"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."
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.
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.
Funny how much things change in a year. Sometimes it takes the threat of death or worse for someone to start to live.
Showing posts with label ramble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ramble. Show all posts
Friday, July 13, 2012
Thursday, June 21, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Talk, Talk, Talk
So I have trust issues.
And I invited someone else to join the party.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.)
And that's that. I have no regrets. Except all of my regrets.
And I invited someone else to join the party.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.)
And that's that. I have no regrets. Except all of my regrets.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Iron Rose
Insularity 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.
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?
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?
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.
What little there is left of it, anyway.
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.
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.
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.
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 live.
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?
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?
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.
What little there is left of it, anyway.
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.
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.
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.
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 live.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Sleep is for the weak and tired
I never knew where he went or how his afternoons were spent.
He said he had to slay a dragon, kill a giant, fix a wagon.
Wage a war, feed the world, and stamp out sin.
In the daytime he was never in.
Thank you for you input, Jared. Utterly.
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.
Not exactly healthy. We try to get enough rest, though. Enough so that if something happens, we can at least make an attempt at dealing with it.
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.
It's not fair to him.
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.
We met through Doctor Chavez. Well, at his office. And as I've said, we made friends. Amusingly, yes, there almost 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.
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.
Unfortunately, we didn't have too many classes together.
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.
Why would they cover that up? Heck, how would they cover that up?
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. my fault
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".
He said he had to slay a dragon, kill a giant, fix a wagon.
Wage a war, feed the world, and stamp out sin.
In the daytime he was never in.
Thank you for you input, Jared. Utterly.
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.
Not exactly healthy. We try to get enough rest, though. Enough so that if something happens, we can at least make an attempt at dealing with it.
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.
It's not fair to him.
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.
We met through Doctor Chavez. Well, at his office. And as I've said, we made friends. Amusingly, yes, there almost 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.
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.
Unfortunately, we didn't have too many classes together.
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.
Why would they cover that up? Heck, how would they cover that up?
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. my fault
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".
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Doobley-doo
Sorry about the lack of posting lately, guys. We're still kicking around. It's been an odd month so far, though.
...I say that like it's not been an odd while at this point. Anyway, we've been working on the baby issue still. I know there's a high probability of something going wrong, but in the end, it's Tia's choice, as has already been said. Emphatically. Also, hormones are interesting, I'll give the human body that. Things are going... pretty reasonably in certain areas. I've been getting lots of hugs recently, for various reasons.
Kailin's still with us. Zie's not the most willing to talk about zer past, and honestly, I don't blame the kid. So we're focusing on the now and on the future, I guess. I can live with that. It's not my place to pry. Kailin will talk when zie feels like it.
Honestly, I'm just very... tired, recently. He's still around, as usual. Lurking. lurklurklurk. Sorry, anyway. Lurk is a funny word.
It's hard sometimes, to be this person who always forgives and turns the other cheek. Who is forever giving people new chances. It's not always easy being the person willing to welcome someone back with open arms time and time again. Just for them to hurt you and others. It would be so easy to be angry and react violently.
There are a few people who inspire such a reaction from me, but they are very rare and far-between.
The easy road isn't always the best road, though. Bitter, angry, vengeful, petty... Those are all easy. and if I give into them, then it's a victory. Not for me, certainly. But letting myself be changed in a negative light by the things around me.... Would stink.
I don't know.
I don't know anymore. It's just... God, I feel hollow right now. Like my insides have been nearly scraped clean and laid bare for all to see again and again.
I find it funny, when I get told by people "Oh, you guys do so good." Bah. Bah. We're hanging on by the skin of our teeth, most of the time.
Also, someone cut the gas line to the truck today. Hurray. Think it was the chick who's been following us. Still haven't been able to get a good enough view of her to be able to identifty her well. Fun.
We'll manage. We always do.
...I say that like it's not been an odd while at this point. Anyway, we've been working on the baby issue still. I know there's a high probability of something going wrong, but in the end, it's Tia's choice, as has already been said. Emphatically. Also, hormones are interesting, I'll give the human body that. Things are going... pretty reasonably in certain areas. I've been getting lots of hugs recently, for various reasons.
Kailin's still with us. Zie's not the most willing to talk about zer past, and honestly, I don't blame the kid. So we're focusing on the now and on the future, I guess. I can live with that. It's not my place to pry. Kailin will talk when zie feels like it.
