(no subject)

[out_there]

Tomorrow, the Antenna Guy is coming to attach a 20' pole (and antenna) to the house. We will have TV. It's a cause for medium-to-large-scale celebration.

Also, I'll be home. Alone. Unpacking.

*snerk*

Well, I should be. However, what I'll really be doing is this little "Five Things..." Meme, should any of you want to give me a prompt.

You post a couple of five things topics, lists, categorys, whatever, in my comments section. Then, in a separate post, eventually, I'll post the answers to some your Top 5 ideas, according to me. Serious or fun! Then you post this offer in your own journal, if the mood takes you.

As for fandoms... hell, give it a shot. If I don't know the fandom, I can speak up loud and say so.

Comments

[ekaterinn.livejournal.com]

5 of Rodney's mornings (this is on my mind because I was woken up at six am by my dad, who accidentally dialed my number. ><;)

[out-there.livejournal.com]

1) The morning before they leave Antartica.

Sleep is for the under-excited. Rodney is not the type of person to not understand what they're about to do -- the scope of it, the danger, the limitless, incredible possibility of it -- so he catches sleep in restless, excited dreams, checking off inventory lists real and imagined.

His alarm clock counts minutes slowly and he spends an hour watching it grind to 6am, thinking about all the things that could go wrong and how he can make sure they don't.

He gets dressed in the dark and hovers at his door, waiting for shrill beeps. When the alarm goes off, he opens the door and steps out.

2) The third morning in Atlantis

It takes three days for the scientists to claim bedrooms. Most of the military are still sleeping in make-shift dorm rooms: sixteen marines, in sleeping bags, haphazardly lying across the hall like fallen dominos. They're waiting to be assigned quarters, waiting for risk analyses and tactical concerns to tell them where to go.

The civilians -- the smart ones, at least -- aren't waiting for that. They're claiming balconies and window-views, unpacking clothes into closets. They're hanging photos on walls, emotionally investing in their space to make this feel permanent, make this feel like a choice.

Rodney spends his third morning on Atlantis pulling out certificates, arranging them on the wall.

3) The morning after Rodney got the ATA gene

Rodney wakes up to his alarm. He groans, drags himself up and stumbles towards the shower. He's still half-asleep, so he forgets to get undress before stepping under the spray.

Normally, it's the hot water on his face that wakes him up, that first shot of adrenaline as he almost drowns -- because more often than not, he's too drowsy to close his mouth when he gets in and a mouthful of water is always a sudden shock -- but this morning it takes minutes before his brain floats to true consciousness.

When it does, he realises that he's still dressed. When it does, he realises that his clothes are dry.

Then he remembers the price of invulnerability.

4) The morning of Gall and Abroms's memorial

It's a normal morning: irritating alarm, waking up tired and grumpy, stumbling into the shower, dragging on a uniform and hoping this was the clean one. Rodney goes to the mess, gets coffee and breakfast, and sits by himself because he can't see anyone he recognises and likes.

He gets a second cup of coffee and then heads down to the labs. There are reports to read through, maintenance issues to prioritise and Zelenka always works on the most interesting things when Rodney's offworld. The labs are quiet and half-deserted, which is quite common of an early morning.

It's hours later, when Rodney's trying to petition Elizabeth -- via email -- for permission for the botanists to go on another seed-harvesting trip to MR2-574, that he realises he missed the memorial.

He wouldn't have known what to say anyway.

5) The morning after they returned to Earth

Rodney awakes to a different alarm, stumbles into a different shower and spends three and a half minutes trying to remember how to work his coffee machine. After a fourth wasted minutes, he decides to go down to Starbucks -- or the closest cafe he can find -- and order a double espresso.

When he orders, he can hear the girls behind him talk about nightclubs and new places, and who did what with who on the weekend. The other conversations around him are equally mundane: a group in dark suits discussing the campaign's -- apparently "ridiculously low" -- budget, a couple considering going to mom's next Tuesday, three kids complaining about homework and essays.

He sits near the window, sunlight creeping over the big, plush armchair, and eavesdrops disinterestedly. If he ignores the conversations and the rattle-grind-hiss of coffee being made, he hears traffic. Horns and exhaust pipes that sound like rush-hour traffic, hundreds of people making their way to work and school, worrying about their everyday lives.

Rodney closes his eyes. If he listens hard, he can almost hear the ocean.

[ekaterinn.livejournal.com]

OMG, I LOVED these! I was offline for a couple of days and I came back to this wonderful present (and unexpected too, because I forgot I even requested this) and I was so, so, *gleeful*. And all of these mornings are *so* perfect and so Rodney ("sleep is for the under-excited" which we all know Rodney never is and "He wouldn't have known what to say anyway." which is, yes, yes, Rodney is only struck speechless by other people's mortality, other people's sacrifices), but I fell in love with the morning after they returned to Earth - the 'normal' conversations and traffic sounds, forgetting how to work the coffee machine. But the last line broke my heart: "If he listens hard, he can almost hear the ocean" becuase just the depth of meaning and longing in those few words demostrates how very much Earth isn't home for Rodney anymore, how despite the anguish that living in Atlantis can bring, it's home. *smiles*

Now that I've babbled at you, you should go here (http://ekaterinn.livejournal.com/115905.html) and request a "5 Things" from me. ^_;

[out-there.livejournal.com]

(and unexpected too, because I forgot I even requested this)

Considering how long it took me to get back and finish all the prompts (well, all except one, so... I'm nearly there), I'm not surprised. I am, however, thrilled that you enjoyed it and that you *got* what I was trying to say with that last morning -- the way that it's familiarity that makes a home.