Radio Silence

We exist. We're not dead. Funny, that. It's been an interesting little time, playing the game that isn't a game.
This is not a game.
This is not a game.
This is not a game.
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.

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.

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.

An uninterrupted sleep is rare and valuable commodity.

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?

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.

Hopefully, we'll be posting a bit more, soon. Things have been hectic recently, working on things.

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.

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.

Guess who showed up?

Shaun met up with us today. I've been talking to him a bit, and since he was apparently getting restless at Bondie's I figured I'd invite him to spend Christmas and maybe a little time after with us. I didn't want him spending the holidays streeting it, especially this far north, so yeah. Here we are. It's nice to see him again, and Tia definitely agrees.

I'm getting a few things ready for tomorrow. It's been a while since I've had much to look forward to on Christmas. Crossing my fingers that I can allow myself to now, even with everything.

Firewood and Christmas Lights

It's cold here, Lissie told no lies. It's a bit chilly. I might be understating. I might have woken up to see snow lining our window. It's quite lovely. Lissie thinks it's... "shenanagins." I'm not going to complain, however. I like getting in snowball fights with strangers young and old. I like making snowmen and snowangels and the snow sculptors who emerge early on these mornings.
So out I went.
Played I did.
Dragged Lissie along kicking and screaming (I kid, she only protested so much. Giving her cocoa lightened her mood by miles).
Despite the cold on my nose and the chill on my cheeks, there was that smell of warmth in the air. Like firewood for the chimney and the charcoal the wood will inevitably become. The smell of freshed cooked meals and cinnamon in your cocoa and ginger in your cookies. It smelled warm.
The friendliness of christmas wasn't just trees in the windows and lights on the houses. It was there too, but it was in the hellos and the friendly waves and the red sweaters and the scarves wrapped twice around your neck for extra warmth. It was everywhere, just like Lissie's said. It was in the snowflake that fell just on the tip of my tongue and melted away. Fresh and cool and welcoming.
We're doing well, we're doing surprisingly well. Even if the snow's melted by now - it'll be back later. So will we. Promise. Even in all the dark on the outside, right now we've got ourselve protected with Christmas lights and firewood. We're doing just fine.

I warned you never trust those elves!

Very much to his disliking,
Santa spends all night hitch-hiking.
With a sign that reads, "Ho ho slow down,"
Santa Claus is thumbing to town.

Every car just drove right past him,
And sped right out of sight.
Santa never got to ask them
To drive around the world in just one night.

It's weird that even here, all the way across the country from the place I've called home for years, with a sense of foreboding always present, in a hotel surrounded by strangers, even here it's starting to feel like Christmas. I've been doing some baking to keep myself occupied and distracted, and it's been... nice. At least here.

Sure, as I've said, there's always that presence, that need to look over your shoulder because there's something there. But you can't let that cripple you. I've been sick as a dog over the last few days, which really is not fun with still-healing ribs. I'm dealing with it and Tia's been looking after me, though.

 It's funny, these moments where things honestly feel almost normal. You can't revel in those moments for long, of course. Complacency is an enemy just as much as anything tangible is.  But you treasure these moments. You treasure them, and when things are dark, you look back on them. You look back on them and say: "Oh, that's why. That's why I'm persevering."

It's been oh gosh, six or so years since the last time Tia and I spent Christmas together. It's funny, being around someone who you don't even really have to talk to make things work. It's just comfortable. We know eachother and it just meshes sometimes. There's been christmas songs playing off and on in the hotel room we're staying in. Not complacency, just making the most of the moments we have.

I've been fretting over people, of course. I always do. It seems to be my normal mode of being. Worrying over people I've both met, and people I've never even gotten the nerve to speak to. That's always going to be an issue, I think. No matter what, I'm just... shy and feel like I can offer nothing of value to people's situations.

Then there's the dreams. They're more of the same, really. Nothing that most people wouldn't expect, given the situation, I guess. They've just gotten worse due to the meds, maybe. While I really dislike the meds I'm on, they do make matters easier, and it gives Tia one less thing to worry about.

Anyway, I have to figure out how to do Chritmas shopping for people that I have no idea of their locations or if my own location will be steady. Mrf.

Storms

It's been.... nice, since Tia showed up, which probably means things are going to go down the shitter on one level or another fairly soon.
But anyway, it's just calmer here with someone other than just Lis and her huge mood-swings.
At least her manicness is directed toward a productive source, though she's said that of course she could never attempt to sell any of the paintings that are currently piling up in her studio room.
Blake's cute, by the way....
I know, I know.
Creepy.
He's taken, and in his twenties.
But hey, I'm allowed to notice, just like I'm allowed to notice a few other things.


Apparently, I went missing for about thirty minutes earlier, and freaked everyone out a bit.
I remember going out to the utility room, looking out of the window of the back door, and then suddenly I was sitting in the grass in the back yard and it was raining.
I didn't have any blood on me or anything creepifying like that, and I doubt anything happened, either way.
Elisa's worried, of course.
She's back on the research thing, looking up "missing time" and such.
Tia and Blake are apparently still a bit skeptical, but Tia, at least, is humoring her.
I still think she should write up some of the things she's compiled for people to read, but she says it's just collected thoughts on different stories she's read on blogs and such, and not anything really original.
Anyway, I should go.
The thunder's really getting to me, and I'm having a little trouble typing properly.

