[![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse] 275 - "You can't control life..."
Mar. 26th, 2009 10:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arrow_of_apollo275 - "You can't control life, at least you can control your version."
— Chuck Palahniuk (Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories)
I am.
I am not.
I'm standing on the top of a small rise, which gives me just enough of a vantage point that I can see for at least two klicks in any direction. The land here is savannah, so while there's high ground and low ground, the change is always gentle, always gradual. It's a little strange, because let's face it, I'm not a person who's become used to gentle, gradual change. None of us are, when you get down to it.
The grass is so tall that it almost brushes my knees as I walk through it. Clomping around in my regulation boots seems almost a shame, but I don't think I'm quite ready to start running through the grass barefoot. Or then again, maybe I am. Maybe I will. It's my choice.
It's my choice.
I am.
I was.
I was Lee Adama, youngest in the line of a family that was well-enough known on Caprica that the name actually weighed something. My father was Commander William Adama, highly-decorated veteran of the First Cylon War. My grandfather was Joseph Adama, one of the premier legal minds in the Twelve Colonies.
I was Colonial Fleet Officer Lee Adama. I held the ranks of Lieutenant, Captain, Major and Commander during my career. As the son of an Admiral, as one of the ranking command structure, as the commanding officer of a battlestar, I carried the weight of duty and responsibility on shoulders squared exactly to regulations.
I was Apollo. Like my father, I wore the wings of a Viper pilot. I flew with my brothers and sisters, putting my life on the line in the defense of my people again and again. And as their CAG, I gave the orders to put those lives on the line, and while their success honored them, their failures became mine to bear.
I was Leland Joseph Adama. When I resigned my commission, I did it because I felt the compulsion to do what was right. I defended the life of a man I could not stand and defied the expectations of everyone around me. I became the Caprican representative to the Quorum of Twelve. I became Vice President. I became President Leland Joseph Adama, and learned how heavy hangs the head that wears the crown.
I felt those weights on my head, my shoulders, my back, my wings.
I was.
I am.
I am standing on a small rise, and I can see across the wide, green grass almost two klicks in any direction. To my right, a ridge of red-gray mountains breaks the clear blue of the sky. They're old enough to be rounded on top, and I can see the shadows of the rocks and the scrub that dot their faces. To my left, I watch wide-winged black birds circling in a glide. Somewhere down that way is enough water to gather animals-- maybe a pond, maybe a crook in the river.
I am standing on a continent, a land mass that bears the most life-giving and life-sustaining climates on this planet. Here, we found lush jungles and verdant plains even among the arid deserts. Elsewhere on this world are rocky places with chilly climes and tropical island paradises. I am standing on a world we have decided to call Earth, because that was the world-- no, the home-- my people have been searching for.
I am standing in a place, and I can leave that place whenever I choose, for wherever I choose.
I can climb a mountain.
I can cross a river.
I was.
I am. Weightless.
Now, I am just Lee.
And my life begins today.
(610)
— Chuck Palahniuk (Stranger Than Fiction: True Stories)
I am.
I am not.
I'm standing on the top of a small rise, which gives me just enough of a vantage point that I can see for at least two klicks in any direction. The land here is savannah, so while there's high ground and low ground, the change is always gentle, always gradual. It's a little strange, because let's face it, I'm not a person who's become used to gentle, gradual change. None of us are, when you get down to it.
The grass is so tall that it almost brushes my knees as I walk through it. Clomping around in my regulation boots seems almost a shame, but I don't think I'm quite ready to start running through the grass barefoot. Or then again, maybe I am. Maybe I will. It's my choice.
It's my choice.
I am.
I was.
I was Lee Adama, youngest in the line of a family that was well-enough known on Caprica that the name actually weighed something. My father was Commander William Adama, highly-decorated veteran of the First Cylon War. My grandfather was Joseph Adama, one of the premier legal minds in the Twelve Colonies.
I was Colonial Fleet Officer Lee Adama. I held the ranks of Lieutenant, Captain, Major and Commander during my career. As the son of an Admiral, as one of the ranking command structure, as the commanding officer of a battlestar, I carried the weight of duty and responsibility on shoulders squared exactly to regulations.
I was Apollo. Like my father, I wore the wings of a Viper pilot. I flew with my brothers and sisters, putting my life on the line in the defense of my people again and again. And as their CAG, I gave the orders to put those lives on the line, and while their success honored them, their failures became mine to bear.
I was Leland Joseph Adama. When I resigned my commission, I did it because I felt the compulsion to do what was right. I defended the life of a man I could not stand and defied the expectations of everyone around me. I became the Caprican representative to the Quorum of Twelve. I became Vice President. I became President Leland Joseph Adama, and learned how heavy hangs the head that wears the crown.
I felt those weights on my head, my shoulders, my back, my wings.
I was.
I am.
I am standing on a small rise, and I can see across the wide, green grass almost two klicks in any direction. To my right, a ridge of red-gray mountains breaks the clear blue of the sky. They're old enough to be rounded on top, and I can see the shadows of the rocks and the scrub that dot their faces. To my left, I watch wide-winged black birds circling in a glide. Somewhere down that way is enough water to gather animals-- maybe a pond, maybe a crook in the river.
I am standing on a continent, a land mass that bears the most life-giving and life-sustaining climates on this planet. Here, we found lush jungles and verdant plains even among the arid deserts. Elsewhere on this world are rocky places with chilly climes and tropical island paradises. I am standing on a world we have decided to call Earth, because that was the world-- no, the home-- my people have been searching for.
I am standing in a place, and I can leave that place whenever I choose, for wherever I choose.
I can climb a mountain.
I can cross a river.
I was.
I am. Weightless.
Now, I am just Lee.
And my life begins today.
(610)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-03-26 06:35 pm (UTC)Great job.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-26 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-27 03:03 pm (UTC)He's finally just Lee.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-27 03:24 pm (UTC)And I loved that moment for Mickey. Poor, under-rated, under-loved Mickey. I remember watching that episode and praying that Torchwood would end up being the Jack-Martha-Mickey show, because I would watch that religiously. *L*