-Twitches- o.O

Weaver: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Voice: Is it just me, or are you posting more these days?

Weaver: It's not just you. I think that since I've become (mostly) at peace with myself and the universe, I've also reconnected with the the things that are the most important to me. Namely, writing. I went back after my last post and re-read every single entry I've ever written on Blogger, from way back to October 2004 all the way to March 2nd 2006. And I realized something. I was really onto something with you, Voice. You went from a conscious entity to a mechanical figure over the last few months, and I didn't even notice.

Voice: Well, I certainly did.

Weaver: Why didn't you say anything, then?

Voice: Because I'm the voice in your head that tells you the things that you do and don't want to hear, but I'm still a product of yourself. When you refuse to listen completely, I am powerless. Or rather, let me rephrase that. I am powerless except for the power you give me. Luckily you happen to be an open minded individual, so I have a fair amount of power in my own right, and can speak mostly freely to you. However, as I said, I am still a part of you, and am therefore limited somewhat. Because, of course, you are only human.

Weaver: Woah.

Voice: Woah indeed. Now, why are you entering my domain this lovely morning?

Weaver: You've certainly bounced back with a wallop.

Voice: So have you.

Weaver: I'm here for a few reasons. One, boredom. I'm in class and already finished the assignment for once, and so I have nothing to do.

Voice: How flattering.

Weaver: Ah, ah. You haven't heard the other reasons. Why don't we go with the other non-flattering one first, eh? Twitchyness. I decided to beat my tiredness this morning and have a large energy drink to prepare me for the test I had first thing. Now, it is as if I am on speed.

Voice: And the last reason?

Weaver: Love, of course. I love it here in the mists. I love the grey, the scent, the sights... namely, how there is nothing to be seen but mist. I could have spent this time on any number of sites, but I've remebered, as I mentioned earlier, how much I love this place just for it's simple state of being. And you, of course, because you are the embodiment of the mists.

Voice: Except, of course, without the body...

Weaver: -coughs- Indeed. Oh, and I have several bits of news, and twenty minutes to convey them. It. Is 'them' proper grammar?

Voice: I believe so.

Weaver: Them, then. Carrying on. Also after rereading, way back in the days when I hadn't yet created you, I realize what it meant to be alone in the mists. And it wasn't always a bad thing, because nothing is ever a bad thing, but especially that and especially for a solitary person like me. And sometimes I need a break even from myself, so please don't be offended if I come into the misty place and don't call you occasionally. Maybe I could just recount my day, my feelings, without your input every once in a while.

Voice: If I were human, I most likely would have been offended and pretended not to be so as not to hurt your feelings. As it is however, I'm not. And that would be fine.

Weaver: Thanks for understanding. And now, for more mundane news. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I've taken up with David Sicorski again.

Voice: Old lover?

Weaver: Old friend. Well, not that old. But I think he's a really awesome dude, and our friendship kind of drifted off when my life did. And I'm thrilled that I finally double-clicked that name on the MSN window, and talked to him. He truly is a funky chicken. And I don't mean funky as in "two things in the world that smell like fish" funky. I mean funky like FUNKAY!

Voice: Has this encouraged you to pick up the metaphorical phone and 'call' other old friends such as him?

Weaver: Sadly, there aren't many. Not in Calgary, where I'm trying to put together a life. Note how I don't say put back together a life. I never had one to begin with, here. And I'm sick for having a life for two-week or one-week or however long periods of time I'm in other places. This is my life, here, now, and I'm not going to sit and wait for it to end. That's going to be a long time in coming, anyway. My life's purpose won't be over for a long time yet, sadly. And I intend to enjoy my life's purpose. Not to mention the other incidental parts of it, too.

Voice: And what other news were you going to grace my presence with today?

Weaver: Ah, let's see. It's all fled my mind. I shall be going to Vancouver in a few days, to work the Vancouver gift show with my mother. Blair finally got the verdict on the case between her father and her mother... And her father won. They now owe him 400, 000 dollars, give or take. See her blog for details on that, but I think that it fucking sucks, personally. Perhaps because I'm going through something similar with my parents, but still. He never paid her mother a single cent of alimony or child-support, never bothered to spend any quality time with his kids except for a few weeks every summer, then comes back a few years later and demands everything. Now she's either going to have to sell her house and move (thereby uprooting her in her last years of High School, or her family's going to have to tak eout another mortgage just to pay him. And guess who decides which they have to do? Yeah, the same man who's making them pay him. He gets to decide, depending on what the house is worth. And they have to pay for another appraisal, less than 6 months after the last one, in order to do all of this.

What. The. Fuck.

Talk about great parenting.

Voice: That sounds like something, if you'll pardon the assumption, that your father would do.

Weaver: And we all know what a cork soaker he is, no?

MistWeaver