What is it about that number, or numbers in general? With me, it's 8 or 19, with Case and his dad it's 5 and 23 and other combos like that, and then there's 42, the answer to everything. And there's 47.
I'm 23 now. I've been that way for over a month. Case gave me a bouquet of a dozen red roses, as well as the first season of Heroes. I also have my engagement ring and wedding ring. I wear them every day, except when I'm in the lab - I take them off and put them in the little jewel case, then put it in my lab coat pocket, to keep it safe with me. The rings are unique, irreplaceable. They belonged to his paternal grandmother, who let us inherit them on the condition that we pass them on to our daughter, should we have one. Amanda, Leanora, the faces of the future.
I haven't written nearly enough since I left college. The Stephen King project has fallen by the wayside. No new poetry, no new stories, and hardly any new blogs. I don't think this place is very fertile in terms of creativity. I don't feel that inspired here. And hell, I know Case hasn't drawn much since... I don't know, since we met. He and I were going to collaborate on a Dr. Who/Monk crossover, but that fell by the wayside too. He dreamed it, and Griff and I discussed it, but it never went anywhere.
I've started writing again because I saw that Cyrus had written in his blog. I don't check it anymore, but I was looking him up. Not necessarily because I wanted to communicate with him, but to make sure that he still existed. There's a deep-seated fear in me, ever since I last saw him, that I may have done damage beyond any repair... that I'm somehow going to find out from my parents that he committed suicide. Naturally, I would blame myself for being one of the factors. That may be a strange hubris on my part... but I still have the guilt. I usually don't think about it - it doesn't come up in my life that often. But five years ago, I screwed up his life. I tried to write it off in Ladystark's saga - Gretchen Stark, once Gretchen Aquitaine, turned undead, leaving behind her husband, Cyrion Stark. I tried to remember his bitterness in reality, and put it into Cyrion... not very well. I should work on that part, make it richer.
Love and Death change the lives of everyone they touch - in my case, I substituted one for the other, trying to reach a point where I could come to terms. And I almost did. In that written world, I did... but not always here.
My life has changed so much in five years. I would have not seen myself being here. Yet here I am, and will be for another year. I'll have to start taking care of the important things - insurance for my car, health appointments, wireless cards. All those things, and work on my quiet social phobia that keeps me in this room instead of out in the rest of the house, with the family. You can understand why I don't, made it clear in the last entry. But this ring seals them as my extended family, so maybe it's time I start accepting as such, as I did when my cousins got married.
And now, for random 47 facts:
On my birthday in 1947, there was a shipwreck off the coast of Greece that killed 392 people.
On this date (the 25th, when I started writing), the state of Prussia was abolished, and the worst train crash in Japan happened, killing 184 people (and that adds up to 13, if you didn't notice).
In 47 AD, the convert Paul began his evangelical work.
In 2047, in the Star Trek universe, parts of LA will fall into the sea from a horrible earthquake.
There are usually 47 strings on a harp.
47 is the atomic number of silver.
And, of course, the agent from Hitman is #47.
47 goodnights,
Grety
