tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46441181245040282582024-03-19T03:22:50.966-05:00No Pressure = No Diamonds“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people”FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.comBlogger179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-599828933775036932012-09-04T22:26:00.000-05:002012-09-04T22:26:34.839-05:00Things... All These Things...<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Marie- Deceased. Unknown circumstances. Last seen in the company of a man who goes by the alias "Shepherd". "Shepherd" denies involvement in her death. Called it "a waste". Later notes revealed her family to be involved in some form of conspiracy. None of the relevant people are alive now, other than Jared. Sacrifice, Bitter Fruit, Poison Thorn</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Blake- Deceased. Shot with a .38, hollowpoint. Multiple shots to the stomach and chest. Last in the company of Tia. Had developed paranoia and delusions that he was the only one capable of keeping her safe. "Safe", in this case meant holding her captive in a basement. Body missing. Taken by the Tall One. Lover, Twisted Heart, Betrayer</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Tia- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Lis. Supporting her as they got us away from one of the anomalies that has trapped those who have been documenting events on this blog in previous accounts. Had cut herself off from all but this small group. Grew more and more protective of Lis and the rest of us over the last few months, but especially Lis. After the abduction a month ago, as well as other incidents, she barely let her out of her sight. The tendrils were encroaching. Champion, Sparrow, Protector, Mother</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Lis- Missing. Presumed Deceased. Last seen in the company of Tia. Mostly unconscious, and emanating a "light" to the way out of the anomalous location. Possible hallucination due to the nature of said location. She and Tia sacrificed themselves to get us out. Had been suffering increased amounts of weakness due to physical wasting, despite preventative efforts. Also had started to suffer from an increase in her "synesthesia" in ways that fall outside of the definition of such, after the incident with the sensory deprivation tank a month ago. Bloodstained Handmaiden, Heroine, Dreamer, Hummingbird, Delphi</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Jared- Living. Injured. Whereabouts unknown beyond a note saying he'd "keep in touch" and that "there's always a light, she showed us that. Bloodstained or not. What she did was a final 'fuck you' to those who would have used her and used Tia against her. Especially after all that's happened over the last few months. They'll be watching you still, remember that, kid. I know you're not going to want me around after this. You're not the type. It was the girls who were keeping that from being an issue. You can take care of yourself. Even if it means lying low, that's probably a better option than my modus operandi. Take care of yourself, okay? For them, if not for you." Toppled Knight, Rusted Armor, Hidden Face</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Kailin- Living. Increasingly cynical. The desire to be alone and disconnect grows stronger. For now, it may be the best to go alone against the Tall One. Raven, Butterfly, Changeling</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">...I don't know what to do anymore. I don't belong here anymore. It's getting colder. It's time to move on. No more mum's and no more lecherous flirts. This internet thing is too risky, too hard. And I'm thinking bonding is just the thing I shouldn't do anymore.</span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Lis. Tia. They were too good for these things. I'm the sort of scum that gets it. Alone is better.</span>Mx. Multipleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04616758582380192376noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-76251383299471961182012-09-01T00:00:00.000-05:002012-09-01T00:00:05.688-05:00"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain." We will remain.<br />
<br />
Bared myself wholly heart and body unadorned<br />
Stripped down solely<br />
To the evil and the good<br />
Felt no shame<br />
Naked to the world<br />
And all illusions shattered <br />
<br />
Running all the time<br />
Ain't going nowhere<br />
It's a new page in the same book<br />
It's a new game with the same rules<br />
The lights go down<br />
Fade to black on the set<br />
And we ain't seen nothing yet <br />
<br />
So don't be tempted by the shiny apple <br />
Don't you eat of a bitter fruit <br />
Hunger only for a taste of justice <br />
Hunger only for a world of truth <br />
'Cause all that you have is your soul<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-15810456848042146322012-08-22T15:42:00.000-05:002012-08-31T15:55:22.412-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mercurial SoulFidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-30500625585736016122012-07-13T20:13:00.000-05:002012-07-13T20:13:00.492-05:00Interim"All Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories — if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death." <br /><br />That's our problem somewtimes isn't it? We just keep writing and writing. To us, it's not a story, but to someone out there, it is. To someone out there, we're nothing but the brainchildren of amateur writers with too many or two few ideas. <br /><br />Thing is, it's not a story, and it's probably not going to have a happy ending. But this isn't for others, really. This blog was started as a way for me and my friends to keep track of the things that were happening... That is, once it was switched over from being an assignment from my therapist.<br /><br />Funny how much things change in a year. Sometimes it takes the threat of death or worse for someone to start to live.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-63863957659032486522012-06-21T00:56:00.000-05:002012-06-21T00:56:46.498-05:00Radio SilenceWe exist. We're not dead. Funny, that. It's been an interesting little time, playing the game that isn't a game.<br />
