Overthinking everything

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance."

It's funny, sometimes, that feeling on the edge of consciousness, when your mind is open and you're reflecting on things. You know you're unworthy. Unworthy of love, unworthy of attention, unworthy of the thing which you attempt to fool yourself with by calling it freedom. You are no more than a speck if dust in the wind in the grand scheme of things.
People call me an optimist. I'm not. I just choose. I just choose to see the fragments of light and color. Everything is faceted and everything has its reflections. Things change. I've changed, I guess. I'm still scared. I don't think I'll ever be not-scared.

Maybe I'm fooling myself by feeling I have a choice, but honestly, I've nearly lost myself enough times by now to know there's at least a tipping point. Everything has a tipping point.

I'm not alone now... That helps. When you're alone, your mind has nowhere to go but out, spreading and spreading, seeing the worst and the best. Sure, He's still there, there are still murmurs and shadows and things and people-who-think-they-aren't-lost, but somehow, even if numbers aren't safe in some ways, it's better than that racing, rambling, lost, scattered feeling. I'm not alone, I am wanted, I am loved, quit your humming and go away. I want spring to come now, please. You are not Mine, and I am not Yours.

It's something to focus on other than the light and flickers of color and sensation. People who sense things without synesthesia are actually a grounding influence on me sometimes. I mean, it's interesting for art, but it would be so easy to drift away sometimes in a haze of light.

Sorry... Sorry, I'm fine, I just needed to ramble a bit. Yay, monologuing. I think a lot of people know that feeling, these days. Anyway, I'm okay, Tia's fine... And Kailin's being Kailin.

Emails, emails, emails. I've been getting some odd ones recently. Temporary email accounts? Really? Well, for one of the people, the one who won't tell me who he is. I've got some suspicions, though. The others are from our dear, dear Shep. Honestly, I don't think I've ever met a more condescending jerk. And yes, I do still blame him for the stuff with Marie and Blake. Not as much as I blame myself, of course. But I mean... I've had time to think about things. What I could've done differently.

I know there's things about the Sinclairs that I'd been unaware of while living in Alabama. I mean, considering some of the junk that's happened surrounding that family. Nicking Marie's journal has shown me that much. There aren't too many things notable enough to be posted, but there are definite hints of things not having been completely on the level. I might start working on transcribing parts of it again, though, when I'm not busy with painting, driving, or working. There's a few interesting bits, though the vast majority of it is just normal, teenagery stuff. It's just too bad that there's nobody else from them that I could ask, I suppose.

Not now, though. Now I need to Focus on something else. Something less... something.

Commentary

Lissie's in a mood. Misplaced blame is not a thing she gets on with, nosiree. It's funny when Lis is the one who wants to smack some sense into people.


Another thing: sometimes fellow bloggers use words and I have to wonder if they really know what that word means. Like, for instance, "rules." Rule are things that always apply. Things that are going to be true when faced with the test of time and will always be true. Save for a few choice exceptions. Rules are also based in fact. Scientific observation made by multiple unbiased parties willing to change their perspective should science deign it appropriate, not just personal observation. These are almost as high as laws, which have no exceptions whatsoever.


Anyway.


The point is, I guess, everyone makes their own path and it's not guaranteed to lead them anywhere specific. The human life is not a thing that can be put so narrowly along expectation row. In sum, I will not let my life be led by silliness you all think is fact.


I won't let my child be led along on her path of life by stupidity or the expectations you've all built of us.


You're letting the fear you've all built up as a result of this thing rule you from a to z and you've all forgotten how to live. How to love. How to be human. Well, not all of you, I'm sorry if I implied things that would make you uncomfortable in advance.


Try not to forget how to be human. I know it's hard sometimes, especially when you're coping with fear so shoddily that you've got snot and spit and all sorts of other nastiness seeping from you. But you have to try anyway. Because otherwise you're going to lose yourself in the fight, and then you'll lose sight of your motive, and why are you even fighting if you don't know what you're fighting for anyway?


And now I'm going to go back to driving and letting Kailin and Lis rule the blog.


Also, morning sickness seriously sucks.

Too quiet, well not really

Haven't posted in a little bit, mostly because we're still getting used to each other. It's sort of odd having a third person around again. Things are pretty much the same in a lot of ways, though. Lack of sleep, stress, talking about the most random things late into the night as a distraction, working on the computers for hours (at least on my and Tia's parts). I've been painting a bit again. Most of them aren't all that good. It's mostly an outlet.