Honestly, I'm just very... tired, recently. He's still around, as usual. Lurking. lurklurklurk. Sorry, anyway. Lurk is a funny word.
It's hard sometimes, to be this person who always forgives and turns the other cheek. Who is forever giving people new chances. It's not always easy being the person willing to welcome someone back with open arms time and time again. Just for them to hurt you and others. It would be so easy to be angry and react violently.
There are a few people who inspire such a reaction from me, but they are very rare and far-between.
The easy road isn't always the best road, though. Bitter, angry, vengeful, petty... Those are all easy. and if I give into them, then it's a victory. Not for me, certainly. But letting myself be changed in a negative light by the things around me.... Would stink.
I don't know.
I don't know anymore. It's just... God, I feel hollow right now. Like my insides have been nearly scraped clean and laid bare for all to see again and again.
I find it funny, when I get told by people "Oh, you guys do so good." Bah. Bah. We're hanging on by the skin of our teeth, most of the time.
Also, someone cut the gas line to the truck today. Hurray. Think it was the chick who's been following us. Still haven't been able to get a good enough view of her to be able to identifty her well. Fun.
We'll manage. We always do.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Yeah, anyway
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.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
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.)
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.)
Monday, February 6, 2012
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.
But yeah.
These women are weird. But I think they might be growing on me too.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Guilt
Things are never simple, huh? I'm sitting out here in the truck, waiting for Tia to come back out. We're at Blake's parents' place at the moment. She's inside...
Maybe not the safest move, but I'd let something slip. It's at least partially my fault, after all. I'f i'd just gotten theere sooner. If I'd just said something sooner. If. If. If.
Maybe it's arrogant to think I could've made a difference, but maybe I could've or maybe I'd have just made things worse, just like other times. It seems to happen more often than not, but... I could've done something, even if was wrong.
It keeps happening. How long until it's Tia's body?
No. Not going to think that way. But yeah, like I said, we decided that... Even though it's not the safest, I should probably stay outside. That whole "chronic inability to lie" thing might be a probelm in this. Heh... Probably a reasonable precaution, even if I've already been in a staring contest, of sorts. Come on, Tia... Hurry up.
Maybe not the safest move, but I'd let something slip. It's at least partially my fault, after all. I'f i'd just gotten theere sooner. If I'd just said something sooner. If. If. If.
Maybe it's arrogant to think I could've made a difference, but maybe I could've or maybe I'd have just made things worse, just like other times. It seems to happen more often than not, but... I could've done something, even if was wrong.
It keeps happening. How long until it's Tia's body?
No. Not going to think that way. But yeah, like I said, we decided that... Even though it's not the safest, I should probably stay outside. That whole "chronic inability to lie" thing might be a probelm in this. Heh... Probably a reasonable precaution, even if I've already been in a staring contest, of sorts. Come on, Tia... Hurry up.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Dreams, Dreaming, Dreamt
First, no, there hasn't been a test yet. Not enough time to be sure of accuracy, if the timing's what I'm pretty sure it is. Lovely.
Yeah, I've been dreaming again, and painting and drawing. Ya'll don't get to see those right now, though. My camera broke, and honestly, there are some things that don't bear seeing. Believe me, these don't.
Dreaming is always strange, yeah? Shadows on he horizon, becoming more distinct. But then, there's always been shadows on the horizon, they're just getting closer. Shadows have faces. Maybe it was easier when I couldn't identify the faces. Maybe it was easier when I didn't dream of people I've met and people I've never met dying or not dying. It's layered. Mutable. Things are changeable.
Sitting in a room as a teenager, talking to Doctor Sanchez. There's someone else there. I can't... I can't see. That's the weird part, because I always see, and I always remember. But this time, all I can tell is there's another person. It's like there's a gap in the dream, a place where the colors don't flow.
There are always colors, especially in dreams. It's weird, I know. Colors and imagey sorts of things, feelings. It's usually not a big thing, not worth mentioning, I guess it's a form of synesthesia, though it's been getting worse over the last few months. Especially when I'm on pain meds, it's not just distracting little things in the corner of my eye. That's part of why I've been trying to wean myself off of meds earlier than I "should" every time I get hurt. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm nutso. Well... That last part was a given.