This is not a game. <br />
This is not a game. <br />
This is not a game.<br />
The mantra of an ARGer, now become real. We've all seen that. We've more than seen that. We've been helping where we can. Maybe we've been lying a bit too low. Watching, waiting, listening. <br />
<br />
It's almost funny to some, I feel sure. Like a butterfly on a pin, struggling. Even if it manages to get free, it's not going to survive. That's what people think they see. Maybe it's better sometimes to let people keep those perceptions. <br />
<br />
We hang on, we laugh. We find life and make the most of it. To live is an awfully big adventure, after all. We dance, play, fight, run, sing, and learn.<br />
<br />
An uninterrupted sleep is rare and valuable commodity.<br />
<br />
We cry. We have lost people, and we will probably continue to do so. Cutting ourselves off from others isn't going to prevent that. Oh, we've seen some of the things going on recently, and they're unpleasant as heck. Does that mean we sould lie down and bare our throats?<br />
<br />
There are always so many paths that can be taken. sure, it's easiest to follow certain ones, but we must do what we can, I suppose. <br /><br />Hopefully, we'll be posting a bit more, soon. Things have been hectic recently, working on things.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-51401584532636667202012-05-19T23:22:00.001-05:002012-05-19T23:22:05.038-05:00Dream a little dreamHow many dreams does a person have in a night? Too many. <br />
<br />
Stars going out like candles, an image shown in so many media. The splintering of bone.Why dream about something like that? When we're children, we have nightmares even then. Glowing green eyes in the depths of a cave. A whispered name. <br />
<br />
I dreamed tonight that I was in a maze. Not a labyrinth, a maze. A multicursal stucture, rather than a unicursal structure. The walls were not stone. The were gray, gray, gray and brown, with writing on them. Some form of concrete or stucco? Beside the point. <br />
<br />
Alchemical symbols. Antimony. Silver. Platinum. Magnesium. Gold. All beneath a layer of dust so thick that I could see my footprints in it. Ahead of me was evidence of someone passing before. Small of stature, bare feet. Bare feet in that mess... I've stepped in worse, I guess.<br />
<br />
As I ran a hand along the grime and rust-covered wall, watching the flowering of the rust along the surface, I began to notice lighter spots along the wall. They were rectangles, reaching from above my head to the floor. Like when you have a piece of furniture in a single place for a very long time and it leaves a mark when you move it. <br />
<br />
It took a long moment as I looked at the marks, and I began to realize that they were doors. Or where there were doors. Places where the doors had vanished. What would happen if you were in a room and the door vanished? Would you try to go through the wall?<br />
<br />
What if you couldn't go through the wall due to being trapped in an extradimensional pocket? Set fire to the room? Listen to the voices? Try to press on anyway? Curl up in a ball and give up? Rage against the sky that you no longer had access to and that would not listen, anyway? Skies are very bad listeners. They have no ears.<br />
<br />
Pc ypn wngf ittlwf qxpy sff httn dwhh ui, ak ah httrw oqixs bw ttwozs tq evmccw spr rdrlmps.<br />
<br />
There were true openings in the walls now. Tiny altars of perhaps-dead things that have been forgotten for many a year. A woman robed in cobweb, the wet, glittering black of her eyes shielded by skeletal fingers, a ring glinting on each. A small, stout man with the face of an reptile of some sort, eyes sparkling and following every movement, completely nude. A many-horned creature, vague in form, leathery and violent in its very appearance. A young woman with the eyes of a cat, snakes and the tails of scorpions woven into her sooty hair, a shattered hand outstretched in supplication. A child with her hands over her eyes, wings of light broken and shattered. Offerings become dust themselves, scattered and strewn away. <br />
<br />
<div class="indent">
<em>Tell the king; the fair wrought house has fallen</em></div>
<div class="indent">
<em>No shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leaves</em></div>
<div class="indent">
<em>The fountains are now silent; the voice is stilled.</em></div>
<div class="indent">
<em>It is finished.</em></div>
<div class="indent">
</div>
Some less forgotten, a woman of ironwood will, a misbegotten child, a singing cold wind, the faceless bachelor thief, and many more. Teir numbers grow. There are many ways to give something power, but why do people choose to? Do what ways they choose matter to the chosen? The dust was stirred more around some than around others, this part of the path heavily trodden and lit by the glow of screens unseen.<br />
<br />Other tiny staues are tucked in smaller nooks, most of them toppled over on their sides, a spread of acrid liquid spilling from their bases, discoloring the air and the mind with shades of dreams lost and unseen.<br />
<br />
As I went further, the hundred alcoves became fewer. They were all empty, except for more graffiti, and the walls have elaborate water stains, dripping rust and orange colors down the concrete. One of the spaces had a small round opening, perhaps six inches in diameter, presumably the mouth of a pipe. It was also surrounded by a flower of rust stains, and some individual with a very strange sense of humor left a ragged black scrawl reading “The Chicken Goes Here” with an arrow pointing to it.<br />
<br />
