in the darkest depths of Aryneth, I met a mage so fair

I awoke this morning from unsettling dreams to discover that I had turned into a giant insect. I am typing this with my antennae.
The good thing is that I did dream. I haven't had an actual dream for several months, and I was beginning to worry. Granted, they were dreams about brownies and skulls...but still dreams. I have, I swear, the weirdest sleep schedule. I will sleep for twenty hours on the weekends, wake up, eat dinner, and then go back to sleep for another twenty hours. I get nothing done during these times. Or I'll doze off for exactly one hour, wake up, stay awake for five minutes, then go back to sleep for exactly one hour. Repeat five times. It seems to work on the weekends. The problem is that I don't actually sleep during the weekdays, so by Thursday I am spazzy and bug my teachers with my slurping of coffee and constant pointed questions about the relative uselessness of Venn diagrams.

Did have an exhausting and enjoyable night last night, though. diraskyria quite kindly invited me to take place in her Arenythian role-playing game. She's worked out a very impressive system of races and spells corresponding with gods. I am now a Majani (mage), majoring in Red (spirit, which means I can twist time and fuck with people's minds), and minoring in Yellow (life, which means I get healing spells that give me excuses to kiss people) and Blue (offensive fire--SCORCHING RAY, SUCKAS!).
The beginning of the game was certainly the most interesting start I've ever done. You know how most RPGs begin with all the characters sitting around at an inn or a bar? (I wrote a story parodying this concept once. Unfortunately, I lost it.) We met at midnight by the sea and did not bother at all to introduce ourselves. We then all spontaneously tried to break into an old man's house, eventually did break in, killed him, and looted his house (we got some moldy blankets and a cabbage). The psycho character (more about him in a second) took out the old man's heart and replaced it with a wolf's heart that he just happened to be carrying around with him. This eventually led, the next day, to villagers thinking that the old man was a werewolf. Score one for reputation points (this is in lieu of Good/Evil alignments).
And then we burned down the house. In the glow of the firelight from the burning hovel, we were finally able to introduce ourselves.
Best. Campaign. Start. Ever. We are all going to the Arenythian equivalent of hell.
The characters are awesome as well. Laura herself, our lovely DM, is playing a strange teenaged wanderer that is either secretly some kind of monkey or is mentally about seven years old (but he is so CUTE). We also have a somewhat nondescript dwarf, a haughty Drin (a Drin is like an elf, but they have tufts of hair on their ears. They hate most other races and want everyone to go live in the woods like hippies), a mage who is laid-back to the point of stupidity (me! But I have an intelligence score of 16. I love my d6), a psycho character that is a psycho badass because he went through the equivalent of Full Metal Jacket training with some lizard people, and a cranky old geezer centaur mage whose accent wanders between Sean Connery and an old Jewish guy.
Our mysterious quest is to kill anyone who is loyal to a certain king. I got no problem with that. Don't know why the king and his followers should be killed, and I don't think my mage really cares so long as she can hum in an annoying fashion at midnight.

Well, I am off to Sunday brunch in the dining commons. Cheesy eggs are calling my name, to go with the crab rangoon I had last night. I am going to spend the day working on "From The Gods" (I need 250 words by tonight and I've only got 109), my super-special RPS fic, and the next part of the fanfic chain. Bwahahahaha.

(no subject)

augh. I'm sick. Just threw up again. Not sure if this is nausea, lovesickness, depression, boredom, anxiety, or the flu. They're hard to tell apart.
In any case, I am somewhat victorious. I just finished and posted the next part of the fanfic chain. It got a little darker and creepier than I thought it would, what with the cult member mind control penal colony guards and the McFly descendant tearing someone's throat out with his bare hands and the possibility of a main character getting a lobotomy. Oh, and the Boingo quoting. I'm trying to include at least one in every chapter that I write, just for amusement purposes, plus a special extra other quote. This time it was Pink Floyd. Last time it was Was Not Was. Go find 'em all and I will give you a cookie.

Discussion question hypothetical scenario:

You have been handpicked to guard, for a day, the "football" nuclear triggering device that the President is supposed to carry around. Before you get the football, you are invited to take a tour of the White House and hear all the top-secret plans that The Idiots In Charge are making up for the world. You are somewhat unsurprised to hear that they plan to take over the world, and somewhat more surprised to learn that every single other nation on Earth (with the exception of a few crazy anarchists like Canada) agree to this plan.
The world, in this case, will become every stultifying dystopia you've ever read about. Thoughtcrime and deviance will be punished with brainwashing and lobotomies, and in some cases death. The populace will be kept docile and complacent with drugged food, which is distributed to everyone along with living quarters, a job in a Dickensian factory or a Kafkaesque bureaucracy, and a fashionable grey jumpsuit. War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength, you know the drill--but as long as you follow the rules and don't thumb your nose at Big Brother, you will be kept healthy and alive. Since the entire world will agree to this plan (eventually), there will be no war, and thus no chance of ever toppling the regime or breaking the system.
The Idiots In Charge are proud of this plan, and think it is the best way to ensure a peaceful future. Then they give you the suitcase containing the Button and leave you alone. You know that if you press the Button, every nuclear missile in America will be launched at wherever it's aimed.
If this happens, most of the human population of the world will die (and probably most of the animals, but there are more animals in places that aren't as populated by humans, so places like Africa and the Amazon are probably OK at first). There will be nuclear winter for quite a while, and plenty of fallout. Food, water, medical supplies, and shelter will be very scarce, and the people who aren't killed in the intial bombing run will very likely die of starvation or radiation sickness. Any children born afterwards will probably be horribly mutated. Survivors will have to band together into fearful, makeshift communities or wander across the desert ala "Mad Max." The human race will eventually die off altogether.
These are the ONLY two alternatives. It is a foregone conclusion that the plan will succeed if you don't push the button, and that the button will indeed launch every missile if pushed. No weaseling out of it.
Ignoring the improbability of a crazy dissident like you ever being allowed within five miles of the White House anyway, I'd like to know: Would you press the button or not? Why would you make your choice?
Post this in your own journals if you'd like.