Jasmine: started out irritated ended up... not happy, but not angry

I dragged him from the light. Thrashing all around, trying to kick my legs out from under me, struggling to break my hold. To make me let him go. But it was no use. My hands gripped tight on his forearms. Surprisingly tight for their size. Barely making it half way around the cords of muscle there. But still he was in my grasp and I pulled him away from that light and into my dark place.

I pulled and pulled, and the light grew fainter and fainter until that tiny speck on the horizon disappeared altogether. When that happened I knew we were by ourselves in my place. He fought at first, but after realizing that escape was improbable his body gave up.

We were alone in the dark so I let him go. I hoped to see some spark of that fire that had cursed and twisted away from me so violently at the start. But he just curled his legs up to his chest and turned away from me. I listened to him breath for a long time, his breaths broken up by the shaking in his body. He was so cold without the light. And then I spoke.

I mean you no harm

He did not try to answer me but I heard in the pit of his mind what he would have said were he not so afraid.

Take me home

What is home?

The shaking stopped momentarily and he turned to feel me leaning over his body trying to understand this strange word home. It had a pleasant feel to the tongue, but no memory ever brought back to me had prepared me with its knowledge. The man feeling me crouched there flipped back onto his side and resumed shaking.

WHAT IS HOME?

I insisted. How could there be something I did not know? Something I had never even heard or guessed of. Not some snippet of a thought either, but a fully rounded idea.

WHAT IS HOME?

I tried and tried. But something had broken deep inside him. His kind was not made to spend much time in the dark. That was left to a harder people. Much harder than these soft-shelled kittens. I caught two or three random thoughtlings. Hearth, which made me think of a warm fire thought I had brought to me four centuries past. Friends, I understood the word, but not the feeling behind them, a feeling of safety. And Family, a word as new as home.

What is family?

Rafting Trip

And....



Here....



We...



Go.

-Doug, Meghan, Jasmine, and that Guy.

"Madness is like gravity. All it takes is a little push."
-Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight

Jasmine: Stuff...

i'm at work... it's been a while since i've been able to say that. it's not a real job. not really. i'm filling in for someone who's on vacation. but i get paid. and that is the important bit. money. the fruit of all life. sad but so incredibly true. anyways my job consists of sitting at a desk and answering the phone. occasionally i might have to take down a name and number if it's crowded and one of the two guys has to call someone back. but mostly it's just sitting. i've started writing some zombies. and of course this blog. i'm a little bored and i wish i could help out doug and meghan today cause i think they need it.

kay i didnt finish the blog the day i thought i might. i will finish it today damn it. i will! or tomorrow. whatever works.

the days count down. 2 more days of work. two more days until we go on our pecos trip. the days count down. it's real now. not just one of doug's half assed ideas like plopping us... somewhere... and having us hike out or "somewhere" else. of course that is what were doing next year. anyways. so close. terrifyingly close.

heres some random information. or not so random. take it as you will. oh and keep in mind that the pecos runs from class II to class IV. not that it's important or anything.

Class II: Medium.
Rapids of moderate difficulty with passages clear. Requires experience plus suitable outfit and boat.

Class III: Difficult.
Waves numerous, high, irregular; rocks; eddies; rapids with passages clear though narrow, requiring expertise in maneuvering; scouting usually needed. Requires good operator and boat.

Class IV: Very difficult.
Long rapids; waves high, irregular; dangerous rocks; boiling eddies; best passages difficult to scout; scouting mandatory first time; powerful and precise maneuvering required. Demands expert boatman and excellent boat and good quality equipment

ah the joys of wikipedia.

sorry if i just freaked out any parents. didnt mean to. and the hard part is just the first section. after that it doesnt go above class III. which while still hard is not nearly as dangerous...

but equipment wise were almost done. i need some wool socks i think and a carabeener. but after that i'm good. not sure about the others. mostly packed too. apart from the food which i think is happening today.

the four of us are bleeding money for this trip. but in the end it's worth it. every penny. or at least that's what i'm hoping cause the alternative is kind of depressing and i dont want to think about it. nope. no thinking about the depressing bits. they're... not on the table.

i think that's about it. wish us luck. cause we could use the extra. muahahahaha

"were going down down, in an earlier round, and sugar were going down swinging"

That guy: Hmmmmmmmmmmmm

There have been rumors going around of me going soft. I know. I don’t kill, murder, steal, plunder, pillage, abuse, use, or booze anymore.