If only I’d thought to bring a chicken... and that was an odd place to wake up from, babbling and clinging.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-2130216763994974502012-05-14T19:53:00.000-05:002012-05-14T19:53:33.764-05:00Talk, Talk, Talk<span style="color: #c27ba0;">So I have trust issues.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">And I invited someone else to join the party.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Some of you may in fact be wondering why the hell I would actually do such a thing. Especially with trust issues. And all that jazz. Jared's poked me a couple of times about it himself. Why I decided to trust him when he puts Lissie in such a fit. One who endlessly comes onto the both of us (though it's harmless really, he's just a slut acting exactly like he's always acted), and who seems careless when it comes to considering other's points of views.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Okay, he's not really that bad. And there's a couple of legitimate reasons that I let him take the keys to the truck from time to time.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">The first is simple: experience. He's got a whole bucket load of that. And we, as in Lissie and I, have like zilch. And we could use someone whose better at surviving and not being persuaded and all that shit.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">The second? He's familiar with Shepherd. And though the man's been quiet, I don't think he's quite slipped out of our lives. Doesn't seem his style to let go, more his style to let us get comfy then come on full force when we're not expecting it. And I don't like not knowing what to expect.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">I guess the last is that he's hot. I'm going to just be honest and blunt and let you all know how shallow I can be. He's totally banging. (Read my sarcasm and snarky bitch tone in that please. You're welcome.)</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">And that's that. I have no regrets. Except all of my regrets.</span>Spazztastic Tiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01091610205551369776noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-6709462473378303952012-05-12T02:24:00.001-05:002012-05-12T02:36:10.539-05:00The Iron RoseInsularity is something that's becoming far too easy to fall into for us these days. With Tia closing herself off more, to most people, and Kailin just being Kailin. Jared's pretty outgoing, but I think he's a bit guarded for his own reasons. Understandably. There are still a few people keeping us from this, and I'm glad of that.<br />
<br />
I got another email the other day asking why we bother Running. Honestly, I'm the most to blame for that. Among other reasons, like not wanting to lie down and die. I have to consider how long we're in one location before people start to notice that things aren't quite... right. How long will it take before something chips through their self-absorption or whatever else is holding their attention and they start to pay attention to the weird little group staying it room-number whatever-the-heck? Start to notice the graffiti that got painted over the other day, the figures skulking in every shadow, the chalk-scratchings on the sidewalk?<br />
<br />
Some people compare being Stalked to being like a transmittable disease. I don't necessarily consider it that way, but I have to wonder. If that's true, we've been traveling, off and on, for a good while now. What is our footprint of spread? How many people have been drawn into things that might not have, if we hadn't been in a certain place at a certain time? How many weights should be on my conscience, if only I knew of them?<br />
<br />
Is it so surprising then, that I choose to generally not make extra money by selling paintings? Especially some of them... I've done in excess of a hundred paintings that have not been posted, and never will be posted, because they have been disposed of. Egocentric? Maybe, but there are some things I'd prefer not to take chances on. Things people weren't meant to see. So, as I've said, I get rid of them. For my own mental well-being. <br />
<br />
What little there is left of it, anyway.<br />
<br />
We're still making do with things. Jared's still in the doghouse a bit. Is that selfish of me? Maybe a little. I've forgiven him, but it's been almost six years since I saw him last. Since we saw him last. We've all changed in that time. Maybe we don't have the time to dance around things, but getting to know eachother again is proving interesting. He actually got Tia to smile the other day. <br />
<br />
That's a rare sight, these days. She rarely smiles at most people recently, at least in any real way. Tia's always had anger issues, even when we were teenagers. That's part of why there was such a negative reaction from us when someone told her in the comments to someone telling her to let that become a weapon. <br />
<br />
To let something like anger control you is just like anything else that you allow to cloud judgement. Lashing out like a wounded, trapped animal is not acceptable, no matter how likely a reaction it is at times these days. We are not animals. And to allow our situation to attempt to form us into anything of the sort... I don't know. I wish it were so simple.<br />
<br />
It's hard to see the light try to fade from people as you struggle to stoke that fire. Not just our little group, but those beyond it. To not merely survive, but to <em>live</em>.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-56363968488556493202012-05-05T02:15:00.000-05:002012-05-05T02:15:40.703-05:00Sleep is for the weak and tiredI never knew where he went or how his afternoons were spent.<br />He said he had to slay a dragon, kill a giant, fix a wagon.<br />Wage a war, feed the world, and stamp out sin.<br />In the daytime he was never in.<br />
<br />
Thank you for you input, Jared. Utterly.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I almost find it a little amusing how each of us deals with our not wanting to sleep much. I nap. Little cat-naps every so often. Too long and you start to dream too much. Tia, she just keeps going until she utterly crashes. Usually a few days before having to sleep for most of a day, too exhausted to do anything else. Kailin? I actually haven't seen zer sleep much in general. At least not soundly. Jared... I haven't picked up on his patterns yet. Erratic behavior. <br />
<br />
Not exactly healthy. We try to get <em>enough</em> rest, though. Enough so that if something happens, we can at least make an attempt at dealing with it. <br />
<br />
