sortinghat_rp | 1 Sad, Sad Story

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1 Sad, Sad Story

Let me tell you a sad, sad story. It's a story filled with tragedy and the slings and arrows of cruel, cruel fate, so get some tissues ready. You'll be bawlin' your eyes out!

You see, once upon a time - a time that is now - there was a boy. Is-was?! Tenses. What am I supposed to do with tenses in a framing device like this?! I'm talking about now, but convention dictates past tense for tales of tragedy and woe like this, ones on par with the sad stories of the Ancient Greeks, where people accidentally married their mothers and the like. Which frankly I never understood. Now, I like older women - I like them a lot! - but there comes a point where you just gotta look at the situation and think, "This broad could conceivably have given birth to me." I'm just sayin' it should give you some pause so you can evaluate your life choices.

Now what was I - RIGHT, the tale of anger and frustration!!

Anyway, this boy kept seeing people moaning about getting on a certain sports team - let's call it Shmidditch for anonymity's sake. And this boy - ah - he loved Shmidditch. And he was good at it. Great, even. And while he'd normally be a shoo-in for getting on the team, a pack of cold-hearted wizards who spend all of what little time they've got on this great earth sitting around in dusty rooms and always, always, always sneering down on anything and everything that doesn't fit just so into the neat little boxes of conduct that they approve of conspired against him to prevent him from even trying out!

So the boy was sad. No, the boy was angry. No, the boy was... - the boy is a lot of things all of the time.

But what you should take away from this little fable is that the boy hates it when people don't appreciate what they have, especially when they rub their false, pretend tragedies in everyone's face. And the boy has very particular ways of dealing with the things he hates.

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You are terrible at telling stories.

I respectfully disagree with your completely wrong opinion! Everything about my little tale there - from the flow to the cadence to the content - make perfect sense to me. Maybe you're terrible at listening.

Edited 2012-09-22 01:17 (UTC)

I can parse it, it just wasn't worth the time. Next time, aim for brevity.

For example:

"I missed my chance at Quidditch, and yet you idiots are complaining about getting to play. This makes me homicidal. You may wish to stuff it."

See? Easy.

Easy? Easy?

Such short sentences can't begin to accurately convey all the information buzzing around in my head. And therein lies the problem! If I were to aim for brevity, as you recommend, I would not only fail to express myself properly but also fail to have people understand the SHEER VOLUME of feelings I have about the subject! It's the death of communication! Brevity is the nail driven into the coffin of proper human discourse, upon which all our triumphs as a civilized society are built!! Brevity is the harbinger of the downfall of mankind itself!!

That doesn't seem information so much as emotion. The two are altogether different. And you could express your emotions in other ways, such as making unsubtle threats.

Ah, but you are wrong, wrong, wrong! Geez! If wrongness had weight, I would be on the ground gasping for air, because you've just smacked me with ten tons of wrong right to the solar plexus! Damn, I can almost feel it crushing my ribs!!

Emotion and information are not different. No, no, no - they're the opposite sides of a coin. Remove one side and you've got the value of the coin, but not where the currency is valid! Remove the other, and you know where you are, but not what that's worth. It's an existence devoid of context - life in a void - life without meaning!

You're a Gryffindor, aren't you.

If you're taking Divination, I can say it's paying off for you!

I am that, yes, though the Hat took a fair bit of time puzzling it out. Kept mumbling things about racing thoughts and instability and other stuff that totally doesn't apply to me.

I must admit that you are giving off the impression of emotion that you desire.

Fortunately, I have had nothing to do with Quidditch.

Desire? Who's desiring? Who knows if what I desire has anything to do with anything! Maybe the emotions just spill out on their own!! Maybe they're the ones in control, and I'm just their vessel - just something shaped together out of meat to give them form and function!! But if so, that would make people like you who scoff at the power of emotion empty shells. So tell me, do you feel like a husk?

Since you're not one of the people whining about getting something you tried out for, I bear you no Quidditch-related ill will. Rejoice in this fact, for my will can be very ill indeed.

What you're saying is that you are nothing but a conduit for forces that work through you, forces that could be anything at any moment. Whereas I am moved only by my own will, in total control of my own life.

Would that be accurate? Would that be favorable?

Hello Graham! It's very nice to see you back at school, especially since I was beginning to wonder where you were.

But in any case, that was a fascinating story! Is it an autobiography?

Shinra! Once again, you do your House proud with your deductive abilities! You got it. What I've written is one tear-stained page in the ongoing saga that is my life. Which means it's somehow even more tragic than it would be if it were fictional! If it's sad when bad things happen to somebody who isn't even real, damn is it ever depressing when it happens to someone as real as I am!

