One of Many

Unwavering.

2006-11-14T23:40:00.000-08:00

I saw it approaching weeks ago. Perhaps months ago, even. I am losing everything. Part of me ceases to care and instead looks upon this with sublime resignation and perhaps relief. If there is nothing that can be done, then I feel less at fault for doing nothing about it.

There is a small, detached part of me that oftentimes lies dormant. I scarcely realize I hold it within. Some might think of it as the antithesis of the fight-or-flight response. I sense it only when I feel that there is nothing in my control any longer, and I feel it now. Between negotiations, Aquilin, the Gate, caring for the small ones, rebuffing Malcolm, keeping a constant eye on our internal security and the trivial, day-to-day issues that arise, I also must contend with the Outside, and the additional dangers confronting us there. Work, school, trying to maintain the act. It was easier when the Host was unaware; things occured and there were no explanations needed. Now she wishes to not only know everything that occurs, but the reasons behind it, and she has even requested to be made a part of the decision-making process. I find that wholly unrealistic.

In the meantime, I sense other things that may prove problematic. I hesitate to speak of them as often my paranoia speaks without reason. I will wait, and watch, and react if need be.

Lo rivettè nam kuidas ne çiisó olanno. Neve nai sirnè bejsce ilanen sante kuidas? Lo matte. Nai sirnó isanta, nai penttù sorenni, piro kesen nai bisjè retuin, sonaese.

Something incredibly familiar.

2006-11-12T21:04:00.000-08:00

I believe I have posted this once before, perhaps, as it seems more familiar than it should. I am uncertain why I feel this way; in my heart I know the truth, and yet seeing it plainly leaves me with a sense of surprise even now.

None of us are entirely certain the religion fed to us at the young age. It seems less one religion, and more a smooth mixture of several. It appears that many were studied, and the applicable parts were cut and pasted together to form what would suit them best. I see aspects of Catholicism, aspects of Egyptian Gnosticism, aspects of Wicca, yet the overall feel of this particular belief system seems more to be Pagan in the roots with Christianity thrown atop it to mask the true nature. This is not to say that Pagan-based faiths are inherently evil or even wrong. Rather, those who created the beliefs fed to us took what they needed from each and discarded the rest. That is dangerous in any faith.

I am not certain why I continue to search passively for understanding. It is dead to me now, and the past lies far from me. However, I also feel that perhaps, knowing the truth and reasoning behind it all would open doors now locked to me, doors that would help with combatting what we face even now, Inside. Many of us are still rather fractured, and there is something missing. Were that I knew what it was, I could seek it out and present it, so that Nambiet could flourish. Instead, I am aimless, much like the rest: it behooves no one.

The Light of God still eludes me. Perhaps that is what I seek, truly, to be close again. I wonder if, perhaps, I ever was. I was told once that if one loses one's faith, one never truly had it to begin with. I would like to think I did, once. I would like to think that moments spent in perfect solitude were not in vain. I would like to think that I am incorrect, completely, and any moment a bright spark of understanding and belief might fill me, and I will no longer be the dry husk of a Beast I am now. Even in that, I am fading. Something feels amiss, and it is a feeling I cannot shake.

Stoicism lost.

2006-11-09T20:38:00.000-08:00

Years ago I was far stronger, I could adapt easily to change and to extreme situations. I handled such things with ease, and with a fiery stoicism. No matter my condition, I always knew I could count on that. Now, however, I am losing it, and it worries me. I have spent so much time investing in that calculated response that now I find myself uncertain to react properly or appropriately. I am quick to anger, moreso than before; my patience is thin, and my ability to avoid has lessened as well. I want to recapture that.

However, I was told that all things of my old self must fall away. I cannot manintain stoicism and also bury self-destruction. It was suggested that one is the cause of the other. I can see that as a possibility, but there must be a way.

More later: something has come up.

The "Font of Life" Project.

2006-11-06T22:24:00.000-08:00

Otherwise known as "Lebensborn", this was a project carried out by Nazi powers throughout Europe several decades past. I find it unsettling that such massive undertakings are still considered something to be kept hidden. I bring this to attention because after so many years, the children involved in this project very recently had an official meeting to meet one another and to discuss amongst themselves the effects this project had upon them.

I cannot imagine the revelation of one's past, to know that it included kidnapping and being placed with a "more suitable" family for the good of a regime. And, on that note, sometimes I find it shocking that some are so very functional with devastating knowledge, when others can fall apart with knowledge of incidents less severe. I am familiar with Van der Kolk's Trauma Theory, of course, but it is fascinating nonetheless. One might wonder if environment or upbringing might have something to do with it.

[Borrowed]

2006-11-04T20:27:00.000-08:00

I find myself thinking back to this, yet again. The events in the Reformatory are ones few would want to know, really. Many of those incidents I expected. Some, I did not. Were it that I could relate them with no tether to emotion, then it would be easier. Instead i find that there come times that I want to write of it, simply to purge myself of it, but I know that is bother dangerous and, as I said before, weak. I know you do not agree. When I discuss incidents that have occured to the body it
feels less invasive; I was there, but I can say that it occured to the body, and not to me. Not all Inside use that distinction, but I find it helps. It is less intense.

I have decided to take a leave. If I do, it would be to investigate. The Rahkas are reputed to come through a gate, and I believe Piers originally came from that same gate. Malcolm insinuates that he knows of others, as well. I need to learn of it, where it is, the purpose and if necessary, how to destroy it. This, of course, would take quite a lot of time to implement but I believe it a necessity.

And yet, even as I plan this, I know instead that it will likely not come to pass. My duties will come first, as always, and the battle to come will occupy me. Perhaps that is my problem: I allow myself to be overcome by such events in an effort to avoid others. I know it is a fault but comparatively to other faults I own, it is decidedly minor.

Scarcely noticed.

2006-10-30T23:58:00.000-08:00

The night is close, and I think of both the ties to the past and to my near-fatal mistake, and how it ties inexplicably to Piers.. It is best to ignore and to avoid. And yet I must admit that I do not really care one way or another that it comes again. I want to sleep this away.

Crushed.

2006-10-26T22:48:00.000-07:00

After a series of broken promises and lack of explanation, I have literally stood Idle and have watched a cherished friendship slowly fall apart. I want desperately to fix this but I am unstable, unreliable. I know this, as I have been told this is a major reason for others having ceased contact. It has not quite deteriorated to that level, but I fear that in my repeated attempts to keep her safe from my secrets I have given her reason not to trust me. I certainly understand I do not deserve her trust, but I was hoping this would be different.

The only way to save this is to be open. Being open involves speaking the truth, and there are quite a few aspects of truth that I would rather not admit to myself, let alone to another. But to be silent is to withhold, and to withold makes me a liar by omission. And yet, I feel quite strongly that to be open so is the quickest way to destroy a relationship. If ever I needed advice, this would be it.

Abstaining, completely.

2006-10-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

I doubt that the title of this post is what anyone expects it to mean. I mean that I have abstained from abstinance, I have lost myself completely to the beginnings of my old ways. I recall my post on singletons and the necessity of checks and balances, as it were, in a person. I wish at times I were so equipped.

I am not certain if it is the residual stress giving by the Reformatory, or my own weakness, or the social acceptance Outside, now, of these things in particular, which will remain unnamed. I know only that I had done well for years in abstaining and for the past month, really, I decided I no longer care. Malcolm had a hand in this, but I shall take responsibility for my own actions. In the past week or so I have decided to make a conscious effort to remain calm, to look toward my strength and to what gives me strength but I feel I am losing those who have built me up. Of course this is my doing, but I worry it is so far gone that I cannot mend it.

What I despise the most is that I cannot seem to bring myself out of this. For years, and I keep severing ties, and those I do not sever intentionally are being broken unintentionally. Why I do this I do not know. i just wish I would have the mindfulness to end that behavior, now.

Mild desolation.

2006-10-12T20:07:00.000-07:00

We are all weary. No one wants to fight any longer. Therefore, I try to negotiate. The problem remains that as men, we do not want to give anything up; we want the other side to surrender completely, and that will not happen. Further, I have felt for some time that this has become meaningless; I send my small ones away to safety while I make decisions that decide the fate of us all, and for what? They return, still, and nothing has changed. I have spent much time going over negotiations that will never work and truces that will never hold. I fear that I have found myself in a situation with no real solution.

My feelings of loss regarding faith persist, but not in the deep sense I felt originally. There remains only a dull ache, a reminder, and although I do not believe that there is no God, I believe that perhaps He is not for me. Not against me, either, but that perhaps I am inconsequential. It is something I need to speak about with a senior pastor, I believe, but am too afraid of his answer to actually go through with it. A part of me would rather doubt and wonder, than to know for certain and have lost hope.

I have few words. I am told I should not focus this journal on the goings-on of the Host or of Outside but rather of Nambiet. I do try. I find instead that it is easier to do otherwise.

A knotty situation.

2006-10-09T22:16:00.000-07:00

An e-mail was accidentally sent from my account to a family member not knowing of our existance. The Host rectified it by claiming I am a friend but now this family member sends me scores of e-mails. I am really uncertain how to handle it except to play the part she designated to me. That, and to change my account's passcode.

Differences in being.

2006-10-07T19:41:00.000-07:00

One thing that has always fascinated me is the extreme diffferences in facets of life between singletons and those who are Many. I have spoken in great length with several friends in trying to gain further understanding, however the core of that eludes me. I am able only to imagine.

The idea of a singleton's life is something I find quite odd. I was asked once if I am afraid of singletons, and it is not so much terrifying but unnerving, that one can be left to his own ideas and plans, without any group decision. Inside, every decision I make comes with it a consequence, and I am responsible to those who are affected even in the smallest way. We share a body and cannot use it selfishly. I am made quite aware of what such use could create. I do make my own decisions, as it pertains to my own actions, and yet it is different, to make those same decisions for the body. Sometimes I envision myself as a single One, and the thought is rather desolate. That is as close as I am able to truly understand, and the fact of being One strikes me only as painfully lonely, at all times.

I do crave time to myself, of course, and I do have such moments to enjoy, but that is a different type. I cannot imagine what a singleton might do if alone in a room for extended periods of time. Nor can I imagine such mundane things as grocery shopping. I understand we are all given will-power but some seem to lack any trace of it. How is that controlled?

I am told that there is no way to fully understand without having experienced it, in a similar sense to how singletons may not understand teh full scope of multiplicity. I find that simple to explain and to understand but I am still asked questions on the fundamentals. I do not mind answering, of course, but it has always surprised me to realize, again and again, that the nature of my existance is so vastly misunderstood.

Perception of definition.

2006-09-28T23:04:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons I try to be concise in my speaking. One of them is the exact inferrance of meaning. When speaking or writing, I am mindful of my words and how they may be understood, or misunderstood. I find myself strict on exact definitions, and loose interpretations are not well-recieved.

Recently I became entangled in a debate regarding sensitive terminology. The terms themselves were related to criminal conduct. My friend gave an interpretation that I found far too liberal, to the point of being misleading. I gave the legal definition as is understood in the court system in this nation, and I do believe my friend became offended. I am not absolutely certain why, but I daresay it may have to do with the fact that this precise definition does not allow for other, similar crimes to be considered with that same severity. Not to say these crimes are not as heinous, but I believe that some believe these other crimes, defined as such, may seem to be lesser crimes to the public at large, therefore minimizing the effects of such crimes.

I meant no such thing. I meant only that to use incorrect terms in any instance can lead to confusion and even to inadvertant misunderstanding. I stand by my belief in this.

On Malcolm.

2006-09-20T21:10:00.000-07:00

Malcolm and I have been at odds for years. Since the beginning, really, and for all who know me well it is evident that we share little, if anything, in common. Our beliefs differ, our morals, our senses of duty, our past experiences. However it was brought to my attention recently that he has been suffering from nightmares, and I set about to investigate. It is common understanding that the presence of nightmares can mean that something is loose or unlocked altogether.

Malcolm is not one to talk. He never has been. He uses the shock value of his words to mask the fact that he keeps so much hidden. Perhaps that is his coping mechanism. I wonder if perhaps his years of shrouded silence have caught up with him and have manifested. One can sense a demeanor about him, somethign tense or uncomfortable, at the mention of certain things and of course he would not admit it, least of all to me. I know that I rarely catch subtlety but I know him too well, in that manner.

My main concern is where this will lead, who is involved and who has the information I need. I am told this does not concern me, but if it concerns Nambiet then by all rights it does.

Far less than I had envisioned.

2006-09-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

When I put my mind on falling back into posting again, I thought I would fall into it effortlessly. And now, instead, it is merely an afterthought, something that I do as I have a free moment, when nothing else is left to be done. It has been a week since my last post. That was not my vision.

For the past two years, the Rahkas have been unsuccessful in forcing us to agree to several demands as outlined in their Accords. These were very recently revised and although in some ways tempting, there were a few points to which I will not concede, ever. These few are not negotiable. I do not consider myself unreasonable by any means, but there are some sections and subparts that are simply unrealistic. For any who have been long-time readers (and a few of you have been, I know, since the beginning), you know that the cease-fires have been few and far-between, and this past seven months has been glorious for that. However, in my refusal to sign, I have also refused to allow our base to stand as a target; our strategist made a suggestion, it was coordinated and followed through.

I feel no regrets, of course. As I told a good friend Jim once, we always make the pre-emptive strike. It is how it has always been. I suppose it is how it shall be for here on out. We are prepared. I feel the excitement.

A stinging truth.

