veronica_mars

You don't know what you've got until it's gone. Sound cliche? Well, maybe a little. But as far as I know, nobody's written a song about knowing exactly what you had all along until the second that you picked it up and threw it out the window. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't it just lack romance?

Anyway, cheesy eighties song or no, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that pretty much everything that's happened in the past few years can easily be summed up by Cinderella and their heartfelt howling. I guess it's life, you know, taking things for granted and letting them slip through your fingers, but you'd think I'd have learned by now.

First Lilly, then Mom, my virginity - maybe there weren't warning signs and maybe there wasn't anything I could have done to prevent everything that happened in 2003, but that didn't prevent me wracking my brain for alternatives. It's the whole denial thing, the bargaining. What if, if only, if you make me not be raped, God, I promise to be nice to Logan Echolls for a week.

But bargaining didn't bring Lilly back and it sure as hell didn't restore my hymen to its original and pristine packaging. You'd think, though, after all that I went through, I'd hold on a little bit tighter to the things that mattered most. That maybe, you know, just maybe? I'd not take the little things - or even the big things - for granted.

I mean, I almost lost Wallace. He bailed on me and nobody could blame him. Meg died. Duncan ran off to Australia with Meg's baby. And through everything, all I could do was watch as everyone I cared about slipped away.

And even after everything that had happened, I never appreciated any of it when it was here. Duncan, Meg... even Wallace somehow managed to slip into the background while I continued building walls and just got more and more self-involved. Everything I had always expected to be here vanished, one piece at a time.

And every single time, even though I should have been - in some cases even was - expecting it, it still felt like my heart was getting torn out. It isn't easy to live like that, looking around and seeing nothing but holes where there should be people.

You really don't know what you've got until it's gone. Those empty places stay empty no matter how much you crowd yourself with other people, with jackasses and PCHers and hackers, and no matter how much you care about the new and the old you can't forget about what's missing.

Your friends, your family, pieces of you that have fallen away and will never come back. You carry those scars and you carry that weight.

And if you're lucky - really lucky - you'll learn from your mistakes. I just wish I could figure out how to do that.

Here’s a little bit of advice from me to you – I won’t even charge you for it. Password-protect your computer. And if you do, do yourself a favor; I know your cat is special to you and that maybe the name of your boyfriend is so obvious that nobody would ever guess it, but pick something that has absolutely no meaning whatsoever. Here are some examples of passwords that I would never ever use:

Backup
DuncanKane
KaneDuncan
LoganEcholls
EchollsLogan
LillyKane
KaneLilly

Do you see a pattern? Besides, if my password was “DuncanKane” and someone happened to crack it, people might think I was just the eensiest bit obsessed – which is never good. Here are some of my discarded passwords, however, which will help make for a secure computer:

!lb1qvux?p7
222x-qsvu7t,
#9^^vlp/\09
8z86uilm09+++

Don’t use those. Random combinations published on the internet are never the safest bet.

It’s also a good idea to password protect your screensaver, preferably with a different code than the first one. This ensures that if you have to leave your computer for any length of time, and logging out or shutting down is not your favorite option, your files will at least be protected from prying eyes.

Your hidden secrets will remain hidden and nobody will be able to use them against you. Trust me when I say that I learned this the hard way. If I’d password-protected my computer, then Duncan probably never would have run off to Cuba. Then again, Dad probably wouldn’t have chased after him… oh, and mom wouldn’t have run off with our fifty-grand reward.

Leaving your computer unprotected is pretty much equivalent to airing your dirty laundry. Nothing good can come of either.

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 283

Best. Question. Ever!

No, but seriously. Way to trash my ego. With the possible exception of… well, actually, without exception, I firmly believe that I graduated as singularly the most disliked member of the Neptune High population. Had there been a superlative for “Most Hated,” I probably would have won – and I don’t know whether Logan Echolls or Weevil would’ve appeared in the yearbook photo with me. But alas, there was no such prize – I guess Clemmons didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Or maybe he’s just afraid that Butters would win it his senior year.

