Accessing Communications Log for: Agent Omega

Firefly Fanfiction: "Forgive"

2008-12-06T07:05:18Z

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Title: Forgive

Author: agent_omega

Category: Drama

Rating: T.

Pairing: Mal/Inara.

Location on Firefly Universe Timeline: Soon after the events of the BDM; perhaps a day, perhaps a week.

Spoilers: “Serenity” ; “Heart of Gold”.

Summary: Mal and Inara apologize for all the times they’ve hurt each other.

Disclaimer: The people, places, and plentiful paraphernalia you know and love/hate are the property of their respective owners, namely Joss Whedon, his associates, and any groups which control or are controlled by said individuals. No profit is made by the author of this work of fiction from the creation or distribution of said work, nor is any infringement intended. Plagiarism is considered a serious criminal offense, and punishable by law. Please ask before redistributing this work.

Length without header: 3 page(s) at 12-point Times New Roman font; 805 words; 4,310 characters including spaces.

Feedback: Some authors don’t care about feedback. I am not one of those authors. Giving feedback tells me that you took the time to read it and cared enough to comment on it. Receiving feedback is a wonderful thing, and every author should experience it.

Notes: Inara is wearing the dress from the series’ pilot; I think it’s one of her best – which is saying something considering her wardrobe – and it deserved another appearance. Mal, on the other hand, is wearing yet another of his seemingly endless reddish-brown shirts.

Forgive

By Agent_Omega

He touches her arm, and she turns from the doorway; looking into his eyes, she sees grief which doesn’t stem from their recent tragedy.

She realizes that it’s been there since their gazes met in the Training House.

Forgive me, my love, for the pain that I’ve caused you,
For all of the times that I’ve made you cry,
For letting you go when you walked out the door,
For standing in silence as you said goodbye.

Her breath catches in her chest, and for a moment, she sees him once more as he exits the lift; limping, covered in bruises, hand to the wound in his stomach. Her heart had skipped a beat then, and when light from the hallway had played over his face, it had skipped another seeing his piercing blue eyes flooded with crimson.

On impulse, she throws herself at him; it’s an act that goes against all her training, but she doesn’t care. She needs to hold him, to know that he’s real and not a dream her mind has contrived as she lies dying on the floor from a reaver’s attack.

She clutches his suspenders with one hand and buries her face in his collar to stifle the sobs; with her other hand she seeks out his heartbeat through the soft burgundy fabric of his shirt.

The steady thump-thump is right where it ought to be, and between her ragged breaths she catches his tantalizingly indefinable scent; his arms enfold her, and for all her fears she has never felt safer.

-0-

She goes pale for a moment, and suddenly she’s holding onto him for dear life; she weeps quietly into his neck, and he can feel her body shivering through her elegant lavender dress.

On impulse, he wraps his arms around her; it’s an act that goes against all his habits, but he doesn’t care. She needs to be held, to know that the nightmare is over and she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.

He whispers soft shushes into her silken waterfall of raven hair, trying not to lose himself in its intoxicating fragrance as he gently massages her shoulders. The minutes pass, and gradually her cries cease.

When she is calmer, he reaches a hand to her face and tilts her chin up; looking into her eyes, he sees grief which doesn’t stem from their recent tragedy.

He realizes that it’s been there since their gazes met in the Training House.

Forgive me, my love, for the pain that I’ve caused you,
For all of the times that I’ve shut you out,
For running from you when you offered the truth,
For leaving you drowning in sorrow and doubt.

His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, he sees her once more as he exits the lift; kneeling on the floor, covered in sweat, hands to the wound in the doctor’s stomach. His heart had skipped a beat then, and when light from the hallway had played over her face, it had skipped another seeing her flawless caramel skin marred with crimson.

Forgetting for a moment who she is, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

-0-

After what seems an eternity, her tears subside.

She feels him move against her; his rough hand touches her face and tilts her chin up.

I have gone too far, she thinks. I have crossed the lines I drew in myself so long ago.

Then, without warning, he kisses her forehead. Her heart sings, and forgetting for a moment who he is, she twists up to meet his lips with her own.

-0-

He feels her move against him, and suddenly she returns his kiss. For an instant, his heart sings, but then it passes and he pulls away, ashamed of what he has done.

I have gone too far, he thinks. I have crossed the lines I promised her I would respect.