-Marie

Hey

Tell me no more stories
And I'll tell you no lies
No one wants to hurt me
But everybody tries


Apparently I caused a little worry by my refusal to eat for the last few days. Believe me, if anyone can afford to go a few days without, it's me. I just couldn't keep anything but water and fruit juice down. I've forced myself to eat a little, though. Staying hydrated will only do you for so long. Probably not going to be eating much for a while, though. Everything tastes like I took the blowtorch to it for about an hour, but I need to keep my energy up, especially since I've been having trouble sleeping.

Other than that, I've just been painting still. I'm almost out of some colors, but I'll make do. It's funny how being in a bad situation can cause those disposed toward artistic endeavors to produce what some may call their finest work. What some might call their swan song. After all, the only really lucrative artist is a dead artist or a crazy artist. You can see where I'm going here.

I've quit my job at the thrift store. Sure, not giving a two weeks is going to look bad, but balls to it. I've got my main job to fall back on, and I don't have to leave Marie alone to do that. I knew going for that medical transcriptionist certification first was a good idea. Tia's still getting her ducks in a row, apparently.

I've been working on focusing on positive things, and it's been mostly quiet here for the last few days, other than some really messed up dreams that I don't feel like recording right now. Insomnia has become my friend again. I'm not taking much comfort in that fact, though.  Everything has its upswing and downswing.

It's been interesting, gathering and comparing different reports of these incidents, though. Someone could write a freaking thesis on this junk, not that anyone in the know would want to, unless it was... Never mind, that's a bad idea. Ignore that. I'm just going to go back to painting and cataloging things. God, I'm a nerd. I mean, really? A thesis? And the idea of doing a sociological paper on Runners as a subculture. Wow.

Rain

It's raining again, and Hoodie-face was out there. He was pointing toward the woods around the property line emphatically, like he saw me at the window. Still too far away to get a good lock on his features. He had them, though, and was even on the slightly stocky side. That's always a plus.

I retreated to the hallway with my laptop to read. I almost hope this dude ends up with heat stroke. I mean, really? A hoodie and jeans in 90+ degree weather?  I could call the cops on him, but he hasn't set foot over the property line, from what I've seen.  He's just kind of hovered around some. Hm.

Take it slow

All clear on the western front. I managed to get a few hours of sleep last night, and got up at a reasonable hour. Everything is fine. I spoke with Dr. Chavez this morning, and he said I should work on writing some personal stuff here as well as current events and things going on in the cuckoo's nest. So Ooooooh, infodump because I don't like retreading the past sometimes. Especially certain parts.

I'm not sure what he wants, but he seems to think that this blogging will help with my anxiety issues. (Fat lot of good that's done so far.) For the maybe three or four people reading this, yes, I'm a little cracked. If you know me and have read my earlier posts, you'd know that already. Generalized anxiety disorder and Social anxiety disorder are my major malfunctions, along with low self-esteem and lack of self-preservation at times. Oh, I'm not suicidal, not by a longshot. Not after making myself research the multitude of ways suicide attempts can go wrong and leave you far worse off than you ever thought about being in the first place. I've managed to make it this far though stubbornness and finding help when I needed it. Being the kid of someone with bi-polar, I've always been fairly aware of when something's up with my mental state.

As to family, the majority of the people who read this, being Tia and Marie, know what's up there. I was an only child, though my mother did get pregnant again. I was in high school at the time. After that, my parents got divorced. I haven't heard from dad in at least five years. I'm not sure why he refuses to contact me or return any attempts at contacting him, especially after the wreck. That's where we... I lost mom. Happy, Doc? You know I hate talking about that. So are you happy? Hm, progress?

Sorry. Sorry. Getting belligerent over the past on a stupid blog isn't going to help matters. I know I need to deal with things better and that bottling things up isn't going to help me in the long run. I do know that she wouldn't want me getting depressive again, anyway. Not after high school. I'm not going to talk about them much beyond this point, hopefully. Except for good things, if they apply to whatever I'm writing.

Anyway, the little house I've always lived in is where I am now, with Marie as a roomie currently. I work at a junk shop in town as well as some work from home to make ends meet. Not the most classy of lives, but I manage. I kind of have to.

I'm single. Completely and utterly single. I'm twenty-three and I've been on one date in my life. That ended with me trying to hide behind a book because I was simply that nervous.

Might seem a bit abrupt, but he was talking about it and I just figured I'd try to get this out while my head was clear and I wasn't trying to work on something else. I don't know why, but I've been completely ADD when it comes to projects recently. I do hope this post was personal enough for you, Doc. Because I broached a lot of subjects you know I don't like airing out, especially in public. Also, what if eventually I don't want this to be part of our stuff anymore? At that point, you'll stop reading, right?

On another note, I keep thinking I see Hoodie McStalkerpants again. That's it, I'm stocking up on some stuff this weekend, just in case.

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