I try, but I am only flesh and bone
Being without you always is a drain
Thinking of you I find myself alone

The pain calls for a knife that skin can hone
Despite that, I cannot, that much is plain
Thoughts take me over in a ceaseless drone

Feeling like this, I wish I could atone
Tears when you say you love me fall like rain
Thinking of you I find myself alone

I turn to broken pieces made of stone
I hate when this happens to me again
Thoughts take me over in a ceaseless drone

I’m falling down into my bleakest zone
Your absence is tangible, it is main
Thinking of you I find myself alone
Thoughts take me over in a ceaseless drone

Here’s how:

1. Make a VirtualBox virtual machine of Windows 98. If you get caught doing it illegally, I never told you to.
2. Get the internet working in the box (thanks to here)
3. Go to here and download the driver.(thanks to above link)
4. Go to here and download WinRAR and use it to unzip the file. (thanks to Matt)
5. Start using the driver you downloaded via Control Panel/Display/the tab on the furthest right that I forget what it was called/Advanced/the second tab over that I forget what it was called
6. Open Myst.

Now, I am installing it on Arch Linux.

Wine has improved since then, and so I have I.

#mount /dev/sr0 /media/cd
$wine /media/cd/install.exe

sorry about the size, wordpress won’t let me upload in its 1024×768 glory

…fuck it, I have an illegal WinXP virtual box for stuff like this. (Doesn’t everyone? It would be legal, but they didn’t send reinstall discs with the laptop. I’ve paid for Windows already…)

Oh, wait, apparently it’s out of date.
#pacman -Sy virtualbox virtualbox-additions
#/etc/rc.d/vboxdrv setup
#modprobe vboxdrv

I can hear the wind whistling in the trees in the first age.
Also, I’m pretty sure that I broke the XP install.

UPDATE:

The XP install is not broken.

I made a Windows 98 virtual machine.

(because I do.)

From Yale’s Supplement to the Common Application:

2) Recall a compliment you received that you especially value. What was it? From whom did it come?

On one occasion, I was referred to as “awesome” by a friend of my boyfriend. This was surprising to me because I was not particularly aspiring to be deserving of awe at that moment, and was simply being myself….

When asked to describe me, a friend of mine once called me a “geek’s wet dream.” His descriptive language has remained in my mind for several years…

4) What do you wish you were better at being or doing?

I don’t think I’m facetious enough.

5) If you were choosing students to form a Yale class, what question would you ask here that we have not?

If you were choosing students to form a Yale class, what question would you ask here that we have already asked?

My answer to this question would be “If you were choosing students to form a Yale class, what question would you ask here that we have not?”

From Vassar’s:

HOW DID YOU LEARN ABOUT VASSAR AND WHAT ASPECTS OF OUR COLLEGE DO YOU FIND APPEALING?

I HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE SAME CITY AS VASSAR. IT HAUNTS MY DREAMS.

I FIND ITS USE OF CAPS LOCK APPEALING. CAPS LOCK IS CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL, AFTER ALL.

Justine wanted to be a tiger when she grew up.
Her mother laughed and said that she could be whatever she wanted to when she grew up. If only she had known the dark path Justine would take, following a long and bizarrely twisted road to her eventual conviction for bestiality, which she would claim to her dying day was a misunderstanding.
But when Justine turned six, she wanted to be a princess when she grew up. Her mother got her a Halloween-costume dress, all ruffles and pink, like a prom queen’s dream, the nightmare of the girls who’d rather do anything but dance in their sullen black eyeliner. She wore it until the lining ripped and the seams began to give, cherished it as only little girls do, then forgot it by the next week.
By the time Justine was fifteen years old, she wanted to be a tiger again. For different reasons. She couldn’t even remember being four and refusing to eat people food, asking for tiger food instead. Her mother told her, but she laughed it off, said it was just a phase. Other people couldn’t know.
She wanted to be a tiger because tigers are predatory, and lithe, and bloodthirsty, yet still somehow soft and endearing. Because she could think of nothing as beautiful as to be subsumed by one’s sleek fur. And she’d been getting these dreams which left her feeling strange.
Justine went to college to become a veterinarian, but she wished she were a tiger the whole way through school.
On the internet, nobody knows you’re not a tiger. Nobody knew her as Justine, just as “xtigergoesrawrx.” She met other tigers, lions, cheetahs. Her friends. They were going to meet up at a zoo.
She dressed for the occasion. Ears, of course, and a tail, and black and orange fur.
They were obvious, with their own ears and tails and claws.
He was a tiger too. He said his name was Mark. After the meetup, he said he lived nearby, why not come over? He had a pet cat and it would be a shame if she never met it.
It was not a pet cat.
He didn’t say how he got it.
A tiger.
Everything Justine had ever wanted and it was /right there/ and so beautiful

After Mark kicked her out, said he didn’t care if he got in trouble too, said that she was a disgrace to their kind, after she stood there blankly on the sidewalk with claw marks and little else, she wondered if maybe she had made a poor decision. But she regretted nothing.

Matt says:
(21:27:02) Overlord Ryu: That was amazing
(21:27:06) Overlord Ryu: Publish this
(21:27:22) Overlord Ryu: “In Which I Fail to Crochet a Beret”
(21:27:27) Overlord Ryu: I mean, double silent Ts
(21:27:33) Overlord Ryu: That is /hard-fucking-core/

You wake up, check the clock, get out of bed. It’s an ordinary day, you turn off the alarm clock, you go get breakfast. Count the steps one two three four five six seven… Sixteen steps to the coffeemaker, two fewer than yesterday, sixteen is two cubed, that’s a good sign. Say hello to your parents, get some coffee, eat some cereal, take the little blue pill that doesn’t do anything anymore and you can’t bear to tell them, walk back to your room in sixteen steps again to change for school.

Ignore the voice saying that something bad is going to happen.
You think you’re going crazy again.

You walk outside to the school bus in thirty-nine steps to the front door plus eleventeen steps to the bus stop. Wait at the bus stop until the bus arrives one two three four five six you sit in the seventh seat back because you’re not a freshman anymore and haven’t been for years and the little kids sit in the front, since kindergarten.

Ignore the bus radio, it’s something about airplanes.
You think the voices in your head are all just you, but you can’t be sure.

You get off the bus when it reaches the school and join the mob trying to enter. You can’t count the steps because everywhere is screaming and oh god the blood except it’s not really screaming and not really blood just excited teenagers looking for friends. You try to ignore the voice saying that it’s real because you know it has to be not real has to be a dream isn’t a dream just is a—Wait a minute. Eleventeen isn’t a number.

what are you supposed to do now

all
of
the
screaming
and
blood
and
some
of
it’s
real
and
it’s
yours