Shadows. A teenager, hurt.Have to help. Can't... Can't tell a lot of things, but I hate this kind of dream. Where you're standing there, frozen, and you have to watch someone hurt or die. Can't change it... But you have to. Can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. Dark hair, dark eyes. Two people in one shell. Fire... Ugh. I have to... Things can be changed.
Right.
Yeah, I've been dreaming again, and painting and drawing. Ya'll don't get to see those right now, though. My camera broke, and honestly, there are some things that don't bear seeing. Believe me, these don't.
Dreaming is always strange, yeah? Shadows on he horizon, becoming more distinct. But then, there's always been shadows on the horizon, they're just getting closer. Shadows have faces. Maybe it was easier when I couldn't identify the faces. Maybe it was easier when I didn't dream of people I've met and people I've never met dying or not dying. It's layered. Mutable. Things are changeable.
Sitting in a room as a teenager, talking to Doctor Sanchez. There's someone else there. I can't... I can't see. That's the weird part, because I always see, and I always remember. But this time, all I can tell is there's another person. It's like there's a gap in the dream, a place where the colors don't flow.
There are always colors, especially in dreams. It's weird, I know. Colors and imagey sorts of things, feelings. It's usually not a big thing, not worth mentioning, I guess it's a form of synesthesia, though it's been getting worse over the last few months. Especially when I'm on pain meds, it's not just distracting little things in the corner of my eye. That's part of why I've been trying to wean myself off of meds earlier than I "should" every time I get hurt. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe I'm nutso. Well... That last part was a given.
Shadows. A teenager, hurt.Have to help. Can't... Can't tell a lot of things, but I hate this kind of dream. Where you're standing there, frozen, and you have to watch someone hurt or die. Can't change it... But you have to. Can't even tell if it's a boy or a girl. Dark hair, dark eyes. Two people in one shell. Fire... Ugh. I have to... Things can be changed.
Right.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
A Note
Shaun left on Monday. We were sad to see him go, but I get that he feels he needs the space. Email me or call any time, man. We're moving on again.
Tia's still pretty quiet, but despite Sheppy-boy's post, she's a little better. Smiling a little easier.
Also:
Not that anyone's going to read this or even gives a care what I have to say, but since it's apparently International Jump on Elaine Logan's Case Week (Or so)
(Paraphrased from an email I sent her in response to all of this)
1.Elaine has never been anything but kind to me. That's got to count for something, because I'm not the most social sort. a
2. She does try to have at least some people's best interest in mind (though rarely fully her own) which is more than I can say for many of the people I've read about in these situations, much less met.
3. Yes, she has her rough edges, and can be, as some might say, a "bitch" to outsiders, to the people she does let in, she can be one of the most caring, loving, loyal (many might say stupidly so) people I have ever met.
4. She is trying to atone for her past. That is one of the of the hugest things to me. She wants to make things better, and she acts on it rather than sitting around with her thumb up hrr butt. She knows that she will never find personal retribution, and so she does what you can to fight for what you can grasp, what she can do to help others.
5.Yes, she screwed up and made bad decisions. She screwed up big time, she has hurt others, many others, but she is trying to fight past that. Maybe people will eventually try to forgive her or convince her that they do, but she's not going to forgive herself. She's beating herself up over things plenty without any help.
I could also go into the subject of bullies who kick people when they're down, but honestly, Gargoyle's not worth the time or energy.
None of us are perfect, so what right have we to judge, anyway?
Tia's still pretty quiet, but despite Sheppy-boy's post, she's a little better. Smiling a little easier.
Also:
Not that anyone's going to read this or even gives a care what I have to say, but since it's apparently International Jump on Elaine Logan's Case Week (Or so)
(Paraphrased from an email I sent her in response to all of this)
1.Elaine has never been anything but kind to me. That's got to count for something, because I'm not the most social sort. a
2. She does try to have at least some people's best interest in mind (though rarely fully her own) which is more than I can say for many of the people I've read about in these situations, much less met.
3. Yes, she has her rough edges, and can be, as some might say, a "bitch" to outsiders, to the people she does let in, she can be one of the most caring, loving, loyal (many might say stupidly so) people I have ever met.
4. She is trying to atone for her past. That is one of the of the hugest things to me. She wants to make things better, and she acts on it rather than sitting around with her thumb up hrr butt. She knows that she will never find personal retribution, and so she does what you can to fight for what you can grasp, what she can do to help others.