2006-09-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

I saw this on the latest version of Postsecret. And I am quite aware that there are a multitude of soldiers acting improperly in the field; I know the usual reasons behind it, but I also know it is not acceptable. It just struck me to see it, for more reasons than most might understand. There is a sense of shame to see this, a sense of guilt, a sense of hatred.

Inability to sleep.

2006-09-06T03:06:00.000-07:00

I know I should allow the body to sleep, at least. I am certain there are a myriad of ways to calm myself to the point that the body would be able to recieve the proper rest. And yet, after wandering aimlessly for the past hour, I know it is futile.

I awoke suddenly to the sound of a far-away siren. I swore I saw the red beacon; I was absolutely certain. For a moment I froze, and I slowly became aware of my surroundings. In the darkness I could scarcely make out anything, and in a moment I turned up all the lights. It was an effort to calm myself, I suppose, to reassure myself that it is all right, now. Nai bansè sirnir srelin.

Something is not right, however, at all. I knew that sooner or later this would come to light, and it is no secret my time in the Reformatory. However I am still not comfortable with the idea of speaking of it, and I am certainly not wanting to deal with it yet. Not in the slightest. This is one of the many things I wish to have forgotten, and had I the power, I would. I spent some time early this morning, pondering the Deadbox and knowing that the Polyclef was mine to use as I please. I would very much like to bury these things that invade my mind now.

A sense of betrayal.

2006-09-04T12:31:00.000-07:00

I waited a few days before writing this, knowing that if I wrote it in the depth of my churning shock I would have likely written something unforgivable.

Rhiannon is one of mine, my eldest. We often do not agree and her head-strong personality has caused more than one explosive battle-of-wills. Nonetheless I do care for her, and her well-being is my joy. However, two I trusted (as much as I trust another) made grievous errors in judgement, and Rhiannon was hurt by their acts. For the privacy of all involved, I will not divulge details, however upon finding out what occured I found it difficult to contain myself. I felt conspired against, and I was torn between my duty to her in her safety, and my promise to her in not avenging the act.

This escalated to a completely awkward situation reeking of guilt, suspicion, shame and humiliation.As mush as I tried to rectify it, there seemed to be something even worse brought forth: I was forced to admit somethign to myself, and forced to acknowledge a new truth about Rhiannon that she had kept within her for years. I am not certain what to do about either, yet. I only know that I am finding myself increasingly comforted by indulgences of years past, rather than the more healthy coping mechanisms I have since acquired. On one hand, it is unacceptable. On the other, it is absolutely necessary.

We are unwell.

Finally, a return.

2006-09-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

I can scarcely believe it has been a year, already. Several weeks ago I realized this, and set to work on transferring this journal here from another site. It was quite the test of patience, but it is complete, and all is well in that regard. As for this, my first entry upon return, it will not be an entry that chronicles the past year. I find that to be a waste and it would be too long for anyone to ever desire to read it. Instead, I shall begin today's as if there were no hiatus, and if ever there is a need for explanation in the time lost, I shall provide it at that time.

Suffice it to say that the decision handed down to cease in aiding the Host was a severe blow to my psyche and my pride. To stand idly by and do nothing was close to intolerable. Although my duties can be exceedingly difficult and dealing with her as I do can be trying, I felt empty otherwise.

What I am dealing with now is a sense of loss. When I first surrendered myself to God in deciding to become a Christian, I felt a sense that things would change for me. I suppose I had that faith of a child He so desires. I yearned for a change, and a sense of forthcoming redemption. I tried to conform and to please Him in so many ways, and yet, it is never enough. I am not changed, not really so much as I should be. I feel that the religion aspect does little for me. I read the Bible and the words are hollow.

I have not lost faith. I do not doubt He exists, and I do nout doubt His omnipotence, not for a moment. I do not doubt He is a God of love, or mercy, or grace. I do not doubt the power of prayer. What I feel I have lost is my relationship with Him; I wonder even if I ever had one. I want to think I did, at one time; but if that were true, how to retrieve it? Instead I feel that His salvation does not apply to me. That not only am I unforgiven, but that I was not made in His image. And therefore, his mercy does not apply to me.

That is not to say I have abandoned my beliefs completely. I still pray for friends and family as I see appropriate. I look onto nature and see His presence. It is simply that I beleive my faith has shifted. I cannot say I am entirely comfortable or happy in that.

A child born, and lost.

2005-08-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

He was born on Friday, 26 August at 0900, and died nearly two minutes later. They named him Gabriel Taeyang, the middle name being Korean for "most bright". There is quite a lot to bear right now, a raw and seething pain at the loss. It is nothing like the losses through miscarriage. The loss of this child, who moved and struggled to breathe before his death, is something I cannot form into words.

Inside, we agreed that she must learn to take this, herself. This is her loss moreso than ours, and she will not be able to function in later years without confronting it with her husband, and without us. It is a decision I do not particularly like, and it will take quite a lot for me to uphold my end. However I see the reasoning behind it, and will do as is needed.

Therefore, for the next year, we shall take a leave of this. The first day of school is tomorrow, and I hate leaving her to it on her own, I despise it more than I can say, more than anyone likely knows. I will continue to support her on the other issues she may face, and my support and protection will not waver in regards to the small ones. But as for Bruyère, she and Tannah must deal with the loss of their son. It is not my place. It is not Nambiet's place. As much as I wish it were, this is one thing from which I cannot sheild her.

Until then.

A perfect day.

2005-08-24T17:49:00.000-07:00

Despite the news of their child's illness, Bruyère married Tannah at the same church Bruyère's parents were married in fourteen years before. There was a bit of panic immediately preceding the ceremony, as a sudden realization of the massive life-change really hit all of us at the core. But it was a change all agreed upon from the beginning.

The night before the wedding was spent at the Paris Hotel and Casino, Bruyère with her two sisters and mother. As they slept, we stayed awake, Inside, and discussed in length the ramifications of the decision. Some were frightened, others eager. There were many questions asked that really, only Tannah can answer, and so we elected to begin writing publically in a journal, a notebook to which he can contribute if he so chooses. It eased some anxiety. The morning of the ceremony, the females did as females do before such an event: they spent the entire morning surrounded by hairstylists and applying cosmetics. Only a few few Inside found any interest in that. The sister who acted as matron of honor applied all teh cosmetics, as she is rather talented. Although a trifle anxious, all remained composed.

Since before she was legally adopted, Bruyère often dreamed of the day her father would walk her down the aisle, and give her to her husband. It was a bittersweet moment; she felt that she was losing her father in a sense, by taking on a new surname. She felt she was quite literally betraying him. However he reassured her that this was a joyous moment, a blending of families, and that nothing would separate her from him. There are still some issues she has regarding that, I believe, but for the most part her fears were alleviated, and those remaining issues should be discussed at a later time.

The ceremony itself was flawless. The soloist (a friend from high school) sang with the voice on an angel, quite literally, and it moved the entire audience to tears. The pastor wrote a poem detailing the lives of the bride and groom, as well, and recited it aloud; it was rather witty. Candles were lit and no one was frightened, and of that I am proud. What I liked especially were the touches of individuality. Although Bruyère wore her mother's wedding dress, underneath she wore white bridal Converse All-Stars, created by her mother. The women in Tannah's side of the family all wore hanbok, or traditional Korean dresses. The father wore the distinguished clan lapel pin, something worn in Scotland at weddings and other such important events to signify family history. And although the song the bride and groom chose for Bruyère to walk down the aisle with her father was traditional, the song they chose to walk down the aisle as newly married was a techno-pop version of "The Wedding March". Very appropriate. (Originally, she had wanted a piper to play as she walked with her father, to signify pride in her heritage the last day before she married into a new one. However, with the news recieved only days before of the child's illness, it did not come ot pass. A shame, really.)

The reception, of course, was lovely: friends, relatives, all wishing them well. Although she swore to only dance one song with her new husband and one with her father (and no more, she was really rather insistant), Tannah's brother requested that the disc jockey play a specific song she loved as a teenager and directly related to being adopted, and she could not help but to dance with her father again. Those were happy moments. The father also made a surprise request for the sister. There was no room to dance at her wedding the year before, and so the father requested a song for them to dance to, and it was sweet, to watch them. The look of complete contentment on the sister's face was unmistakable. The entire day was flawless for the most part; there was an issue with catering but I will not give it the honor of mention. But speeches were made, families were happy, and together, and there was an air of acceptance, and or approval. It was calming and refreshing, both.

They spent the next three days at the Paris, revelling in their new life together, enjoying the bliss of it. However that is their story to tell, and not mine.

Unexpected and tragic.

2005-08-18T15:20:00.000-07:00

Incredibly sad news, here.

It appears the child will not survive the pregnancy. On Sunday this past, the body had vaginal bleeding and pelvic pain, and we reported to the hospital. Upon examination by the emergancy room doctor and then by a maternal-fetal specialist, it appears we have lost the amniotic fluid, and the child is trying very hard to survive in a tiny pocket of the fluid that was left behind. (Dr. Iriye, the specialist, told us this in a blunt and straightforward way, and for that I am most grateful and I hold the highest respect for him as a physician.) This condition was caused, apparently, by a form of thrombophilia: a clotting disorder. This would be the exact opposite of the sister's form of hemophilia, von Willebrand's Disease.

Of course, this child's parents are devastated, but they insist on going through with the wedding ceremony, even though she is on bed-rest. This, so the child will be born of two married parents. They had the choice to induce labor then, during our first hospital stay, but chose not to. They felt it was too like abortion.

Personally, I do not know what to feel about this. Financially, it is better the child not come now. However, in all other cases, this is absolutely heartbreaking.

Trivial arguments.

2005-08-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

She can be quite the princess, at times.

Bruyère and her mother cannot seem to get along. I find it somewhat amusing, as it is always over something trivial. With only a week until the ceremony, they are arguing about the rehearsal dinner. It is being planned and paid for by Tannah's father, but our mother says she and the youngest sister cannot attend, as the sister will start her first day of kindergarten the following Monday. Therefore, according to the mother, the youngest sister cannot be awake so late on all nights of the weekend preceding her first day of school. Bruyère, on the other hand, says that is ridiculous, and they can at least make an appearance at teh dinner, as a show of good-will to the hosting family. It escalated to elevated voices and even a screaming curse at one point, and I realized that the Host is under quite a bit of pressure. She was calmed, and proper apologies were made to the mother. All plans were worked out, without incident, and I beleive if we can keep her calm at least until the ceremony, all will go smoothly and perfectly, as a wedding should.

Hectic, now.

2005-08-09T21:37:00.000-07:00

That, and the new child, are really all anyone speaks of Inside. Last week we had a rather serious bladder infection, though it was healed with antibiotics soon after. We were quite adamant that the medication given to us would not in the least harm the child, and the idiotic practitioner we consulted said that the body's overall health was more important that that of the child. I wonder why he has chosen to act as a healer, then, if he views life as he does. Nonetheless, the bladder is healed, and aside from the ever-present weariness even still, all is well. And, speaking of medications, we have not taken any of our psychiatric medications since the day before leaving for Europe. We seem to be doing all right, and perhaps we can simply stop them altogether, for ever. There is a chance, I understand, for postpartum depression but we will cross that bridge when we come to it.

In twenty days:

2005-08-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

Marriage. An odd thought and strange concept to me. Tannah has already made it clear the he accepts all of us, all of Nambiet, though he may not always accept what we do. I can live with that. A truce it is, then.

The wedding dress is lovely; traditional, which is exactly as I would like it. I do not care for these sleeveless wedding dresses women are wearing these days. It looks too informal. Bruyère's has long lace sleeves and a train, as well, and the bodice is intricately beaded. She somehow convinced her mother to make her "Wedding Converse"...white Converse All-Stars with lace and beading, and small white flowers put upon it. I thought it a rather untraditional request, but the body is pregnant, after all, and there is no reason to put the feet into high heels for six hours.

The honeymoon plans were made, as well. We shall stay at the Paris, Las Vegas for a few days, as an homage to their engagement. Things are coming together: the favors, centerpieces and the like, though we are still far behind with an idea for food to be served, or decorations at teh Hall, or anything to that effect. We have confirmed with the pastor officiating, a man I rather like. Many of the invitees have responded, which is helping the plans along nicely. Bruyère, however, become stressed just like her mother, over the silliest things. They have been at one another's throats for a good week now, over nothing, really. Where to buy petticoats for the dress, and what color should be worn by the matron of honor, things of that nature. Bruyère does not want a bachelorette party, as she says she will simply hold a baby shower in October, instead. Tannah is dreading his bachelor party, as he despises "filthy crack whores" in the strip clubs in town. Really, they only decent one I have seen is Sapphire, which is vastly expensive.

We should pay for our school books today and get working on homework; the wedding will coincide closely to the beginning of the school year. All of this is really far more expensive than we realized.

And further.

2005-07-21T21:34:00.000-07:00

This schedule has really caught me off-guard.

Station Casinos is building Red Rock now, part of the gaming boom that still has a mighty grip on Las Vegas. There is no shortage of work right now; in fact, aside from required schooling, we are working a scheduled sixty-eight hours a week, and there is a "walk-thru" at our local Union Hall. It was something to get used to, I admit, and the pay-checks are excellent. However, this casino is to be complete and open by March 2006, and they are only holding the ground-breaking ceremony for the second tower next month. I know that it is considered regulatory for casinos to be built in under three years, but this one is extremely disorganized; we have yet to recieve standard blueprints.

