Dear Diary,
I've never seen Elizabeth that furious before.
In other words: She yelled at me and I almost peed my pants, feeling like a little schoolboy. But, honestly, I deserved the bashing. Here's why:
I, genius that I am, decided to take a shot at an Ancient superweapon we found out there. But of course EVERYTHING went wrong. And by everything I don't mean Radek being too bloody brainy to operate a calculator or Sheppard making nitwit comments.
No. I mean that the thing got to my head and I eventually grilled one of my most-trusted subordinates and blew up an entire solar system.
Or no, wait 5/6 of a solar system (but tell that to those exaggerating non-academic jarheads out there...).
But what could I possibly do? A giant, super, real-time ZedPM like the one back in that (now atomized) facility just makes every, halfway nutty, physicist's mouth water. This is why it reminded me so much of the Manhattan Project...
Anyway, let's -not- talk about it any longer. The whole mouth-watering part is making me crave for a BIIIIG load of consolation chocolate right now.
See you tomorrow. Your depressed + misunderstood genius, Rodney
PS: Note to Myself: Losing Sheppard's trust does actually hurt. So better try NOT TO LOSE IT again.
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Carson merely frowned at this entry, remembering what he himself had written down that day...
xxxxx
Dear Darleen,
Today I finally realized why I haven't become a full-time pathologist: The poor lad on my table was so bloody fried. Absolutely horrible. This job surely makes you become a wee tad quirky after awhile, really...
(No wonder my anatomy professor chatted with the corpses. If I have to do that resection job more often, maybe I'll start talking to my late patients as well...)
Pray that I don't. Love, Carson
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Gosh, the Scot had problems... Quickly Rodney put the letter away. Let's not think about it.
xxxxx