Fanon:The Pleasant Diaries

The unpleasant diaries of the Pleasants, and how they come to strength and love rather than vice and isolation.

Mary Susanne Oldie Pleasant: Spring 5th, 2010 I'm trying to write smaller in my new diary. It's much more efficient, and everything runs on efficiency, so I make everything efficient: my work hours, my work methods, and how I spend my time when I get home. That promotion should arrive any day now, but I've got to time myself right...Meaning, hurry. Really, I wouldn't have this diary at all (time-consuming) but I can use it as a reference and never forget anything. Ordinary mothers, wives and workers waste so much time forgetting. Take today, for instance. I did not forget to turn in my report to the boss promptly at nine, I did not forget to open up the new files at nine-thirty, and when I got home, I did not forget to write in here. I did forget Lilianna  Lilith's lunch, but I'm sure my precious Angela shared some of hers. One moment, Daniel is talking to me.

As I was saying, before I was interrupted...Angela's so, well, angelic. I can only hope the other one doesn't become a bad influence. I've put up with Lilith for a long time, but only Angela makes it bearable. Well, I have to turn in for the night if I'm to get up at a quarter to seven tomorrow. I love my job.

Daniel Pleasant’s Journal: Spring 5, 2010
Today wasn't so bad. It's just one of those days when you can look around at the past days, look out at the gorgeous spring day, and think, it could be a heck of a lot worse. And it could. My thankful list for today: I hardly saw Mary. I don't mean to sound like an awful husband, it's just that it's easier to not need her when I don't have to look at how pretty she still is. I know I still miss her, and I still feel really guilty about my fling with Kaylynn, our part-time maid, but it's hardly my fault I haven't confessed, Mary-Sue doesn't have the time to talk about it. We've changed a lot since our honeymoon in Sunlit Tides. But anyway, thankful list. That's what this journal's for. Lilith's detention lasted longer than usual, and when she got home she just went straight to her room, doing who-knows-what. Work went pretty well. Another thankful thing is Angela. She's like the axle this family turns on. I don't know what we'd do without her--which is why I must admit I just don't love Lilith. She keeps picking on her perfect sister and I just keep praying she doesn't upset the family balance. Well, I'm going to go try to talk to Mary, then probably go sleep on the couch so she doesn't see how disappointed I always am every single night, if she even cares--Nope, being positive. Positive and thankful, positive and thankful.

 ==Angela Marie Pleasant, Spring 5 th , 2010 == Today was just perfect. Me and Dustin had a really good date after school, and he didn't say a single bad word in the theatre. I tried out fried fish for dinner, and everybody liked it...Well, except for Lilith. She  just stayed in her room, but I think I gave her enough of my lunch to keep her from starving. Oh, no, she hardly ate that either. I feel so sorry for her, just sitting in her pain all the time. She starts by fighting with me. Then she fights with teachers at school. Then she fights with Dirk. Then she comes home and fights with Mom and Dad. She's just a concrete rebel under perpetual hailfall. I hope she doesn't break. She really is bright, and she might just be able to make it if she doesn't die young. Okay, I really need to cheer up now. I'm going to go listen to Taylor Swift and do my homework.

Lilith’s Journal: KEEP OUT! Spring 5th
I wrote another poem today. I'm going to post it on Writer's Circle/Poetry/Anger when Mom stops using the simmed computer. Simmed workaholic. Simmed spoiled child. Simmed cheating dad. Anyway, here's the poem. I'm too angry for normal-person words.

Anger in droves,  Frustration in piles. Running for years,  Running for miles. Tired and angry,  Empty and alone,  Sitting in this weak, F alse-smiling home. A mother who works, A father who cheats, A sister like Juliet, And I'm dead on my feet. Mother thinks I don't care, Father thinks I don't know, Sister thinks he loves her, But I've got feelings not to show. I scream, I run, I writhe, I'm done. I am so done.

But of course, I'm not. Still to young to be done with this horrible gauntlet they call "the good old days". Adolescent life is torture devised by society who don't like that people at their physical best can also know the most.