If that's the case, I am very sorry. From what I understand, you are very fond of Quidditch and it was very useful as far as understanding your mental and physical breaking points. But I'm sure you'll find another outlet soon enough because you are very resourceful! Are you still trying to smash things to the atomic level? If not, you might be able to take that up again!

My endeavors are - as always - an ongoing, unstoppable process propelled ceaselessly and tirelessly by my intensity of my focus and clarity of vision, except for the times when I forget about them for weeks on end. I remain confident that I not only can but will smash things to an atomic level, then subatomic, then subsubatomic and so on! When will it end?! CAN it end?!

On top of that, I have discovered that the Ministry has nothing to say about banning me from the school's Fight Club, so I will be exploiting that wonderful little loophole with a quickness that'll turn heads so fast their necks'll snap.

Really? You must have an amazing capacity for compartmentalization! Now that I'm thinking on it, it would probably explain your general intensity and effectiveness. And with that in mind, I do think you have the potential to smash just about anything to the subatomic level and further, although I really wouldn't know where it would end. Perhaps it wouldn't.

And you're joining the fight club? I am very happy to hear that! I won't be taking part in that myself, but one of my best friends is the founder, so I think I can safely say that it will be enjoyable.

Yes, yes, compartmentalization, I like the sound of that. And it's accurate. SO ACCURATE! Everything in my brain is always in one giant mixed-up jumble - and therefore in one single compartment! That's brilliant if I do say so myself! If that isn't the height of compartmentalization, I don't know what is!!

Ahhh, you're good pals with Maxim, huh? Well well, rest assured that when I beat him black and blue, it's nothing personal. Oh but no, no, it's the ultimate in being personal. Personal friendship and mutual understanding through hitting people very hard in the face!

bro i feel you there i even got to try out for the team and i didnt make it :C
i wanted to hit things with sticks
but hey at least we have club saturday night right~?

How short-sighted of me! How arrogant! I didn't even consider that other people happened to share such sadness!! What could I possibly do to correct such a cruel - such a vile oversight?!

Ahhhh.

Maxim, when club rolls around, I am going to hit you harder than I've ever hit anyone before as a token of my most sincere and severe apologies. I will hold nothing back!

Aren't you just a little ray of sunshine?

For the sake of clarity I am in no way complaining about being able to play for my House. I am simply terribly surprised that I actually made the team and the idea of what this actually means for me happened to hit me like several brick walls. Sudden onset of consternation and something akin to stage fright. I'm sure you can understand.

The requirement of a new broom or someone to fix mine is a rather valid concern that is conducive to my playing the game at all.

All that said, I rather agree with Dox.

Sorry, but I'm afraid I don't understand! Stage fright stage fright stage fright. What does that even mean? Is that even a real thing that real people really have?! If you mean that feeling where your entire body feels itchy and tingly 'cause you know what's coming up and you're all wound up about it, you've got the wrong idea, pal! When I get that feeling it's like I'm gathering energy - more and more and stronger and stronger. It's electric! It's lightning in the blood! No, no, no you can't just sit around and make huffy, stuffy grumbles when you've got that feeling charging through your bones! You gotta do something about it!!

And if you don't know how to ride that feeling like a general on a horse of war, congratulations: you're going to seize up like someone who ate too much before jumping in a pool! Enjoy letting your entire team down!

I do believe we're talking about entirely conflicting things.

And I will say to you exactly what I said to Garza. Underestimating your opponent is the first step towards failure.

Had I thought for even a moment that I would have let my team down by being on it, I wouldn't have tried for a position. Perhaps you ought to think of that before you go about making broad generalisations. A horse of war is a beast trained for battle. A broom with a Hurling Hex on it is next to useless. Again, entirely conflicting things.

I'm curious as to whether or not you actually read what I wrote, or if you just desperately want an opportunity to complain so you can express your evident lack of self-worth.

Oh, I read all of this stuff you've hurled at my face in an attempt to convince me that you didn't choke up for a second, doubting your abilities. You keep waving it around all pointedly, like you're trying to smack me in the face with a trout or somethin'. Well, I see through your fishy schemes!

If you really - and I mean really, deep down where it actually matters, where you are the purest form of you - had as much confidence in yourself as you claim, I don't think I'd have been quite so insistent in my sad little story. What's the first thing you do? Whine about who put you up to it? You're already looking to blame someone else for what you believe to be an inevitable failure, and you have the audacity to claim that you're 100% calm, cool, collected, and capable of confidence beyond compare?! That's hilarious! Thank you for the funniest thing I've seen in ages!! Your bold form of comedy is bound to sweep the nation!

