Recordings from the Holocron of Kira Keldav – Memories of Home

   Here we have another (somewhat tweaked) item from the player of Kira Keldav – who is also kindly helping fill in for me while I’m away and may not have internet access.

   My brother says “If you do not see the inherent contradiction in a person and recognize it for what it is, then you don’t really know that person.” While I do not fully agree with him, I do see the wisdom in his words. Nichel is also fond of pointing out my seeming contradictions and then trying to explain them. It bugs the hell out of me and he knows it. It doesn’t help matters that he has a disturbing sense for the truth.

   The truth is I was not hardened as some orphan living on the streets trying desperately to survive. There is no sad or desperate story in my background to help explain my current situation. Instead I grew up in a fairly normal (if well to do) neighborhood on Alderaan of all places. I have normal enough parents and siblings, and my childhood wasn’t particularly difficult or deprived, although my mother may beg to differ as to how much trouble it involved. Not the type of background you would expect for a survivor who is currently on the run from multiple criminal syndicates, the Sith, the Jedi, the planetary authorities of several worlds, at least two sets of bounty hunters, and the Republic. When people think of Alderaan, they think of Senators, artworks, and beautiful landscapes, not battle hardened fighters.

   But yes, it would be accurate to say I did not fit into life on Alderaan. I never really did – at least once out of infancy – and I probably never will even if I survive to return there. Some of my friends and classmates suspect that it is the albinism that has separated me from others. Given the number of human variants to be found across the galaxy, having white hair, yellow eyes, and pale skin is rather tame in comparison to some of the exotic human variants I’ve encountered. No, my roguishness comes from the fact that I just do not fit into Alderaan society on a personal level. The place is just too idylic and too quiet, like a well tended garden. Who knows, maybe it is the fact I spent much of my childhood hauling seed bags around in far too many gardens that has given me such an aversion to the setting.

   Not that I don’t miss my family and friends. Alderaan is still home to me, and that is hard to replace. I just don’t fit in well there. The residents I’ve been able to get along with best are my siblings, Sabrina and Nichel, and my friends Dorothy, Barcos, and Nathan. While we used to pull pranks and get into mischief together all the time when we were little, times change – and we all grow up. Sabrina has been able to put that scheming mind of her’s to use in medical school and Nichel is well on his way to using his charisma and the family business to work his way into the upper echelons of Alderaan society.

   My friends Dorothy, Nathan, and Barcos have probably all graduated by now and gone off to pursue whatever careers they were studying for. The memories of the fights, pranks, and suspensions will fade into the past they try to forget as they go on with their lives. Can’t really blame them either, those types of things are ones you don’t want brought up by prospective employers. My returning would only make their lives more complicated. They are all finding their own paths in life that lets them fit into Alderaan society, although we occassionally would get together to make Sabrina’s latest ex-boyfriend suffer greatly or some other bit of mischief.

   As a youngster, my major redeeming skill was I usually beat up bullies for the lunch money they stole from the weaker kids. Trying to carry this into adulthood has met with the expected lack of acceptance from society and the authorities. Officer Larson “suggested” I look into joining the Alderaan security forces one of the times he had to pick me up. Indeed it was he who recommended to the Judge that I be pushed into the service instead of another punishment, feeling that I might do well in a more assertive environment.

   Do I blame Larson for my being on the Naichron when the Sith Armada took it out of action and captured many of the crew? I don’t think so. I do think that he was trying to put me on a better path than the one I was on – or that he might just have been trying to get me out of his hair. It was hard to tell sometimes; there was more than one night he was most displeased to see me at the scene of his latest call… I wonder what he is doing these days now that he doesn’t have to respond to bar fights involving me?

   Then there was Mrs. Beasley, the old next door neighbor (hard to say how old, that wrinkly little green species is supposed to be pretty long-lived) that continually insisted that I was up to no good. She was right only about a quarter of the time – although I must admit the tales of me supposedly trying to poison her cat always brought a smile to my face at the sheer absurdity of it (although I suspect Mr. Beasley might have had something to do with it, he hated that cat). Hmm, going back home might be worth it if only to see Mrs. Beasley’s reaction at my becoming a Sith – or at least an escaped Sith apprentice. She would probably say she always knew that I was going to turn out rotten.

   The women in my life have largely been forgettable. Most of them have been mainly so that I had something to do on weekends that didn’t involve seeing Officer Larson. There might have been one or two that could have gone differently had they not had preconceived notions about what kind of person I was. I already have enough to face as it is with trying to explain my being Sith-trained Force user to my family and friends, let alone having some girl to try to explain to. I suppose I should be thankful for the small favors in life. Dealing with my mother, Sabrina, Dorothy, and now Telera is quite enough I think.

   So what contradictions might one see in my life? That despite the extraordinary circumstances I have survived in the last eight months, my life was pretty normal before that? Could it be that, as much as I hate what has happened to me, a part of me is grateful for it? At the least, my life will no longer be defined by the string of failures back home. Perhaps it is simply that, as much as I didn’t fit in, and will probably never fit in, there is still a very large part of me that wants to live a “normal” life – and to be able to go home.

   Does that make any sense to you? It does to me, and if you don’t understand this, then I can’t say that you really know me at all.

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