Songs of Experience

I’m trying not to talk about it, not even to think about it, in case it doesn’t happen. Lord knows it’s fallen through before.

But I have to say, the suspense is killing me. Let them still have enough faith in me. Let my deeds outweigh my mistakes. This could be the answer to all my doubt and uncertainty; I know that it would be enough. All of my problems, solved in a single stroke, and I would repay them with all the strength and loyalty I possess. I would do well. I know I would.

What haunts me almost more than the mere possibility of hearing no is the implications… the knowledge that my choice would have cost me the only chance I had. If they say no, that -is- what it means.

That I have ruined their trust in me irrevocably.

My life’s been turned upside down all over again. You’d think, at this point, I’d be used to it enough to stop stubbornly holding on to any conception of which way is which. But no, things are normal for periods that are just long enough, between the insanity, that I start feeling settled. And then…

I have a -ward-. I suppose that technically she’s an adult, so I’m not actually her guardian, but age is just a number. In the ways that matter, she’s clearly still a child. Bratty, self-focused… rather endearing in her own way, but.

It’s clear she needs some kind of mature, responsible adult in her life looking after her and guiding her toward making the right choices. Do I know…  anything about being a mature, responsible adult? Oh, boy.

On a different note… my god, Bene. I can’t believe what happened to him. It’s almost too terrible for words, and so pointless. What did she think she could accomplish by it, anyway? A waste of her life, and a horrific brutality. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of him like that… it’s a wonder he was able to smile when he woke up.

The Lord grants us free will so that our choice to worship him or not is meaningful, but at times I am sickened enough by people’s actions that I wonder if it’s worth it.

Traitors everywhere. Lithmore is corrupt down to its bones. I, like an idiot, believed in so many of them. Now I pay the price for being so credulous. I asked her if she thought me a fool. She said no, but she meant yes.

And I can’t do anything about it, any of it. I watch evil happen, and recognize I am powerless. They all thought me a fool, no doubt… and they were right.

They deserve everything she’s going to do to them.

* Have finally almost got all the Group business settled. Replaced a lot of Alastair’s conservative old codgers with newer people, with newer ideas. Not all of them, though; the voice of experience is invaluable. It’s just not the only thing that matters. There’s not a man or woman on the investment prospect team now with a record of losing money, and that’s not something I could have said before. Alastair will simply have to live with it.

* Need to talk to Trouble again about that play. I think it could be pretty grand. It was foolish of me to let my feelings get hurt. I’m just so fond of her, and the way she brings laughter wherever she goes… to be seen as someone so petty and vain as that… I’m sure it was just a teasing comment. It’s hardly her fault I took it so seriously.

* Still haven’t managed to arrange a tour. Frustrating. Especially since I got myself all filthily disguised for nothing once already. Bah.

* Hear we’re getting a new Poet Laudate. Where -is- she? I’ve got about a million things to discuss with her. I say ‘her’; I suppose it could be a man, a dashing handsome man to distract all the apprentices. I’m not going to be that lucky, though.

* Need to write up those reports. Where are all of the hours in the day?

* Also need more handkerchiefs. Too many people bleeding/crying/getting dirty. Singlehandedly working for better hygiene in Lithmore! Dubious accomplishment.

* Maman’s due to arrive soon. I’m far more excited than any man should probably be about his mother coming to live with him. But finally I can give her everything she deserves in the world. Going to spoil her rotten.

* Oh lord. That reminds me of the heir thing. Do I really have to make a decision on that? I’m young yet, right? But… I’m the last one. There’s not even anybody left with the last name Orban, and that’s one of the stipulations. Damnation.

* Need more whiskey. Clear solution to life’s problems – the ones it doesn’t create, anyway.

I must have begun a dozen entries over the last month, only to tear them out of this book and toss them into the fire as my feelings violently swung from one extreme to another. At this rate of indecision, I’ll soon have to rebind this thing.