It's been weird, getting used to having Jared around again. The last time I saw him was on that day in January, six years ago. When he made me promise to look after Marie. By that point, I already thought of her like the little sister I'd never have. And yes, maybe it's cruel of me to blame him for that. Wrong to blame him for being caught up in all of this. For getting me caught up in this.<br />
<br />
It's not fair to him.<br />
<br />
I know that. He was seventeen at the time. Most people don't exactly have the very best decision-making skills as a teenager. Especially Jared. <br />
<br />
We met through Doctor Chavez. Well, at his office. And as I've said, we made friends. Amusingly, yes, there <em>almost</em> was something between us, but well. I was fourteen at the time when we first met. It wasn't long after certain incidents... We would have been bad for each other, and we knew it. So we decided to be friends.<br /><br />Honestly, we didn't see much of each other in school. Jared... He was the class clown, to fall back on high school archetypes. I was me. Until Tia moved into town, he was one of the few friends I had at school, even if he was more the popular type. Unlike Tia, however, his tactics for helping me usually involved distracting whoever was messing with me at the time. Unless things got too bad.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, we didn't have too many classes together. <br /><br />The thing that bothers me the most is that his parents told us that he committed suicide a few days after I spoke with him that day in January. That he'd shot himself. The funeral was closed-casket. But obviously... Obviously he's still alive and kicking. <br /><br />Why would they cover that up? Heck, <em>how</em> would they cover that up? <br /><br />I feel sure he knows at least a bit, but I'm not sure if we'll ever know all the details, with his parents and Marie now dead. <span style="color: #444444; font-size: xx-small;">my fault</span><br />
<br />
As a closing note, with a little help, we've found someone for Tia to see. The kid's got a few connections, apparently. I'm painting still. Also, that girl's back. As are other... oddness. Guess things are getting back to "normal".FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-24232420523723933312012-05-01T15:16:00.000-05:002012-05-01T15:17:34.124-05:00Another note<span style="color: #76a5af;">Hey, babes.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">It's been pretty damn interesting, talking to the girls again for the first time in ever. Lis snuck a kick to my shin once Tia let her free the other night. Now, was that really fucking called for, sweetheart?</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Probably.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">I have to say, I was right about one thing. Lis cares too damn much, sometimes. Not gonna say that's always a bad thing, but when you're crying over what some asshole you've never met or talked to's bitch-fit of a blog post, it gets a little silly. Makes me want to wring his neck, which is idiotic in its own right.<br /><br />Yeah, I called you silly, babe. Got an issue with it? Let's go, then. Right, anyway.
Gotta be like a duck. Let the shit slide off your back. Duck in a rainstorm. Remember that, sweetie. Because it's a big-ass storm and we're just little things walking against the wind.<br /><br />Tia... Tia's numb and angry. Understandably. But we've been talking a bit. "Oh? You hit things? I hit things. Okay, let's be bros again." Heavy paraphrasing there. Of course it wasn't that simple. She's in a freaking territorial mood, even though she's the one who let me in the hotel room in the first place. Makes a lot of sense, babe.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Kailin, well now. First of all, no matter what zie says, I'm not wanting to tap that, no matter how nice you can look. Just clearing that up from the post zie did at the hospital. Not my type, anyway. You're a little too young for me, kid. Unless, well...</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Someone asked me what I've been up to, in that lat post's comments section. That ever-so-lovely-and-endearing Miss Amy. Now note, darling that I did not explicitly make any "demands". That would just be unpersonable of me. I was just meeting up with a few old school chums who are in a rough spot and needed some help. Yeah?<br /><br />Yeah. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">As to what I've been doing, I guess the easiest thing would be to say traveling. Since "glorified hobo" doesn't fit your needs. I'm pretty good at fitting people's needs, though. When I have to. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Honestly, running is less the way to describe what I've done. What people are really doing, when it's from something that can find you with whatever passes for a thought for it. It's better that waiting around with your thumb up your ass once you realize there's more out there, though. Well, I suppose people do run from the servitors thralls, pawns, proxies, whatever they call themselves at any given time.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">I'm not sure what would have happened If what happened to me if I had stayed home after I heard them talking that time. After seeing the void and it seeing me. If what happened with Marie is any clue, maybe I wasn't quite a target. At least not by mister squid-orgy in a three piece suit. Or maybe I was. Maybe it's cat and mouse and I was just a bargaining chip that went missing.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Bargaining is bullshit.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">But that's beside the point. What matters is the here and now, right? Exactly. Happy May Day, kids.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Peace out, Girl Scouts.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
