Can I say how much I’ve loved the last two Battlestar: Galactica episodes? I mean, this is the type of thing that Galactica does best and shines its brightest: Episodes not about the science fictiony elements, but about the human elements surrounding the fleet. Two thumbs up.

I have arrived safely in Puerto Rico, and have spent the day with the family.

Other than that, no news, except I am foregoing the Oscars (I mean, really,) to watch Battlestar Galactica.  Because, dude.  No one gets between me and my Galactica.

It is here.

The big #500.  And just under two years in getting here.  (Which averages out to about .75 posts per day.  So, statistically speaking, at the end of the day, I’m doing just about mighty fine here.)

Other good news: Finals are over, and break began as of 22 hours ago.  (Officially, when I handed in my Bioethics paper.  Unofficially, it was the day before, at around 5:00 pm, when I finished my bioethics paper.)  I spent most of yesterday running around town finishing up errands (dry cleaning, prescriptions to fill, handing in said final papers, etc.) and cleaning.  Lots and lots of cleaning.  I had no idea how filthy my apartment actually was.

(I’m still, technically, not done.  I wanted to do the floors, but by the time I had everything else done I was too damn tired.  So I forewent floorage and left it for next Sunday, when I’ll be Boston without anything to do but ironing clothes and brooming/mopping/vacuuming.)

And today I get to ride my first JetBlue plane ever.  Which I’m excited about.  Yes, yes, they lost some face last week with some mild weather disasters.  But today is clear, and the 10 day forecast doesn’t have any horrible news, so here’s to fingers crossed.  I’m sure they’ve learned from their mistake by now.

But in the meantime, I’ll be seein’ you from Puerto Rico again.

Now I have that damn song stuck in my head.

When I’m down and my hands are tied
I cannot reach a pen for me to draw the line
From this pain I just can’t disguise
It’s gonna hurt but I’ll have to say goodbye
Up in my lonely room
When I’m dreaming of you
Oh what can I do
I still need you, but
I don’t want you now
-The Coral, Dreaming of you

It’s not cold, even though it’s December. Decembers are never cold, even though I feel they should be at the time. There’s a jacket – a suede jacket… no, that comes later. There’s a breeze. That quiet breeze of ominous destiny.

This is the day the warrior was born.

He was conceived a long time before. He was conceived in a chess match. Two minds met in the battlefield of ideologies, and they struggled. Two minds met because they saw through the impurity. They understood the mentality of the people around them. And they understood each other. Twins staring into a mirror: light and dark. Though who was whom was hard to say. The warrior was conceived in a chess match.

He was born with a kiss.

The kiss, mind. The one that changed everything. The one that opened Pandora’s box.

The boy was no angel before that. But he was one of the good guys. His soul was largely untainted. HE did things because they were the right thing to do. He fought because nobody else would fight. He played chess.

He conceived a warrior while groping her under a desk. She kissed him and gave birth to the warrior.

Like all creatures of mortal origin, the warrior was useless at birth. He was but the surfacing of an ideal. Something that would strive at some future point, a blade that had no edge. Just a piece of carbon steel, waiting to be shaped and molded into its future shape, or to sit and be corroded by the passage of time.

He doesn’t remember now why he was in that room. Was he looking for her? Maybe. But they were alone. Alone in a room for the first time. The lights were on. She kissed him. He kissed her back. And she left.

The warrior, conceived a pawn in a board of chess, was born.