-0-

He breaks the kiss, and her heart wails in misery; she has ruined him by hoping for more, and he will run away as she ran once, unable to bear the prospect of their intimacy.

-0-

They gaze at each other now; he at her, she at him, wondering who will be the first to turn away in their increasingly perilous game of romantic chicken.

Long moments pass; minute eternities punctuated by the now-feverish pulse of something new growing between them. Then, before either knows what has transpired, they drift back together in a mutual kiss which burns with more passion than he has ever felt for another woman, and more love than she has ever felt for another man.

She is wild vanilla and oranges to his lips; he is coffee beans and whiskey to hers; neither of them has ever tasted anything so wonderful.

I forgive you.

Firefly Fanfiction: "Impossible"

2008-09-03T04:54:17Z

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Title: Impossible

Author: agent_omega

Genre: Angst

Rating: K.

Pairings: Mal/Inara.

Location on Firefly Universe Timeline: Undefined, but sometime after Mal and Inara have met.

Spoilers: Generic spoilers for Mal and Inara’s relationship throughout the show.

Summary: Mal and Inara do agree on some things.

Disclaimer: The people, places, and plentiful paraphernalia you know and love/hate are the property of their respective owners, namely Joss Whedon, his associates, and any groups which control or are controlled by said individuals. No profit is made by the author of this work of fiction from the creation or distribution of said work, nor is any infringement intended. Plagiarism is considered a serious criminal offense, and punishable by law. Please ask before redistributing this work.

Length without header: 1 page(s) at 12-point Times New Roman font; 81 words; 501 characters including spaces.

Feedback: Some authors don’t care about feedback. I am not one of those authors. Giving feedback tells me that you took the time to read it and cared enough to comment on it. Receiving feedback is a wonderful thing, and every author should experience it.

Notes: This work is rather short, even by my standards; I guess it’s more like poetry than anything else, except there’s no actual rhyming. I initially tried to make it rhyme, but it ended up going a different direction. Oh well, such is life.

Impossible

By Agent_Omega

We are impossible.

We cannot admire the character… without abhorring the profession.

We cannot admit our feelings… without admitting defeat.

We cannot look at what is before us… without seeing what is forbidden.

We cannot surrender to what we want… without surrendering what we are.

We cannot reach out to comfort… without recoiling from the touch.

We cannot say we are sorry… without saying we were wrong.

We cannot exist together… without mutual destruction.

We cannot live apart… without living incomplete.

Firefly Fanfiction: "The Price of Love"

2008-07-28T03:45:29Z

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing.

Title: The Price of Love

Author: agent_omega

Genre: Angst

Rating: K.

Pairings: Mal/Inara.

Location on Firefly Universe Timeline: Sometime after the events of the BDM.

Spoilers: “Serenity”; “Heart of Gold”.

Summary: A different kind of companion now, Inara offers a different kind of companionship.

Disclaimer: The people, places, and plentiful paraphernalia you know and love/hate are the property of their respective owners, namely Joss Whedon, his associates, and any groups which control or are controlled by said individuals. No profit is made by the author of this work of fiction from the creation or distribution of said work, nor is any infringement intended. Plagiarism is considered a serious criminal offense, and punishable by law. Please ask before redistributing this work.

Length without header: 1 page(s) at 12-point Times New Roman font; 266 words; 1,407 characters including spaces.

Feedback: Some authors don’t care about feedback. I am not one of those authors. Giving feedback tells me that you took the time to read it and cared enough to comment on it. Receiving feedback is a wonderful thing, and every author should experience it.

Notes: In this story, Mal and Inara have been married (Mal/Inara ‘shippers rejoice!) for a few years. The marriage proposal mentioned here exists as a partially-completed work, and I’m trying hard to get it finished ASAP.

The Price of Love

By Agent_Omega

“Never forget the journey which has led to your destination.”

- Unknown

He has traded the cross around his neck for one upon his shoulders, and she sees it eating him; like poison flames licking away at his soul.

Guilt for a crime he committed without knowing, a crime she has long since pardoned.

She tries to comfort him in the moments when it threatens to consume him; holding him in her arms and pressing soft kisses to his lips, telling him with gentle words that they were both fools in their previous life.

He accepts her reassurances, but she knows they bring him no solace; he is his own worst critic, and can never forget years ago when he drove her away in tears.

She feels it always, just beneath the surface; every touch is an apology for the anguish he once inflicted upon her heart.