The choices that we make are what defines us as human beings. In the last few weeks, I’ve gained considerable insight into my self. Avenue after avenue of making a difference in this world has been presented to me, and one by one, I’ve turned away
from them. I look at the man reflected by these choices, and I’m not sure I like him very much at all.

At times, I think that I have proved that my selfishness remains my defining characteristic, that those optimistic dreams I had of becoming a better person were just more ego-saving delusions. I have chosen love over duty; how can that be the choice of a good man?

But at other times, I think it is the least selfish decision I’ve ever made. That I was a fool to believe I had something unique to contribute, any reason to think I was somehow essential. In that light, this is the first time in my life I’ve put someone else before my own desire to be valuable and worthwhile.

I don’t anticipate that this dilemma will be resolved any time soon; instead, I hope that it will lose its power to wound me as it recedes into the distance. Time will show that the consequences of my decision were hardly so grave, and that there must be some way I can do something meaningful with my life.

There’s more I wish to write on that topic, but… isn’t it funny? I’m too paranoid to put some thoughts to paper even in cipher in a journal I keep hidden somewhere secret. I laugh at my instincts even as I resolve to obey them in the future; old habits are loath to die, one supposes.

Well, then, onto secrets dangerous only to my… pride? Frankly, I don’t know why I keep my involvement with the almshouse secret at all. Perhaps I don’t want people thinking it’s some sort of condescending publicity stunt. Either way, it’s just about ready now and I’m very eager to see its work begun. I wonder if the Order’s willing to fund the staff? It cost an obscene amount of money to retrofit, more than I’d have expected, and there’s no reason I should limit its scope out of some absurd desire to finance the entire project out of my own pocket. I don’t regret the cost, though. If it achieves its mission at all, it’ll be worth it.

I will do -some- good for this city; I will not be satisfied until I have. If certain methods are unavailable, that does not mean my hands are completely tied.

…I seem to always end these with some sort of grand declaration, followed a few entries later by something along the lines of ‘well, that didn’t work out!” Let’s break up that pattern with some sort of plan I actually can complete.

Alright: I’m going to take Beauty out and wrestle in the backyard, and then we’ll go on a long run for no reason other than that we can. Isn’t it an amazing blessing to only have to run when you actually -feel like running-, as opposed to because somebody is chasing you wanting something you nicked back?

Not that I’ve ever done anything like that.

Nope.

Happy birthday to me… well, in two days, anyway.

I’ll be twenty-one. Strange how wrong that feels. I should be turning… thirty, yes, thirty seems just about right. I found a few more grey hairs today, though I don’t bother to pluck them out. In my vanity, I am quite certain that I will even go grey in an attractively debonair fashion.

All I can think about, with the date approaching, is where I stood a year ago.

A year ago, I was alone.

A year ago, I was still barely above poor, living off the remnants of my money from Vavard – and more primarily Marisa’s largesse. I was exulting in the fact that I was actually wearing silk, and that no one would challenge me as to my right to do so.

A year ago I was just on the threshold of… the events that so changed my life. Even here, I dare not elaborate on what they meant to me in detail. But I thought myself a competent, experienced fellow, who had seen much of the worst the world had to offer and could face it all without hesitation. Now I know that I was wrong.

Experience… I am no longer stunned every time I set foot inside the Palazzo Damassande; even the palace does not make me stop and catch my breath. I walk in velvet, sleep in silk, bathe in hot water whenever I desire it. Gold does not astonish, stone does not intimidate. (And it’s been a really long time since I ate out of a garbage midden, which is pretty great too, actually?)

Yet I feel as if my sense of wonder has only been sharpened. I have been rendered down to my component dreams, virtues and vices. Uncertainty burned away with all of them, and I see the world for what it is now, taking nothing for granted.

In this one way I am grateful, because I am stripped of doubt. I know that there are beautiful things in this world worth protecting, worth marvelling at. I know they have nothing to do with silk or stone or silver. I know that I can do anything that is required to protect them, because that is the kind of man that I am, and that makes me appreciate them all the more.

Here’s to a year of changes, simultaneously the best and the worst days I have ever known.