Let me make a big assumption for a second and believe you that you're not worrying about this thing deep down. I can do that, right? Yeah, I'm nothing if not open-minded! But you're not the only one making noise about getting on a team (what is with you Slytherins? Is it genetic?), so don't get a swelled head thinking this is is some weird love letter of hate just for you where instead of "sealed with a kiss" you get "sealed with a kick". All I'm saying is I see a pattern, and what a pattern it is!

Oh, I certainly wouldn't claim that much confidence in myself, though this all comes back to your sweeping generalisations again now doesn't it? Do you put words into everyone's mouths or am I just a special case?

Projection, perhaps. I'm sensing a psychological problem. It's rather unsporting to go about placing your own issues on other people like that. If by 'not the only one' you mean Prescott, I'd thank you not to compare me to her. She actually didn't want to be on the team and I believe she'd be far happier if she wasn't.

I'm seeing a pattern here, too. And oh, what a pattern. My, my. You're quite an interesting fellow.

I put words in everyone's mouths when they don't have the decency to let everyone know clearly and in detail what's buzzing through their brains. It's so stingy! So callow! To go through life without constantly letting all the different ideas and feelings clanging around in you out for others to see and understand - what an existence!

So believe me when I say that I am generous. I put everything that I am at any given day - at any given SECOND! - on full display. All of my happiness, my sadness, my anger, my love, my peace, my everything! Sharing is caring, right? And I care; I care all the time. I care right now! Damn! I've got nothing to hide because there's nothing I can hide - covering it up is impossible! So logically, if I did put my own issues on other people, it'd be because I see a real strong resemblance. That should be easy enough for you to understand, right?

It seems our patterns are at cross-purposes. What a tacky clash of stripes and plaid.

That's certainly a.. distinctive kind of generosity.

[Oh hell, what even is this guy. Arthur's started to regret he addressed him, though he is terribly interesting]

It's a bummer, right? They should have saved the spots for people who actually want to play. It's not even going to be any fun beating them if they don't even want to be there.

... Are you not allowed on a broom at all, or just not allowed to play for Gryffindor?

Ahh! There is nothing less satisfying than beating the pulp out of someone whose heart isn't in it! There's just no joy in that! It's cruel is what it is. They lead you on thinking you're gonna get a really stellar brawl and then - bam! Nothing! It's the rudest thing anyone can do, and the very thought of it inflames me to the core as a gentleman of principle.

I feel pretty confident on the details of my situation, since I skimmed the fine print of my verdict for 20 whole seconds. I can't play and I can ride a broom if and only if I am under Ministry-approved supervision and have my hands charmed to be unable to release their grip on the handle, lest I improvise a bludgeoning weapon. In other words, THEY HAVE KILLED EVERYTHING THAT MAKES BROOMS WORTH THE EFFORT. THEY HAVE STABBED PLEASURE IN THE HEART.

That's so lame! You can't even go out and smack some balls around for fun? Hello, what do they think the whole point of quidditch is? If they're so worried about people getting hurt they might want to take a look at the rules.

Perhaps some tiny part of me can rest assured knowing that as long as you're on the team, there's at least someone who understands the point - no, no, no, the very soul! - of this game. Make the game proud, especially since I sadly, oh so very sadly, can't.

But to spin a happier story, I don't think they know about the Fight Club. There is nothing in the particulars of my punishment about the Fight Club.

I appreciate your confidence! Coming from you, that means a lot. Don't worry, I'll make sure and crush them good for you. Thor's not bad either. He'll make a good partner.

And at least you'll still have something fun to do!

Good! No, great! Stupendous! If you guys keep the heart of the game pounding strong, our House has got to have an advantage! Those other whiny guys won't know what hit them (IT'S GRYFFINDOR. GRYFFINDOR HIT THEM.)

Yeah, it's what's keeping my poor spirit from draining away into ab. so. lute. misery. I won't be held accountable for what I'd do if those stuffy fiends in the Ministry find out about it and ban me from that too. [inkblots]

Oh believe me, I'll make sure they know what hit them.

You'd really think the Ministry'd want you channeling all your [inkblots] You think they'd want you to do something productive and regulated like quidditch instead of finding other outlets.

Ah, but which is better: having them not know what hit them, or having them very very VERY keenly aware of the whirlwind that is about to blow them over completely!? And also the whirlwind has fists!!

The Ministry has never had its head screwed on properly. If a decision is to be made, they always - ALWAYS! - seem to go right to the one that makes no sense in this or any universe! Up is down, left is right, right is wrong - none of it makes any damn sense!