She understands his reasons and does not push him; this is his burden, the only one he will not share with her.

It is his penance, and he bears it in silence; paying without objection the price he has placed on her love.

She wonders sometimes how he can demand so much of himself.

She forgave him for his sin the night he let go of his pride and admitted his love for her; the night he asked her to marry him.

She said yes, and has never regretted the decision; the scales of her life have finally found a balance between past and future.

Someday, she hopes, his own scales will find balance, and he will forgive himself.

Firefly Fanfiction: "If There'll Be No Tomorrows"

2008-07-18T04:44:05Z

So, in the interests of (1) updating my LJ so my mei-mei guitarsrawesome doesn't get on my case and (2) posting another Firefly fanfiction so the wonderful people who commented on the last one have something else to read, I am updating my LJ... with another Firefly fanfiction. Everyone wins.

Thus, without further ado:

Title: If There’ll Be No Tomorrows

Author: agent_omega

Genre: Drama

Rating: K.

Pairings: Mal/Inara.

Location on Firefly Universe Timeline: During the BDM, after the crew sets course for Miranda and Mal takes refuge in the shuttle.

Spoilers: “Heart of Gold”; the BDM.

Summary: An alternate ending of the deleted scene entitled ‘Mal and Inara Quiet Moment’ on the “Serenity” DVD.

Disclaimer: The people, places, and plentiful paraphernalia you know and love/hate are the property of their respective owners, namely Joss Whedon, his associates, and any groups which control or are controlled by said individuals. No profit is made by the author of this work of fiction from the creation or distribution of said work, nor is any infringement intended. Plagiarism is considered a serious criminal offense, and punishable by law. Please ask before redistributing this work.

Length without header: 2 page(s) at 12-point Times New Roman font; 331 words; 1,843 characters including spaces.

Feedback: Some authors don’t care about feedback. I am not one of those authors. Giving feedback tells me that you took the time to read it and cared enough to comment on it. Receiving feedback is a wonderful thing, and every author should experience it.

Notes: Personally, I would have left most of the deleted scenes from the movie where they belonged – in the movie. However, this scene stood out most prominently, because it seemed like a conversation that Mal and Inara should have had. Originally this story was conceived with more detail, but I decided that focusing on the dialogue was far more interesting.

If There’ll Be No Tomorrows

By Agent_Omega

“If there’ll be no tomorrows,
There’s nowhere I’d rather be,
Than easing all your sorrows,
And holding you close to me.”

- Agent_Omega

Somewhere in the depths of space, a sapphire-blue planet wrapped in ivory clouds orbits a pale yellow star.

Gliding silently towards it through the endless night, a small, red-streaked silver ship trails glowing wisps of vapor from its bulbous tail.

Aboard the ship, two figures sit on a cot, cloaked in shadow and stillness.

A man’s voice breaks the stillness, rough but pained:

“Why did you leave?”

A pause. A woman’s voice replies, gentle but sad:

“Why didn’t you ask me not to?”

A pause. The man, his voice far away and wistful:

“If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours…”

A pause. The man continues, wistfulness gone and replaced by a broken-hearted tone:

“I tried to tell you the truth, but you didn’t want to hear. You wanted to leave. I thought… I thought if I let you go, if I waited long enough, you’d come back. You’re worth waiting for… you always were.”

A pause. The woman, softly with her own hint of wistfulness:

“I wasn’t ready for the truth. I… I couldn’t stay here, knowing how you felt… afraid I might feel the same way.”

A pause. Then, more hopeful:

“But I’m here now.”

A pause. The man, cautiously:

“If we get through this… if we survive… what will you do?”

A pause. The woman, thoughtfully:

“I’ll go back to the Training House, if I can…”

A pause. The woman continues, now slightly suggestive:

“Unless there’s a reason to stay this time.”

A pause. The man, questioning:

“What if…”

A pause. The man continues, bolder now:

“What if I asked you to stay?”

A pause. The woman, with a hint of pleading:

“Would you ask?”

A pause. The man, with a hint of desperation:

“Would it make a difference?”

A pause. The woman, almost breathless:

“Yes.”

Silence. Then:

“Please stay.”

Firefly Fanfiction: "Those Eyes"

2008-07-11T00:35:02Z

So, I was having a conversation with lostcointoss, and she asked me if I posted my fanfiction on LJ. When I replied that I didn't because I was unfamiliar with the LJ tags, she was kind enough to explain them to me. Thus, this post is brought to you in part by her.