Therefore we recieved word that there is a massive likelihood that our schedules will soon turn to two shifts of eighty-four hours weekly, to complete the project on time. Granted, continuous twelve-hour shifts have been done before and are not at all the worst I have worked. However, I simply tire of the lack of time in my day. I remember a similar push during my time working on building Le Rêve--or, Wynn Las Vegas, whichever one likes--though it seemed far less hectic then. Perhaps there was something more enticing on building a mega-resort on the Strip versus a locals' casino at the edge of town.

This, coupled with the pregnancy is exhausting. There never seems to be enough time for sleep, and ingesting nutrution of any kind is next to impossible. Nina has been forbidden to surface, as a relapse would be devastating to the unborn child. Already the belly is swollen with evidence of him...we believe the child to be male. A possible name for him would be Connor.

First gifts.

2005-07-19T20:05:00.000-07:00

As we have now passed into the second trimester and the chance of miscarriage is nearly nonexistent, we became comfortable enough to buy the first gifts for the child

Fisrtly, a plush heilan coo, named Rowan. (An apt name.) This has some symbolism behind it: while in Edinburgh, Bruyère and her betrothed saw an infants' clothing section at a small boutique, featuring crude hand drawings, as if by a child. The one that Bruyère most liked featured this animal, a very woolly and unique creature that quite resembles a buffalo, and is native and so far as I know, indigienous to Scottish Highlands. Her thought, I recall, was that if they were to have a child, she would want the child to have such adorable clothing. As now she is unable to find that style again, the plush will do nicely.

The other gifts were practical in nature. We purchased two toddler-appropriate books regarding unwanted touches and the like, as well as a book specifically written for children aged four until eight years, regarding questions on a parent's multiplicity. The books regarding molestation were difficult to agree upon; there are so many different views, but we picked one that dealt with telling a trusted adult and anotehr that dealt with the right a child has to saying no to any type of touching, by anyone. We did not purchase anything that tried to differentiate between "good" touches and "bad" touches, as that can be confusing to a child. We also did not purchase anything that depicted perpetrators as singularly male, or strangers, or with any stereotype. We want the child to know that a perpetrator can be anyone, as difficult as that is to admit. No one would want to unnecessarily frighten the child, but it is an important fact often overlooked by caregivers in any capacity. One book, in particular, even expressed that a hug by a family member, even if accepted once before, can be refused at another time, if the child so chooses. I especially like that point.

The book on multiplicity is somethign that no one is discussing yet. Coming out, as it were, to the child may mean coming out to the rest of the family, which I believe is a poor idea. However, we ahve learned with the youngest sister that small children can understand and grasp things that adults overlook...multiplicity being one such subject. On this we must tread carefully, and make certain all are in agreement.

An uneventful holiday.

2005-07-14T21:52:00.000-07:00

Pregnancy is far from comfortable, let this be known. Since we left France last month (nearly exactly a month ago, to be precise), Bruyère has been rather anxious to hold a party in the honor of Bastille Day. However, this is nearly impossible. The continued fatigue is intense; no amount of sleep is adequate, and the entire body feels weak. Food is an issue..I never eralized that the cravings experienced by those pregnant were anywhere near truthful. And yet now, cravings for the most odd, mundane things surface, and are seemingly insatiable: tomatoes, blueberries and red meat top the list. On the other side, sugary foods repel her, as does chicken and sashimi. (Yes, we are already aware that we are not to eat sashimi.) Despite cravings, however, we work together to attempt to balance meals and eat in a manner that is beneficial to the body, and to the child within.We question every food, inspect the label, and consult with the nutritionist. So far, we have gained an "ideal" amount of weight. I would like for the body to be more involved with proper exercise but as I mentioned before, the extreme level of fatigue and literal exhaustion we experience make it impossible. Our physician says these symptoms will subside as the pregnancy progresses. I would like to hope so.

An astonishing attack.

2005-07-07T23:10:00.000-07:00

We heard this morning of the terrorist attacks in London. To think we were just there, happily taking the Tube from Russell Square every morning. Britons, be strong and resolute. America grieves with you.

The sonogram.

2005-06-27T20:34:00.000-07:00

There is so little time, of late, to write anything substantial. Although we are working only ten hours daily, on average, there is a level of fatigue we have never felt before. I am assuming this is due to the pregnancy. Of course we hesitate to believe it; so often the body has miscarried a child that it seems rather unrealistic. Personally, I did not take it as truth until we saw the results of the sonogram, several hours ago.

For those of you unaware, a sonogram performed to verify pregnancy includes instructions to drink forty-eight ounces of water two hours prior to the exam, and then try to maintain sanity. It was very uncomfortable after the first hour, and even rather painful approaching the second. Added to that, the sonography department was behind by a patient, so there was additional waiting time, which caused us to be nearly unable to walk once the name was called to submit to the exam. Although it was not amusing at the time, it turns out the amount of urine retained in the baldder was far too much and we were asked to void; however, at that point the bladder was already stretched and a pelvic sonogram was no longer an option. Instead, a trans-vaginal sonogram was performed. It was really quite invasive but the desired effect was obtained. We saw the child, and heard a healthy heartbeat at ten weeks gestation. It was marvellous to behold, and for a moment it seemed nearly magical. At the exact same moment, my faith was renewed in God and my displeasure was heightened toward the act of willful and elective abortion. This was no "group of cells clumped together" as activists for the National Organization of Women claim. This is a child in the strictest sense, with brain waves, a heartbeat, a recognizibly formed body. That is undeniably clear, in my opinion.

How very joyous, this; the parents are anxious, of course, and scrambling to raise enough funds for the Host to remain at home and care for the child for at least the first six months of life. However, upon studying a budget, that is not only possible but easily so. There will be no issues.

Most unexpected news.

2005-06-16T15:50:00.000-07:00

How best to say this? Bluntly, I suppose: the body is two months pregnant. I suppose all the stress-induced vomiting was really morning-sickness. This is indeed a surprise. I cannot call it unplanned, as it would be technically untrue. The vast majority of adults know whence babies come, and in performing the act, one knows there is a chance, no matter how small, of conception. So: not unplanned, and not unwanted; but a surprise nonetheless.

Home safely, now.

2005-06-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

I must say that the most enjoyable moments in Europe were in rather small towns in France and Germany, for two reasons. One is simply because they were absolutely magnificent in their simplicity and beauty. I long to live in such places, away from the concrete-and-neon façade that is Las Vegas. There was a generosity and warmth there that I have never sensed before.

Secondly, it was because in these small towns we met with our dear friend...she requests her name not be revealed but I am hoping I do not break trust in merely discussing this aspect of the trip. Witty, delightful and actually quite bright, she has just graduated from a rather prestigious international school, with honors. We enjoyed her company greatly, and that of her friends and family as well, who were more than gracious. How I wish she would see her own strengths.

Our return to America was less than savory; unruly children and their rude parents ruined most of the flight, and extreme incomptence at O'Hare International in Chicago caused us much trouble. After twenty-eight hours of total travel time from Northern France to Las Vegas, we were well past exhausted. And, returning to work the following day where they had just implemented a fifty-eight hour work week was not the best to come into, but our experiences abroad were worth it, entirely.

The only thing is that I was so foolish to think that somehow, the issues I was avoiding at home would perhaps disappear upon our return. Still, I believe our time away did help alleviate immediate pressures and also, time with friends overseas (or, "across the pond", as Niven likes to say) was incredibly refreshing. To be honest, I think that has renewed my faith in many things.

Europe: Entry the fifth.

2005-06-12T15:40:00.000-07:00

This entry was written by Bruyère whilst in Europe.

So...we leave tomorrow morning. I might cry :-(

Meeting was fun...shes great!! It feels natural being together. Tannah likes her, and we got to meet her family and other friends. We had eis together in Kandern! that was a blast. And then, when we got to Lille, there was a barbeque, and I saw Tintin (their cat)...who Molly just LOVED. And we got crêpes for lunch that were just excellent, and we got to go to church with them too, and we learned a song called "Célébrer" or something, I remember the tune and the chorus but that's it. Logan got to be out a little and talk to her, he really enjoyed that, he wasn't sure if he would or not but he says the opportunity presented itself so...I'm glad they're friends, they hold each other up, I think. ::cries:: I don't want to leave, but I miss home, too, sometimes. Like all my problems are waiting for me there but also my family and friends who I love...it's hard.

Better get to sleep, our plane leaves early.

Europe: Entry the fourth.

2005-06-09T00:06:00.000-07:00

This entry was written by Bruyère whilst in Europe.

Just got in to Kandern and meeting with our friend today...I'm so scared. Like, she feels like my cousin, we've known each other for a long time and I know her parents and all, but we've never met face to face...I hope she doesn't think I'm geeking out.

Europe: Entry the third.

2005-06-07T01:33:00.000-07:00

This entry was written by Bruyère whilst in Europe.

Ah...

Big news at the end (for most of you but I do have a big mouth) but I'll update for now the rest. Paris was absolutely stunning! We stayed just outside of the city in Rosny-sous-Bois near a mall and a McDonald's...which really does call a quarter-pounder a royal-cheese. :-) My French was so so rusty, I spoke in present tense almost the whole time, but I was understood and everyone was very kind, accomadating, helpful. I see tho, why some Americans come back to the States saying French people were rude...because the Americans were rude!!! OMG, I have never been so embarrassed. People going up to counters saying, "Yo, I need you to change my traveller checks". And then like throwing the checks at them. I'd ignore them too. It was so shameful to watch. A group of Americans destroyed the elevator at our hotel, they were running around yelling, and the other guests just tried to ignore it but the vandalisers were like, "We're Americans, we can do what we want!" Awful. But anyway, we went to Parc Astérix and it was so much fun! Even tho we only went on 2 rides, Tonnère de Zeus and La Trace du Hourra, the tobbagan ride (without tracks!!) which is unlike anything I've ever seen, really. The Zeus ride was scary and I kept hoping I'd die just so the fear would end. I cried, oh it was evil. Even Tannah was scared, he'll admit it too. But we got pics of Astérix and Obélix, and ate French-style hotdogs...oh and in the city we had French-Mex!!! Which was AWFUL but I think that's because we expected auténtica comida mexicana, not a French-style Mexican place. Good food just...not Mexican, y'know? Kinda similar to our Irish hot-dog experience, interesting. Oh and then...I got so stressed because were supposed to go to Kandern, a very small town in Germany near Switzerland, and none of the French travel agents knew where it was, they kept saying it was in Switzerland...so I got stressed because I thought I'd have to try the same transaction in Germany knowing far less German than French, and I spent the next full day in Paris puking all over myself in various public places, so all we got to see aside from the Eiffel tower was the Cathédrale de Notre Dame (incredible!) and the Arc de Triomphe, which was actually pretty sobering.

We took a nite train...12 hours, to Berlin from Paris and went to Wolfsburg to see the VW Museum, which was really cool, and we plan to see Checkpoint Charlie tomorrow. I'm still sad, I would have rather skipped Berlin to see more of Paris but :-( things didn't work out.

More on all that later.

So....the news. The night before I started my stressed out vomitting spree (ask about the doctor in the mall) we went to the Eiffel Tower and have a lovely dinner and saw the tower all lit up. We wanted a pic together in front of the tower, and while Tannah was showing the girl how to work our camara, I stood there, a little annoyed that he took so long. Then he turned around got on 1 knee and proposed. At first I almost laughed because I thought he was joking then I saw the ring and I was so shocked and excited I didn't know which hand the ring went on and he had to show me. It was excellent! Just perfect. And we got pics of it all, and made 3 girls cry.

Ahhhhhh.

So much to tell, really. Just tons. And right now we have over 400 pics so...it'll be awhile before it's loaded up to the online album.

I must go, we're limited to 15 mins internet time and I already took my time and Tannah's and there's a line starting up.

Europe: Entry the second.

2005-06-03T10:31:00.000-07:00

This entry was written by Bruyère whilst in Europe.

So, it's our last night in London. Let me bring you all up to speed. (By the way, I spent £2 to be able to type this, which is about $4, so you all better read this!!!) Our trip started out HORRIBLY. We were supposed to leave Vegas at 2pm, but the hydraulic and electrical systems went out on the plane at the runway, so they taxi'd us back and made us get off. The next flight to LA was at 6pm, but our connecting flight to Dublin was at 5...so aftrer 2 hours fighting with the *VERY* rude American Airlines staff, we got a flight to LA, but they didn't know if we could get a place to stay the night there. We got there and the LA staff was excellent, we got comped a fine hotel room, and 3 meals, plus they couldn't get us on a flight to Dublin for 4 days, so they booked us one to Heathrow in London then a connector to Dublin. So all in all we lost only 1 day 4 hours. Plus, on the flight from LA to London, they had to accomadate a large family so we got bumped from coach to business class...and on an international flight its awesome!!! Champagne, Bose speaker system, a linen menu and tablecloths, little fruits and cheeses...I mean the dinner choices included veal. Plus, free Cartoon Network! I slept most of the flight but Tannah couldn't so he was exhausted the whole next day.

Seong-Hwan picked us up at the airport, (thanks Seong-Hwan!!) and showed us around Àtha Cliath (Dublin) and helped us get used to hostelling. He booked a great hostel for us too, the 4 Courts Hostel. Rated like in the top 5 for the past 3 years. We have great pics of the river and Temple Bar District. He also showed us how to ride the trains, and we went to Bré (Bray) to see the beach and the countryside.