5.Yes, she screwed up and made bad decisions. She screwed up big time, she has hurt others, many others, but she is trying to fight past that. Maybe people will eventually try to forgive her or convince her that they do, but she's not going to forgive herself. She's beating herself up over things plenty without any help.
I could also go into the subject of bullies who kick people when they're down, but honestly, Gargoyle's not worth the time or energy.
None of us are perfect, so what right have we to judge, anyway?
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Words, Words, Words...
Words are fucking hard sometimes.
I broke him. I feel like... maybe, maybe, maybe there was something I could have done to stop this from happening. Ages and ages and eras and eras back. Responsible. I was cold and cruel and mean and I couldn't have just given him a little more. Just a little more maybe. Maybe then he'd be okay. Well and alive and okay.
I can dream. Dreams are silly though.
There's this ache... it comes up between the moments where Lissie is holding me together and Shaun plays some comfort song to keep me from hiding myself entirely. It's guilt. I know the thing for what it is. And it is guilt. It's nauseating. It never goes away. And I think I deserve it.
Between the moments where Lis has her hand on mine to remind me that I am not alone and I am no longer bound and the moments where Shaun gives his sage-words of true comfort and sympathy... I retreat. Back to that moment. Could I have changed it? If I had been less petrified and thrown and betrayed and hurt... if I could've gotten a handle on my emotions, could all this damn ache have been avoided? I'm normally better than that. I keep my composure. I hate weapons.
Seems terribly selfish. My primary motiive. Make my own aching stop. I've never been to great at giving. Or getting. Where does that even put me on the social scale of givers and getters? Puts me in the 'I don't like people, not really at all, leave me alone because it's just easier that way' category. Where does that even fit into the spectrum? It doesn't. It's an outlier.
Ah yes. There I am. An outlier. A product of my own making. A societal freak of nature. Unwilling to receive or give trust.
I am fighting my own nature. Moment by moment I am fighting it. I want to go back, years and years back when it was so, so, so, so terribly much easier. Back, way back... to right about 8 years old. When I could trust and it was easy. When mom would tell me "Dad will be home in 136 more days," and I believed her. I believed her because she was my mother and I trusted her and trust was easy and not impossible. I believed her when she told me her Tiana was the sweetest, most beautiful, kind and caring little girl she had ever met. I believed her because she was my mother and these things were still true.
I was kind.
I was sweet.
I was caring.
Beauty was inside and out.
I have learned bad habits as I've grown up. I've grown out of childhood niavety, but I wish I hadn't. I wish I was still beautifully unmarred by the coldness of the world and the reality of the situation and the cynicism. So much cynicism. I wish that I could be childlike in my worldview, but adult enough to know the value of that worldview. Unfortunately I am only the latter. I drift in and out. Between hoping and wishing there's still that ache. And I know the world is not the place my childlike perception would have had it.
I am not 8 years old and I am not blessed with a kind, caring, trusting heart. And I am here. He's not. Won't be. Ever.
I'd never killed anyone before. And I trusted him. Myself. Us. So well.
My nature says retreat further Tia. Reatreat and shut them all off. Just keep them out. It will be safer for them. Safer for you. Because you don't like people and what could they possibly like about you? People are changeable, malleable, untrustworthy things Tia: reject them all.
I can't do that though. That's not fair. Not to Lissie nor Shaun nor the comforts they provide me. They're not people I tell my nature. I don't have to like or trust people, but these two are not people. They are worthy of my trust. They are not people, my cruel nature, they are my friends. I won't retreat. Not from them. They deserve better, so I will give them better.
I broke him. I feel like... maybe, maybe, maybe there was something I could have done to stop this from happening. Ages and ages and eras and eras back. Responsible. I was cold and cruel and mean and I couldn't have just given him a little more. Just a little more maybe. Maybe then he'd be okay. Well and alive and okay.
I can dream. Dreams are silly though.
There's this ache... it comes up between the moments where Lissie is holding me together and Shaun plays some comfort song to keep me from hiding myself entirely. It's guilt. I know the thing for what it is. And it is guilt. It's nauseating. It never goes away. And I think I deserve it.
Between the moments where Lis has her hand on mine to remind me that I am not alone and I am no longer bound and the moments where Shaun gives his sage-words of true comfort and sympathy... I retreat. Back to that moment. Could I have changed it? If I had been less petrified and thrown and betrayed and hurt... if I could've gotten a handle on my emotions, could all this damn ache have been avoided? I'm normally better than that. I keep my composure. I hate weapons.
