(no subject)

something french is trying to distract me
but i always sit in front of the television only to get up after 5 minutes
unless powerpuffs or looneytunes are dancing for me :

i've spent today uploading the contents of this hard drive to unpuppet.com [i dare you to see if you can find it] so that tomorrow i can download it all to our neww computer.
yay
it's taken since 1 pm today to upload 40 mb

i found in my binarily rummaging a story i never finished
begun at least 3 or 4 years ago.. about a multiple ..not i
& this is it:

I would like to begin by making it perfectly clear that I am not, nor was I ever, a member of the village. I awoke some time ago to find myself within it; and for reasons I was not completely sure of at the time I refused to consider the possibility that I was like all the others. I declined to appoint myself a name, preferring to be known as 'The Observer', for that's what I felt I had been placed there to do. Where this feeling came from I was unaware of at the time, however it has recently all been made clear to me. What I now pen is a chronological account of my observations.

I was reluctant to awaken, but the voices wouldn't let me sleep. I was vaguely aware that what the voices were arguing about was me, and it was this knowledge that made me want to hide from them, to remain asleep forever. However they had no intention of letting this happen and continued to persist.
"There's no need to be scared..."
"We've gone through this before too..."
"...here to help you..."
"...know how you feel..."
"...want to help you..."
"We can be friends..."
"...help you..."
I became aware of my surroundings before I opened my eyes. The bed upon which I lay was hard and uncomfortable, coated with a plastic covering that stuck to my skin and crackled when I moved. There was a faint medicinal taint to the air which, for some inane reason, scared me. I could hear the muffled sounds of a television sitcom, how I knew what it was I wasn't sure, to my knowledge I had never watched one before. I frowned, to my knowledge I hadn't done anything before, I couldn't remember anything at all.
"...let us help you..."
A child giggled, "she's frowning!"
"I think she's coming to..."
"Can you hear us?"
I opened my eyes.
I was in a very small, very bare room. It was dark, there were no windows, but a sliver of yellow light found it's way into the cell via a crack under the door. A ceiling fan twirled lazily in wobbly circles, failing to relieve the stagnant, chemical quality of the air. I sat up slowly, expecting a headache; yet I felt nothing.
"Welcome to the village," said the first voice, "I am The Host."
"Welcome," the others echoed.
The headache hit me in an instant, and I fainted.

The second time I regained consciousness occurred in much more comfortable, almost familiar, surroundings; this time there were no voices, I was alone. I sat up on the king sized bed, and smiled in appreciation for the simple, yet tasteful, decoration of the bedroom I was in.
I had just wandered out of the room, intending to explore the house I was in, when a man I didn't recognise came barging out of another door in the hallway, nearly colliding with me.
"Watch where you're going, wench," he snarled. "Haven't you anything better to do than wander the rooms in a daze? Do the goddamn housework or something, lazy good for nothing bitch."
I just blinked in astonishment as he moved to shove past me, when I recognised one of the 'voices' from before.
"Shut up Stan," she took control, "like you ever do anything around here than spend entire days flattening your ass watching TV."
I sighed gratefully as Stan snorted and left, slamming a door on the way. "Thanks," I said. "Who the hell was that? For that matter, who the hell are you? and I?!"
The woman smiled, "that, unfortunately, was my husband. I'm Brenda, The Host of the village, of which you're the newest member!"
"The village?"
"A group of woman. Or females, I should say; seeing one of us is only five!" She grinned, "this is our home."
"Oh, a group? Of how many? And where are they? Forgive me, but I've still no idea what's going on..."
Brenda laughed, "no problem, I know exactly how you feel."
"You do?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit better.
"Sure, all the members started out like this. You'll meet them, when they deign to make their presence known. They're all hiding out in their rooms! The cowards."
I laughed, liking Brenda from then on.

Thus I was introduced to 'The Village'. It consisted of ten members other than Brenda, some more prominent than others. Brenda was apparently the boss, and the original founder of the village.
The same day I met Athena, another member of the village. My explorations had led me to the attic, which had turned out to be an art studio. I was admiring a painting in progress and trying to figure out what it was meant to be, when she made herself known to me.
"Like it?"
"Sure, what is it?" I asked while mentally appraising her, guessing her age to be around 27.
"It's a self portrait."
I looked at it again, "It is?!"
"Well, it's abstract; obviously."
"You've got some serious issues then, girl."
She laughed, "My name's Athena. Have you chosen a name yet?"
"Chosen a name?" I repeated dumbly. I hadn't actually realized before that moment that I had no idea what my name was, or whether I had one at all.
"Yeah, all members choose their names."
"Oh, well I don't want a name. I'm not really a member, just an observer."
"Uh huh, sure. We'll just have to call you 'The Observer' then."
I liked the sound of that.

i'm resisting the urge to edit it extensively because i know i'll never actually finish it.. and i'm pretending my pride isn't that overwhelming .. [i just acknowledged the shitty-ness of my ex-writing.. exclamation point]