We only got to stay there 2 days and we had to leave for Scotland, since our trip was behind already. Except oops, I forgot to book passage to Scotland. So, $299 later we were there. BEAUTIFUL. Our hostel was in the heart of Old Town, not 5 mns from Edinburgh Castle. The city's multi levelled, as in streets upon buildings and alleys leading into wynds behind gardens on top of other buildings. And the history I learned at the castle...the Scots have a lot to be proud of. The Stone of Destiny and the Royal Honours were awe-inspiring. We only got to stay there a day. :-(

Then London. Okay I thought stuff before was expensive...$1.25 to the euro...but its $1.90 to the pound sterling. A freaking McDonalds value meal is $14! Our hostel is great tho, it serves cheap food (bland, but okay) and it's got a bar and a nightclub too. Right off the Tube station, Russell Square. The Tube (London's Underground, or Metro) is excellent, we were pros after an hour. Buckingham Palace was...um...not as impressive. The Changing of the Guards was cool tho, and one of the fuzzy-hatted men said hi and I have a pic of him doing that. We saw a ton of stuff in London, and there's tons more, but we had to pick and choose. There's a statue of Abe Lincoln here, in a park square dedicated to great statesmen! He's a few meters behind Winston Churchill. Oh, and the computer keyboards overseas are different. It has more keys, like £ and € so there's only one shift key which is way too small, and the @ sign is in a diff place, etc. My fingering's way off.

Hmm...4 mins left...

We're leaving for Paris tomorrow. So far here in the British Isles the American sentiment hasn't been too bad...most people will mouth off about Bush but not as bad as most Americans I know. I heard its a little worse on the mainland but we'll see.

Oh, also, culture shock: nude people everywhere. America is prudish, I decided. In regular magazines there's just pics of naked people, standing there doing stuff. And the shows, on prime time we heard about chomping carpet and all kinds of other stuff that I can't repeat here. The big news in Europe right now is that Rrance and Holland have both rejected the EU Constitution, which is a huge deal but honestly I'm not sure why, except that now, it probably won't be ratified.

Europe: Entry the first.

2005-06-02T04:47:00.000-07:00

This entry was written by Bruyère whilst in Europe.

Have to write quick, internet's expensive here.

In London now, already saw Dublin and Edinburgh...excellent. So much history. Seong-Hwan's grown up so much. We went to a ton of pubs in Ireland...apparently that's all there is to do in Dublin, is drink, but I have to say a Guinness in Ireland tastes so much smoother. Also we did some shopping, saw the university, went to a tiny coastal town called Bré, and had a blast at the hostel!! It was only like 2 blocks from Seong-Hwans apt, which he shares with a Scandanavian roommate, and our hostel was comfortable and well, a culture shock. Co-ed bedrooms, 1 bathroom with 2 showers (again co-ed)...it was still cool tho, we watched movies and met another travelling American and lots of other Europeans. It's great to be in that kind of atmosphere.

With Edinburgh...first our hostel is in the middle of the city...we're in walking distance from the castle! I mean, we booked last minute so there was only a suite available for $90 a night, grrrrrrrrr, but its all there was, but it was okay since the castle was incredble. It's eerie to touch the walls of a castle that's been standing longer than your country has existed. We had a lovely dinner there too, and got some mead. I decided I love mead. Also I wanted a Sgian Dubh so bad but I was afraid it wouldn't be able to fly back with us...so I didn't. Oh and heilan' coos!!!! My fave animal, I'm obsessed. Very nice people here, helpful. Learning alot for my next trip!!! I'll write more later, on to Paris in a day or so...love to all!!!

A passing score, and more.

2005-05-25T23:45:00.000-07:00

We passed with a ninety-six percent. That should bring our total score just above passing, at seventy-seven or so. I am not thrilled with the score, but quite pleased that we passed the course. With all we endured of late, it is rather surprising.

One of the second-year instructors was relieved of his position the night before the exam. I do not know the entire story, but I am certain it had something to do with his review of the final exam, which included comments about lesbians, "retards", and graphic sexual references. I am not certain why the content was in the review; it seemed compltely out of place, but perhaps it was meant in jest. He was our instructor for the forklift class, and I found him to be somewhat odd, in general.

So now, final preparations for our vacation. There is a nervousness, now, but not in a bad sense. Nearly everything is packed and an inventory has been taken. A friend, who has offered to watch the home in our absence, has been given the house-key and detailed instructions. Reservations have been confirmed, directions and maps printed and stored, and we plan one last trip to our bank to make a final deposit the morning of our flight to Dublin. Everything has been checked numerous times. I daresay I am excited.

Simply one more.

2005-05-21T22:11:00.000-07:00

Our semester exam went well; it was achieved with the help of an excellently prepared review, and many nights in cram-session with others from class. Now only to pass the final exam. In order to pass the class, we need no less than a ninety percent. It will be exceedingly difficult, but the material in the exam has all been covered previously. We need only to study and recollect at the necessary time. I have gone on to make flashcards of specific formulas needed: inductance, capacitance, frequency...so very many. It would be much easier with an Ugly's Book at our disposal but that shall not be; we are expected to have memorized them. That, to me, seems silly, as most journeymen have not memorized them, and in turn use the Ugly's Book in the field. However, it is not my place to argue, only to pass this exam.

A date in history.

2005-05-13T23:24:00.000-07:00

The Las Vegas Centennial is upon is, in just a few short days. How this city has grown. It is absolutely amazing. From the first scout to find water here in 1829 (Rafael Rivera) to John Fremont's expedition in 1844, the natural oasis became known as Las Vegas, or the meadows, in Spanish. The city was virtually untouched by the sorrows caused by the Great Depression, what with legalized gambling, and plentiful work offered by the Union Pacific Railroad and the nearby Hoover Dam project. Las Vegas High School's first graduating class was thirty-two students, a far cry from the thousands that graduate every year presently, from over 30 high schools citywide. A mob scene (popularized by such films as Casino and Bugsy) which lasted for decades kept violent crime in check...while not an advocate of organized crime, the syndicate did much to help the city prosper. And, when once Las Vegas was once a city with no limits--no state tax, no speed limit, no gambling regulation, no wait for marriage license, no cover, and no minimum--one now must be content with no wait for a marriage license, though some casinos still employ a "no cover charge" rule. The table games of roulette, baccarat, blackjack and poker are largely unchanged, though slot machines are usually fully automated, can accept credit cards, and pay in the form of redeemable paper tickets, rather than in cash or tokens. The birth of a "family-friendly Vegas" ushered in the age of Megaresorts. These megaresorts were built either as additions to existing resorts, such as with Caesar's Palace, or on the ground of older, imploded casinos, such as the Wynn on site of the Desert Inn. Such resorts have everything: clubs, museums, arcades, cinema, dining, showrooms, theatre, concert halls, even churches...much more than a gaming floor. High-rise luxury condominium space is also something very sought-after, of late: prospective buyers are waiting in line days in advance to place their claim on million-dollar suites high above the Las Vegas Strip. There is also a rebuilding of Downtown, with the Fremont Street Experience, malls, and corporate office buildings. Downtown Las Vegas is resplendent in history: Fremont Street was the first road paved, and the first with a traffic light. The first gambling hall to recieve a gaming license, the first to install carpet and the first to install and elevator, and the first to build a highrise were all Downtown.

As much as I sometimes despise this place for being petty, cheap, lying, twisted, spiteful and vindictive...it is interesting, in a historical sense. I only with I had the means and knowledge to properly delve into it at this time.

In preparation.

2005-05-10T19:38:00.000-07:00

In research we have found we are woefully unprepared for a time away in Europe. It will be far different from the normal road-trips to California we often take, for more reasons that one: California is a six hour drive away, the majority of citizens there speak English, and there simply is not that large a difference in many things. Things one rarely contemplates, such as food, electricity, transportation, currency...all will be different.

We have read that traditional luggage is far too cumbersome, and upon suggestion have bought large hiking backpacks that hold an immense amount, with pockets and such for nearly anything. We also found that cotton towels would do us no good as often drying facilities are not available in hostels, so we purchased microfiber towels. (Which are really quite amazing, how quickly one dries.) Then came the purchase of child passport covers, since if one is to steal a passport, they will want to steal one of an adult, and to have one's passport in a cartoon-filled plastic cover is said to discourage would-be thieves. Two voltage converters with plug adaptors, a cash and passport carrier to be worn under clothing, travelers' cheques, two Eurail passes, booking of a myriad of different hostels and flights, travel insurance...and on. We also made two copies each of our passports, itinerary, all hostel information, flight information, and Eurail confirmation numbers; one copy to remain in a separate place from all other important documentation, and one to remain here, in case our vital information is stolen, or lost. This, so the embassy overseas can better aid us, and more quickly.

One of the most useful things (aside from the voltage converters) was the fifteen dollar fee to have the mobile phone unlocked, so that it is open to all carriers overseas. It will act then, to allow all incoming and outgoing calls to be charged as local calls. I am told this is slightly underhanded, but not unlawful, and so that will work, for us. I still feel, however, that with all the research, we have forgotten something obvious nonetheless.

Beyond my comprehension.

2005-05-03T22:08:00.000-07:00

We saw that Carl's Jr. commercial again...Niven's favorite. It features a woman wearing rather form-fitting clothes, riding a mechanical bull. Now, of course the bull is not bucking wildly, but almost gently rocking, and Niven believes that must be the most erotic thing he has ever seen. Personally, I cannot equate food with sex. But then, Niven and I do not always view life in the same manner.

Recurring dream.

2005-04-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

There is a building in what appears to be an industrial complex. Inside is darkness and shreds of moonlight through clouded windows. The carpet is damp, one can hear it as one walks upon it. The far wall to the left moves in the darkness, forms swirling on it, on it, through it. the forms mewl like strung kittens. There is a hallway adjacent to this wall. In the middle is an upside-down bicycle with one wheel turning lazily. As one makes one's way down the hallway, the bicycle moves farther away, until it too is obscured in darkness. But the soft squealing of that lone tire pervades. On either side of the hallway are a myriad of doors. Each door is closed, and the doors themselves are damp and swolen. Bruised. Inside is the sound of muffled violins and flutes; classical music. There is a door at the end of the hall, straight forward to where one stands. This door is ajar, and there is the sound ofrunning water coming from within. It is obvious as one moves closer that the dampness in the carpet comes from this room. Opening the door, is revealed a bathroom. A clouded, broken mirror over a defunct stand-alone sink.. To the left is an old-fashioned bathtub, on feet. It was not water. Blood flows forth from the bathtub, as it is overflowing from the immensity of it. And inside the bathtub sits a grinning man with his eyes torn out. I know he had been driven to madness by what was held inside these other rooms, so he torn out his own eyes and severed his own arteries in hopes the visions will leave him.

This, and the dream of crows, haunt me. I am certain it means something, and yet I could not guess.

An inner truth.

2005-04-26T20:05:00.000-07:00

The flesh falls apart like burnt leaves, sewn haphazardly to brittle bones and empty souls. There is no heart, only a deep and sullen void, a barren landscape of a man, who walks but is already dead. There is no desire, no bright spark, if ever he had one. This being damned to Perdition, hung to die and abandoned by his own. He trusts nothing to be as it seems. A hope returns, though a grim hope. There is release at least, he knows this. A forbidden release, but it sings sweetly to him. He listens, and is charmed. His own hear this siren-song as well, and return. Suddenly as never before they rally about him, and they become one, as it was meant to be: swaying and dancing the macabre steps of those already dead, and yet yearning for Death to claim them.

There are two options:

Live as empty souls, walk as the undead...or embrace that which will deliver them to darkness.

Honesty is not always the best policy.

2005-04-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

For a few weeks we had been experiencing a few side effects due to medications I am taking. These are common side effects of the medication. The most noticible one was vomitting and inability to focus, which sometimes affected my work progress. The therapist suggested we come clean about this, and mention to whomever might be in charge of patient relations that we were being prescribed medication, and to mention the side effects. I knew the safety coordinator for our company, and I thought he might be the best person to approach regarding this. I thought this was the best, most forward approach that would not cause further questioning. Instead, the safety coordinator requsted I bring in a release to work note, which I produced. However, that was considered unsatisfactory due to the fact that I no longer am under that doctor's care. Not only that, but we are under the care of a mental health clinician rather than a psychiatrist at this time.

The safety coordinator then asked to fill out a release of information from my clinician's office. The staff there obliged but begudgingly; they sent a release that entitled the safety coordinator only to information regarding my medication and my ability to work. He insinuated that this was also insufficient, and he would be writing a letter, questioning...God only knows. He will be including the release of information with his letter.

I feel this has spiralled out of control at this point. I do not mind being forward about medications, as I understand that there are rather odd side effects, and it may inhibit production at times. I am specifically worried that he may come across my reasons for taking these medications, and/or the discharge diagnoses. I sent an e-mail which made the training director of the apprenticeship program aware of the situation, but I have yet to know what to do. This could end badly.

Growing weary.

2005-04-19T23:10:00.000-07:00

I am really very ready for this current school year to be finished.

Another transfer.

2005-04-11T16:03:00.000-07:00

Several days ago, we were transferred to the pre-fab shop, under direct supervision at all times. I have a suspicion this is due to the rather extreme injury I caused in mid-March. It was far worse that I had intended, and I believe my foreman knew exactly what he was looking at. At the airport, there was absolutely no way the wound could have been sustained in the line of work, and the wound itself was so wide and deep I could not properly suture it. It simply would not come together. I fear that perhaps I may have gone too far in it, and we may have become obvious. As what is done is indeed already done, I have no choice but to feign ignorance as far as the injury is concerned, and work instead to prove our worth as an apprentice.