Either way, I’m not exactly what one would call a “hit” with my classmates. Nor, I’m afraid, with the general populace. There’s only so far a head tilt can take you in this world, and it might have outlived its usefulness on the class of 2006. Not to mention Mr. Clemmons – he was never very impressed.

What can I say? I don’t have the best reputation and I definitely don’t go out of my way to improve it. Over the past couple of years, I’ve had more pressing matters to think about – murder cases to solve, for one, and all manner of less felonious crimes to get myself and the few friends that I do have out of trouble for. It’s not like I don’t have any friends – there’s always Wallace, who I met when I cut him down from the flag pole, and Mac, my personal computer geek. (She doesn’t mind being called a computer geek. She calls herself a computer geek.)

And of course there’s always Logan and Duncan. And Backup. What? My dog totally counts. He doesn’t judge me and he doesn’t spread rumours about my sluttiness all around town. My reputation definitely keeps me from making friends, but even if it didn’t, I’m not exactly known for my warmth and huggability.

I’m not the girl I used to be – the girl I was before Lilly died. I think that girl died, too, and she’s a lot harder to be friends with. A lot harder to get to know.

And she doesn’t give a damn.

So, to answer your question: do I make friends easily? No. And I really, really don’t care.

Word count: 371
Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars

There are insurance policies - two of them. One on my mom, one on my dad, both payable to me in case something horrible happened to them. Dad took out both policies on the day I was born. When I was old enough to understand he told me that I was going to be taken care of no matter what happened to him or mom.

Those policies - and Backup - are my inheritance. I don't care about the money, though. I don't even want to think about what I'd have to go through in order to receive it. It's safe where it is, a bunch of nonexistent zeroes in an insurance company's file. And Backup and I are happy where we are, too.

My parents have given me more important things than money. Duncan and Logan - they'd be the first to tell you that money isn't everything. I got my obsessiveness from my father. My looks from my mother. Dad's smarts, mom's tendency to run away when things get tough. Dad's sharp tongue. Dad's strength. Mom's propensity for keeping secrets. Or maybe that's Dad's propensity for keeping secrets. Damn, I can never keep track.

But that's life. We've all got our faults, and anyway, if people were perfect the world would be a very dull place. And Dad and I would be broke. On the bright side, Dick Casablancas wouldn't exist and that really wouldn't suck at all.

I'm glad I've got the things I've got, though. My parents did good - mostly. In the genetics department, that is. Dad's excelled in other departments and I'm reserving judgment on my mother.

It's the marshmallow part of me. I get that from Dad.

Fandom: Veronica Mars
Muse: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 284

120. What is the most dangerous thing you have ever done? (210 words)

( It's not like I do it intentionally. )


124. What was your childhood ambition? (250 Words)

( I wanted to be a princess. )

127. Talk about a chance encounter that changed your life. (402 words)

( It was raining the day she met Lilly. )

Fandom: Veronica Mars
Muse: Veronica Mars

Picture it. Camelot Motel, terrified young girl is being dragged against her will up a flight of rickety stairs by an undercover ATF agent who she isn’t actually aware is an undercover ATF agent, and she in fact suspects is a high school terrorist about to blow up the her school. A boy, former enemy, now ally, pauses action with sudden appearance on the balcony, and surprises kidnapper with a punch to the face.

The three collect themselves and move into the agent’s hotel room; agent demands to be left alone with girl, claiming that he has “business” to discuss with her, but boy – former enemy – looks between girl and ATF agent with a practiced, worried stare as he touches the hand he used to deck the other man. He pauses and looks at girl.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” he says, and she assures him that it’s okay, and he considers this, decides to trust her – but asks her to leave the door open because he doesn’t trust him.

