Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Every Teen Angst Movie Rolled Into One

Weaver appears slowly, looking tired. Her hair is faded orange and she has deep long gouges on one of her arms.

Voice: Good gracious. What in the world happened to you?

Weaver: Life. It's getting me down.

Voice: Does this 'life' have anything to do with the Serial Killer?

Weaver: How did you know that he's called-- Nevermind. Yes, it does have a bit to do with Tristan, but only in a general (paranoid) sense.

Voice: Ah.

Weaver: Don't "Ah." me. Before I begin my tale of the past few weeks, let me first state that I am on my period.

Voice: And this is significant... why?

Weaver: Just so that you know that I'm hormonal and crampy. Which probably has a lot to do with my mood.

Voice: And now that you've enlightened us all...

Weaver: Yes. The past few weeks. First of all, I went to Invermere a few weekends ago.

Voice: And Inveremere is...?

Weaver: A lakeside vacation spot in BC. The SK and his parents and such have a cabin there.

Voice: Ah... I see where this is going, I think. You spent a weekend, alone, with him and his family. Does he have siblings?

Weaver: A younger brother and a younger sister. Andrew's in grade 9 at our school and an obnoxious dick. I love him. I kissed him on the cheek and he blushed. Heh heh heh. Samantha's in... Grade 7 I believe. And she was mean at first. But we kind of bonded. It was funky chickens. All in all, his family rocks. Or at least I thought so at first.

Voice: Living with them for a weekend changed your mind?

Weaver: His siblings rock. But his parents were... Well, they weren't the nicest to me. Nothing obvious. But a lot of subtle comments, especially after they found out my age. All in all, it was an amazing weekend. I had a wonderful time and would do it again in an instant.

But anyways. This was years ago. Or at least a week or two. Let's move onto the present. Sunday night, to be precise. Sunday night was dinner with Dear Ol' Dad.

Voice: Fil. We haven't heard about him in a while. Do tell.

Weaver: Ugh. You haven't heard about him because he (very thankfully) has not been in my life at all. Not since the last therapist appointment, where I told him I wanted nothing to do with him.

Voice: Why dinner, then?

Weaver: I'm not sure. I'd say it was a guilt thing, but I've long stopped feeling guilt or remorse when it comes to him. I think it was more of a 'wanting Tristan to meet Fil' type of thing. Except that it backfired.

Voice: Backfired? You don't mean to say--

Weaver: Yeah. He liked him.

Voice: Wait wait wait. Who liked who?

Weaver: They each liked the other. Except for the whole thing about how my dad doesn't truly like anyone, of course. But he played up to Tristan like no tomorrow. Showing him things from all the different countries he's been to... Mentioning the prices of everything... Asking questions, doing the whole mano-a-mano thing. And never let it be forgotten that my father is a very suave, handsome, sophisticated individual. On the surface, of course. Even I wonder sometimes. Am I crazy? Is he really just a good guy who's been wronged?

And see, that's why I jeep a journal. And a blog.

Words appear, shining in the mist, hanging is the air. Weaver turns, reads them aloud.

Weaver: "Lest we forget". My motto. Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. I'm sure I have at least one blog entry dedicated to this ideal. And everytime Tristan tells me "you know, he didn't seem all that bad. You should give him another chance", I sway. Then remember. Remember him breaking into the house, remember him hurting the dog, remember him losing his temper and whacking us, etc. The manipulations, the mental hurts, the fear of going home, the hiding just so I wouldn't have to communicate with him...

Wow. This sounds melodramatic. But it's true, I guess. And I feel like everything I said about all of that just... ceased to matter once he met my dad. Like the first therapist. The truth couldn't stand up to his facade. It makes me know how my mom feels, kinda. Crazy, almost.

Voice: So this is the cause of your current crappy moodness?

Weaver: No, that's just the past few weeks. Right now... I feel lost. Like all I do is take. Because really, all of my friends are much better friends with each other than with me. It's always been like that... and I've never minded because I've always had at least one friend who I was uber close to. But now... I watch them always talk to each other, chill with each other, and to be perfectly honest, I feel left out. It's stupid, since I don't want to become 'mainstream' as a friend put it. But I've been feeling thoroughly unattractive in every way lately. And I never know how to act around anyone. Not my family, not even my teachers. I feel like I'm constantly inserting myself into other people's lives, and I don't really feel like anyone particularly enjoys it. I feel like I'm trying to attract attention (by scratching my arms, and then not allowing them to heal and continually picking at them, for example), even though I don't like it when people notice. But really... I don't know whether I want people to leave me alone, or whether I want to be included. I know that I feel like I'm sitting on my ass, living in my mind, alone. Human contact I'd like, but it confuses me. And like I said, I feel like I'm being a burden on everyone. But I don't know what to do, or--

I just don't know.

