved. "Seriously now…what's going on?"
"Istas doesn't believe in warp speed," Eric said, casting Istas a challenging glare.
"I'm sorry, but it doesn't exist."
"Who says?" Ian and Eric both asked.
Istas was at a loss for words and grappled with finding the answer. "Well…um…the Doctor!"
"The doctor of what?" Eric pressed.
"The…Doctor of the History Channel! –Or was it the Discovery Channel—one of those! Some doctor was on talking about it."
Eric paused in his accusations in thought. "Oh yeah…the guy with the really bushy eyebrows?"
"Which one?" This time Istas and Ian were in unison.
"Point taken…right then! I'll be off. See you Thursday, Istas!"
As Eric walked off, Istas turned to Ian and sighed. "How're you, my friend?"
Ian thought hard for a few moments. "Tired. Really, really tired." He motioned for Istas to join him as he sat down at a table in a lounge.
"Agreed. College life is enough to eat my soul."
"It hasn't already?" Ian raised an eyebrow as he set out his knitting as well as a hand stitched gray pouch that was bound with a red rubber band.
"At least I don't think so. I've got a test on Wednesday and I'm far from ready for it. Care to take it for me?"
"What class?"
"Pre-calc."
Ian laughed. "I'll pass." He glanced back to Istas and smiled. "Well, I can't! I've been ditching that class for…a week now?"
He frowned at his knitted lace scarf-in-progress before replacing it back into the grocery bag and unbound the pouch. He withdrew a deck of light gray and white cards and began to shuffle them. Once he was satisfied, he split the deck in thirds and mixed the order up. Ian then laid the Celtic dragon cards in the Celtic Cross formation.
Istas watched her friend set up a Tarot reading and sighed. "Who's reading?"
Ian shrugged. "Just practicing is all. Care for a reading?"
Istas didn't reply for a while as she considered. "Sure, why not. I can go for a bit of advice."
Ian scrapped his practice reading and neatly put them back into the deck and offered it to her. As she took the deck and held it between her hands, he said, "Okay. Concentrate on the situation and pour all your energy into it. When you're done, give them back to me."
Istas nodded and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of all other distractions while she focused.
The Doctor grinned as he leaned back against the control panel of the TARDIS.
"So, where to?" he asked as he looked to Donna Noble.
Donna looked mildly amused with the Doctor's sudden zest. "Well, now that you ask instead of just whisking me away to some unknown place," she began and held up a finger to halt the Doctor's retort, "I would rather like to see part of America. I've heard so much of it, but I've never been there."
The Doctor looked put out as Donna stopped his argument, but was grinning once more. "America then…I think that can be arranged. Any specific place?"
"Anywhere! I want to see it all! New York, Los Angeles—" the Doctor frowned, "—Chicago, Washington DC! Oh! The Grand Canyon!" Donna listed enthusiastically, her face glowing with excitement. "What? Do you have something against Los Angeles?"
"Well no…well, maybe," the Doctor replied. "Doesn't matter! I've seen quite a bit of it."
"Well I haven't," Donna countered irritably. "Unlike you, Space Man, I don't get an awful lot of chances to fly about the world."
"Which one, Donna?" he replied with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Surprise me."
The Doctor flashed a broad grin and spun around to punch the coordinates into the TARDIS. As he pressed the last button, he glanced upward and visibly beamed. His excitement didn't last for long as the TARDIS gave a shudder and groaned loudly.
"Well that's not good…" the Doctor said as he stared blankly at the control panels.
"What do you mean 'well that's not good'?" Donna exclaimed as she mocked the Doctor. She shouted as the TARDIS jerked and sent her crashing into the beaten up chair before the control panel.
Unlike Donna, the Doctor gripped hold of the panel to keep from being launched against the wall.
"The TARDIS! Something's happening-"
"Well, duh, the TARDIS! What the bloody hell would it be then?" the red headed woman continued to shout as she angrily brushed the hair from her face.
The TARDIS continued to rock and groan as it hurtled through time and space. Seconds seemed like hours before the TARDIS was jarred to a complete stop. The groans and creaks stopped and it left the Doctor utterly perplexed.
"Where are we?" Donna demanded as she picked herself up from where she landed atop the Doctor. She glanced down to the Time Lord and had to snicker at the clearly pained look to his face.
"Can't…breathe!" he croaked. "Elbow—in—ribs—get—off!"
A satisfied smirk crossed Donna's face as she stood up and looked down to the Doctor. "Oh, and what about your box flinging me around like a rag doll?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes and got to his feet in a catlike motion. "Something…broke it."
"Is that the best you can do? 'Something broke it'? Oh, real technical."
"Not broke-broke, but jammed it."
The Doctor slid past Donna and jogged towards the TARDIS's door and opened it. He blinked back against the bright sunlight that filtered through the trees. His jaw dropped slightly in puzzlement as he stepped out onto the short cut grass and looked around.
He spun around slowly as he took in his surroundings and couldn't help but cheer as a brown SUV drove past with loud music blaring. The license plate read, "WHADIS 1" on an Illinois plate.
"Is that what you do all the time? Just run away and start jumping for joy? Where are we?" Donna growled as she stormed down the ramp of the TARDIS and out the door.
"Donna, welcome to America."
---
Brief Author's Note:--that turned out to be not-so-brief.
Wow…while watching "Forest of the Dead," I just came to a startling realization. River Song looks a hell of a lot like this woman I know and that woman I know looks a hell of a lot like my Earth Science and Oceanography teacher. I am…thoroughly freaked out. I know everyone has a twin, but triplets? –shudders- Haha, the world is a funny place.
And just because I feel this story needs a bit of explaining: I can't decide whether or not I want this to be more of a comedy or drama. While I was first thinking it up, it was more of a comedy. However, since I've got an uncanny passion for the dramatic, I couldn't help my scary vortex of a mind to taint everything with drama. We'll see how this turns out.
Two more comments: firstly, I wish that I could snap my fingers and the doors to the Tank (my awesome '91 Ford Explorer) open. So…envious….
And secondly, most of Istas's friends are based off of real people—and since I love fucking with people's minds, I have also thrown in myself…but screwed around with time. I'm currently going to that college and hopefully within the next two or so years (or when I get through calculus), I'll be heading down to NAU to study geology. Sadly I'm stuck in suburbia, dealing with college drama and trying to keep myself sane. For my friends who are reading this, you know exactly who these people are—and yes I am that much a geek.
With that said, I unfortunately have another announcement. I'm over a full time student at College of DuPage and my schedule is bloody insane this semester. So be warned, updates might be sporadic and might not be updated until a month later. I'm hoping that's not the case because I'm actually enjoying this story. I promise, it gets better. But please be patient and kind. The Black Monster, nor the Red Beast nor the Little Shit-Top (which I have dubbed TARDIS 'cause it looks slow but is rather fast and no matter how much crap I stick on it, I still have so much room left, and it's blue) haven't been liking me lately. The Black Monster thoroughly enjoys crashing, the Red Beast is…beastly and Lil' Shit-Top is being…shitty. With all those complications, please pardon the length between updates. I am but a poor college student with little time to think.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.