And when it’s all over, girl kisses boy – and before she can leave, boy kisses girl back, and that’s it, all of a sudden. Got the picture?

That’s it, anyway.

Muse: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 202

I don’t want to answer this question. At all. I don’t like the connotations associated with it, and I’d happily defer--for the second week in a row, mind you--my answer over to Logan. Unfortunately, however (and I believe this is a first), Logan is playing the playing the silent card. Frankly, I’m surprised he can hold the expletives down.

And for once I can empathize.

Karma was all well and good when I was young and idealistic, when my best friend hadn’t been murdered senselessly, when the rest of my friends hadn’t turned their collective backs on me, and when my mom hadn’t decided to turn into a boozehound, jump on the bandwagon, and bail on me and my dad.

When all the pieces of my life still fit together neatly, then yes, I was a believer. What better explanation was there? If I was the perfect daughter to my parents, the perfect best friend to Lilly, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend to Duncan, then why, logically, would it not follow that life would, in fact, be perfect?

It’s karma after all. Good begets good. What goes around comes around.

I can’t believe that anymore. I can’t credit the cosmos with Lilly’s demise when I know what happened between her and Aaron Echolls. I saw the videos. “Fun With Lilly.” Now there was an understatement.

The problem with karma lies with the fact that it’s not individual to each person. I might’ve been a good girl, but acting nice isn’t what earns you a charmed life. Lilly would be pleased to know I’ve finally absorbed this life lesson.

I just wish I could’ve gotten that some other way--some way that didn’t involve happening upon my best friend’s corpse, but we all have our problems.

I can just hear you now. “Don’t you know any stories that don’t involve ‘and then I happened upon my best friend’s corpse, Veronica?’” The answer to that is yes, but we’ll get to that some other time. You know, when we’re not busy discussing karma.

I don’t know why I’m still talking about karma. After everything that’s happened over the past couple of years, I think I’m about due for things to start turning around. See, if karma existed, my normal plan would be right on track.

But it doesn’t, it’s not, and I’m back where I was last year--sort of--in the middle of a mystery, trying to figure out who wants me dead. And why. Karma? No thanks. I have a tough enough time dealing with reality here in Neptune.

Dear Younger Self (why yes, I do find the entire notion of writing a letter to myself as a child completely idiotic, why do you ask?),

You are very young and very naive - trust me when I say that you can’t possibly know what you’re in for. However, if there’s one thing that Back to the Future has taught me, it’s this: messing with history by providing information about the future to your historical self is bad news. Also that making out with someone you’re related to just feels intrinsically wrong, even if you’re totally unaware of your shared DNA. Let’s face it. There’s a lot to be learned from Back to the Future.

But let’s forget all of it, because it’s not like the present is anything to get excited about and besides - if writing this letter to Veronica 1.0 could change the future, then I probably wouldn’t be writing this letter, and that’s really too complicated to be thinking about. Anyway, how much could a few cryptic warnings possibly hurt?

First of all, Duncan Kane is not your brother. I know, I know. You didn’t need a note from someone claiming to be the future incarnation of you to tell you that, because of course Duncan Kane isn’t your brother. Trust me, it will matter later. Jake Kane is many things, but your father is not one of them.

He’s also not a murderer. Just FYI.

Other Neptune residents who aren’t, as far as I know, murderers, include: pretty much everybody in Neptune who isn’t Aaron Echolls, though the jury is still out on Weevil and his boys. It’s not like they’re above it or anything, they just really, really suck at it - as evidenced by the fact that Logan is still walking, talking, and generally being a jackass.

Which is - don’t get me wrong - a good thing. And maybe I shouldn’t be mentioning this, but a lot’s going to happen between you and Logan. Yes, Veronica. You and Duncan will break up. It all ties into that “Duncan Kane is not your brother” thing I was telling you about.

This, I’m sure, is piquing your curiosity. How, you are wondering, could I possibly date my boyfriend’s best friend? How could I date my best friend’s boyfriend?

