Cherry Blossoms

Ink City App for Christopher Robin

Mun Name: Bee
Journal: PaintsWithTea
Contact Info:  aim: LivesInYesterday
Other Characters: n/a
Name:  Christopher Robin
From: Winnie the Pooh
Age: 6
Gender: Male
Personality: Christopher Robin is a young boy constantly lost in daydreams. He's adventurous, imaginative, and spirited, and for the most part well-behaved and polite. He's the one that all the residents of the Hundred Acre Woods run to in times of trouble, and he acts as sort of the leader and the final say when it comes to big decisions on matters such as "what is to be done about Eeyore's tail?". But of course he always asks the opinions of all his friends! 

Most known, perhaps, for his signature "silly old bear," line, Christopher Robin's best friend is Winnie-the-Pooh, and Winnie is the one he spends most of his time with. They discuss how even if they live to be a hundred they will remain best friends, and WInnie the Pooh goes on to say if Christopher Robin lives to be a hundred, then Winnie the Pooh would like to live to be a hundred minus one day, so he'd never be without him. 

Backstory: Christopher Robin is a small child who, when playing with his favorite stuffed animals, discovered that he can go to an idyllic place with them known as the Hundred Acre Woods. Product of his imagination, the animals take on personality, identities, and become not toys but friends, his best friend being the bear of very little brain, Winnie-The-Pooh. 

Christopher comes and goes from the Hundred Acre Wood as he pleases. He is seen leaving for school, or being called by his mother, and the boundary between his reality and his world of imagining is never truly laid out or defined. But like a child playing with toys, through most of the adventures the residents of the Hundred Acre Woods get caught up in, Christopher remains mostly on the peripheral, since the focus is on his characters, his friends. Often he is seen showing up at the end, such as in the great adventure to save him from 'skull', or acting as a sort of mediator, as in the case of Eeyore's missing tail, but never is he the central character in one of the adventures. 

Moral Standing: Good. Naively good. Christopher Robin is at that young age where he has the benefit of seeing things as mostly black and white, this is good and this is bad. However there are moments where he reveals the start of an understanding that there are grey areas. Yet for the most part his moral compass is pointed in the direction of the innocently good. 

Dreams: In a way, the Hundred Acre Woods is the representation of Christopher Robin's dreams at this point. All his friends being a combination of his actual stuffed animals and his imagination that brings them to life. As with any child, the story hints at other playful dreams, or rather fantasies, such as being a pirate, or going on grand adventures, but they change from day to day whilst the dream of the Hundred Acre Woods remains mostly unchanged. 
Fears: As a child, Christopher Robin has the fears of a child. Monsters under the bed, or in the closet, which would explain the existence of Heffalumps and Woozles in his imaginary world of the Hundred Acre Woods. However, in the world of the Hundred Acre Woods, he has his friends to help him, and thus he is gifted a new bravery is often shown being the courageous one when confronted by these "scary beasts." That or he's the one to show his friends that that 'monster' they are scared of is actually a tablecloth that looks like its moving. 
Extra: (Anything else you want to add?)
Writing Sample: Christopher on D_M 
Duck OTP

Journal Entry - 004: That Weight on My Shoulders

I keep waiting to write an email home until I can write that I am happy and content and doing just fine without lying, but it seems like waiting for that moment is going to take longer than I expected. Not that I doubt it will ever come, I know to feel disconnected, displaced, and out of sorts comes naturally with moving, particularly moving this distance, but I don't think any amount of warnings or advice really prepare you for it. 

Its not something that hits you. At least not for me. 

Instead it is something that is just heavy. And constant. You might call it jet lag at first, then culture shock, or any number of names, but in the end I find that I am walking around with a constant bittersweetness that has nothing to do with the country of France. Its nothing tangible or changeable that I can attribute this feeling to, just the lack of anything familiar, that comfort you have in your hometown of knowing what is behind a door or a gate, and thus knowing a place beyond the surface. To be somewhere new, and to not have the shield of being a 'tourist' and thus intended to feel out of place since you are there in passing, is like walking on a set where you can only see the backdrops and the cut-outs of buildings, but have no idea whats behind them. 

I also can't say that I am particularly UNhappy. 

It kinda feels like I am almost indifferent, feeling like "okay, well, i'm here now." *Shrug* 

Not exactly uplifting now is it? 

piggyback ride

Journal Entry - 003: Homesick

I know I just got here and that its probably just a combination of the exhausting trip, the new surroundings, and my computer trying too hard to speak to me in French, but I am a bit homesick. Or perhaps heartsick is a better name for it. Its not like its my house that I'm missing, and not necessarily my family either. Its that sense of familiarity that is missing, and as a hermit that sense of familiarity is very important to me. I miss feeling at ease already. I'm hoping that with time that will lessen as I get settled here, but my paranoid brain keeps trying to convince me it will not.

But I guess the thing that is hardest whenever I travel is the time difference. Its so hard to go to sleep knowing my friends are awake and I want to talk to them, then to wake up when they are all asleep. People i normally talk to for hours and hours a day, when I travel i feel lucky if i even get an hour with them. Thats alright for a week or two, but can I do it for a whole year? I don't WANT to do it for a whole year.