Screw this.

Weaver fades out.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Blog-Wars

Weaver: Don't you just hate when two people fight, but don't actually do it with each other?

Voice: What do you mean?

Weaver: See, this is a common problem in school. One person does something to piss off the other person. The other person, instead of telling them, mentions it to someone else. The first person catches wind of it and tells someone else (maybe or maybe not the same person as before) what she thinks of that. And so it goes on. Maybe they'll even be civil to each other and pretend nothing's wrong in person, but they both know the truth.

Voice: Are you referring to this in conjunction with your life, or someone else's? I would never have pegged you for a behind-the-back fighter.

Weaver: Myself, but not exactly like that. See, in this case, the third person is blogs. You remember the two posts I made, Bubble World and Craziness I Never Expected? Well, one of them was in response to Becca's blog. Which I just finished reading the latest entry on. Which now has an entry in response to my entries. And of course, reading it makes me want to get my back up and respond again through mine.

Voice: Are you going to do so, then?

Weaver: Well, I really want to argue. But what's the point? That would just be furthering the whole frigging mess. I suppose it's my fault for writing instead of going up to her and talking about it, but I honestly wasn't trying to be aggressive. I wasn't even trying to diss her in any way. I just wanted to express an opinion, although not at the expense of someone else's.

Voice: How are you going to balance that, then?

Weaver: I'm going to address one or two things directly, for the sake of my own peace of mind and the rest of my readers', and leave the rest to fate. As in, actually talk about it. Hopefully. With her. So here I go.

Dragon's Voice said:
See bloggert, she seems to have convently forgotten that she invited me to a little movie fest she was having over the weekend. She invited me along on the night of the play(which was really awesome, thanks for askinh) . I'd been thinking about it, but tristian asked me in chem if i'd come along, and i thought, well, hey, the one person who might not have wanted me to come does, so yay. *insert happy moment here* .



Okay. So this is the main source of the blog war. Let me say first of all that I'm NOT TRYING TO ARGUE.

Voice: Although by nature, posting a rebuttal is arguing.

Weaver: Okay. Well, I guess there's nothing I can do about that. But I don't want to get into a huge thing with this, is what I'm trying to say. If this is not how it was remembered by all, then okay. I'll except that. I just want to say my feelings and those I had at the time. Especially since this whole mess is partially my fault for putting it in such a negative way.

Rewind to the night of the play. It was before the play or intermission. We were talking about the night before, when I'd told Tristan to watch Moulin Rouge, and he suggested that we see it together. Along with food and such. Which I argued with myself over the meaning of, before finally concluding that he had indeed asked me out.

So we mentioned this. I'm not sure who brought it up. Becca got immediately excited over the idea, which I admit was not presented as a date-style outing. Instead, she assumed it was a movie fest, and started talking about it as a 'we' thing. I was a bit disappointed, because I had assumed it to be a one-on-one thing, but Tristan seemed just as excited at the prospect, so I shut my mouth and shrugged. My thinking: if he didn't see it as a date, I was silly to have assumed it was. I was going to talk to her about it, but never got the chance and eventually talked myself out of it. It had obviously never been a date in the first place, and therefore I would be stupid to talk to her about it.

Also, she didn't interrupt the good-night kiss on purpose. She wasn't in the same room, and just happened to yell out at the wrong moment. I was vaguely irritated all in all, and again I probably shouldn't have put it in such a negative way.

Also. She didn't mention this, but Blair was also there. Why, you ask? Because like I said, Becca and I are in different bubbles these days, and I figured that if it was going to be a movie fest, we might as well have Blair there for a buffer.

Over the past 3 years or so, tristan has really changed. I dont mind spending time with him, and i know that hes flirted with me on a few occasions. In all my knowldge, i've never flirted with him. As i am accused of. Well, thats a little harsh on wording, but it seems approiate to my mood. Jeliously does starnge things to people. But whatever. I'm used to people saying stuff like that about me, even when their bf has moved and i've never seen them for 6 years or so. i'm used to being a scapegoat for others problems.


Okay. Next bit. I just read over my entry to be sure, and I'm pretty sure I never accused Becca of being the cause for any of my problems. I know she was in a pissy mood. I know it may have sounded a bit harsh what I said about her and the SK. I know that Becca never flirts on purpose. Neither do I, as far as I know. Arg. I don't really blame her for anything here, but I do kind of take offense at being lumped in with everyone who's ever judged her.

it really pisses me off that people say i dont know where their comming from. I mean, i wont know unless you tell me. But that doesn't mean you know where i'm comming from either. Assumptions are made, and so are labels. thats life. Its what happens.