Seems terribly selfish. My primary motiive. Make my own aching stop. I've never been to great at giving. Or getting. Where does that even put me on the social scale of givers and getters? Puts me in the 'I don't like people, not really at all, leave me alone because it's just easier that way' category. Where does that even fit into the spectrum? It doesn't. It's an outlier.
Ah yes. There I am. An outlier. A product of my own making. A societal freak of nature. Unwilling to receive or give trust.
I am fighting my own nature. Moment by moment I am fighting it. I want to go back, years and years back when it was so, so, so, so terribly much easier. Back, way back... to right about 8 years old. When I could trust and it was easy. When mom would tell me "Dad will be home in 136 more days," and I believed her. I believed her because she was my mother and I trusted her and trust was easy and not impossible. I believed her when she told me her Tiana was the sweetest, most beautiful, kind and caring little girl she had ever met. I believed her because she was my mother and these things were still true.
I was kind.
I was sweet.
I was caring.
Beauty was inside and out.
I have learned bad habits as I've grown up. I've grown out of childhood niavety, but I wish I hadn't. I wish I was still beautifully unmarred by the coldness of the world and the reality of the situation and the cynicism. So much cynicism. I wish that I could be childlike in my worldview, but adult enough to know the value of that worldview. Unfortunately I am only the latter. I drift in and out. Between hoping and wishing there's still that ache. And I know the world is not the place my childlike perception would have had it.
I am not 8 years old and I am not blessed with a kind, caring, trusting heart. And I am here. He's not. Won't be. Ever.
I'd never killed anyone before. And I trusted him. Myself. Us. So well.
My nature says retreat further Tia. Reatreat and shut them all off. Just keep them out. It will be safer for them. Safer for you. Because you don't like people and what could they possibly like about you? People are changeable, malleable, untrustworthy things Tia: reject them all.
I can't do that though. That's not fair. Not to Lissie nor Shaun nor the comforts they provide me. They're not people I tell my nature. I don't have to like or trust people, but these two are not people. They are worthy of my trust. They are not people, my cruel nature, they are my friends. I won't retreat. Not from them. They deserve better, so I will give them better.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Merry Merry merry
But I really tried so hard
That echo chorus lied to me with its
"Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
He took her. He kidnapped Tia and stole my truck, stranding me and Shaun at the hotel. In the snow. No. Nononono.
Music. Breathe.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell.
We know that it's probably magic.
Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
See, the thing is, Blake, sweetie, you want to protect her? You want to steal her away and keep her locked up to keep her safe because you love her? It doesn't work that way, buddy-boy, if it's against her will. You are not the dashing prince in this story, sweeping back in after going missing, to save the princess. You are, if anything, the witch keeping her in a tower. You made a mistake, turning her into the damsel in your head. But you know what? You want to play Ladderlocks, that's fine. Let's play pretend. Just keep in mind what happens to the prince, my dear. And I don't think her tears will heal you in this story. You've got worse things to worry about than anything else that might be coming out of the dark after you... If things haven't gone a certain way before I even get there. I'll probably regret saying this within ten or fifteen minutes of posting it anyway. I regret lots of things. Heh. I don't want you dead, don't worry. I just want you incapacitated. I want you incapacitated a lot. This is not something you do to someone you claim to love. This is not something you do to my best friend.
For life is quite absurd
and death's the final word.
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin.
Give the audience a grin.
Enjoy it. It's your last chance, anyhow.
She shouldn't have to make this choice. You have no right. Neither of you have any right to do this to her. Why? Why them? Why anyone? How much do people have to hurt and suffer? Shepherd, you're a dead man. No matter how long it takes, even if I have to go down, too. The second you touched them, you were dead. This is not a game, and even if it were, you are not the one controlling the pieces, sweetie. You never have been. You like to play pretend, though. That much, I've seen. You like to pretend that you're in control and manipulating things yourself. You make me laugh. Oh look, bravado. This should be amusing. Bit late for that though, isn't it? No. No, because you want me to want you dead. You want me to want to hurt you. I... No. Nothing doing. I
Sing for the bartender, sing for the janitor, sing
Sing for the cameras, sing for the animals, sing
Sing for the children shooting the children, sing
Sing for the teachers who told you that you couldn't sing
Just sing
focus
Focus
FOCUS
Need to do something. Breathing is a good start.