The work itself is simple. Most apprentices there are first-years, though there are a few second-years, as well. The work involves handling of material and fabrication of specific goods to be used on-site. These might be junction boxes with cables already installed or conduit bent to a pre-determined degree. Most everyone seems friendly and in that, I am certain it will be easy to maintain normalcy.

Low scores.

2005-04-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

Really, we should be wary of our exam days; our score is not as high as we would like, for three reasons:

01. We received a score of 66% on our mid-term exam. Bear in mind that 75% is failing.
02. With our accumulated missed days in school, we have been penalized with a subtraction of five percent from our overall score.
03. With all that has occured of late, the mind worries less about school and more about so many other things, our homework goes unfinished, and then our tests are abysmal.
Somehow, we neeed to concentrate more on this. Our instructor is very lenient and helps us more than the rest, but he can only do so much. Really, this year is only memorization: formulas for AC (alternating current) theory, the National Electrical Code, and a little review from last year...it should be not as difficult as we make it. Perhaps now is a good time to have a meeting.

A milestone.

2005-04-06T22:56:00.000-07:00

I can scarcely believe that Tannah and Bruyère have been together for over nine years. It baffles the mind. One cannot help but to forward a congratulations to the both of them.

Itinerary.

2005-04-01T15:51:00.000-08:00

We finally recieved our purchased tickets today. The itinerary has changed drastically, as now Tannah is coming with us, and we are also spending much more time overseas. That, and we shall be meeting with other friends while in Ireland and the United Kingdom.

27 May: Leave from Las Vegas to LAX, red-eye to Dublin.
28 May: Arrive in Dublin.
28-30 May: Activities with friends.
31 May: Dublin to Edinburgh.
01 June: Edinburgh to London.
01-03 June: Activities in London.
04 June: London to Paris via Eurostar.
05 June: Parc Astérix.
06 June: Paris main (Tourist-like activities).
07 June: Activities, evening travel to Berlin.
08 June: Volkswagen Museum in Wolfsburg, travel back to Berlin.
09 June: Berlin to Kandern via Basel, day activities in Kandern.
10 June: Graduation in Kandern.
11June: Kandern to Lille, with stops in Basel and Paris.
12 June: Activities in Lille.
13 June: Paris to Chicago, Chicago to Las Vegas.

Quite hectic, but I am excited.

A job well-done.

2005-03-23T20:50:00.000-08:00

We did see a medical doctor with regards to this wound. It grew only somewhat infected, but I was worried more in that the edges could not be sealed. He asked how we had achieved such an injury, and of course, I knew that anything said would sound ridiculous. I therefore kept silent, while he examined the rest of the arms, both fresh wounds and scars. He told us it was despairing, to him, to see such self-destruction in a person. I must say I am rather proud of the fact that he mentioned that previously sutured wounds had been "excecuted with precision and care". I debated on whether to tell him I had done the suturing, but decided that it would not be in Nambiet's best interest. There is plenty of time for my pride, and the examination room of a medical practice was not it.

A transfer in training assignment.

2005-03-12T16:56:00.000-08:00

Now we are on a service truck, rewiring the slot machines at McCarran International Airport, here in Las Vegas. I rather like it, sometimes working the graveyard shift, and with journeymen I admire. We have fun, if you can believe it. The entire situation is good work experience, and all around a positive situation. It is a very laid-back position, with a chance to learn but at a comfortable pace. As slot machines are situated across all gates of the airport, the lobby, baggage claim and the like, it makes for a rther busy work area, what with tourists and locals alike weaving in between our ladders and up rooted carpet through which we access the walker duct. Another oddity is the carrying of tools and of security. We are a group of three, two journeymen and myself. We are not allowed at any time to leave a tool or even a screw unattended, as where we are working is beyond the security checkpoint. If one of us were to leave behind a screwdriver or a knife, and a passanger found it, there could be a serious issue, if the passenger had any ill-will during the flight. As for security, we must be escorted everywhere and we are checked before and after every trip to the restroom, and upon re-entry after breaks.. If one goes, we all go, no matter where any of us might need to go at that time. I find the entire scope of work experience to be rather interesting.

Begrudgingly.

2005-03-08T20:37:00.000-08:00

I believe, perhaps, that it may soon be time to cease medication. The side-effects far outweigh the benefits in my opinion. Therapy is going only marginally well. I am not certain how much I care for the fact that all of our therapists, now, have been alerted to the existance of Nambiet. It was far simpler in the past to simply contribute without being asked, "Who's speaking now?" I do not want to fill out surveys, I do not want to draw my own likeness, I do not want to share secrets that others may not know. It is obvious, to me, that if others do not know, and I have kept it this long, that I do not intend on telling anyone.

Another form of therapy has been introduced: Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, or EMDR. I do not at all care for it. Perhaps it works, perhaps it is somethign to be hailed as miraculous, from what I have read. However, it illicits within me an odd sensation, something akin to losing control. I believe I may ask the therapist to avoid those types of games with us. I am not certain what she wishes to achieve but I do not like being manipulated.

A moment of good cheer.

2005-03-02T21:31:00.000-08:00

We shall be meeting a dear friend of ours, this summer, in Europe. She is graduating high school and we shall attend. A ray of light. Our itinerary is nearly complete; we must buy airline tickets and a Eurail pass, plus the essentials: microfiber towels, voltage converters, passports and cash-holders...traveling items. I daresay this will be excellent.

Bruyère has wanted to see Europe for as long as we can remember. This will likely be a one week trip, as Tannah will not be accompanying her. And, likely we will only see France and Germany, but that is fine with me. I would like to see a castle, perhaps, and the Black Forest, of course. In Paris, there is a Resistance Museum, with regards specifically for World War II, and I am very much interested in that. But, I am most interested in meeting with our friend. That will be the highlight.

War-driven child abuse.

2005-02-26T22:41:00.000-08:00

I read an article, recently, regarding child-soldiers. I know this is nothing new, by far, but it always stuns me. Children are remarkably resilient and can adapt to much more than an adult. Why this is, I am not certain, but in a sick, off-hand sense I beleive I could begin to understand. I do not beleive in using children for our resistance movement, and even when some volunteered, I turned them away. A child should not know the horrors of combat, in any sense, but there is a vast difference between seeing combat from afar, in the security of a shelter, and seeing them as they occur, to you and to your brothers-in-arms, forcing you to respond in kind.

This article centered around China Keitetsi, an Ugandan runaway at the age of eight, who survived as a soldier for several years before fleeing and applying for refugee status in South Africa. During that time she was abused, assaulted, and otherwise abused, on many occasions. A quote struck something within me: "The most difficult things to live with today are the ones I did on my own, because after being abused you carried this rage in you, and you wanted to give it on to someone because it was killing you inside. So what I did was torture the captured enemy, really put my whole rage on them without thinking ... and I wanted to prove to the boys that I was not just a special ration."

Her book has not been released in America yet, but I would like to read it, one day: Child Soldier: Fighting for My Life

A question.

2005-02-19T20:13:00.000-08:00

We attend a vocational institution for an apprenticeship that receives funding from the United States government. We did rather well in our first year of this five year electrical program, but this scholastic year we are lacking, due to hospital stays and issues regarding our diagnoses. In Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1965 (I believe), it mentions that reasonable accomadations shall be made in the case of a disability, and beyond that, no discrimination based on disability can occur. We have missed quite a lot of work and school because of issues regarding diagnoses. Some Inside believe it is in our best interest to make good on this Act, and perhaps tell the apprenticeship board a very broad explanation of what is occuring, so as to not lose our place in either the afore-mentioned apprenticeship, or the union.

My question is this: Do these diabilities include those of a psychiatric nature? And is it best to tell the apprenticeship board, or to try and continue keeping all of this secretive? My worry is that apprentices, such as myself, are tested and interviewed prior to acceptance into the program. It is a rigorous and highly selective program, with thousands (literally) on a waiting list. Therefore, because of these facts, I am worried that they may find a reason to dismiss us from the program.

Reflection.

2005-02-13T23:39:00.000-08:00

How I wish I had not had to do that, even now. To take a life kills a part of one's soul, and the realization of that hideous act can ultimately crush any sense of self.

That was written years ago, in regards to murder. Why does it still haunt me? And why would I not hesitate to do it again under similar circumstances? Sometimes the world ceases to make sense. The vindicated go free and the innocent drown in their own blood. What the fuck is the problem here? I wish I had the answers. I look to God for guidance and serenity but even there I falter.

A month later.

2005-02-07T20:26:00.000-08:00

I look back and it seems surreal, that a month prior had been the chosen date. I am not certain how the date was chosen, actually; only that it was intended. To trace the descent would take entirely too long, so I shall be brief.

Everyone of Nambiet knew that Christmas would be the last day with family. All was set: instructions, a list of accounts and passcodes, and those to notify. Inside, the small ones were wrapped safely. No one was certain what to expect, but there was a general sense of calm, and of relief...all except Bruyère. She became hysterical and lost control. For that, now, I am grateful. Someone managed to make an attempt; we did manage to cut into a vein but it was not severed. Soon after, at an urgent care, we were involuntarily admitted to the psychiatric hospital.

I was enraged, at first. I do not enjoy being held against my will. The first day, no one spoke, except for Bruyère, who gave truthful histories. Everyone else stayed back, on my word. The next morning, however, Molly broke free and spoke to the good Dr. Bauer. As he fell right in with her and showed no disbelief, others spoke with him, as well: Emme, Siroun, Rhiannon, Niven, Caleb...and so it began. We were placed on a legal hold for nearly two weeks, during which time we spoke to a drug and alcohol counsellor, a psychiatrist, a nutritionist (for Nina), several therapists and a "support team", every morning. Some Inside were very active Outside, as this was safe for them to be at the forefront. And that was helpful, to say the least. I feel our time there was beneficial, as we would most certainly not be here, now, otherwise.

The birthday-rush.

2005-01-29T22:51:00.000-08:00

Several in our family have birthdays within a week of ofne another, and not only is it draining on finances but also ob energy, with being right after Christmas and all. But everyone make it through: days abounding with gifts and joy, time spent, and general positive experiences. Most Inside either like the family, or are indifferent, so it causes no ill feelings or instigation during these times. Molly likes them especially, because of the small sister and their dog. The mother, also, acknowledges our presence, and although Molly is shy, she likes to be noticed. At the younger sister's birthday parties, the mother keeps a "goodie-bag" for the small ones to bring home, and it delighted them.

The talk of birthday parties brings to mind the fact that Jehovah's Witnesses do not celebrate birthdays, or holidays in general. If I recall correctly, this is because, in their belief, we are to honor God, and Jesus, and not one another. However I see this less honoring, and more building-up; are we not to do so? Further, it does say "Honor thy father and mother", so there is it contradicting to me. As for the other holidays, I can see why: Jehovah's Witnesses understand that most of today's Christian holidays (Christmas, Easter, the like) are greatly interwoven with paganism. I see that as well, and we do not celebrate Hallowe'en, and Christmas is celebrated without wreaths, or a red and green color scheme. We do have a tree, yes, but it is simple, as I believe commercialization has altered these holidays, as well. I will offer to hear what any Jehovah's Witness will say about anything above, and I will correct this if I am mistaken.

He has gone missing.

2005-01-22T18:39:00.000-08:00

Detective Demas called. The district attorney had accepted the case, and the police department set out to arrest the uncle for questioning, only to find that he apparently has dropped off of the face of the earth. He is no longer at his last known address, he did not appear for his mandatory check-in with his probation officer, he has nothing on his credit report, no bills in his name, and no one who knows where he went. They believe he may be in Mexico, as we have family there.

How the fuck could they lose him? I wonder if he was told, if the Shadows know, if we will be hunted and punished for this. We were told not to talk.

Stumbling Towards Faith.

2005-01-17T19:08:00.000-08:00

Renee Altson gave me information regarding her book, "Stumbling Toward Faith", several months prior; I finally read it. I merely wanted to extend our appreciation, as the book was written well and it was definately something that needed to be written. I finished it in one sitting, though reading the utterly dismal situations within, I must admit I was tempted to step away briefly. It must have been exceedingly difficult to write those words, knowing that a great many others would be reading them. To endure as she did and remain stable enough to share her story is incredible. I cannot say I would necessarily have the same level of courage.

It makes me recall when a few men convinced Bruyère that we were demons inhabiting her body. At first I thought it laughable. I toyed with them, I called Christianity a virus and I denounced their God. At one point I even began agreeing with them, "admitting" I was indeed a demon. I thought they were only after me. I believe that physics Inside are not quite the same as physics Outside. In that, I mean that we do not use restrooms and bodies generally disappear once dead. Things of that nature. I remember the first time I demanded that Molly lie, and the first time Rhiannon actually looked to me for guidance.

These exorcists soon tired of dealing with me. They grew weary of my crude remarks and insults. They began to prey on the others. It was always the same line: "Demon, I demand in the name of Jesus you tell me your name." Then, "In the name of Jesus I command you to come out of the body and go back to your pit in Hell." Of course it was amusing to me, but not at all to the small ones, and I can empathize. I insisted they do not reveal their true names, and I even read logs of exorcists and found that most demons are named after sin, such as "Lust", "Suicide", or "Rage". I took a massive list of these and posted it near the Gate so that anyone finding themself in that situation can give an appropriate name. Then, as the pastor commanded them to go, they ran to the saferoom. It seemed to work.

Seth pretended to cause himself to shatter. Jude and Molly formed a "safety team" and called themselves "Sneak". They kept each other safe, as they were too frightened to be alone. I remember the pleading look in Rhiannon's eyes, her trembling hands as she imaged me visciously, "HELP ME".