No, I don't know where you're coming from. That's what I meant with the whole bubble thing. We are in different worlds. Yours isn't better than mine, and mine isn't better than yours. We just don't understand each other.

Voice: Now all you have to do is go and tell her that. Talk to each other, not to the world about each other.

Weaver: I'm going to try. Tomorrow. This is not good phone material. Ahhhh. This makes me sad in my heart.


The scene fades. The mists are a little thicker than usual.

Lah.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Tribute To A Mother.

Weaver: I just wanted to add a note about how much my mother rocks. She's not a common topic of conversation in the mists, but she is an amazing, wonderful person. I love her with all my heart and soul, and I want the world to appreciate how amazing she is. This is a picture of my mommy. She also makes amazing jewelry. Unfortunately, the picture is in black and white, so said jewelry is not in detail. Of course, one could visit her website to see it... http://www.tskreed.com. But anyways. I'm not here to promote her jewelry. I'm here to tell why my mother is so amazingly cool.

For starters, in the horrible divorce proceedings going on, she has persevered despite the enormous amounts of crap my father has put her through. She's managed to keep even my puberty-hitting brother fed when Fil refused to give us money to eat on. She's forging ahead with her own business, despite the pressure to forget the whole idea and get an entry-level position at some unknown corporation. She's been accused of ruining her children, sleeping around, being a disgrace to her family, being a coldhearted bitch and worse things by individuals better left unnamed (coughfilbriancough), when all she did was try and care for people. She's been beaten, abused, and thrust into horrible situations.

But you know what? She's still here to talk about them. She's still persevering, still hasn't become a bitter witch from the hand life's dealt her. And today is Mother's Day. My mother hasn't only been a mother to myself and my brother. She's been a supporter and a caregiver for just about everybody she's ever met, at some point. That's a pretty hard thing to do, and sometimes I can feel the despair in her heart, the thoughts that it might never get better, the realization that she's lived her life for other people. She's the one who deserves to be pampered. I've been home all morning, and I haven't heard the phone ring once from one of her friends, her relatives, to wish her so much as "Happy Mother's Day". Brian's been living with us three years now. Last year, she gave him the whole Father's Day shebang, because his kids live three provinces away. And what did he do this morning? Came upstairs, said he was going out, and left. Not so much as a thank-you-for-taking-me-in-all-this-time.

Now tell me. Is any of that fair?

I think not.

So here's to my mother. Here's to Thelia Darlene Foster. An amazing woman, and one deserving of much more than she has.

Life's not about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain. I don't know when this storm will pass, but you've been dancing so much that we're all soaking wet. And today, why don't you come inside and let yourself be wrapped in a warm blanket? Have a hot cup of whiskey-laced hot chocolate thrust into your hands. And get heated from the inside with the knowledge that there are people who love and appreciate you. You make us happy. You make our life better. Not just by raising us and providing for us. You make life better just by being you.

Love, Harmony, and Hugs.

Weaver.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

*Floats Home*

Voice: Floating, are we? Good day, was it?

Weaver: Ah, how lovely it was. First, there was a vague regression towards sick twisted tendencies. And then there was meditation. Ah, sweet meditation. It put me into that good place. After that, it was time for my free period. So what did I do? I went into the library and put on the recording that Mama sent me. Wow. Way to relax. I spent almost the whole period meditating in front of the computer. Nobody disturbed me, even. After that? I was ready to conquer the world!

Voice: How... mundane. I expected it to have something to do with your esteemed boyfriend.

Weaver:
Oh. Heh. Heh. Heh... Well... Now that you mention it...

Voice: AHA!

Weaver: Screw you! I just maybe kinda went over to his house after school, okay? And we sat outside on a grassy knoll near a big red barn...

Voice: And then the barnyard animals got together to sing Kumbaya around you?

Weaver: Of course not. I only mention where it was because of the surrealness of it. But we sat there. For THREE HOURS. I had no idea so much time had passed until his dad came looking for us. Do you know how hard it is for me to spend time with someone with no further entertainment for that long? And I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE!!!

Voice: So you're saying that despite your previous rant on his bad qualities--

Weaver: Fuck that rant. I was in a pissy mood and taking it out on the thought of him. In reality, he's the sweetest guy in the world.

Voice: Errr, can you spell... B-I-P-O-L-A-R?

Weaver: Oh, shut up. I'm just disappointed it had to end so soon... *sigh* Jeez, does anybody around here have parents that aren't neurotic? And I feel bad, because I know that I caused some of the dissention between him and his parents. Although from what he says, dissention is the name of the game in his household...