Painting's something I started back in high school. Initially as a therapy sort of thing. Doctor Chavez suggested it, and I ended up really loving it as something to do and to keep myself occupied. Painting is something that's just easy to Focus on. So I keep painting and turning out things. Is is weird that I really miss Doctor Chavez still? I mean, I don't know... The guy's been my therapist off and on since I was fourteen, so I guess it makes a little sense that I'd gotten attached.

Anyway, we've been doing a bit of moving about over the last week. Kailin's actually healing up a a reasonable rate, which I'm glad of. Those burns were some of the worst I've seen in a while. There are other, older scars, but that's zer story to tell, not mine.

Also, is it weird to be thinking up baby names for a kid that's not even mine? Just kind of wondering.

And yeah, we're not getting complacent. Every time things look good is when you should be on watch the most. I think we've learned that by now.

Yeah, anyway

Dreamer, hm? Dreamer, Heroine, Bloodstained Handmaiden, Lis. I'm just Lis. I'm nobody important, except to a few people. It doesn't help that one of those idiotic nicknames came from our ever-so-dear-Shepherd and one from Marie. I'm nobody. I am beneath notice. I am insignificant. I keep saying it, but people try to deny it and see something else.

Kailin calls me an optimist, and maybe, in comparison to zer, I  am. But then, a lot of people are, in comparison to Kailin. The kid's been through a lot. That's not my story to tell, though.

Dreams, right... Yeah, I dream a lot. People, places, things unfamiliar, and things better left unseen. I paint. People, places and things better left unseen. I dispose of many of the paintings. Most of them are of no worth anyway, and aren't exactly for mass consumption. I just sometimes have to get things out of my head and onto paper, you know? Some people do that with writing. I guess I do it with paintings? Well, paintings and my random rambles. But then, nobody really cares about an artist until they're dead or insane, anyway.

Most of it's stuff that doesn't make any sense. It's funny. It's like I dream in abstracts sometimes. Life is mutable. Every choice, every moment changes something. It's pointless to ever think you can know every angle, even when you feel like you do. There are shadows from every side, anyway. People focus so much on the evil that they know, but mabe there's more there.

And now I sound as silly and ominous as Kailin. Heh... Anyway, I'm likely to keep having weird dreams. I've had them for years, before any of this happened. They've just gotten more prominent and bothersome recently. By the way, I'm getting a new tattoo, I think. If I'm going to look odd, might as well really go for it. And I may not post another painting on my next post... I don't know, it all depends on what falls out of my head between now and the next time I decide to write.

A Bad Case of the Restless

The mums are... sorta really optimistic. I'm just going to let you all know right here: this is Me. I am not an optimist. And no, I'm not a realist either. I'm one helluva down-in-the-dumps pessimist. I think shit's going to fall to shit even when it's all going alright, because usually... that's right when it all falls to hell in the worst way.

But the mums aren't of that blood. They think better of the world and people and still have some tiny faith in circumstance. I guess maybe it's because they have each other. It's all saccharine like that.

M'gonna get diabetes or some shit travelling with these women. Not. Even. Kidding.

But unfortunately being a pessimist also means that I see the things hat my optimistic friends won't see sometimes. Like I know they pick up on shit that I miss entirely.

But there's something not comfortable and slimy and disgusting closing in. It's familiar. I know it. It stinks. No matter how fast we move. It follows. It closes in. The mums wouldn't like me talking or typing or whatevering like this. It's not a good attitude to keep.

But the paint-splattered mum's been Dreaming. She hasn't posted about it yet, she thinks you all will think she's nutters or mad or out of her head or a thousand and one things I have been called in every family unit I have ever had.

But the Old Chief (may he rest well) would call Lis for what she is: Dreamer. And that's a scary and big and terrible responsibility and fate. And Them That Dream are usually also Them That Have Big Fates. Not usually the sort that can hide well in the background.

Well they can try. Paint-splattered Mum does her best. It's better than a lot could manage. But maybe the Thing That Stalks likes her and hers so much because of the Dreamings. Or maybe it will be the Thing That Stalks that will force her to meet her fate. Fate is a big word for only four letters. Y'know?

And here I am, all of sixteen and barely educated trying to explain to you all what Fate means. What it meant to Old Chief and all the things he tried to teach me before... well anyway.