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<br />Toppled Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15948089947623371495noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-14002522668178274312012-04-26T22:32:00.000-05:002012-04-26T22:32:29.068-05:00Good evening, sweethearts<br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Hey there, kids and kidettes. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Right, you don't know me, do you? Well, it doesn't really matter, I guess. You know the chicas on this blog, so that counts for something. Those anonymous emails Lis was getting were coming from somewhere, though.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">...</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Okay, I was rudely interrupted there. Seriously, who's been teaching the shrimp to ... Right. Tia. Fuckin' hot. Self-defense training, getting all sweaty and close together. Yum.</span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">I mean, there's nothing like the thrill of an "ex" tackling you on a bed and shoving a gun up under your chin, amirite? Phoowee... Never expected little Miss Lissie to get a temper. Ain't that Tia's job or something? I mean, not that it's not nice to see, her acting all fiery. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Tia had to drag her off of me. Now, I know it's kind of hard to resist sometimes, but that's no way to treat an old friend, is it? Especially one who's been sticking his neck out to drop some ideas in these pretty ladies' path. Yeah, that was me. Whoop-de-shit. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Right. A name. Names are kind of important, I guess. Jared's the name, and (insert cliche here) is the game. I'm just a drifter. A glorified hobo and someone who knows these chicas a bit. Hi. </span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #76a5af;">Lis is just a-fucking-fussing now. Quietly. I swear, I don't think the woman ever raises her voice. Even when she's saying she'll never forgive someone and so on. She'll forgive me. She always does. Tia's dealing with her right now, and I'm getting the stare-down from the kid. Nice to see him... her... Um. Yeah, anyway. Again. <br /><br />Glad they managed to use the diversion to get out of the hospital when they did, anyway. Yeah, hi... I'm the one that talked to the kidlet in the caf. Oooh~ Shocking, I know. Yeah, shit's been going down for a while.<br /><br />Hi there, Sheppy, you sheep-fucking darling, did you miss me? I know you did, baby.<br /><br />Peace out, Girl Scouts. </span><br />Toppled Knighthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15948089947623371495noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-33683955215166505052012-04-25T23:37:00.000-05:002012-04-25T23:37:14.914-05:00ContinuationAnd I demand<br /> You put my heart back in my hand<br /> And wipe it clean<br /> From the mess you made of me<br /> And I require<br /> You make me free from this desire<br /> And when you leave, I'd better be the innocent <br />I used to be<br />
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<br />The world is full of poets <br />We don't need anymore<br /> The world is full of singers<br /> We don't need anymore<br /> The world is full of lovers<br /> We don't need anymore<br />
<br />
Something I've been working on.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-14847073398244468502012-04-21T17:29:00.001-05:002012-04-21T17:29:56.570-05:00I Don't Think You All Quite Understood Me<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
I said these women are optimistic and saccharine. I meant... exactly that. They were expecting things to go wrong, I don't think they were expecting things to go <i>this</i> wrong. Or if they <i>had</i> accounted for this margin of error... then they were expecting to get out of it. To get lucky.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
We don't get lucky in this little world of ours.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
We just don't. We get the odds stacked against us and have to make due with that. We have to deal with tumbling issues and dying friends and aching deep sadnesses as we watch them fade into their end. As we contemplate if we caused this, if it's all our fault. <span style="color: #444444; font-size: xx-small;">(What am I saying? It's always my fault.)</span></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
Tia's still not talking. She's sad and scared and a little broken. I, personally, think we need to stop to visit a spirit healer on our way out and while Lis is up for anything and everything, Tia's a skeptic. It's also too fresh to heal. She wants to feel the ache more. But if anything, I know that we need to heal quickly or shit will never get done.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
Experience is a bitch. Then you die?</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
Is that even a remotely appropriate statement?</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
I think I'm just going to go... I've got more to say... but not right now. Not at all right now.</div>Mx. Multipleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04616758582380192376noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-69553966289362156732012-04-17T22:17:00.001-05:002012-04-17T22:18:15.523-05:00All That's Left is Rage<div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Realizing I shouldn't be out in public.<br />
I'm not fit for it.<br />
I don't socialize well right now.<br />
I'm not people friendly. I'm too busy yelling at the idiots.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">I shouldn't be driving either.<br />
Everything's a blur and I'm just so...<br />
So...<br />
So... pissed off.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">The fucker took my baby girl.<br />
The fucker took her.</span></div>Spazztastic Tiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01091610205551369776noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-75541452750343397692012-04-15T16:54:00.001-05:002012-04-15T16:55:43.099-05:00BreakingCan't deal with this right now. My brain is fracturing. Crumbling in places. Shore up the walls and keep moving. Have to stay strong for Tia and Kailin... Ha. Strong. Right. Bullshit. I've never been the strong one. I've just been the one who's good at lying to herself. <br />
<br />
Too much input, not enough output. Not enough output. Not enough output. <br />
<br />
<em>Day by day I'm here behind you </em><br />
