The first thing she feels is cold.
October 15th, 2011
May 31st, 2011
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September 24th, 2010
May 9th, 2010
It's not hard to find Ava. It's harder to find Ava alone -- as opposed to finding Ava when she's flirting with velvet blazer guy (who doesn't, against all fashion odds, appear to be a vampire), or talking with that guy who's tall as Anya's troll husband, or when Ava looks tired, or busy, or otherwise uninterruptable. But today she's at the bar by herself, and her facial expression says "bored" more than it says "about to commit homicide or get unreasonably angry about privacy violations."
Buffy plans her approach carefully. Head for the bar. Angle around the table that the sheep is demolishing, which puts her conveniently out of Ava's line of sight and behind that really tall, slow-moving guy -- who is that guy? -- and only a few feet away from the bar before Ava really has a chance to duck behind any awkward looking guy in a purple jacket.
This is where her plan gives out.
She says: "Hi."
Buffy plans her approach carefully. Head for the bar. Angle around the table that the sheep is demolishing, which puts her conveniently out of Ava's line of sight and behind that really tall, slow-moving guy -- who is that guy? -- and only a few feet away from the bar before Ava really has a chance to duck behind any awkward looking guy in a purple jacket.
This is where her plan gives out.
She says: "Hi."
April 10th, 2010
Scottish castles are drafty. Or at least this one is. Buffy squirts some soap onto her hands, and thinks about heat lamps, and the installation thereof, and budgets (and explaining budgets to Willow), and also, sidebar, the sad pale condition of her hands, which haven't seen real tanning sessions in waaay too long because even the sun in Scotland is kind of cold and damp and -- why is there someone in the mirror?
It's a really old mirror. She turns around, just to be sure it's not a weirdly humanoid crack in the glass.
She blinks.
It's a really old mirror. She turns around, just to be sure it's not a weirdly humanoid crack in the glass.
She blinks.
April 6th, 2010
The sign was violently yellow and really kind of hard to miss. So Buffy's out back, kneeling by the lake with a watering can in one hand and a hotel style ice bucket in the other, carefully filling them both. There's a water bottle (filled and sealed) at her ankle, and an empty shampoo bottle next to her knee.
It's something to do. It's also very effective budgeting. (If not the most effective water storage.)
It's something to do. It's also very effective budgeting. (If not the most effective water storage.)
January 3rd, 2009
"I think Bejeweled is evil," says Buffy.
Xander and Willow convey skepticism.
"It's impossible to stop playing it!" She points wildly at the computer. "It has to be supernatural. And evil. Definitely evil. Nothing makes tinkly noises like that that isn't evil."
"Buffy," says Willow, "just turn off the computer."
"Oh my god, I just got 1,000 points in one move!" Buffy clicks. "This is the best game ever."
Giles cleans his glasses. Again.
Xander and Willow convey skepticism.
"It's impossible to stop playing it!" She points wildly at the computer. "It has to be supernatural. And evil. Definitely evil. Nothing makes tinkly noises like that that isn't evil."
"Buffy," says Willow, "just turn off the computer."
"Oh my god, I just got 1,000 points in one move!" Buffy clicks. "This is the best game ever."
Giles cleans his glasses. Again.
August 16th, 2008
March 29th, 2008
The bell rings, and Buffy looks up as students start to swarm through the corridors.
She can't remember the combination on her locker. She's going to be late to class.
She can't remember the combination on her locker. She's going to be late to class.
January 29th, 2008
, and the past
Slayers dream (, and the present) the future
Take two, minus ee cummings: linear time is not so much.
"Be back before dawn," Tara whispers, unless what she whispers is, "Be back before Dawn." Something, isn't it? One tiny capital letter changes everything. Makes a word a name.
Hell, forget linear time -- what about a linear self? Sure, you're always you. You get a pronoun (in some languages). You have your name, and if you're lucky, that's all yours. (How many Tinesha Joneses are there in the world? How many Cat Donnellys? How many Yu-Wen Zhaos? Are they all you?) What you share is your title. What you share is your dreams.
They say everybody who shows up in your dreams is a part of you.
There's always a name. Millions of people go into making a name. But that comes later.
Of course, they don't mean it that literally.
"Now I will tell you about the chain."
If you live someone else's life when you're asleep -- live thousand of people's lives, thousands of girls just like (entirely unlike) you -- are you really you? Do they exist in you? Can you ever really walk a mile in someone else's shoes? Does it matter, if you walk a few feet? What if you cut off your toes to fit? How many ways can you stretch a metaphor?
There is no truth.
Buffy Summers. There's only one (for now), and she's dreaming. Two years from now she'll walk into a bar. Three years from now she'll walk into a bar. It already happened. It never happened. It will happen. Maybe we need a new textbook: not Japanese for Busy People, but Conjugating for Prophetic Visions.
They did a spell, see. They called on (borrowed) (stole) a woman's power. We'll call her Sineya, First of the Ones.
The balding man in the suit takes a bite of cheese.
Buffy rolls over (down a dune) and wakes up (falls back asleep) and opens a door.
And people say the First Slayer doesn't have a sense of humor.
("Buffy, you are the dark."
"Now look into the light.")
A Slayer walks into a bar. Have you heard this one before?
Slayers dream (, and the present) the future
Take two, minus ee cummings: linear time is not so much.
"Be back before dawn," Tara whispers, unless what she whispers is, "Be back before Dawn." Something, isn't it? One tiny capital letter changes everything. Makes a word a name.
Hell, forget linear time -- what about a linear self? Sure, you're always you. You get a pronoun (in some languages). You have your name, and if you're lucky, that's all yours. (How many Tinesha Joneses are there in the world? How many Cat Donnellys? How many Yu-Wen Zhaos? Are they all you?) What you share is your title. What you share is your dreams.
They say everybody who shows up in your dreams is a part of you.
There's always a name. Millions of people go into making a name. But that comes later.
Of course, they don't mean it that literally.
"Now I will tell you about the chain."
If you live someone else's life when you're asleep -- live thousand of people's lives, thousands of girls just like (entirely unlike) you -- are you really you? Do they exist in you? Can you ever really walk a mile in someone else's shoes? Does it matter, if you walk a few feet? What if you cut off your toes to fit? How many ways can you stretch a metaphor?
There is no truth.
Buffy Summers. There's only one (for now), and she's dreaming. Two years from now she'll walk into a bar. Three years from now she'll walk into a bar. It already happened. It never happened. It will happen. Maybe we need a new textbook: not Japanese for Busy People, but Conjugating for Prophetic Visions.
They did a spell, see. They called on (borrowed) (stole) a woman's power. We'll call her Sineya, First of the Ones.
The balding man in the suit takes a bite of cheese.
Buffy rolls over (down a dune) and wakes up (falls back asleep) and opens a door.
And people say the First Slayer doesn't have a sense of humor.
("Buffy, you are the dark."
"Now look into the light.")
A Slayer walks into a bar. Have you heard this one before?