...Have a very Merry Christmas, everyone. I know mine will be memorable.
watching me. watching me. watching me.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
The Battle with the Heart isn't Easily Won
Falling out of love is hard business. Especially when you're - you know - the hard battle girl. Yeah. It's not something that's easy to talk about, but I think I need to. Even if I'm the one that did the breaking it off bit. There's still all those little bits of feeling that can't be left to linger.
You have to deal with them one at a time, slowly. Pay them all the same amount of attention - they deserve that much at least. They all have the same heavy weight of meaning. The candle you burned on your anniversary, the silver spoon you passed back and forth when you ate ice cream from that ornate glass bowl his mother gave you, the songs you used to sing together on long drives, the favorite movie quotes you used to pass back and forth at the drop of a hat - just because you could. You have to accept that these things still exist - but they don't mean what they did before. You have to put the spoon aside and give the songs new meaning and maybe throw the candle away.
There's more than just those physical things though. There's still those little things that confused strangers most, the not so obvious things. Like the way you would dance with him on the subways to no music but the music in your head. And that was good enough at the time. Or there's that little subtle glance that tells him he needs to kiss you right then, or the poke at his side that's a reminder for him to sit up straight. And that was good enough at the time. The way you knew what the other would get at a restaurant before they even verbalized it, and that was more than good enough.
After you've been with someone for so long... you start to build your life around them. You know them better than you know yourself - so it would seem sometimes. You feel the way they feel and know instantly when something's off and you start to have a rhythm. Normal sex on Mondays and Fridays, Wednesdays are kinky experiment night. Saturdays and Sundays you visit friends and family, and Tuesdays and Thursdays are your maybe if you're not too tired tonight nights. Of course, the pattern extends beyond bedroom schedule, it goes so far as Tuesdays you wake up early to make breakfast special, on Fridays you go out with him someplace you've never been before - maybe it's a museum or maybe it's just a different part of town or maybe it's just a tree you've never paid attention to in the park you frequent.
It's all... built for you. You don't actively realize when you do it. But it's you make this life for you and he and you both fall into it so comfortably that nothing could possibly be bad with it. You get comfortable. I got comfortable. Comfortable is a scary place to be - don't let happy people and romantic comedies fool you. Comfortable is the worst place you can be in a relationship sometimes.
It was good for us - the unexpected move. It took us out of pattern and comfort. Don't let Lissie tell you otherwise. Don't let Blake fool you with his bitterness. It was something that changed our habits just enough to keep us from being that perfect couple. No one wants to be that perfect couple, no matter how idealized it is. It gave me hope.
...having it end was something I would not have seen coming. No matter how prepared I claimed to be.
Was I prepared? Not at all. It's too late for that now. Now it's over. Now I'm at the point where I have to stop rambling and accept that not all is well and as it was. I have to accept that Wednesday will no longer involve discovering something new about leather and skin, Saturday is no longer about having lunch with his mom or mine, and dances on the subway will never happen with him again.
Falling out of love isn't all about ending it with him. It's about... it's about discovering yourself without him again. It's answering the question "what are you unattached?" It's knowing you'll survive.
You have to deal with them one at a time, slowly. Pay them all the same amount of attention - they deserve that much at least. They all have the same heavy weight of meaning. The candle you burned on your anniversary, the silver spoon you passed back and forth when you ate ice cream from that ornate glass bowl his mother gave you, the songs you used to sing together on long drives, the favorite movie quotes you used to pass back and forth at the drop of a hat - just because you could. You have to accept that these things still exist - but they don't mean what they did before. You have to put the spoon aside and give the songs new meaning and maybe throw the candle away.
There's more than just those physical things though. There's still those little things that confused strangers most, the not so obvious things. Like the way you would dance with him on the subways to no music but the music in your head. And that was good enough at the time. Or there's that little subtle glance that tells him he needs to kiss you right then, or the poke at his side that's a reminder for him to sit up straight. And that was good enough at the time. The way you knew what the other would get at a restaurant before they even verbalized it, and that was more than good enough.