<em>First I seek you, then I find you </em><br />
<em>Deep into the earth I grind you</em><br />
<br />
Time stands still here, the air is stagnant, and things are twisting. Tia's mobile, at least. I don't care, as soon as we get out of this, we're getting her discharged.People say that hope is a fruitless emotion. They insinuate that we should simply roll over, expose our throats and stomachs and wait for the moment to come, and hope it's quick. That or allow ourselvesto be twisted and molded, made playthings of what is supposedly fate. Some have no options, but somewhere along the line, there were Choices.<br />
<br />
<em>There's a vulture on my shoulder <br />
And he's telling me to give in <br />
Always hissing right in my ear <br />
Like it's coming from my own head <br />
It's got me mixed up <br />
Trying not to give up <br />
Tell me there's a way to get out of here <br />
Fixed at zero</em><br />
<br />
There's someone in here other than us.... I'm not sure who, but I've seen them. All the more reason to find a way out. It's odd, walking along the halls and looking for weak spots. <br />
<br />
Sometimes we come across tabelaux featuring people we've met so far. Friends. Loves. Names. Faces. Twisted and broken in ways I refuse to describe. I respect them too much to do so. Even if these are just shadows. That fact might even make it worse.<br />
<br />
I could have done more. Somehow. Useless, pointless, worthless, ineffectual little bitch. We will lose everything and gain nothing. This is but one branch on the tree.<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
... Tia's not going to be happy when she sees me saying things like that about myself. I just... It would be so easy to give in to the part of myself that says those things. To quit caring. To quit hurting. To quit loving. To be cold. To be empty. It sounds so tempting. Perhaps that's better than some of the other options.<br />
<br />
I told someone once that I didn't want to take the easy path, though. He told me he was "something like proud" of me for that. Heh. I've spoken with others about such thoughts. Heaven forbid I go back on such a thing now.<br />
<br />
The dominoes topple one by one. So few are left standing. Who will choose to help keep them standing? I wish. I wish I could do more. People hurting, preying on themselves and others. One side or another, it doesn't matter. Things will spiral away from the best-laid plans of all. The high and mighty, who believe themselves above such things, will topple just as the smallest of us has. No matter if they serve or do not. Humbleness is a virtue that would be well-recieved on the part of all.<br />
<br />
Too bad the vast majority seem to prefer pride and vainglory.<br />
<br />
I'm no saint. I'm no leader. I'm just an artist and a recluse. I will do what I can, though. I have people who rely on me. That's something. Right now, that's everything. A beacon, a path, a shining blade to cut through the shadows. I wish it were so simple.<br />
<br />
Found it.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-46804214719905400872012-04-14T10:23:00.000-05:002012-04-14T10:23:31.652-05:00Witty commentStill not sure of the time or the day. Funny, that. It's like, when I try to check on the laptop or my phone, my eyes just skid away from any numbers. <br />
<br />
<em>I know my blood runs hot, <br />
And I've seen my blood is thick <br />
I'm told my blood's not sweet, <br />
And I cry, "my soul is sick" </em><br />
<br />
Funny girl... We're on the move. It's eerie, the feeling of emptiness where there should be people. There are symbols scratched along the walls occasionally in this not-hospital. A certain symbol is absent, thankfully. Almost a week in the hospital or more. Yeah, more than a week we were there. This isn't the same place, though. <br />
<br />
When I went to check the hall where the squeaking was, I saw, of all things, Marie... Who is dead. At least, it looked like her. I know it wasn't, though. I don't know how, but I know it was just a figment of this place... Of course, the dissipating into laughing mist might have helped that assumption. <br />
<br />
The hospital grows more convoluted as we move, looking for a way out. Labyrinthine. Who is the Minotaur this time, and will we even see trace? Have to keep moving. The thing about true labyrinths is that they are not mazes. There is a path out.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-40371720339167434982012-04-13T09:47:00.000-05:002012-04-13T09:47:09.808-05:00Wheelchairs are evil.Seriously, have you ever noticed how often wheelchairs show up when something not quite "right" is about to happen? Wheelchairs are probably secretly planning the demise of us all. I won't be surprised if this is true, even if they <em>are </em>inanimate objects.<br />
<br />
I should clarify a little, I guess. Maybe they fit some symbolic niche within the collective unconscious human mind. Helplessness? Maybe, though I know at least some people confined to wheelchairs would protest that. Probably pretty vehemently.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Tia woke up. Almost amusingly, that's when things went to hell. There was a shift to the air as the colors started to fade. What day was it? What day <em>is</em> it? The last time I checked the calendar, it was the ninth or tenth, I think. The days have been running together here, even with everything.<br />
<br />
Right, back on topic. It's always disturbing to me when the colors go. I don't think most people quite <em>get</em> what I mean by that, not really. Imagine that you spend your life at least partially in a vivid swirl of things, shifting in the back of your mind, in the back of your eyes. No, that's not right. I... Have a hard time describing it with just words. These times, though... Everything is just gray. Maybe not literally, but that's how it seems to me. I think it's hard for people to grasp how much that shakes me.<br />
<br />
Things are thrown into such stark relief. The scratches on the baseboard. Patterns incomprehensible. Hello there, writing on the wall. No, I don't want to impart your words of wisdom to the dear readers, what there are of them. I will anyway.<br />
<br />