There was so much chaos. That is when I began to lose my hold. It is when I began my descent. Except that now, I am uncertain that I can fully recover. Things will never return to as they were. There is always that fear, some have a disdain for religion. Even now I close my eyes and wonder.

Returning to life.

2005-01-12T21:58:00.000-08:00

We returned to work a few days ago, still heavily medicated. It was almost like living in a fog. I called our psychiatrist and told them it was imperative that we be re-evaluated, so that we can function. I believe it is the Trileptal that causes the fog, though I am not positive.

We lost our journeyman, Doug, in our absence, as he was transfered to a different crew. I liked him, actually; well-spoken, fun, and a man with a true insight into himself. We are now working with Eric, who is young but very experienced. He saw the arms today, and the obvious scars of the attempt, and told us that life is far too important. He said it in a manner that let us know he was not being judgemental. I think I enjoy working with him, as well. And Wayne, our foreman, is being transferred to Caesar's Palace, so we will have a new foreman soon, as well. Much change, of late.

I must admit that the transition from inpatient to outpatient is a difficult one. There is a feeling of vulnerablility, and a sense that the world is unsafe. This is felt especially by the small ones, who actually enjoyed our hospital stay very much. There was art class, gym class, puzzles and coloring books, and we also had "Hipo", the small ones' plush hippo. In fact, I daresay Molly was sad to go. She likes Dr. Bauer, who spent time speaking with her individually, and the experience in general. I do not think she quite understood why we were there.

Quite a way to begin the new year.

2005-01-09T07:16:00.000-08:00

On 28 December we were admitted in Montevista Hospital for a suicide attempt. The story of that particular event is complicated and so for now, we will ignore it. At any rate, we spent nearly two weeks under a legal hold, during which we were overmedicated and twice placed on line-of-vision. There were only two worthwhile memories of the time spent there. The first was New Year's Eve, when we were given a "special snack" and allowed to watch the fireworks. Most everyone went to sleep except ourself and a man named Chris. We wished each other a happier new year, and embraced, and it was a bonding moment, even something that basic.

The second was of a man we will simply call Abe, as his daughter is a celebrity and would likely not want his inpatient stay revealed. Abe was an elderly gentleman who had attempted suicide as well, and it was sad to look upon him: a man with such heart, and more stories and wit by which we were entertained. He was very talented in humor, and it made our stay bearable. He made a profound impact on us, as one day Siroun told him some of our history, and how some believed it was our fault, the abuse that occured. He looked straight into the eyes, and said, "You weren't a contender."

It was a turning point, I believe. This man gave us a different perspective and for that we are grateful. Of course there is no way to contact him, except through his daughter, but again; as she is a celebrity I hesitate in contacting her. Though, we would like to thank him, after all.

Alive.

2005-01-07T01:28:00.000-08:00

Today was to have been the day. We survived it.

Finally: I am told it ends.

2004-12-04T04:38:00.000-08:00

It has been made clear to me that we should put our affairs in order. I know what this means. The Professor noted the information recieved, and so it is, and I daresay there is a sense of relief in that. I am no longer responsible for making that decision, and yet I have not really lost any control. The mirrors can erase us, they shine in a terrible blindly haze and it makes perfect sense now: I know why der toten Kinder huddle, and why Asche wears a mask. I am not certain how it is to occur, but it shall, and soon. I hesitate only long enough to feel regret for the small ones, and a passive sadness that we had really come rather far in life, considering...and for naught. I am assuming Christmastime with the family will be the last for us. And it disturbs me that I do not feel anything when typing that statement.

Darkness.

2004-11-23T01:13:00.000-08:00

Life is becoming increasingly difficult. It seems sometimes that we scarcely have the energy to breathe. The anniversary nears...

Classes are monotonous, and I detest saying that as I do like our instructor. However, formulas--even in something as simple as Ohm's law--seem unnecessary to survival, and right now survival is what we are trying to maintain. Anything further is entirely overwhelming. We need a plan before lo viernde-lisez finds us again.

I was living on borrowed time.

2004-11-20T21:29:00.000-08:00

I realize it with clarity now:

I suppose we all are; but it became obvious to me last evening that it is especially true for Nambiet. It is against all odds we survived. Aside from the abuse and such, there were Inside conflicts as well, including the Rahkas and betrayal from our own. It seems to me that it was purposely meant to be too much. "Les jeux sont faits"...I know that now.

I feel the inevitable, the impending Darkness. The curtain closes, and I want to go home.

A spark of lucidity, a sigh of resignation: they cradle me, and I am calm.

Ai-sirni srelin...nai sirnè kaeli ilanen hkaduir, piro ponskaett nepreão. Kaeli ai-paevi, sikae.

Disneyland.

2004-11-07T23:06:00.000-08:00

Our weekend jaunt to Disneyland was incredibly relaxing. The small ones liked the Teacups and Molly insisted on posing near the "home" of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Mark Twain's Riverboat was interesting, and I must say that the Storybook scenery was so very meticulous, I was amazed. Such detail in miniature with living plantlife, it really is something to be seen. And of course we went on many of the other rides: Star Tours, the ones featuring Roger Rabbit and Indiana Jones, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Haunted Mansion...so many more and we never stood in line for longer that ten minutes. As far as roller-coasters go, Big Thunder Mountain was exhilarating but the small ones wanted to cry, and the Matterhorn was closed for remodeling. We had intended to go to lunch at the Blue Bayou resaurant specifically for their Montecristo sandwich (divine, I tell you) but reservations were necessary and we did not know that then. The Host was very upset about it but we can surely go again sometime.

All in all the roadtrip experience itself was relaxing as well, getting away from Las Vegas and forgetting about work, school, the detective, all of that. Sometimes we feel so close to a complete mental breakdown I become seriously agitated by the possibility. We need this, from time to time, all of us. Some Inside insist we would be healthier if we did not work, as there are programs to provide for those unable to work but I steadfastly refuse. They cannot have taken our livelihood, our ability to care for ourself. As long as the choice is given to us, and as long as I am in charge of that decision, we will work. We will provide for ourself and ou household, we will be productive. We graduated high school, we can maintain employment. It may just be a fact that we need vacations like this to balance our sanity.

Remaining stable.

2004-10-26T20:01:00.000-07:00

Aside from an excruciating burn made the day of the interview we are feeling somewhat balanced for now. This weekend October's peak is upon us, and we plan to go to Disneyland as a way to reformat memories to the upcoming holiday. As of now, the day's recollections include abuse and Piers' passing, so a few annual trips to Disneyland will behoove us, I believe. In fact, we bought a new digital camera to capture the moments, and it is something so desperately needed right now, for everyone Inside.

Why this, in October?

2004-10-19T02:59:00.000-07:00

It was unbelievably gut-wrenching. Statements were made that no one had yet spoken aloud until yesterday. Nausea persists and fear of retaliation from the Shadows looms near.

To give a statement.

2004-10-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

Detective Demas. Where to begin? He called Wednesday past and we are to report to him today to give an incident report regarding the uncle. Of course, all turned to me and expected me to conduct it; how can I? He asks for the Host by name, and until I am given a subpoena I shall not interfere. Legally, I doubt that can even happen, and so the Host must comply on her own. We will of course stand close so as to not leave her, but it would be unethical to step in without proper authorization.

He did mention something specifically, however, that struck me as odd. The sister, who had called him to make the initial report, had told him about us and memory repression. Really, she told him entirely too much in that I am uncomfortable with an acting officer of the law knowing these things. I suppose it could be called memory repression to an extent, but some of us have always recalled some incidents and forgotten others. Memory work is a group activity. While one forgets another remembers, and be it by chance meeting, the memory will surface in time. Is that really repression? I could not answer that. I sincerely hope this interview goes well, as there are some questions that cannot possibly be answered straight away without conferring with one another. Even now we recall a different series of events for certain instances. It would be a pity should our story be found unbelievable due to inconsistancy. I want only for it to go smoothly and with as little debate as possible. I daresay it will be an exceedingly difficult afternoon.

A hatred inside.

2004-10-12T23:42:00.000-07:00

I have spent time in the past day or so filing combat-related documents, and I came upon a few releases saved from interrogations. I feel torn with this aspect of my past as I deeply regret many of those actions, and yet I do not know if I would act any different now, in the same situation. It is a sterling truth that a man will likely do anything in his power to keep himself safe. Being safe and feeling safe are interwoven; one can be safe and feel unsafe, and the terror is the same. When I conducted many of those interrogations I felt unsafe, I felt invaded when in fact we were experiencing an invasion. Some say I acted out of desperation or a driving will to persevere. I wish it were so. However I believe there was an ounce of malice therein, something sinister hiding away in my demeanor. I could have been firm without resorting to cruelty. And I say that now, fully cognizant of my current situation and the situations in the past, I say that knowing full-well the consequences and I wonder if that would stop me from doing it again. Would I have the self-control to limit my actions? Or would I succumb to Mjollnir's way and give in to the darkest thoughts? I never want to be in that postion again; no one shopuld have to make such a decision. So many say that, if put in a position to choose their own life over another's, it would be simple: their own. But to conciously and actively make that decision and go through with it is something that deadens a soul just a little, and that bright spark fades only minutely, but it does fade. Making those decisions consistantly can erase a man's soul to such a point that the spark flickers and winks out completely and it happens, I assure you. I have seen it, dead men milling about, speaking in lowered tones and always fidgeting. The men who speak with their teeth driven deep into the filters of their cigarettes, the men who can never again fully rest with the knowledge their worn hearts now hold. I do not want to be that man, and I intend to keep that sense of self within me.

Comparison, to Before.

2004-10-04T16:37:00.000-07:00

I feel it advancing, even now, the first tingling tendrils of the Spiral. Why they continue to haunt me, I do nto know. It has come to a point, actually, that I wonder if I am the only one who suffers so. After all, it seems to occur in an unnaturally frequent manner. At very least the cease-fire seems to be holding, and therefore there seem to be no new worries to add to the ever-increasing load.

And look at this: These petty troubles drill at me persistantly when, in reality, these are insignificant compared to Before. How is it we held up so much better then, and now crumble? Has our resolve weakened so dramatically? What has changed?

Medicinal effects.

2004-09-28T23:58:00.000-07:00

A headache, an inability to sleep, and a lack of any appetite whatsoever. It is difficult to maintain focus on anything of importance. I wonder if these are side-effects of the Zoloft. At times, I beleive side-effects must outweigh the symptoms the medications are meant to alleviate.

Doubts of ownership.

2004-09-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

As the weather shifts to cooler temperatures, we shift into another mode, ourself. I suppose, upon reflection, that there is a sense of foreboding in both main seasons: as such, Las Vegas really only has a summer and winter, with autumn and spring only the intermission between each. The summer brings one set of memories to the surface, and the winter, another set. Spring and autumn held their own rituals as well, but these times signal for us a time for preparation. We must refocus and hone our skills anew in the interest of keeping up appearances. Each year is difficult, each dark holiday and anniversay unpleasant, but we do know that each year it fails to kill us, and in that there is hope.

On another note, security was breached the other evening when James--small James--broke down and told the fiance about one of the rituals. The Shadows are ever-present, even now, and I write this with great anxiety. However, I also write this in the hopes that if Tannah were correct, we may recieve further feedback.

Years ago there was a ritual performed in which our soul was promised to the Hidden God. It was sealed and unbroken. It was also done in such a way that even if we were to break free, it would still be only a borrowed soul, on our part, as after that moment it was no longer ours. I will not delve into the details of this ceremony for reasons, again, of inner security.

Tannah told us that biblicaly, no one but God can have our soul. He says this is illustrated in John, 10:28-30.

28) And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. 29) My Father, which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of my Father's hand. 30) I and my Father are one.

No man, yes. But another god?

Then that brings into question, again, our faith. If we are truly Christian, then we believe in One True Living God. We also believe that any other spirits or so-called dieties would be the creation of this One God, and therefore we would also believe that the creation cannot be more powerful than the Creator. Furthermore, that these demons or would-be dieties only have any conceivable power to those who believe in those powers. For instance, a demon cannot harm someone who is not open to it.

Why then, these doubts? The fear of the Shadows, who are the minions of this Hidden God. If we fear the Shadows, then we fear this Hidden God. And if we fear this Hidden God and believe He has our soul, then we do not believe in the power of our God. This has caused an immense struggle within us. This faith crisis grows increasingly darker.

Different faith-paths.

2004-09-24T23:13:00.000-07:00

I read through much of my journal these past few days. In that, I realized that I had made it seem as if we are all Christian, or at least the majority of us. I suppose last year, when I wrote much of the site, it was said in order to placate the deliverance ministers hounding us, and in a sense, to give myself a feeling of solidarity. In reality, only myself and the Host are really Christian. Molly asks about Jesus at times, and Siroun has a passing interest. Several months ago we bought them a children's Bible, even though Siroun is likely too old for it. However, between that one, mine, and the few others we have setting about, there is no excuse to not read, if one were further interested. I know that on occasion both Meylin and Aurelio read a Spanish one we own, but they are present so infrequently.

Truth be told, most Inside are either Pagan, in one sense or another, or agnostic. Of course, what they choose to practice is no business of my own, but I do wonder why so many Inside choose to fall back on the ways that hurt us, to begin with. The Dhampir still use blood in their ceremonies, and the Elvenkind do, on occasion, practice what I would call spellcasting...though, with the issue at hand with the Rahkas now, they are still closed into the Spires.