Over the next few weeks, I'll be posting my backlog of Mal/Inara fanfiction to LJ, and cross-posting it to the mal_inara community page.

Title: Those Eyes

Author: agent_omega

Genre: Angst

Rating: T for some references to intimate contact.

Pairings: Mal/Inara.

Location on Firefly Universe Timeline: Undefined, but sometime after Mal and Inara have met.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: Outwardly, Inara seems to believe the Companion party line of ‘offering companionship’. Presented here is a darker look at her inner beliefs and why she resists a relationship with Mal.

Disclaimer: The people, places, and plentiful paraphernalia you know and love/hate are the property of their respective owners, namely Joss Whedon, his associates, and any groups which control or are controlled by said individuals. No profit is made by the author of this work of fiction from the creation or distribution of said work, nor is any infringement intended. Plagiarism is considered a serious criminal offense, and punishable by law. Please ask before redistributing this work.

Length without header: 2 page(s) at 12-point Times New Roman font; 409 words; 2,003 characters including spaces.

Feedback: Some authors don’t care about feedback. I am not one of those authors. Giving feedback tells me that you took the time to read it and cared enough to comment on it. Receiving feedback is a wonderful thing, and every author should experience it.

Notes: None.

Those Eyes

By Agent_Omega

I shroud myself in shimmering silks and glittering gems for men who want only to strip me naked; I take inside me men who want only to ravage my flesh.

And for what?

A few thousand credits?

And after they have left me and I am alone, I wash my skin and hair and rub myself with enticingly scented oils; trying in vain to cleanse my soul of the grime that clings to it; trying to cover up the horrid stench of guilt that rises off of me.

And you, Malcolm Reynolds, you look at me with those eyes.

Eyes saying without words that you would love me if I were dressed in rags and ornamented with dirt; that you would bed me every night only to give me joy.

Eyes saying without words that you would offer all the riches in the universe if I told you it would please me; that you would move the heavens if I asked.

Eyes saying without words that you would never leave me and I would never be alone; that you would wash me clean with your rough but gentle hands and anoint me with warm and tender kisses.

You look at me with those eyes that say I am an angel, and I want to scream at you until my voice is gone that I am not; I fell from grace long ago and all that remains of what were once beautiful wings are ugly scars on my back.

I want to tell you that I am not worthy of your love.

But you would not listen.

You would dismiss my words and take me into your arms, whispering sweet promises of a future that I do not deserve; of a sky that I do not remember after so many years of crawling.

You would fashion me new wings of silver and lace, wrought with utmost care and devotion, and present them on bended knee.

But having forgotten the sky, I would no longer know what to do with wings.

You would hold out your hand to me as you took flight, but unable to follow you, the wings would fall from my back once more and I would be returned to a life of crawling.

You would see my inability to become what I once was, and lament it as your own inability to save me.

And this I fear the most, for your grief I could not bear.

I have returned... better than I was before, thanks to technology.

2007-01-16T22:13:14Z

"And so you're back, from outer space..."

Or not.

But I am back from somewhere not LJ, bearing a new toy - a Sidekick 3.

Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen - Omega has a pocket-sized PDA phone now.

There's so very little that I can do on a regular computer that I can't do on this beauty.

Instant messaging, mail, text messaging, address book, web browser, calendar/notepad/tasksheet, camera, music player, and more cool downloadable tools than you can shake a bundle of sticks at - not to mention the actual PHONE function.

About the only things it DOESN'T do are read my mind and whiten my teeth while I sleep - although, I was REALLY looking forward to waking up every morning with whiter teeth.

Oddly enough, I seem to type far better on my Sidekick after only a few weeks than I do on a regular keyboard, as some of my friends will testify.

But strangest of all, my new gadget seems to have tapped some well of creativity which previously eluded me - fanfictions which had only a few stray sentences typed are suddenly ready to post after only a few hours thumbing away at that tiny qwerty keypad...

Perhaps it has something to do with writing on a personal device, but the future of my fanfiction career is looking very, very bright right now...

I need a name now...

Perhaps "My Precious"... nah, that's too creepy.

Or is it?

The Day Is Coming...

2006-08-03T20:47:03Z

An event of monumental proportions draws near.

I have been steadily preparing for this event for quite a while, and most everything is in readiness.

This event represents a point of change, but from what to what I do not know.