After you've been with someone for so long... you start to build your life around them. You know them better than you know yourself - so it would seem sometimes. You feel the way they feel and know instantly when something's off and you start to have a rhythm. Normal sex on Mondays and Fridays, Wednesdays are kinky experiment night. Saturdays and Sundays you visit friends and family, and Tuesdays and Thursdays are your maybe if you're not too tired tonight nights. Of course, the pattern extends beyond bedroom schedule, it goes so far as Tuesdays you wake up early to make breakfast special, on Fridays you go out with him someplace you've never been before - maybe it's a museum or maybe it's just a different part of town or maybe it's just a tree you've never paid attention to in the park you frequent.
It's all... built for you. You don't actively realize when you do it. But it's you make this life for you and he and you both fall into it so comfortably that nothing could possibly be bad with it. You get comfortable. I got comfortable. Comfortable is a scary place to be - don't let happy people and romantic comedies fool you. Comfortable is the worst place you can be in a relationship sometimes.
It was good for us - the unexpected move. It took us out of pattern and comfort. Don't let Lissie tell you otherwise. Don't let Blake fool you with his bitterness. It was something that changed our habits just enough to keep us from being that perfect couple. No one wants to be that perfect couple, no matter how idealized it is. It gave me hope.
...having it end was something I would not have seen coming. No matter how prepared I claimed to be.
Was I prepared? Not at all. It's too late for that now. Now it's over. Now I'm at the point where I have to stop rambling and accept that not all is well and as it was. I have to accept that Wednesday will no longer involve discovering something new about leather and skin, Saturday is no longer about having lunch with his mom or mine, and dances on the subway will never happen with him again.
Falling out of love isn't all about ending it with him. It's about... it's about discovering yourself without him again. It's answering the question "what are you unattached?" It's knowing you'll survive.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Happiness
Happiness. It seems like such an intangible thing these days. With all the deaths and pains and everything else, one must wonder where such a concept would come from right now, and why.
It is simple. There are no "happy ever afters". None. I mean look at it, stepsisters slicing off toes to fit into glass slippers and little girls cutting their way out of wolves' bellies. Happily ever after doesn't come cheap, that's for sure, even if it does exist.
Now, I hear you asking, since when did Lis become such a pessimist? I'm not one. I am a realist. Despite everything, despite my seeming naivete, I am a realist. Despite my opening myself to people and letting myself get hurt, and seeming to trust overmuch, I am a realist. Despite wanting to take away the pain of the world at times, I am a realist. I take risks as they are needed and despite the words of others, expect nothing in the way of positive or negative return.
No, the reason I say this is that "happy ever after" is a static concept. Happiness is not static. It is something that you have to strive for every day of your life. Through darkness and pain and hopelessness and even, at times, loss. Things can get so very dark, but you keep fighting, because that's all you have left.
The events of the last month or so are what led me to think about this, I guess. I mean, it's probably stupid and not very well thought-out, but I kind of wanted to write it down for everyone to see. Even if only to point and laugh at it.
We hit Washington state last night, and reached our destination. We're set up for the moment at a hotel, and it's actually been pretty interesting. It's so cold up here! Oh my gosh! How do people live up here for years? Call me a snowbird and a wimp. Well, it's not snowing here yet, at least. I'm kind of glad of that. Snow is shenanigans.
It is simple. There are no "happy ever afters". None. I mean look at it, stepsisters slicing off toes to fit into glass slippers and little girls cutting their way out of wolves' bellies. Happily ever after doesn't come cheap, that's for sure, even if it does exist.
Now, I hear you asking, since when did Lis become such a pessimist? I'm not one. I am a realist. Despite everything, despite my seeming naivete, I am a realist. Despite my opening myself to people and letting myself get hurt, and seeming to trust overmuch, I am a realist. Despite wanting to take away the pain of the world at times, I am a realist. I take risks as they are needed and despite the words of others, expect nothing in the way of positive or negative return.
No, the reason I say this is that "happy ever after" is a static concept. Happiness is not static. It is something that you have to strive for every day of your life. Through darkness and pain and hopelessness and even, at times, loss. Things can get so very dark, but you keep fighting, because that's all you have left.
The events of the last month or so are what led me to think about this, I guess. I mean, it's probably stupid and not very well thought-out, but I kind of wanted to write it down for everyone to see. Even if only to point and laugh at it.
We hit Washington state last night, and reached our destination. We're set up for the moment at a hotel, and it's actually been pretty interesting. It's so cold up here! Oh my gosh! How do people live up here for years? Call me a snowbird and a wimp. Well, it's not snowing here yet, at least. I'm kind of glad of that. Snow is shenanigans.
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