It's nice to watch people struggle...

I don't identify with that other man, the one who I was during that flood. I'm sure we did have some things in common. Mannerisms, certain aspects of our outlook on the world, cultural interests perhaps, but the differences between us were decided before I had any control over my life. The experiences that formed him, I never encountered. I don't feel any desire to have lived that life, or any pity for a man who did, he and I were just different, fundamentally, and in ways outside of either of our control. I doubt it made any of us want to be those people.

If there's one thing that flood did force me to confront, it is that the people here who's behavior I can not abide, may have been made the way they are by forces as arbitrary and outside of their control as the ones that differentiated my life from that of my counterpart.

Which means that by whatever actions and forces still lie ahead of us, there's no reason to believe that our lives here can't be changed again, or that we can't change them ourselves.

"We are builders of our own characters. We have different positions, spheres, capacities, privileges, different work to do in the world, different temporal fabrics to raise; but we are all alike in this, -- all are architects of fate."

I'm wondering, Crane mentioned in his post that he doesn't know what is expected of him to graduate, which is a good question, but I was also wondering how other inmates approach being here? I understand that for a lot of us, it's easy to look at this place as a prison to resist against. We're here against our will, and a lot of what happens to us here is painful, intrusive, and demeaning. It's easy to look at it as an enemy, but has anyone here arrived, and decided to wholeheartedly devote themselves to the idea that they do need to examine their life, and that they can and should change on a fundamental level?

Obviously I can't speak for anyone else's experiences of this place, but I do wonder if people have the same troubles understanding what's required for graduation, if they're willing participants in the process.

( [Spam for Edward Nygma] )

--doesn't make sense. I know this isn't happening--

[Video clicks on, and for a moment, you just get a flash of Jim's palm. Then he moves a little way away, and for the first time in Barge history, the adult Jim Profit appears on the screen. He's sat on the floor of his room, the only visible light coming from the glare of his communicator. Instead of actually looking at it though, Jim is staring off into the darkness of his room, his eyes a little more wide than usual. When he speaks, it's a low murmur, pretty obviously directed at himself more than it is towards anyone who might be listening.]

I'm not here anymore. Children can only build out of what they know, I didn't just invent a whole-- everything. This isn't happening.

[His eyes flick down towards the screen now, and it becomes clear that other people's posts are playing across the unit. For a moment Jim watches them wordlessly, his expression slightly haunted, before he seems to make a decision.]

This'sehdream.

[His voice is almost inaudibly low at first, words slurring into one another, as if he's not fully aware that he's speaking them. It's only when he repeats himself, voice a little firmer, that it becomes obvious what he's saying:]

This is a dream.

[His expression steels and he reaches out to bat one hand across the side of the communicator, as if he expects his hand to pass straight through it. When his fingers come into contact with the solid body of the comm, Jim jerks them back to press them across his mouth. He looks shocked. His eyes are red ringed and wide, and for a moment it looks like he might actually cry. His reaction evens out quickly though, lowering his hand from his mouth, all expression drops away from Jim's face until he's just staring vacantly at the communicator. The feed doesn't end. Jim just keeps on staring.]


[ooc: This... isn't actually the hex! Kinda. Basically, after Jim tried to ditch her ass in port, Shego broke into Jim's room and emptied a certain "worst nightmares" potion that she got off Mozenrath into one of his bottles of wine. The Hex just guided his hand to the right bottle.

He is... tripping balls right now.]

[Video clicks on, and there's a skinny, kinda dirty looking fifteen year old boy, just staring at the communicator. His expression's completely blank for a few minutes, but he's cool, he's just watching other peoples entries. Eventually, he seems to run out of entries, and his attention flicks to the recording lens.]

Are we goin' home? Or are we goin' someplace else?

[You get treated to a touch of babby Jim Profit's southern accent there, Barge. Never to be heard of again when he's an adult.]

On the boat, I mean.