But I still have it.

I ran the Academy, like a boss.

I stopped at Keva Juice, like a boss.

I’m sitting on the bench, waiting for my drink, panting.

A woman walks in with her child in the stroller. She orders something, and her child turns to look at me.

I ignore him, because I hate children. But some internal calling forces me to look at him.

The MOMENT our eyes meet, he breaks down, crying harder than any baby I have ever seen before.

She tries to calm him down.

NOTHING works.

The moment she gets her drink, she pushes him out of the store as quickly has she can.

I laugh.

The baristas give me a strange look.




P.S.
I swear his eyes were about to start bleeding.


-That guy

Doug: Ha. Ha. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. ha.

I'm not going to sugarcoat this.

This evening, I participated in an undie run.


























IT WAS FRICKIN AWESOME!

I'm also entirely sure that it is classified as behavior unbecoming of an officer. You know what? I don't give a fuck. I'm in college. If I want to run around in my gods damned underwear one night of the year, I will.

We all have to be human sometime.

-Doug

"Control is not convinced."
-Major Tom (Coming Home) 'Shiny Toy Guns'

Jasmine: Project GRANDMA

I haven’t blogged in a while. Haven’t had the urge. But I need to keep my hands busy and I’m tired of crocheting for a while. Nothing much of note has happened in the past few weeks. Out of school yada yada. This summer or this month or however long it’s gonna take my family has a project, it’s name is grandma.

My grandmother, actually my great grandmother, is what my aunt likes to call a hoarder. She collects random things and stores them around her. Come to think of it I’m probably one too. Cause… I collect things and store them around me… but until recently it hasn’t been much of a problem. For her. It will never be a problem for me. Because my things… never mind. My own hoarding problem is a discussion for another time. This is about grandma.

Rose is 87 years old. And until the last couple of years she has been active and healthy, her mind stronger than ever. Then about 2 years ago she stopped. Or something inside her stopped and now she needs 24 hour supervision to make sure that she eats and takes her meds doesn’t wander away… anyways this change has made us realize that it’s difficult to exist in her apartment. Boxes tower over you, mice hide in the clutter on the kitchen counter. There was an overall smell of musk though that could just be the old person smell, combined with cigarettes. My grandma doesn’t smoke it’s my uncle who’s living with her now. So my aunt decided to get rid of the clutter and organize what’s left, and I’ve been helping.

Last week every night we went over there filled the van with boxes threw away bag after bag of trash, and made things livable. After 8 days, essentially 8 van loads of unwanted stuff to the goodwill and I stopped counting how many trips to the dumpster we’ve got the living room, kitchen, hallway, and most of her bedroom clean. There’s the rest of her bedroom another bedroom and two hall closets. I am in awe of the collection of stuff.

We should put it in a museum. Not just some of it, all of it and call the exhibit “Life” or something like that because that is what this is, what we are removing from her apartment, her life. We’ve tried to take things out of here before but never been successful in doing that. She used to say that she didn’t want us taking her things. They were her stuff and she didn’t want to die with nothing. And now she’s too far gone to really speak up for herself. She just sits on the couch looking old and sad and in pain. As if we are taking pieces of her away and when we’re done and there’s nothing left she will be nothing and have nothing left. I have this strange feeling that when were done cleaning she’s going to die. But probably won’t happen. I’ll let you know if it does.

It’s not quiet, never quiet. My cousin’s in the next room crying over her own existence. My music is blaring blocking out the world I don’t want to experience. My uncle shuffles from room to room in search of something long gone… himself. Cars drive by ignoring this secluded bubble of my world. My head begins to pound a small pain in my right temple telling me to get out, to run, to go somewhere quiet where not even the birds or the crickets sing.

“Take me away, a secret place
A sweet escape, take me away
Take me away, to better days
Take me away, a hiding place”

Doug: Currents

I can feel the air swirling around me.

It's been hot all day, Hell, for the last fortnight the humidity and the heat have been trying to kill me by dehydration. But now it's cool, and windy.

The sun is set, I can see the last of it fade away into the clouds and full night descends. My eyes close.

I can hear the cool wind calling my name.

Time to go again.

-Doug

Kamikaze, known as "The Divine Wind"