Rostam's Journal

Emphasis on Journal. I do not write in diaries. Men do not write in diaries. Spelled J-o-u-r-n-a-l. Now that this point is made, I have decided to begin recording random tidbits that may or may not be useful later. Someone has to record the histories, right?

Unfortunately, there isn't much grand going on right now unless you count old Weyrwomen dying of...well, of being old. Everyone's being all teary about it, too. I don't see what the big deal is. Everyone dies. What, did they expect her to live forever and shrivel away into the size of a pea, directing everyone with her senile mind until the end of time? People are truly ridiculous.

Besides, the new Weyrwoman is much easier on the eyes. She's no hottie, mind you, and ridiculously inexperienced. How experienced do you really have to be, though, to guide a Weyr comprised mostly of messenger boys and emergency response teams in event of a flood? (Note to self: If you ever Impress, Rostam, you will come down with firehead whenever there is flooding.)

No, I think the new arrangement is much better. Now if things could just be a little less boring. Sans flooding, of course. I can do without flooding.