<em>It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a hospital that it should do the sick no harm.</em><br />
<br />
Someone has a sick sense of humor. No pun intended.<br />
<br />
But Tia's awake. That counts for something, right? I sound so... hollow. For once, in this, we're together. Kailin's still at the bedside, something having snapped zer out of a doze in the chair. Pity, really, zie hasn't been sleeping much at all. Those dark eyes are locked on the door, though. Tia's awake, but god, she looks so pale. <br />
<br />
There's a squeaking sound from the hall, and that's what triggered the thoughts on wheelchairs. The hospital didn't have any squeaky-rusty ones that I know of, though. But then, that assumes that this is anything normal. Even the squeaking is gray. <br />
<br />
I don't want to go look. But you know me... I ran toward the screams, not away. Sometimes you have to.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-82825027306983453062012-04-07T05:55:00.002-05:002012-04-07T17:59:20.106-05:00We Soldier On... Or SomethingMaybe I was trying to be nice about your attitude and demeanor, Kailin. <br />
<br />
They took Tia away yesterday. The doctors wouldn't tell us what exactly was wrong, but well... You saw what Kailin overheard. I was almost tempted to poke zer to nick Tia's chart. If nothing else, due to my job, I'm good at deciphering nurse's notes and stuff from doctors. <br />
<br />
We couldn't chance getting kicked out, though. Of course. So we just sat yesterday, and talked some. Kailin's definiely interesting to talk to sometimes. But then again, I commend anyone that can keep up with my nervous rambling.<br />
<br />
Essentially, due to the circumstances, they probably had to either induce labor or abort... It wouldn't even be counted as a miscarriage at this point. It'd just be count as a lost pregnancy. I just... This is wrong.<br />
<br />
I hate being unable to do anything. They brought back Tia last night... She's so pale, and she hasn't woken up yet. She seems more stable, though. Less shuddery and at least there's a few positive things there... She's just... asleep now. I talked one of the nurses into letting us stay in Tia's room again with her. If nothing else, it would be good to have someone in here in case she wakes up. <br />
<br />
I feel sure she's going to be disoriented when she wakes. Because she's going to wake up. <br />
<br />
...One of the nurses just said the doctor wants to speak with me when he comes in today. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. This is going to be hell on our funds, but at least we have stuff saved up still. It's worth it, anyway. I just wish... I wish things weren't this way. But then, don't we all?<br />
<br />
I've seen a few things around here that have put me on edge, but for now, my focus is Tia and Kailin and maintaining things as best I can. Everything seems to be trying to crumble, though. As always. And I've been making myself sick again. We'll manage, though. I don't know what else to say other than that right now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwULAwJzAmFt6Nb53QJenQXBDExhI_0ELyHMpMrtl0bFYLl4gzL-ejJ829CQI2JgFNtL7OJIobZOo2Zb-WkIijKekjUDX1bMPwGX_vZHfiiwbOwSyaEsBh1eKzd9zb8RqM7AQ7TC_Mubs/s1600/clash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhwULAwJzAmFt6Nb53QJenQXBDExhI_0ELyHMpMrtl0bFYLl4gzL-ejJ829CQI2JgFNtL7OJIobZOo2Zb-WkIijKekjUDX1bMPwGX_vZHfiiwbOwSyaEsBh1eKzd9zb8RqM7AQ7TC_Mubs/s320/clash.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-23036831146209700662012-04-06T04:27:00.000-05:002012-04-06T16:28:24.403-05:00Sleepless in the Waiting Room<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
I'm not sleeping. Chilled out is not the phrase that I would use for me, though Lis seems to think it appropriate (that's cute).</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
I did meet a guy in the caf last night. I think he had the hots for me. Totally drooling the whole time. Totally worthless. A waste of my time.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
Sarcasm. I have it.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
The doctor's are whispering things. They think no one can hear. They think we're asleep. They want to save Tia. Not the baby. It's too early on to save the baby. There's really no hope for it. Webbed toes and fingers and incomplete organs.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
And it's pretty much not going to make it. Too complex. Black blood everywhere. It's started to die in the womb. And it could kill Tia.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
I've said too much.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
Tia doesn't know.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
She's still K.O.</div>
<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">
<br /></div>
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Lucky me. First to know, and no way to fix the situation. </div>Mx. Multipleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04616758582380192376noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-50877675588014045142012-04-03T13:33:00.001-05:002012-04-03T23:21:37.681-05:00Hospital smell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXdlqejDl4xcmbQ0nxy4o3x-xv9HayFRvq4Qt4s_HNfttvl8bhYaL_db7AYwgHpcrqjPl-hZbMJpAEXseUjwK3wL0K5ap4ImX0-yF73fwCsNvEBi2ffwGCMW1hd2iqvp0eSGow9YhWKEt/s1600/blend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXdlqejDl4xcmbQ0nxy4o3x-xv9HayFRvq4Qt4s_HNfttvl8bhYaL_db7AYwgHpcrqjPl-hZbMJpAEXseUjwK3wL0K5ap4ImX0-yF73fwCsNvEBi2ffwGCMW1hd2iqvp0eSGow9YhWKEt/s320/blend.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><br />
Yeah, I've been painting still. It helps me stay calm. Kailin's chilled out a little. We can't leave right now, and it's been enough trouble as it is to convince the staff that they shouldn't just kick me and Kailin out, because we're "not family".<br />
<br />
...It's incredibly awkward to play the "I'm her girlfriend" card sometimes, even if it's true. Especially when you're not sure how people will react. <br />
<br />
Tia's still in and out. There's very little coherency to her right now, and the doctors... There's something they're not saying at the moment. Still. I hate when people hide things.<br />