The Ministry's always been useless. I don't understand how half of them don't come to work with their clothes on backwards, and that includes my dad.

Oh damn, now what is this sadness?! To actually be RELATED to one of those things puttering around in the Ministry, sticking their noses where noses most definitely do not belong, and not understanding how anything in this world really works?!

Ah! I thought I had the market cornered on sadness, thought I had a monopoly goin' on there, but you - you win this round. It's thrown me into a tailspin of misery! My heart's full to bursting just imagining the tragedy of that kind of shared heritage!!

It's not so bad, honestly, it means he's not around so much to be a babbly bore. And now that I'm too old to shove into frilly dresses and can tell people what I think of their dumb social events in a potentially embarrassing way I don't get invited to those much anymore either.

I think that maybe you're thinking about that the wrong way, now that the idea is buzzin' around my head something fierce. Yeah, you don't go to stuffy parties, but - God - that means you don't have the chance to shatter fine crystal goblets or flip over a table of the finest mahogany or or or-!!

Damn, that might be even sadder than the Ministry relative thing!

It might be the saddest thing I've EVER HEARD!

That sounds like it'd be more up your alley than mine. I'd offer to bring you along as a plus one, but even I've got limits on how much trouble I'm willing to get in. I think I'd be grounded for the rest of my natural life.

So that's why you weren't at tryouts! Bloody hell, Specter, what am I supposed to do without you on the team?

[Yeah, she was just telling Thor that he and Amelia would be the best the team had seen, but she might have been trying to lift his spirits there. She's pretty upset over the loss of Graham, to put it mildly.]

Believe you me, if I had any say in the matter, things would've gone COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY and I would have been at school on time as well as the first one on the field for tryouts! And oh, do not doubt for a single. solitary. second. that I literally did not have a say in the matter! Can you believe they put Silencio on me when I was in front of the Wizengamot?! What a sadly INFURIATING story! The unmitigated gall! The audacity! The-the-THE [here, have a set of inkblots so large that it's pretty apparent that Graham snapped his quill in half and knocked over his ink]

That's just ridiculous! They can't silence you like that! It's just... Bloody hell!

But try to calm down, Specter. I suppose there's nothing we can do about it for now, and I don't want you to work yourself up!

Ah, but I was born worked up, and if I have my way, I intend to DIE worked up!! Being worked down is the worst! I HATE it! When you're worked up you got all the energy in the world to do anything and everything and you know you can do it so you WILL do it! Being worked down is just... ughhhh. No, no, no, I don't even wanna think about it.

But one tiny bright spot glittering in the black black blackblackBLACK GAPING VOID OF NIGHT that is my current Quidditch situation, I saw nothing in the particulars of my case that said I couldn't give my strongly worded opinion to members on the team.

Right, right, of course. I suppose I forgot who I was talking to! You stay worked up, Specter. I guess, truth be told, I can't imagine you any other way.

Oh, really? This should be fun. What do you think of the choices I made?

Edited 2012-09-24 00:21 (UTC)

Oh believe believe BELIEVE me, if you'd ever seen me when I wasn't worked up, you wouldn't have to imagine! It would be burned - forever and hopelessly seared! - into your memory for all time! It'd come to you in the darkness of the night, when you're alone, when everything's quiet, and it would keep sleep from coming!! Yeah, I've been told it's not pretty, not pretty at all.

Most of 'em are fresh meat, so I wouldn't know from personal experience, but the ones I have played with - like Amelia for example - are finely aged beef. To extend my wonderful meat metaphor, which I am now promptly abandoning with extreme prejudice because it's too damn stupid. Otherwise, from ~~stalking~~ keeping my eyes ever-open and ever-vigilant, you've got a pretty good knack for picking 'em. HOWEVER!! I cast a skeptical gaze on that one chaser, Travis or Trevor or something-or-other! Hope he's hidin' more backbone than he shows.

That was kind of disturbing there, Specter. But I think I get your point, and I'll hope the day never comes when I find you worked, ah, down.

Thank you! Can't really go wrong with that particular Kirkland, can you? And Egbert rather surprised me, I'll admit... Tavros! Ah, now I'll admit he seems like an odd choice, but believe me when I say he's far from that! The boy's got a fighting spirit.

Graham, do we need to have a talk about comparing girls to slabs of meat?

But if such a comparison isn't one of - if not THE - nicest compliments ever strung together out of this mish-mash of other languages we call English, I don't know what is.

That much is obvious.

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1 Sad, Sad Story

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[I love how you write this guy, jsyk :D]

[lol thanks! He's... a special guy.]

[XD; I can see that!]

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