I do know however, that during this event, some will be concealed and some will be revealed, some will be forgotten and some will be learned.

The potential for such radical evolution terrifies me.

Nevertheless, I am excited.

Those who know me well know that which I speak of.

Those who do not, I leave to guess.

What will transpire, I cannot predict.

What might happen, I cannot but hope.

Perhaps I'll see you there.

Life imitates art... or is it the other way around?

2006-04-20T23:12:40Z

I went for a walk today, with no particular destination in mind; just felt like being outside.

As I was walking, I saw what appeared to be a decent-sized butterfly on the ground, I think it was a Monarch, I'm not really sure.

Since butterflies tend not to stay in one place on the ground unless something's wrong, I opted to investigate, figuring that if it had a broken wing or something like that, I could at least step on it and make it quick.

Maybe some people would say that's awfully cruel.

But I'd ask them this question: How many butterflies have they seen break a wing and ever fly again?

Flying is probably one-third of a butterfly's life, the other two thirds being eating and reproduction; neither of which it will be very successful at without all of its wings.

Besides, a butterfly's lifespan is what, two weeks?

Nowhere near enough time to mend that kind of injury.

I say killing it is an act of mercy.

But that's not the main point of the story.

As I got closer, I noticed that the butterfly was already decomposing, and had attracted the attention of a small colony of ants; it would seem that it was quite a while dead.

I wondered briefly if it had suffered, and if so, for how long.

Then I got to thinking about how certain aspects of human culture are somewhat like the butterfly and the ants.

In nature, the butterfly, widely regarded as a thing of great beauty, is injured, and at the first sign of weakness, other members of the ecosystem approach and begin to devour it for personal gain.

Sure, the personal gain is to stay alive, but still it's not very pleasant.

Then we have human society, in which things of great beauty, love for example, are so often attacked and devoured by other members of the society.

But do these devouring members do it for the purpose of survival?

Not for survival of the physical self, to be sure; people can't actually subsist on goodness and light alone.

Perhaps for the survival of the emotional self?

It is widely accepted that many people feel the need to bring others to ruin to elevate themselves; this is considered one of the prime driving forces of the school bully.

If this is the reason, what must we as a society do to eliminate the destructive desires of these devouring members?

Can we find a way to make the school bullies of the world feel more adequate without sacrificing others to them?

For in the end, survival of the emotional self by the death of the innocent is never long-lived; inadequacy is always looking for another victim.

A lone candle burns in the wee hours of the morning...

2006-04-16T08:07:02Z

It is approximately 3:40am now, and I'm still awake.

I don't know exactly WHY, but I am.

I guess I'm what most people call a 'night owl'; my preferred 'day' hours are between 1:00pm and 1:00am, stretching to as early as 7:00am if I'm working on something interesting.

For some reason, I'm reminded of a poem, I can't for the life of me remember the author's name...

Something along these lines:

My candle burns at both ends,
It will not last the night,
But oh my friends and ah my foes,
It makes such a pretty light.

I think I'll go watch another 'Dirty Harry' movie; that should keep me up long enough to be tired.

Then I'll get to bed and sleep until 10:00am, at which point I will get up and attempt to get some real work done...

Iron like Eastwood...

2006-04-14T21:28:03Z

Well, it's finally finished.

I have now designed, built, constructed, and painted my model Caster.

For those who don't know what a Caster is, it's my term for an uber-powerful personal firearm.

Through one of my connections, I have access to an FDM (Fused Deposition Modeling) machine, which takes thin plastic thread and heats it up to a molten state, then squeezes it out even thinner to build, line by line, layer by layer, a three-dimensional model of virtually whatever you can design on the computer.

This machine is approximately #2 on my top 5 list of favorite things to play with.

You may ask, if this machine is so incredibly cool, what could possibly be my #1 thing to play with?

For the slow people who actually asked this question, I shall refer you to the second line of this entry.

But, for those who figured it out, let's continue.

The Caster.

Measuring a monstrous 13.25 inches from the end of the barrel to the back of the handle and six inches from end to end of the barrel, this 'Old-West-revolver' style beast is constructed of four parts (the handle/rear frame, the barrel/front frame, the cylinder, and the locking rail to keep the front and rear frames in line), and features the ability to unlock and open the weapon to load and unload the bullets into the cylinder. The cylinder spins when the Caster is open, and, when closed, a bump on the rear frame interlocks with pits in the cylinder to prevent it from spinning; that way when some hapless punk looks down the business end of my gun, they don't see half a bullet staring down the barrel at them...

