mumbled_truth: (Default)
Um --

[Pause -- he probably should have stopped and thought before he started his post about exactly what needs to be said and how.]

So... if you're, uh... affected by all this...

[He clears his throat softly, trying to get his words together, but it all really boils down to just one question.]

What-- what are we supposed to do?
mumbled_truth: (Default)
[voice]

Um-- in case anyone we know is concerned, I just wanted to let you all know that Neil and I are staying at the warehouse, with Rosella. It's... well, a lot safer than our apartment is, and-- I don't know, it's sort of comforting to have more people around with all of this going on.

It seems like it's a good thing we managed to come yesterday, too... it sounds like things are getting worse out there. I, uh-- I don't know if there's really much that I can do, but... if anyone has any ideas on how to fix this and needs people to help, I'll do whatever I can. I mean, if there's anything I can do. I'm not anything special... I don't have any powers, I'm not strong or even exceptionally smart, but... the City is my home. I don't want to see it destroyed. I don't even want to leave. Right now I'm just trying to stay safe and stay out of the way, but if there's something more I can do... I will.

We helped patch the barrier once before-- that was with the deities, and... well, they've been pretty quiet during all this, but... still. There has to be something that we can do.

[later that evening... action @ the warehouse]

[One of the best ways Todd has to unwind is to write. That shouldn't be surprising to anyone who knows him, of course. It's not that it's a form of escapism, though; it's more a way to move beyond dwelling on his current situation and move his mind into a different type of reasoning, one that's more abstract and subjective. It lets him approach one thing from a multitude of perspectives and connect things in ways he wouldn't have thought of otherwise. It's an exercise which makes working through all the conflicting, disorganized streams of thought in his mind seem a bit less impossible.

Of course, this is a bit larger than most of the situations he's approached this way. Right now, all he seems to get is doom and gloom, circular verses that don't work through anything but rather plant themselves firmly in a rut. If anything, it's making it worse.

Still, he doesn't what else to do with himself right now. So he sits on the bed in the room he and Neil have been put up in, in the warehouse, and he writes, and all of his frustrations and fears tumble out onto the paper in a frantic, scrawled jumble of words.]


[ooc: Backtag warning! I'm crashing soon and prob. won't be back until after work tomorrow (though I may sneak a few tags if it's a lighter day >>;). But, I will be backtagging on both this and Wilson's entry from yesterday. <3]
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So... it has been a little bit over a year since I've had to write an essay. I guess I might as well.

Equivalence



By one definition, equivalence refers to two statements which are intrinsically linked such that they are consistently either both false or both true. If one were to be false, and the other true, they would create a logical contradiction. By another, it means merely that two terms are presented as being equivalent, and by another it refers to measurement, saying that two things are equal in a quanitifiable value.

These are all literal, textbook definitions, and do little to explain the deeper meanings, feelings and interpretations the word can evoke. Value and worth should not be, but often are, applied to human sentient beings. Is one individual equivalent to another, one life equivalent to another? In society's eyes, is an artist equivalent to a doctor? They both contribute to society, in different and not always quantifiable ways. Is someone from a wealthy family equivalent to someone less fortunate? Certainly their monetary resources aren't, but is this counted in the worth of a person? Is one moment equivalent to another? They both occupy the same space of time, but one can be the most poignant experience of your life. Is one child equivalent to another? In a parent's eyes, can there truly be no preferece between one child and another, two vastly different individuals?

It's strange that a Deity would ask such a question, one who regularly deals in lives as currency; one who suggests that one life is worth the same as another, or that enough memories can comprise the value of a life. To one person, this afternoon may be empty of meaning, spent doing tedious busywork, cleaning or relaxing. To another, this afternoon may be the afternoon they fall in love with the person they're bound to spend the rest of their life with. They are the same afternoon, but to each individual, they are vastly different experiences. One life would be no different without it; the other would never be the same if it were removed.

On a clock, a minute is a minute, each equally spaced, lasting for the exact same precisely measured amount of time. At any point, though, a minute can become the difference between never seeing the one you love again, or getting to say that you love them one last time.


I definitely prefer poetry.


[OOC: Update again as of 6/10 - Crashing, still backtagging. Will get to everything, seriously <3]
mumbled_truth: (Default)
So... since the last thing I posted on the Network was while I didn't have a heart, I figured I should probably say something now that I do again. I know it's been a few days now, but... I think it's probably better than not saying anything.

So, um... really, most importantly, I want to thank everyone who tried to help me, and figure out what was wrong. I'm sorry I couldn't tell any of you anything, but... it means a lot to me, now. So thank you. Really.

And Princess Tutu... thank you, especially, for bringing my heart back. I... I can't even imagine having to live like that.

I guess... at least all this isn't without a bright side. It'll probably be a while before I start thinking any feelings are stupid again.
mumbled_truth: (Always leaves your feet cold)
[The video is shaky when it begins. Its angle makes it clear that it's fallen to the floor, the frame focused on the couch towering over the device, and Todd sitting there, motionless. A long moment passes without any reaction whatsoever to the fact that there is now a network device on the floor.

Slowly, Todd's head moves and his eyes seem to fall on it rather casually, lacking any real sense of purpose. Impressively, however, he leans forward up and lifts the device in his hands. He looks at it for a quiet moment, before simply stating;]


It fell.

[And the transmission abruptly cuts off.]



[ooc: Todd's heart is gone~ As seen in Neil's post, Todd is now a useless lump of apathy. Poke it at will.]

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Todd Anderson

January 2012

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