doctor beverly (
dancingmd) wrote in
driftfleet2015-10-13 03:33 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Beverly Crusher and Friends!
Broadcast: No
Action: Blue Fish
When: October 13th
[Dr. Beverly Crusher, Personal Log, October 13, Seventh Month after arrival. Today is my birthday.
Theoretically.
With a sigh, Beverly stops typing. Normally, she is all about birthdays, both her own and everyone else's but today... frankly, today is weird. By her own calendar, her birthday should have been two months ago, yet time isn't flowing normally back home. Or time isn't flowing here normally. Or something. Damn alternate universes. And does it even matter when no one is aging anyway? She rubs her temples. This is too much to think about before breakfast (though admittedly, the vagaries of traveling through spacetime are better to focus on than the fact that there is no one from home to celebrate with in the first place).
Once she has some coffee in her, she comes to a decision. Real birthday or not, she's going to give herself a little holiday. Which means people aren't going to be seeing her around the dusty moon, or much at all really. After taking a nice long hot bath, and changing, for once, into something other than the fleet issued jumpsuits, she spends most of the day in her quarters, reading and listening to old letters on her tricorder. Even if she can't be with them today, she at least wants to hear Wesley and Jean-Luc and Deanna, surround herself with their voices. It doesn't make her as sad as it once did. Instead, she finds the recordings comforting, for the most part.
Late in the afternoon, however, she will emerge to set up shop in the kitchen where she's going to bake herself a cake! If anyone wants to find her (or that yummy smelling cake), that's where she'll be, humming a jazzy little tune as she cooks.]
Broadcast: No
Action: Blue Fish
When: October 13th
[Dr. Beverly Crusher, Personal Log, October 13, Seventh Month after arrival. Today is my birthday.
Theoretically.
With a sigh, Beverly stops typing. Normally, she is all about birthdays, both her own and everyone else's but today... frankly, today is weird. By her own calendar, her birthday should have been two months ago, yet time isn't flowing normally back home. Or time isn't flowing here normally. Or something. Damn alternate universes. And does it even matter when no one is aging anyway? She rubs her temples. This is too much to think about before breakfast (though admittedly, the vagaries of traveling through spacetime are better to focus on than the fact that there is no one from home to celebrate with in the first place).
Once she has some coffee in her, she comes to a decision. Real birthday or not, she's going to give herself a little holiday. Which means people aren't going to be seeing her around the dusty moon, or much at all really. After taking a nice long hot bath, and changing, for once, into something other than the fleet issued jumpsuits, she spends most of the day in her quarters, reading and listening to old letters on her tricorder. Even if she can't be with them today, she at least wants to hear Wesley and Jean-Luc and Deanna, surround herself with their voices. It doesn't make her as sad as it once did. Instead, she finds the recordings comforting, for the most part.
Late in the afternoon, however, she will emerge to set up shop in the kitchen where she's going to bake herself a cake! If anyone wants to find her (or that yummy smelling cake), that's where she'll be, humming a jazzy little tune as she cooks.]

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[Her tone is curious, but not pressing.]
If it's alright to ask, I mean. I can't exactly say I like talking about mine either.
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I was one of those genius kids. I skipped 3 grades in elementary school, was in college and had enough for a bachelor's degree before I was 18... so that left me in a weird position. I was a bit too young to relate to my classmates, but most people my age found it hard to relate to me. I never belonged anywhere, no matter where I ended up. I didn't have much of a social life 'til I was an adult and my friends on Atlantis made an effort to include me in things. So I guess I never learned how to be social, in a sense.
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[She takes her seat again.]
I never worried about how he was doing in school or if he was getting into trouble... in fact, I worried he wasn't getting into enough trouble. He spent all his time alone, tinkering on some project or another, or with me or sometimes with some of the other senior officers, but rarely with kids his own age. I thought...
I thought I was partially to blame. I mean, having your mother as one of the senior officers, it's a little like being the principal's kid isn't it? But it wasn't that at all.
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No, it wasn't you- any more than it was my parents who made me the way I am. When you're struggling to relate to people your own age but still at that stage where hanging out with adults is weird, sometimes it's hard to enjoy anyone's company but your own. Sometimes that's all you want. I mean, I hate to sound like a braggart, but really intelligent people tend to forget that not everyone sees things the same way or understands things as readily as they do. And when you're a child and even grown-ups can't follow you sometimes... [She shrugged.] Coupled with my aforementioned shyness, it made me stand out, not always in a good way. So I retreated in on myself a lot. It was easier than trying to talk to people.
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[She smiles again.]
You'll figure out a lot of things though. You just have to be willing to admit you don't understand something and then be ready to put in the work it takes to find the answers.