I wonder if we could find a chaplain, here. I think it might raise morale with the troops, and I could certainly stand to take in any words of wisdom he may have to offer. It is odd to note that we have filled nearly every position we need within our ranks except that of a chaplain.

I know someone will likely tell me that we just need to go to weekly church services, but it is not the same, not by far. I can relate to no one there. It is a constant struggle to maintain composure. What if there is an outburst? An abreaction? We can have none of that.

Allow me to retort:

2004-09-22T20:31:00.000-07:00

I have recieved more than a few accusatory remarks in the past day or so. These statements insinuate that I am a danger to the body and to the Host in that I allow us to cut the body at times, or even partake in the act myself.

The afore-mentioned incidents seem to overshadow counter-measures I have taken in the past. Times when I have taken the liberty of hiding blades, or times when I have come to the forefront specifically to resist an urge. There are times I knew that driving ourself to a hospital for proper medical attention would only bring worse conditions, and those times I took it upon myself to clean and suture the wound. And when there was no alternative except to harm the body, I made a direct effort to ensure the tools we used were clean, at very least.

I know this may come as a shock to some: I have many titles, but "God" and "Keeper" are not included. I only have a limited scope in certain decisions. I can suggest or plead or interfere, but we all are given free-will. I cannot force the Host or anyone else Inside to begin or cease an action. That would be both foolish and unethical.

Scattered.

2004-09-21T22:34:00.000-07:00

We have been having intermittant hip pain followed by dislocations for months now. On Thursday, there was a rather odd position in which we found the body, whilst trying to maneuver inside a scissorlift. It caused yet another dislocation, and as we often do, I suggested we try to walk it off. Failing that after several hours, we asked Tannah to slide it back into place, though he was unable to do so properly. Yesterday, we went to seek medical assitance, and the doctor claimed it sounded very much like a fracture. We explained that we had endured hip trauma before, and she sent us to radiology, and gave us a referral to an orthopaedic specialist. It was mentioned that if it were a fracture or series of fractures that had never quite healed, we may be losing bone mass in the area. She also gave us a three-week sample of Zoloft; I hesitate in injesting medications again, but what with my recent thoughts, I believe it may be for the best. I insist on monitoring the side effects, however, and that the fiance do the same.

And now, this:

It has come to my attention that not only has the sister read through this site, but the mother has, as well. I feel a sense of guilt in that; I never intended for either parent to find this, and even if they had, I never expected one to read it. I was told that the mother read through it in one night, and it is quite a lot to take in at once. Had I known, I would have edited some entries, at least.

She said, however, that she wants nothing censored, as she will feel "shut-out"...I understand the sentiment, however I feel I cannot be held responsible for any abreaction that may occur. As we are dealing now more readily with the incidents in Texas, I refuse to allow myself to become conscience-stricken for writing events as they occured. If that is something that can be taken in stride (as well as one is able to do so), then so be it. This is a warning, nothing more; not given in anger but in the name of fair play. Consider this a favor, of sorts, as I will not spoiler for content.

Other than that, the mother did seem rather accepting, though she did mention a sense of sadness at the sudden knowledge. I was surprised, actually, as she asked quite a few questions; not only about aspects of the abuse and of our existence, but also seemed interested in keeping us comfortable, as it were. She wondered if it were appropriate to offer Molly a gift once in awhile, and also made it clear that, should I ever need a hug, I am welcome to it. A sweet gesture, I must admit.

"Yar, there be termites in me leg."

2004-09-19T20:24:00.001-07:00

Apparently, today is International Speak Like a Pirate Day. In reference to the above quote, see Red vs. Blue. I really do enjoy that series, as silly as it is, at times.

Struggling with an abandoned heritage.

2004-09-18T02:07:00.000-07:00

Oktoberfest officially begins today in the Bavarian capital of Munich. It is scheduled to end on 03 October; two weeks of unadulterated binging of nearly every type imaginable, set to the tune of traditional Bavarian brass bands. Photographs of the event show scores of Germans dressed in lederhosen mingling with shirtless college-age men, all grinning and lifting their steins in unison.

Even though our birth-heritage is German, and Bavarian specifically, We find ourself torn in that regard. On one hand, some of us would definitely like to research our earlier heritage. German food, and culture, and language are all fascinating to us. Not only that, but it is an integral part of our being, whether we like that or not.

On the other hand, there is the fact that there is a major part of our existence that was formed and molded by the German members of our family. Most of aspects that formed us were negative in nature. These are the things we rarely admit to ourself, or others. At times it can seem so unrealistic, and I am almost certain that we will not be believed. No one noticed then; I cannot begin to think that we would be given the same courtesy now, after the fact.

Tragedy in Beslan.

2004-09-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

Though the actual incident in Russia occured days prior, I wanted to take a few days to really think it through. I tried to see both sides: the Chechen desperation, and the immoral "filtration camps"...of course, all I know is what I have read. Nonetheless, the conditions are deplorable, with reports of torture and rape circulating widely by ex-detainees. Such brutality is inexcusable, even in a time of war.

But to murder children? To hold them at gunpoint amid those already killed, to deny them even water for days? That is unspeakable. A senseless mass execution likely will do nothing to help the Chechen cause. I daresay they ruined any chance of being heard, as now the anger and grief felt by Russians is inconsolable.

Such terror and hatred in the world. I wish there were another way to exist, but also, I know that we would not understand joy had we not any reason to seek it. What is joy, without despair? What is comfort, without agony? It leads one to ponder why we choose to exist at all.

A nation forgets.

2004-09-11T04:38:00.000-07:00

I stil remember this day, three years prior. It was a tragedy that transformed this nation, and even the world, whether or not anyoine wants to publically acknowledge that. Changes in security, in background checks, even in policies such as the Patriot Act, they all are efforts to fix something too late. Five years ago, a Phillips screwdriver or an unsheathed razor blade did not garner a second glance. Now, "flying the friendly skies" includes taking off one's shoes for inspection at the gate.

The thing that really saddens me is that the young people seem to have already forgotten the price paid, and the sense of brotherhood. Now it seems, the young people have moved on, and it is not acceptable to think they believe this merely an anniversary of a page in their textbooks. Fuck that.

Lo viernde-lisez.

2004-09-05T01:16:00.000-07:00

"A dozen brothers, each one alone. They look upon their gifts: Thistle, steel, blood and wine. Each gift is unique, and powerful. Each gift is coveted. They are necessary to withstand the desolate times, the Winterkill."

I wrote this a few weeks ago, originally, but it has been on my mind of late.

There is a Yesuan legend, passed orally between both soldiers and civilians. It speaks of the Winterkill (or, in Yesuan, viernde-lisez), which is a type of soul murder. It comes upon the victim as a cold, unfeeling, emotional virus. It kills the soul as if by inches, weakening it slowly but deliberately. There is no cure, only remission. And it is indeed fatal.

Twelve brothers set off on the journey of Life. They began the journey eager and gleeful, with light-hearted thoughts and a spring in their step. Poise and valor ran in their blood, and they awaited the challenges that Life had to offer. Their only tanglible possessions were the gifts their father had given them: a satchel of thistle, a fistful of steel, a vial of blood, and a flask of wine. These supposedly had great--almost magical--powers, against the insidious vapors of desolation given by Winterkill. The thistle stood for endurance, the steel for strength, the blood represented courage, and the wine was given to mean passion.

As the road wound over hills and valleys, through forests and along the shoreline, the brothers grew weary. The challenges were met head-on, and although they were met valiantly, it still drained their fervor. They recalled the gifts, and held them close, but were uncertain how to use them. In their quiet moments, they secretly watched their mystical gifts, crying out to them silently, wanting desperately for their gifts to bless them. They began to wonder, each one exclusive of one another, if they had been found out of favor, and so the gifts would not perform for them. They began to eye one another suspiciously, and even began to develop greed of each other's gifts. This caused a seed of hate, and a seed of despair to grow within their hearts. They slowly began to wander without the exuberance they ahd once known, so instead they placed their faith in the hope of these gifts, obsessing over them desperately.

As time went on, the Winterkill infected them one by one, and they died gradual and agonizing deaths. These once close-knit brothers had become troubled casualties of great suffering. They succumbed far too soon, when youth had scarcely relinquished them. It is a devastating sight: an emotional demise in the dewy eyes of the young.

Truth be known, the gifts held no power at all. They were only symbols of the powers one holds inside of oneself.

Merely novelties, something tangible to squeeze when the world feels unreal, and one's heart is numb. One's true virtue is stoicism, the ability to keep emotion at bay until such a time that it is safe to unleash it. No amount of courage, or joy, or hope can save a soul. It is grim determination, a solid heart, a strong sense of stability..even if it is untrue. A half-truth is not the same as full-blown deception. Survival is not guaranteed to the emotional; they become overwhelmed. Survival is the glory of the realists.

Work-related injury.

2004-09-01T15:14:00.000-07:00

We were sprayed indirectly by a fire extinguisher at work today. We inhaled much of it, and quite a lot seeped into the eyes, even with our safety glasses on. That shit hurts.

A lack of motivation.

2004-08-28T23:41:00.000-07:00

I just spent close to an hour--if not more--speaking in depth to a dear friend of mine. I am very fond of her, as she is intelligent and kind, and there are quite a few things we have in common. She has been a good friend of mine for a very long time.

As I posted a few days ago, I tend to lie about my well-being. And, according to the responses I recieved, this is not at all uncommon. I tried again, today, to be pleasant, and to make things seem as if all were well. Either she knows me better than most, or I lie worse than I know. She offered to listen, and I took it.

I did not mean to say as much as I did. I worry so that I may upset her, or worry her unnecessarily. At the same time, I know this is something friends do for one another. If only I were able to return the favor.

I have been feeling a deep sense of despair for quite awhile. A hopelessness, almost a feeling of emotional starvation. I feel that a part of it stems from a sudden and inexplicable faith crisis. For over a year I have held steadfast to the ideals of my faith, somethign new for me, something providing hope. The idea of salvation and resulting afterlife offers to me a guarantee of peace, of rest...and for reaons I would rather not divulge, I wonder if it applies to me at all. With that doubt now clouding my thoughts, the lingering depression grows ever-darker.

Thoughts of self-harm and suicide cling madly to me, and although I am far better than I was a month ago, I still feel apathetic toward the notions. Unfortunately, working in a construction trade gives us ample opportunity to not only use available tools, but to formulate believable excuses to explain the obvious wounds.

It is not my place to do such things. However, with therapy becoming intolerable, and with the rising pressures of both JATC classes and the impending overtime ticket at work, I am finding less of a reason to want to deal with this effectively.

Pondering Winterkill.

2004-08-26T19:10:00.000-07:00

I usually try to type something descriptive in the subject line, but this evening, my mind is blank.

And, after staring at this screen for twenty minutes, my mind is still blank. I need to speak, I need to release this; and I cannot, of my own volition. These damn lies.

A dozen brothers, each one alone. They look upon their gifts: Thistle, steel, blood and wine. Each gift is unique, and powerful. Each gift is coveted. They are necessary to withstand the desolate times, the Winterkill.

My mind is wandering. I know there is bourbon in the pantry, I saw it just teh other day. And yet we work tomorrow, and it is not advisable to drink as I would like on a work-night.

However, I take no issue with a cigarette, and it will not affect my work performance tomorrow. I believe I shall partake in that, instead.

Half-truths and deception.

2004-08-25T22:02:00.000-07:00

It is all well and good to lie. We all do it, I believe. In fact, it very well may be an intrinsic part of our human nature.

I have made an art of lying, fronting, falsifying information. It suits me, though I wish it did not. I cannot so easily lie to everyone; there are a few people who know the difference.

In the past, my lies were a matter of survival. Pretending to be "okay" because, if not, the consequences would have been severe. At first, that was all. Only for survival. Then it became easier to lie, easier to cover the truth or bend it to suit my needs. Easier to lie, because the truth drives others away. It soon was my second nature. Yes, I am doing well. Yes, all is safe, no issues at hand. Yes, I am doing the best I am able with what I have.

And still, I do the same. Except that I cannot seem to stop lying: not to others, not to myself. Even when I manage to admit that I am unwell, I hesitate in relinquishing the entire truth. Even now, there is so much more on my mind than this. I simply cannot bring myself to come to terms with all occuring right now.

Very nearly a month ago, I attempted something boundlessly stupid. It was something I scarcely recall, and yet something that seemed right at the time. I do not know why it keeps coming back to this: the urges, the clues, the words. And the truth. The painfully brutal truth. I really do not know why I am writing this.

Difficult choices.

2004-08-21T21:10:00.000-07:00

Hollowed: not to be confused with hallowed...not by far.

As certain times of the year rise again, I find myself in the same exact place as before. It seems I have not improved at all. And yet, I am not the same person I was a year prior. Ergo: if I have changed, and yet, I have not improved, what does that dictate?

Exactly.

I daresay things have spiralled more now than before. There are reasons, of course; issues and persons of our past have revisited in a horrific manner. Obvious triggers, with which I must contend, and Zillah is still a force more immense than I first knew. Even my own behavior of late has been erratic, I am told. Though, Denial is my very close friend.

And so, therefore, I feel hollowed: an empty shell, riding existence as if it were a violent gust of wind, spiralling hither and thither with no choices of my own.

Yes. Of course there are always choices. However, one must be realistic: at times, there are a set of choices presented that no one, ever, should be forced to decide. Especially since the "correct" choice is often the most difficult to implement.

Labels.

2004-08-15T23:34:00.000-07:00

Asarian-host.net... (Or .com, or .org, I did not especially pay attention.) I have been recieving emails with this tag, asking if I would like free, anonymous e-mail hosting from them. I did minor research and found it is linked to dissociation, and multiplicity.