Well, it’s complicated. I’ll leave it at that, lest I wreck your future entirely, because I know you. You’ll receive this letter with all the lurid details and you’ll go out of your way to change it all. The past couple of years may have been hell, but I’m guessing that recapturing my innocence would involve sacrifice. I liked what I had with Logan and I wouldn’t give up Wallace for anything.

Who’s Wallace? Trust me, you’ll love him.

Oh, there’s a warning for you, complete with flashing lights and sirens. Be a better friend to Wallace. Remember - BFF goes both ways.

Things are going to be hard, Veronica, I can’t possibly lie to you. Things are going to get a lot darker before - well, suffice it to say, they’re going to get a lot darker.

But don’t worry, you’re stronger than you look. You’ll make it through.

Say hi to Lilly for me.

Love,

Veronica Mars

P.S. Do us both a favor and don’t go to Shelly Pomroy’s End of the Year party, okay?

As the standard grist for the Neptune High School gossip mill, I make it a point to keep my weaknesses hidden - or at least generally camouflaged. After all, the last thing I need is to give my 09’er “friends” more ammunition - they’d love to see me gone. But in this case, I might as well admit it. Gather ‘round, pirates, because you’re about to get the dish.

I hardly ever relax.

I know. It’s not exactly the Zimmerman note, but you’ve all been here - and if you haven’t, you’ve certainly caught the coverage on CNN. A bus full of high school students goes off a cliff, pretty much everybody loses a friend... add to the tragedy the fact that I was supposed to be on that bus and I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from.

Especially now that I’ve realised that everything - all of it - was meant for me. I should have been on that bus and not just because of that stupid field trip. Meg in her coma, everybody else in their - not that I want to elaborate, but all of it was because somebody wants me dead. Again.

It makes it difficult to just kick back and enjoy life, knowing that people have died because Aaron Echolls wants to kill me. Might I add, once more for emphasis, again?

I don’t know how Logan and I did it last summer. Maybe it was because we had each other - or maybe we were just lucky. With Duncan, the only viable means of comfort is still tainted by the past eighteen months, though I don’t expect either of us to admit it. Frankly, I don’t know how any of us make it through. You’d think the tension would be enough to make us shatter, but somehow we’re all still whole.

Physically, at least. I can’t vouch for the mental state of any one of us - and maybe that’s best.

So, as far as relaxing? I don’t. I can’t. I’m always on guard, always ready - so take that as a warning.

For all that you read in the newspapers about dead heiresses and the movie stars that murder them, Neptune, California is actually a decent place to raise children. At least, I seem to have turned out all right -- or I would have turned out fine if not for the dead heiress and the movie star that killed her. Really, though.

Neptune’s got pretty much everything a person could ever hope for in a town -- an excellent school system, a practically non-existent unemployment rate (ask anybody from the right side of town -- being rich is work) and beach access for anybody who isn’t allergic to salt, sea, sand or sun.

Admittedly the night life leaves a little bit to be desired, but it is, after all, we’re talking about a decent place to raise children. Of course that’s discounting the prerequisite seedy motel for late night trysts, a favorite of philandering rich people who don’t realize that the Camelot is the first place that private investigators (namely me) look, and an innumerable amount of trashy bars that accept fake IDs indiscriminately -- so maybe I’m wrong about there not being anything to do in Neptune at night.

Still, it’s not as bad as it could be, and did I mention the excellent school system? As long as you remain on the good side of Vice Principal Clemmons you’re golden, though if you don’t (and I can hardly blame you), I recommend blackmail.

Especially if you aren’t one of the few -- the proud -- the 09ers. Their zip code defines their very existence, and it makes sense. Anything other than 90909 and you’re practically grazing the poverty line. Neptune is sorely lacking in a middle class.

Ah, Neptune. It’s far from perfect but I suppose that there are worse places to call home, right?