And here I can't use internet in my room because the Wifi the family has only works in the salon which means I can't exactly stay up til 5 am on the computer like i normally do. And all the portable hotspots that i've looked at so far in my research either do not have international coverage, or cost a fortune. And I don't understand quite how the usb internet sticks work, if they work abroad, do i need a mobile system for it, are their charges each time i use it, etc etc etc.

Its all giving me a headache, and while the family is very kind and doing everything they can to help me, there is still a barrier, and a simple one that can't be removed by time. Fact of the matter is I am a guest. And thats fine, but if you've ever been a guest before you know that you always have to be alert and aware of everything you do or say in a way that is different from if you are at home and your brain can sort of take the backseat and let you go into autopilot.

And funny to think all this whining started because I wanted my search engine to be in English this morning.

Cherry Blossoms

Journal Entry - 002 : In Memory of Cate Fisher.


Catherine Fisher: October 26, 1991 -  July 14, 2011. 

On July 14th one of my best friends growing up was shot while sitting in a car with two friends, and was pronounced braindead at Stanford hospital later that night. She was only 19 yrs old and had a million dreams. She wanted to be the first female president of the United States. She wanted to be a teacher. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted to live to the fullest, and I know people hear that a lot, but with Cate it really was true. I've never known a person who lived more each day than Cate did. I mean really lived. Not at a computer screen and not in front of a T.V. but out there, dancing, and exploring, and going to every parade and every party and every concert, bedecked in every color of the rainbow. Especially pink though. Pink was her favorite. 

I knew Cate from when she was small and at first we weren't all that fond of each other. I remember the first time i met her she was this little kid with dirt on her face and a giant smile, and I cannot for the life of me remember why I didn't like her right away. Perhaps as a small child I had an adversity to openly offered friendship. But one day about a year or so after we met for the first time, Cate approached me and announced that she was determined to not only be my friend, but my best friend. I had no idea why. I wasn't popular. I wasn't unpopular either. Just a neutral child who disappeared into the background of school life. But not to Cate. Cate had a way of making me feel like the most important person in the world even if I had done nothing to deserve it. And Cate proved day after day that she truly cared about people, and that she would be the most loyal friend no matter how many times you messed up. She would always forgive you. 

I hate to say it but I messed up a lot as a kid. 

But Cate was always there. 

In many ways Cate was my first love. My first best friend and my first awkward crush and relationship - though to this day I can never tell our parents just how much Cate meant to me. I think it may be meant to be our secret until the day I too go to the grave. But i'm alright with that because the memories I have from this friendship are more than worth the secrecy. 

The day I got the news about this tragedy, my first reaction was disbelief, and refusal to accept that someone like Cate could ever be taken away. She had been a part of my life for so long that immediately there was a hole where she was supposed to be. And I started trying to think back to my earliest memories of her, something to patch that hole up with. At first I landed on a memory of her in a pink princess dress on what I believe was the first day of school long long ago, though what grade it was I only wish I could tell you. But the more I dug, the more I found myself digging up the memories  of that ittle girl with dirt on her cheeks running around the playground. And I may not have known her that well then, but she definitely left an impression on me right away. That’s what Cate always seemed to do. She’d come into my life with that big smile and that vibrant lust for life and I would be left with a whirlwind of memories. I believe she did that for everybody. I remember how the walls in her room were painted the same colors as the powerpuff girls, how her birthday parties were always halloween themed and we would fight as hard as we could to stay awake all night but end up collapsing in the early hours of the morning, and every year we would try to gather up all our money for the Nativity Carnival so we could play the balloon popping game for the biggest stuffed animals. I remember she really wanted a spongebob. I still have my giant unicorn that she helped me win. And I will always remember how when Cate wanted something you could always be sure she’d do everything in her power to get it.

I remember how even when we started going to different schools she would still show up on our doorstep with her bike, or ring at the gate each time she had something new and exciting in her life that she wanted to talk about. And we’d walk over to the park near my house and just sit for hours talking about whatever the big news of the day was. A crush. A high school scandal. Sometimes just catching up on the small things. And some things changed between each reunion. Her hair was cut short or mine had gotten longer, or maybe we had started hanging out with new people. But we still recognized in each other those friends that had known one another since they were small and obsessed with magic and princesses - and of course spongebob. And after a while our communication became more limited. Senior year of high school and the beginning of college it was phone calls and IMs. And by my second year at Lewis & Clark mostly just a facebook comment or two.

And now it will just be photos and memorabilia to keep company with when I miss that loud chipper girl. But if I can always remember the sound of her voice, and the way she used to hug and kiss at random, then I think some part of me really can believe that age old cliche that those who go before us are always with us. And yes it is in part because I will never forget her, but also because if I know Cate, she's not about to miss out on any of the adventures or secrets that await me in the remainder of my life. 

And I know she'll be waiting for me with a pout in whatever afterlife there might be because I've taken so long or because I missed that chance to go out with so and so or won't have gone dancing enough for her satisfaction. 

Then like always she'll smile, forgive me for not being as brave as she is, and we'll be together again. 

I love you Cate, and I'm gunna miss the hell out of you.