Voice: Besides. You're not fooling me. I know there is some selfishness in that feeling bad.

Weaver: Thank you for the vote of confidence. But as usual, you are right. I don't want him to be forbidden to see me. So many of my frigging friends are forbidden to see me that I think having the same ban bestowed on my new cuddle-thing would force me to shoot myself.

Voice: *deadpan* Cuddle-thing.

Weaver: Be happy I think baby-talk is stupid. It could be worse.

Voice: It can always be worse.

Weaver: Believe me, I know. But let's change subjects. I feel a rant coming on, and I feel the need to ignore it. So... NEXT! Or wait. Screw next. I have to go do... er... something else.

Voice: If I had eyebrows, I'd raise them...

Lah.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Bubble-World

Weaver: Am I really such a fuckup, Voice?

Voice:
Since I'm not part of your daily life, I really can't make an opinion about that.

Weaver: But seriously. You know my mind. Am I really such a fuckup?

Voice: *cautiously* Before I answer, why don't you explain to me why you're asking.

Weaver: I just finished catching up on the last month of Becca's blog. Beginning with the entry right after the last dance. She talks about me. And some things that happened there. We talked, at the dance. I remember telling her she was disappointed in me, and her denying it. She admitted on her blog that she was. Oh, I knew she was. Don't get me wrong. I'm not stupid. But it really got me thinking. Somebody I trust very much recently told me not to tell Becca every detail of my life. Not because Becca's a bad person, or would betray me, or anything like that, but just because she wouldn't understand, and might fuck me up badly by doing what she perceives to be the 'right thing'.

Voice: But there was something in that entry that made you disagree?

Weaver: No no. In fact, it made me agree more. But it's still got me back to that ever-present question of that ever-present line. When has it been crossed? When do you go from making logical arguments to making excuses? And it made me look at myself, and wonder.

Voice: Wonder if you're that bad?

Weaver: I suppose. I mean, look at my school-life. I don't bring school stuff to or from school. Or at least, I rarely bring school stuff to and from school. I don't go to Chemistry almost ever. I like to tag. I like to smoke pot. I like to do shrooms. I wear funky clothing and call teachers by their first names. I firmly believe in premarital sex and firmly disagree with the government.

Voice: But...?

Weaver: But look on the flipside. I have (except for Chem) an over 85-average. I used to work two jobs over 20 hours a week, and I'm looking for a new job to replace the one I quit. I'm mostly self-sufficient and I volunteer for a ton of stuff. I've completed, or will have completed by June, all the required courses to graduate save one (two, counting Chem). I'm probably going to do summer school to finish Chem or Social 30. I've written a novel. I'm not a crackwhore or permafried, despite aforementioned drugs. I'm friends with several of my teachers. I like school. I'm a living, breathing, double standard.

Voice: Only if you work under the assumption that you have to be good or bad. There's a balance there, just like there's a balance in everything.

Weaver: I know many people would not agree. Becs, for instance.

Voice: Remember your own Truths. Everybody lives in their own world, remember? In hers, you're falling uncontrollably into a world she doesn't understand. In yours, you're drifting. To others, you are other things. No matter what happens, you can't live in someone else's world.

Weaver: Yes, I know. I think the part that hit me the most is that she feels she's lost all of her faith in me. And that she blames it partly on herself (although I'm not surprised... people are awfully self-centered about blame). Actually, I was wrong. That's not the part that hit me the most. The part that hit me the most is the rest of the entries. Her life. She well and truly does live in a different world. I thought that Inga and I had grown into different worlds, and it's true. But Becca? We don't just live on different worlds. We live in different dimensions.

Voice: One dimension isn't better than another.

Weaver: That's what I realized with Inga. It's like comparing Lord of the Rings to Harry Potter. They're both fantasy, but completely different genres of fantasy. There's no way to compare them, because it's like judging an apple by comparing it to an orange.

Voice: You're just a lean, mean, analogy machine tonight, arentcha?

Weaver: Shut up. My point is, while I've been judged and labeled and such, I usually have that knowledge that the person isn't in my world to consider. And Becca and I's bubbles used to be close enough that judging was kosher. But now... Jeez. Rangers? This are not my language. And it just blows my mind. Like I said. I knew we had floated away from each other... but I didn't realize we'd been blown clear into different oceans. And I don't know where I'm going with this, so... Tah, I suppose.

Voice: Still wondering if you're a fuckup?