Now, for the bullets.

Through another of my connections, I have the opportunity to purchase specialty metal parts. One of these parts is brass, and looks much like a bullet cartridge with a hole in the back end. The other part is stainless steel, and, with a pair of silicone o-rings, it fits perfectly inside the brass part to create a scarily good-looking fake bullet that's 1.25 inches long, a half-inch along the major diameter of the shell, with a 0.375 inch diameter slug.

That's right, I said 0.375 inch diameter slug.

That's a full three-eigths of an inch across.

Were this a real weapon, and you shot someone with it, they WOULD NOT be getting back up.

And, in the true Old West style, the revolver holds six bullets.

I currently have a stock of 12.

Harry Callahan would be proud.

Now, having painted the handle black, I could have continued and painted the rest of the model silver, but as I might not be allowed to bring a model that realistic to a convention, I have settled on keeping the main body the white color of the plastic.

And as for the name?

Well, every great gun needs a great name, and the Caster deserves nothing less.

In keeping with this tradition, the name 'Selene' has been selected in homage to Kate Beckinsale's character from 'Underworld', based on a number of similarities:

1. Both are pale and wrapped in black.

2. Both can be considered Deathdealers; Kate Beckinsale's character because that's her title in the movie, the Caster because it deals death.

3. Given enough bullets, they can both take out just about anything.

The next step in the project is to create a holster for the Caster which can be worn on the hip gunslinger-style.

After that, I think a number of specialty rounds are in order...

After all, regular bullets are fine and dandy for ordinary humans and even zombies, but what about werewolves, vampires, and other monsters that, while not necessarily real, one would love to take aim at with such a beauty of a weapon?

Borrowing a few ideas from 'Underworld', I think I'll create some AG bullets for the werewolves and UV bullets for the vampires...

And then there's the absolutely essential explosive bullets, tranquilizer and poison bullets, flashbang/flare bullets, freeze bullets utilizing the technology behind those glowing blue pellets from 'Demolition Man', green kryptonite bullets to handle evil Kryptonians, and perhaps a set of black hole bullets for eliminating large enemies...

But that's work for another day.

Now I'm going to go watch the 'Dirty Harry' movies, and quote all the good lines while striking poses with my new toy...

And eventually, I might get around to posting some pictures of Selene...

Some random thoughts for the day...

2006-04-11T12:22:42Z

It's amazing the kind of things you think about in the early morning...

For example:

Every river has a source.

A single raindrop raises the sea.

Not all who wander are lost.

Everyone is alone in their own way, and in this way we cannot be alone together.

And for my first post...

2006-04-11T01:07:05Z

Well, seeing as how this is my first post on my first live journal, I won't expect it to be anything profound, and neither should you...

I think that along with everyone's concept of starting a web-accessable journal is the hope that through it, they may meet people with similar interests and form new friendships.

Being a fairly private person, I tend not to get sucked into that kind of thing.

However, as of late, finding no individuals in my area who share my interests, I have decided to expand my area of search to include the domain that is LiveJournal.

Obviously, actively searching through the entire network would take a vast amount of time, and thus I have decided that until I have the time to begin such an endeavor, I shall instead wait for those who do have the time to search me out.

The theory being, of course, that there ARE individuals out there who share my interests, and that some of those individuals ARE on LiveJournal, and that some of the individuals who are on LiveJournal ARE actively searching for other individuals like them...

If one looks logically at the above statement, it becomes clear that with each added condition one includes in the search, the chances of finding a satisfactory match become less probable.

So why try at all?

Hope.

It has been said at least once that hope is simultaneously the source of our greatest strength and greatest weakness.

When we know the odds are a million to one against, hope keeps telling us that we just might make it if we hold on.

But, by the same example, hope keeps us holding on when the odds are that we won't make it.

Granted, there's undoubtedly more than a million people on LiveJournal, but in this case, it doesn't really matter.

After all, there isn't so much to lose.

Worst case, nobody ever reads this, and I've wasted a little of LiveJournal's undoubtedly massive hosting space.

But best case?

Best case, the right people read this, and decide to make contact.

New friends are made.

Conversation ensues, and ideas are shared.

And, in the end, isn't that the whole concept behind LiveJournal?