Make Good Ripples

Joan:  (Trying to make her lip line straighter) Mm-hmm. What if I don't have any best features?

Goth God: (He is sitting across the desk, behind her mirror, applying his own lip stick) Everyone has a best feature, Joan. I saw to that.

Joan: No offence, but you've broken, like, every single rule she taught us.

God: The thing to remember is, adornment isn't who you are.

Joan: If you're so worried about me getting caught up in adornment, maybe you shouldn't have sent me to this stupid makeup class.

God: I sent you here to learn, to observe the effects of appearance.

Joan: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, changing the way the world sees me. But the world, I.E. Adam, still doesn't see Zippo.

God: Look in the mirror, Joan, and what do you see?

Joan: Some ridiculous, vain girl who can't stop thinking about shading and concealing. This is just not who I am.

God: Exactly.

Joan:  God smokes?

God: I don't inhale.

Grace at the gossipy girls table.

Grace - This is Sulfuric acid. If it reacts with your substance, that means it's baking soda.

Girl - Oh!

Grace - Interesting how something corrosive can tell you what somethings made of. Kind of like using gay as an all-purpose insult.

...

Back to Joan's table. Grace has just come back from the girls table.

Joan - You're, like, my hero.

Grace - It's the one advantage to being universally despised. You get to say whatever you want.

Adam - Unchallenged.

Joan: ...So...questions? That's it? It's about questions?

God: That's it.

Joan: Ok. Well, then, I have one. Judith. Why did she have to die?

God: What if she never lived at all?

Joan: What if I had done things differently? What if I could have saved her?

God:  What if knowing you gave her days she thought she'd never have?

Joan:  No! No, I want answers. People need answers. Don't you see how much... I miss her?

God: Can't you still feel her? See, it's not about answers. It's about asking the right questions, Joanie.

Writings and What-Nots From Arcadia

Surprising what one can find in the garbage when one really looks. This poem is from the episode "Anonymous" and you do not know who it is by...well I guess you will just have to see the episode and find out for yourself.

Sewer Walking

You and me,
we used to talk
like a river underground,
the sewer where we used to walk.
The hole at the end
empties out to the pier
where paperboats disappear.
Me, I try to send this note,
float it like a paperboat,
But paper sinks and words are weak.
I try but I do not speak.
Join together is silent snow,
turn our faces up to see 
not endless night
but day,
a pier,
and you and me,
talking...

Luke: No one ever listens to me, and yet I talk.

Joan: Why didn't you tell me this was gonna happen. I could have stopped it.

God: Events unfold after choices are made, Joan.

Joan: But why couldn't she see all the other choices she had?

God: It's about juggling, remember? Good choice, bad one. Good friends, bad ones. Light, dark. It's hard. You said so yourself.

A slacker from the bleachers strikes up a conversation with Joan as she is planting some flowers and such.

Boy: It needs water, and you should turn the soil.

Joan: Why don't you, if you are so concerned, Foghead?

Boy: It's your assignment, Joan. You asked for it.

Joan realizes it is actually God she is talking to.

Joan: This is a new look for you.

God: Yeah. I mean, the jeans are really comfy.

Writings and What Nots From Arcadia.

Oh she'll bring it.

This is Joan's second original cheers from when she was trying out for cheerleading. I must say BRAVO.

We live to cheer,
we're so sincere
unless you get in trouble,
then we're outta here.
'Cause it is such a royal pain
when a friend gets arrested.
How could of I known?
How could of I guessed it?
It's not like she's my sister...
Whoops, is that my beeper?
And even if she was,
am I my sister's keeper?
Sorry, gotta go,
tryouts are today.
Tell her we will think of her
everytime we say
Go Eagles.
Go Eagles.
Go, Go, Go Eagles.
My name is Joan,
this cheer is my own
so kiss my feathers,
cause this bird has flown.

Joan: Let's see a miracle.

God: How about that? (Points at a tree)

Joan: It's a tree...

God: Let's see you make one.