Why do people need to feed their insecurities with labels? It should not matter if we are Many or not. At all. Why would I want to openly advertise that? I fucking hate it. The influx of journals, and self-help books, and survival books, and "poor me" autobiographies, and disability forums...they astound me. Why are others obsessed with this? Some people survive their abuse only to wallow in it for decades after, refusing treatment, or becoming so focused on treatment that it hinders daily functioning. I never want to go to work in the mornings. I never want to attend school at night. I never want to function, I tire of it, and yet I do, because it is what I must do.

Perhaps I hate myself, and it is why I am pissed off at everyone else.

That, and I feel betrayed.

A "friend of a friend" or some such began e-mailing me. No worries, I like speaking to new people. This is the one who "recommended" me for the Asarian-host e-mail address. I spoke with her at length perhaps two months ago, for the first time. We exchanged alot of information, and thought it was interesting that we were Many, and asked. Again, I take no issue with that. Most ask questions. But then she began changing herself, molding herself. I did not notice at first. But now, she has suddenly turned her derealization into full-blown multiplicity, with oodles of recovered memories. All of which--both alters and memories--reflect what I have told her. At least she could have the decency to create soemthign more unique. I mean really...the cheek.

And what really angers me is this is not the first time it has happened. The Council says I need to speak more. I disagree. If anything, it should be less. You say I am programmed...perhaps I am somehow pretending myself. All of this is bullshit.

Why is it so goddamn important to be worse off than another? Why must it always be a damn contest? If I say to a fellow cutter that I needed sutures, then suddenly, they work hard to need sutures as well. If I say to another that experiences internal shifting of sorts that we lose time and are dynamic in character, then suddenly their internal processes will reflect that. If I say to an abuse survivor that our abuse was ritual in nature, and networked, then their abuse suddenly becomes as mine.

And I understand...sometimes others withhold information until they know another. That is fine. But when details do not match, or cannot be adequately given? Lies never add up. I am not so stupid as others think I am. Is there any reasoning behind competative mental illness?

I know who I am.

2004-08-12T19:22:00.000-07:00

I know I was given a series of duties. My name is my number and my number is my access, and my access is 719. James before, or Logan now, that does not matter. Those were names chosen. Lights on polished steel, that is what I know. It seems entirely too simple. But then, logic and intellect are my allies.

A death at work, today.

2004-08-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

A man apparently died of dehydration. Add this to the death onsite due to a narcotics overdose, and the worker that fell from the low-rise roof a few days ago, I wonder exactly how dangerous construction work is.

In an excerpt of an article taken from The Socialist Worker, a comparison was made between work-related deaths of construction workers, to police officers, citing that most believe police-work is one of the most dangerous occupations in this nation:

"According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), in 2002, there were a total of 5,524 fatal work injuries in the United States. In the summary of the BLS’s findings for 2002, cops don’t even merit a mention. Construction, factory, forestry, mining, fishing and trucking workers accounted for the majority of fatalities. In 2002, 1,121 construction workers died; 789 agricultural, forestry and fishing workers; 563 manufacturing workers; 121 miners; 910 transportation and public utility workers; 692 wholesale and retail trade workers; and 580 service workers. Coming in second to last behind finance, insurance and real-estate workers (87 fatalities) are the police, with 106 deaths. Of the 106 police deaths, only 38 were from gunshot wounds. About that many people are shot and killed every year by cops in Detroit and New York City alone. The Stolen Lives Project, for example, compiled a list of 32 people killed by New York City and environs police in 1998."

It makes me wonder exactly how many of these jobsite accidents were preventable; how many were foolish mistakes and how many were based on a a false sense of safety.

Of power and glory...

2004-07-29T22:34:00.000-07:00

...no one wins. Only the greedy succeed, and they are never the ones to fight and die on the plains. Instead, we continue our death march: Weary and slain. Exhausted. Days are murky pink and muddled grey. A dark smoky crimson. It rarely helps anymore. I did not intend for this, never this. Never this.

I have kept this poem for years...it speaks to me in a way that is amazing.

The Soldier, by Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Of a soldier.

2004-07-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

I knew a man once, many years ago. One might say I knew him in passing. He was a leader in some ways, though he tried not to think of it in that manner. He tried instead to think of his duties as a way of life. Born as a Protector, he did all he could to strive toward his goal in doing the best as he was able. Often, he succeeded in that. There were failures too, of course, as there always are. One cannot acheive absolute perfection.

He worked in tandem with another, a Guardian. This Guardian came from afar in search of peace. He had led an existence filled with strife and despair, much in the same way the Protector had. They shared an understanding. However, this Guardian brought with him War. Granted, the enemy had always been there, but the Guardian brought the enemy closer than ever, and the Wars escalated. The Protector stayed behind to keep safe the small ones, whilst at the same time watching the world Outside, knowing the dangers there as well.

It was nearly nine years ago that the Guardian was killed, presumably in action. The Protector was lost, set adrift by this new situation, and had no choice but to take up the Guardian's duties, as well. It was a matter of honor and respect. It had to be done.

The Protector floundered in this new position. He had become Guardian Protector and Battalion Commander all at once, and in the early days of the transition, he committed several grieveous sins. His rage got the best of him, and in that, he did nothing but perpetuate the atrocities occuring. He did unto others as was done to him, and even whilst committing these acts, he knew it was wrong...yet, he continued, with a mixture of self-loathing and unholy glee battling for his heart.

He thinks back to those days, I am told. In doing so, he recalls his short-comings and tries to learn from them, as I really do not believe he is quite so evil a man as some may think. he ponders upon these things when a paramount decision is to be made; one that will forever change what he knows and cares for. He has such a decision now, and he believes he has made the correct choice, but fear still grips him, and he wonders.

I keep in contact with him from time to time, and I wonder, as well. One can only hope he really has grown, and has learned, and has risen above the past.

This burden.

2004-07-25T23:58:00.000-07:00

More each day: more images, recollections, knowledge.

I sense that I should feel a resignation to my fate, and yet, I would rather die trying.

We cannot break her. It is not meant to be.

It is growing increasingly clear that what is meant to happen will indeed happen, whether or not I give my blessing.

I pray I am incorrect, and my paranoia has gotten the best of me.

More later.

Now a family tradition.

2004-07-15T22:52:00.000-07:00

Bastille Day was yesterday. We traditionally celebrate it with a light meal of Brie, or Camambert, a warm baguette, and perhaps a glass of wine or a mild soup, while viewing a French film. Yesterday, however, was also our weekly meeting with our young-adult group at church, and so we celebrated today.

This year, not only did the parents participate, but the sister and her family as well. It is interesting and somewhat flattering to see this turn into a family tradition. In all honesty, I do wish that we knew more in the ways of French cuisine, but now we have a year until the next time; I am certain one of us can begin researching that. Even so, it was a good day, and one of the few holidays we celebrate that is not marred by a negative memory.

A day in the life.

2004-07-13T23:54:00.000-07:00

Today was a rather easy day at work. We were verifying conduit, and spent much of the day reading blueprints and using immense amounts of duct tape.

However, things became far more complicated at the end of the shift: Las Vegas Boulevard South was completely closed off for several blocks. At first we assumed a film crew was working on something, and then thought perhaps the demolition crews were getting ready to finish the implosion at the Desert Inn. As we got closer to the construction garage, we noticed dozens of Metro squad cars, ambulances, fire-trucks, and a few unmarked white vans. No one was allowed to retrieve personal vehicles except at ten workers at a time, and those parked at the Stardust were told they would not be allowed to even cross to stow their belongings. The Frontier was being evacuated, and traffic was being rerouted to avoid the entire area. Most of us were caught between curiosity and a mild apprehension.

SWAT team members there told us it was a bomb threat...something not unheard of on the Strip, but still, it was odd. Especially since both the Frontier and the Stardust are older casinos...one would think any would-be terrorist or the like would choose a larger, newer, better-known casino. Hopefully, this is a silly childish prank.

In other, completely unrelated news, we have abstained from any intentional self-harm in nearly a week. I now assume that the sudden descent into the Spiral was only temporary...a good thing.

Keeping hope.

2004-07-06T22:47:00.000-07:00

There is another side of war, another brighter side. When one mentions the very word, it brings an influx of images: strewn bodies, the smell of blood and gunpowder, shrill cries, heartache, and grim determination. Truth be known, those are the basics of war, yes. Every soldier knows those moments, and often his heart is heavy with them. However, stoicism is a soldier's best friend, is he can achieve it. A quote: "...Anything that gets in the way of success has to be eliminated—emotion, fear, pain. It's the mental things that will impede your survival."--Colby Coombs

What few realize is this other side. Nights of laughter, stolen moments of whispered stories of first loves and hidden dreams. Firelight that reflects off each man's eyes...eyes that are not always set ablaze in fear or pain, but sometimes with genuine glee and relaxation. Sometimes we have even been known to set up an impromptu game of poker. There is a sense of brotherhood between us. Those who would never sing, sing. Those who would never dance, dance. There are no boundaries, and the blood spilled by one onto the rest is the blood of more than a friend, more than a comrade. We must partake in these carefree moments, because otherwise, the mind would go insane with the worry , insane with the pain and fear and dread. And if war were something that were a constant barrage of grenades and gunfire, then soldiers would likely lose themselves to suicide before losing themselves to enemy fire.

You see, not every day is construed of dodging bullets that no one can possibly dodge. War has its tedious moments, too. Cleaning machinery, for instance. Or the days spent walking in a spider's trail from one post to another...versus, of course, the days spent huddled in a strategic position, unable to move for the fear of losing it.

These light moments...we hold onto them. It happens more often that one may think.

Sliding deeper into this.

2004-07-05T20:51:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, it has gotten much worse in the past few weeks. I can think of quite a few reasons, but none of them matter; the problem is that I do not, not why. "Why" never seems to matter.They tell me I am the logical one, the one born to this, and yet the only one capable of stopping one of us from cutting too deeply, or burning with such malice that it cannot heal. I despise such assumptions. I struggle, as anyone else. There are issues here, now, and of course I try to resolve them. Issues Inside, and a definite issue Outside, at the jobsite, and I must remain calm? How can that be? Why must I be the one, always, to maintain a sense of calm?
Wednesday was worse than I would have liked---I know, I always say that. But Wednesday, I cut far too deep, and had to remedy it. I only left it to that for a day, and when it reopened, I merely applied some PVC glue to it. It burned, my God, it felt as if acid were bubbling inside the wound. But now it is closed, and there is no infection. We will still have to wear something to cover it up; as of late, we ahve resorted to wristbands. Since Bruyere is female, we can get away with it, really: she delights in the "girly" ones, with animated characters featured on them. I would rather us wear more neutral colors and designs, but we must compromise. At any rate...I do worry, because this level of self-harm is reminiscent of years ago, when Sulekhi was in the forefront. I cannot allow that to happen.

Psalm 55, 20-21 (KJV)

2004-07-01T17:08:00.000-07:00

"20 He hath put forth his hands against such as be at peace with him: he hath broken his covenant.
21 The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet were they drawn swords."

This is me. My heart is beset with war, and yet I smile toward my enemy. My soul is drenched with rage and despair. My misery is my own, and really, I know the reason. I was a Beast then, until God calmed me. I have strayed far since then. It is likely why I am so unstable. It is likely why things seem hopeless. He changed me before; I should allow Him to change me again.

Thankless, all of them.

2004-06-30T23:56:00.000-07:00

Things have been monumentally fucked up. I do not feel like going into detail, as it would take far too much time and energy. But we did manage to injure a vein while cutting, which put a shock into us. I took care of it...as I always do, as no one else would like to step forward. Sometimes I would simply love to disappear and watch them flail helplessly when I do not arrive to save them. Fuck this ungrateful bullshit.

One of Many

Unwavering.

Something incredibly familiar.

Stoicism lost.

The "Font of Life" Project.

[Borrowed]

Scarcely noticed.

Crushed.

Abstaining, completely.

Mild desolation.

A knotty situation.

Differences in being.

Perception of definition.

On Malcolm.

Far less than I had envisioned.

A stinging truth.

Inability to sleep.

A sense of betrayal.

Finally, a return.

A child born, and lost.

A perfect day.

Unexpected and tragic.

Trivial arguments.

Hectic, now.

In twenty days:

And further.

First gifts.

An uneventful holiday.

An astonishing attack.

The sonogram.

Most unexpected news.

Home safely, now.

Europe: Entry the fifth.

Europe: Entry the fourth.

Europe: Entry the third.

Europe: Entry the second.

Europe: Entry the first.

A passing score, and more.

Simply one more.

A date in history.

In preparation.

Beyond my comprehension.

Recurring dream.

An inner truth.

Honesty is not always the best policy.

Growing weary.

Another transfer.

Low scores.

A milestone.

Itinerary.

A job well-done.

A transfer in training assignment.

Begrudgingly.

A moment of good cheer.

War-driven child abuse.

A question.

Reflection.

A month later.

The birthday-rush.

He has gone missing.

Stumbling Towards Faith.

Returning to life.

Quite a way to begin the new year.

Alive.

Finally: I am told it ends.

Darkness.

I was living on borrowed time.

Disneyland.

Remaining stable.

Why this, in October?

To give a statement.

A hatred inside.

Comparison, to Before.

More questions of ownership.

Medicinal effects.

Doubts of ownership.

Different faith-paths.

Allow me to retort:

Scattered.

"Yar, there be termites in me leg."