Anyway.

The point is, don't ignore the Dreamers or their Dreamings. Because I know damned well the Things That Never Sleep won't be ignoring them. They'll be as familiar as they like with the Dreamers. And their People.

Grumpy Mum and I are here to stay though. It's been a while since anyone made me feel like I belong. And I think Grumpy Mum can relate to that feeling right there.

And now I'm getting Looks for being all emotional and typing over here. They suspect the revealing nature of my post. I'm hitting submit now.

Just a Note

Not that it really is terrifically significant to me right now, considering I'm not there right now, but the 9th Circuit Court ruled that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional. Woohoo! In a lot of ways though it is really significant to me. Because California is where I spent a lot of my most recent years, and a lot of the friends I made there are going to have a shot at equality. And that's important. I want to see my all my friends walk down the aisle in brightly colored converse.


I really hope the appeal for that ruling falls to shit though. We don't need all that drama bull again. It's just annoying.


If you don't know what Proposition 8 was, use your own google-foo. I am, at present, too lazy to actually give a proper explanation or link.


I dunno. I guess that was all I had to say. Maybe I'll drive back and get impulsively hitched to Lissie in 28 days? It's a possibility. We'll keep you posted for that one! (Also watch the comments for inevitable Lissie-flails on that subject.)

To Clarify

They've given me this laptop for free! And it's, like, freaking retarded powerful. At least that's what the internet says. But like, they just gave it up. I'm going to guess that has something to do with the source of said laptop (I've been reading the backlogs, the mums have been through some hell I see), but even so!

I've been reading through the backlogs. And the mums have been through their hell. I hardly see reason for them to trust me, a stranger, but they took me in.

AND THE GRUMPY MUM EVEN SAYS I'M GROWING ON HER.

Madness. Serious. Madness. But I guess that's what happens when you give a pregnant woman just what she's craving when she's craving it. And try it too. Pickles and peanut butter. Well, it was odd, but not that bad I guess? It could have been worse.

Other thing of mention: the spoiling doesn't stop at the laptop. They took me shopping. For clothes. They offered for make-up, but Awonawilona knows I've enough of that from years of practice with my five-finger discount. My make-up bag never leaves me.

I guess they'd like me to stop that if I'm traveling with them, the five-finger discount part, not the make-up part, so I guess I can do the mums that much at least. I mean, they're providing for me, out of their own pockets. Generosity has never been really in my vocabulary before. And if it weren't for spell-check I wouldn't know how to spell it. That's for sure.

But yeah.

These women are weird. But I think they might be growing on me too.

Just Something I've been Fiddling With

Each breath breathed means we're alive
And life means that we can find
The reasons to keep on getting by
And if reasons we can't find
We'll make up some to get by
'Til breath by breath we'll leave this behind

What the Hell are these Women Even On?!

First and foremost: these bitches be crazy.

No seriously. They run up and fetch a kid from the arms of the Slender Fuck and straight up drag that kid off. And yeah, that part hurt a bit. But they were still stubborn enough to do it.

So the tall woman mumbles about all the strays and generosity and the never worrying about the self, but she totally bends under the little one's words. It's kinda quaint. I never got the opportunity to really see people being all 'cute'. It wasn't exactly an option. Whatever. I'm not bemoaning my lack of social exposure.

I hear she's called Tia, and the other Lissie. I'm renaming them.

Respectfully, "Grumpy Mum" and "Paint-Splattered Mum." I think these are more appropriate callings. And besides, despite me only running with 'em a few days now, they treat me real nice.

Haven't been treated this nice since I was in school - an' hell was that a while ago. Actually, since I was with the tribe, and that was even longer ago. So I guess that's why I think the mums are crazy. Because they are. For treating a stranger-orphan-homeless kid so nice. I suppose in my backhanded way I wanna thank them for at least temporarily dragging me with them, so I'm making myself useful and cleaning up after them in their truck and stuff. I don't have shit else to do anyway.

And the grumpy mum needs a little extra support - despite what she says or claims or whatever.

Second, I guess I should introduce myself. They talked about me. Or the paint-splattered mum did. And she alluded to some things. About some tough topics. But I really don't know if I should go into all that yet.

Until further notice I guess I should give you a name.

Kailin. Not Kai. Not Lin. Not Kail. Not anything else. Kailin Lusio. And I am me. Does anything else really matter?