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another problem i have with ep iii is that it makes me feel guilty.

when all the shit is coming down, all i can think of is elementary jedi and how i abandoned it.

and i see bel-san, payter, kerge, slade and all the others who i loved and spent so much time with and they are all dying with the other jedi. i couldn't save them, i couldn't think of a way out of the fate that was coming. it was one of the reasons that i stopped with the snippets, because the universe was too fractured and as much as we tried to shore it up, they were sandcastles in the face of a hurricane.

i wanted to make tpm better for myself, but the problem is that tpm leads into aotc and into rots and then into the other three and the weight of those movies is now greater and more real than it was six years ago when i was pissed that qui-gon had died and there was no real relationship between obi-wan and qui-gon.

i won't ever go back to elementary jedi, i just don't have the energy or the faith for it anymore, but i still feel guilty about it. i still feel like i failed them, that they're waiting in limbo for me to come back and fix it.

and the truth is, i don't know that i was ever capable of fixing it for them.
nyagosstar: (Default)
ep III spoilers again )
nyagosstar: (Default)
so it was the last star wars. we got to the theater really early, probably around eight-thirty. but that was cool, because they let us in to our theaters at like 10, so there was less standing in line surrounded by lots of people i don't know and so less chance for me to have a panic attack over all the people

it started late. 12:07 before they fixed whatever problem there was. and there were lots of previews, lots of clapping for geek things coming out soon, then moans of disappointment when it was another preview and not the movie.

and then it started, to much applause and cheering.

i waited six years to see the kind of camaraderie that i wanted from the first film. the dialog was still not so great, but better. the story was better.

spoilage behind the cut )
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To say that the desert is hot is to say that I have erred. Both statements are true, but they do not begin to contain the scope of their respective truths.

The suns bake the land, burning away everything that isn’t built to survive here. Fierce winds, driving uncaring sand, scour uncovered flesh. It is a harsh place, it burns away pride and false precepts. It brings clarity and sharpens grief.

I hide away, waiting for the right time, waiting for the boy to grow. It is our hope that he will be better than his father, that he can make right what we have let fall so carelessly through our fingers. But it is one hope, and a distant and selfish one, to place this legacy at the feet of an unsuspecting child.

Guardians of the Galaxy, they called us. If I let myself, I can lose myself in mad laughter for half a day over that. We were so blind, so arrogant. We made so many mistakes I can make myself sick with it. Here, in the desert, there is little else to occupy my time.

I struggle with Yoda’s task.

When we parted, the mention of Qui-Gon and the promise that he could speak from beyond death was, it was a warm cloak on a cold night, a warm meal after a long journey. It gave me hope as everything was falling apart around us. I have never seen Yoda so defeated and it still shakes me.

In the beginning, it was a hope that kept me going. Now it is a battle and a curse.

Will today be yet another day Qui-Gon punishes me for my failure? Will he again refuse to speak with me, seeing how terribly I have treated his legacy? Or will he appear today, cursing my name and his training, which I have failed so spectacularly. After he died, I missed him so fiercely, I wanted his guidance so desperately, if he did not speak with me before when my need was great and his legacy still untarnished, what hope do I have that he will come now?

My hope, one of the few left to me, is that today he will speak and grant his forgiveness. It is too much for me to forgive myself.

In some respects, I am relieved that he died at the start of things. For all his rebellious ways, Qui-Gon loved the Republic, he spent his life defending it and I think it would have broken him to see what we have done with it. It is not a conversation I am looking forward to, if he ever deigns to speak with me

I have few visitors. Too many of the early ones, the ones who struggle to keep a community here in this barren place, saw me talking to mid-air, or cursing at the sky. They believe me mad, and I don’t know that I would argue with them. Regret, recrimination, and grief beat down upon me like the unrelenting sun. I’m not sure what that does to a man’s sanity.

He was my padawan, my brother, my friend.

He valued life. And I watched him kill children. Padawans who trusted him, and it leaves me shuddering and heaving to this day.

We stood by each other when no one else believed in us. He saved my life time after time. He saved it. And I couldn’t give him the mercy of a clean death. I’ve damned us all.

So I wait in the desert, where it all began. I wait for another boy to grow into his power and hope that the son is stronger than the father. Are we building hope on a broken foundation? Most likely, but there is nothing left for us. Only his child can defeat him.

It is a heavy burden to lay at the feet of someone so young, and it is a long time to wait in the hope of justice. But here in the desert, beyond the Dune Sea, there is nothing else to be done. For to lose all hope is to truly go mad.
nyagosstar: (Default)
umm, sleep?

so we had inventory last night, which went so much better than i thought it would. i mean, last year, i stayed until like 4 or 5 and there was still no end in sight. this year, we had the pull sheets by 3 and the counters out of the store. considering i thought the whole thing was going to crash and burn in a fiery ball of doom, not so bad.

my fav part of the night was near the end. to do the pull--over 8000 items--we need lots of boxes. so we brought them up and gave the boys tape guns and boxes. there is nothing funnier than a group of about 5 early twenties boys playing with tape guns. every single one of them taped their hand to the box at least once. pat stood there holding his, looking lost saying 'mine won't work', because the tape had backed out of the dispenser part.

it was also around 1:30 at that point, so lots of things were funnier than they should have been.

so that was good, and i don't have to be in until 5, unfortunately, tomorrow is new releases and none of our shit is done because we spent all of our time this week prepping for inventory. i'll probably go in an hour early just to get things ready.


writing group is tomorrow, i have no idea what i'm bringing with me. it's usually better to have something that isn't so long, but i don't have anything like that at the moment, i suppose i could write something today, but i don't know who i'd write about or in what situation. not that anyone really cares, writing group often is a name we give to us getting together once a month and chatting for a couple hours.

star wars geek out moment )

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