<br />
I've honestly never been so... unnerved by a hospital, though. Maybe it's because of recent events. Maybe it's because I feel like I'm constantly being watched when I'm in the halls. Maybe it's because of that little girl I saw in the ER waiting room the other night with the dead, calculating eyes and the miswrought smile as her "father" fawned over her. Maybe it's the scratchings I see along the baseboards from the corner of my eye that aren't there when I look straight on.<br />
<br />
Or maybe that's just the lack of sleep talking and those were all waking-dreams. Kailin went to talk to... someone in the cafeteria last night. I know that much. Zie's not telling who it was at the moment,but I have a suspiscion. <br />
<br />
...I'm going to try to get a nap. I have to, or I'll be even more useless than usual.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-45798916748795776542012-04-02T14:41:00.000-05:002012-04-02T15:41:19.162-05:00Just Under the Weather...<div style="color: #9fc5e8;">Right. Just a little less then pretty. Of course. Everything's recoverable. We can make it through this shit. Of course we can. We always do. Nothing's really wrong so long as we don't acknowledge that anything's really wrong.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">...The mums' are the worst understaters of the goddamn century. Everyone should know that. If you were unaware, please make yourself aware now.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">I knew we were too quiet. I knew that It was closing in. That thing. That thing that brings down both the flood and the flame. It's been watching too long. Too long. And they were being too happy, thinking about the baby and names for Her. Because now we know. We know it's a she.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">Cecelia. That's the name I'm voting for.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">...I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm trying to let the mums' positive attitude rub off on me. I'm trying to learn new tricks. I'm not even close to old yet.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">But it's not working.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">We have to get out of this hospital. Tia's stuck. The doctors won't let her leave. There are complications. We're stuck hoping they'll work themselves out. And Tia's having fits.</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #9fc5e8;">She sees It. I see It. Lis feels It. It's everywhere. We have to go. Go before It takes something precious. I need a friend. But I haven't got a friend in the world I could call on.</div>Mx. Multipleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04616758582380192376noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-73078080015746860172012-04-01T18:22:00.000-05:002012-04-01T18:22:36.224-05:00Uhm... Right.Tia's not doing so well, and it's late enough that we haven't been able to find a clinic open nearby. We're going to the ER at the nearest hospital to get some things checked on. Everything should be fine. This is going to be hell on our funds, but it's worth it to try and keep everyone healthy. Right? Right. We'll manage. Definitely. <br />
<br />
... Stupid birthday. Stupid shadows. Go away. Go away.<em> Go away.</em> <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This is my fault.<br />
I... We'll be fine.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-24258163536876425712012-04-01T15:42:00.000-05:002012-04-01T15:42:27.214-05:00A Little Under the Weather<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Been less than stunning lately. Kind of catching up with me.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Don't worry, I'm sure everything's just fine. All in working order. Just kind of feeling shitty.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Birthday plans will have to be postponed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Sorry Lissie Love.</span>Spazztastic Tiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01091610205551369776noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-34601570453432823382012-04-01T06:53:00.000-05:002012-04-01T06:53:04.462-05:00HBDhappy birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me. Heh. Something like that. Can't really bring myself to look at it that way right now. I feel sure we'll do something later today.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4644118124504028258.post-83672642626057548732012-03-27T19:59:00.001-05:002012-03-27T19:59:00.092-05:00Silence on the Western frontNot really.<br />
<br />
People keep dying, kids keep getting stolen, life goes on, yeah? No. I've lost track of how things crumble. How my dreams fold and unfold, showing the lines and pathways and things I can't put to words. There's always more than one path to take, if you're able to take the steps and your eyes aren't blind to them.<br />
<br />
He was in the hotel this evening. The tall bastard. Just standing there. I was the only one awake for once (Yes, we have really weird sleep-schedules), and suddenly he was just <em>there.</em> Watching again, but as I watched him in return, he moved over to Tia's side of the bed, so silently, and shifted as though focusing on her. There was a long pause before a tendril of black coiled out and hovered over her. I couldn't make a sound. I tried. God, I tried. Everything was so gray and washed out.<br />
<br />
It just hovered there, over her stomach for a long moment before I was able to move, shifting my position to place myself between Him and her. There was a tilt to His head, and a shift to his stance as though looking toward the other bed, where Kailin was. <br />
<br />
The tendril moved at the same time, seeming to snag on my ponytail for a moment before Tia stirred. And then He was gone, and there was some confusion as to my position. Shielding her. <br />
<br />
...Did He honestly just pull my hair before leaving? I... This was a weird day. We'll be moving. Soon. For the sake of all four of us.FidgetyLissiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00627901534821194019noreply@blogger.com5