Weaver: Nah. I realized that it doesn't matter one way or another. I'm following my path in life. Anything above and beyond that is my problem. And while it sucks that a good friend has apparently lost complete faith in me... It's not entirely my fault. And I have to accept that either we'll float back to mesh a bit, or we'll continue to drift away from each other.

Voice: To quote JKR, "Whatever will come, will come. And [you'll] just have to meet it when it does."

A slow gathering, thickening, of the mists. A slow nod and smile from the Weaver as they enclose her completely.

Lah.

Craziness I Never Expected

Voice: You know, the funniest thing has been happening over the past month. You keep appearing here, opening your mouth, then fading away before you say anything.

Weaver: Every time I find a computer, open up a browser and start typing, something distracts me or I lose my focus.

Voice: Interesting. New topic. What's the craziness you never expected? Hey. Wait. Are you...

Weaver: I do NOT blush. Don't even suggest it.

Voice: Uh huh. Sure. Okay. No comment then. Continue.

Weaver: Yes, it's a boy. Yes, it was a date. Maybe even a date with no hanky-panky.

Voice: What's wrong with him?

Weaver: What kind of a question is that?

Voice: You never go for the normal guys. There's always something off about them.

Weaver: Like what?!?

Voice: Let's see. Jared (may he rest in peace) was an ugly yes-man overbearing greasy asshole. Jordan was not only a year or two younger than you, but turned out to have severe emotional problems and, last you spoke to him, was knee-deep in de Nile. Let's go back further, shall we? Chandler Mitchell--

Weaver: That's enough. I get the picture.

Voice: Well, then. Spill all. What do you not like about him?

Weaver: Okay, okay. For one thing, he's supremely clingy. Like, the past few days I've been in a pissy mood. An I-hate-everyone kind of mood.

Voice: Possible PMS?

Weaver: Possible. Anyways, so people have just been bugging me. And every time I turn around, he's there. And he expects to hold my hand or kiss me or something. And while normally I adore physical human contact, today and yesterday it's been like, can you spell NOT IN THE MOOD? But I feel bad, because I don't want to hurt his feelings or make him think I don't like him. Because I do. Very much. But I'm also very used to being a loner. And it's gonna take some getting used to, having a constant companion.


Voice: Possible to, oh, I don't know... TELL him this?

Weaver: Like I said, I don't want to hurt his feelings. Especially since there are some people that I absolutely love to hug, even when I'm in a shitty mood. And one of those people is male. Craig. I don't 'like' him, but I do like to hug him, and I know that it's just a tad hurtful when your cica wants to hug another dude, but not you.

Voice: It could be misconstrued...

Weaver: GAH! I just don't know what to do. *sigh* Why can't my boyfriend be a loner, like me? Why must he always STICK? Like Keira, almost.

Voice: Tsk, tsk. Getting picky, are we? All that time spent wanting a boy, and now that you have him you're realizing it's not as easy as it seems, being a good girlfriend.

Weaver: Man, even that word sounds strange when associated with me. I've never done this before, dammit. It's like rolling a joint. I know how. I've learned how, watched people until I turned blue. I can bid wonderfully. Light it, wet it, roach it... I can do all of those things super well, but I just can't roll the fricking thing. My fingers shake too much, and my fingers turn into strange sausage things. I can't get the practice I need, because whenever a joint needs to be rolled, there's always someone around who's better and eager to do it.

Voice: That was a pretty unusual (and complicated) analogy, I must say. But it sounds logical.

Weaver: And everyone has a freaking comment. Or a look. I'd love to spend more time with Emily, but she doesn't like him. Becca's been acting as weird as usual, and it almost seems like she's hitting on him sometimes. She invited herself along on our first date and interrupted the possible kiss at the end. Blair is fine with him because I'm fine with him, and I suppose she doesn't diss him any more than I diss Pisscrackers.... But dammit. I don't care about their opinions, and I'm certainly not going to stop dating him because one or two people don't like him. It's just that it's tiring, all these opinions. They know I'm chill with him no matter what they say, so why won't they just shut the fuck up? It's not that I dismiss their opinions as unimportant... it's just that everyone feels the need to add in their two cents, good or bad.

Weaver randomly fades, reappearing in the exact same spot a half hour later.

Weaver
: Huh. Sorry about that. Had to go eat dinner mid-rant. Lost the train of thought while I was down there, too. Ugh. I don't want to rant about Tristan's bad qualities anymore. He has just as many, if not more, good qualities.

Voice: So is your rant going to change track, then?

Weaver: No, I don't feel like ranting about those, either. I dwell too much on things. He makes me happy and he's not psycho. He may look enough like a serial killer to have earned him the nickname, but he's an awesome sweet dude. So, on that note, I shall leave you, Mists. Harmony!

Lah.