Happy Birthday...

God. It's been years since I've seen you. Happy birthday, Scotty. I hope you're having a good one, wherever you are.

That goddamned idiot is going to get us all killed if he keeps this up. This time next year, will we even have bomb shelters to cower in? I hope you stayed out of the military, old friend. Or perhaps you'd be safer there. Not politically safer, to be sure. Did you and Jeff ever manage to hook up?

I've forgiven you, I think. You couldn't help being an ass when you and I met; I couldn't help being an egocentric little bitch either. I hadn't left Dave any instructions about not having a friendly shag; I hadn't thought they would have been necessary. Live and learn. It's not like you could have stolen him from me anyway, even if you'd wanted to.

I hope you're happy. I hope you're safe. I suppose it is true, what Kat said, about not unloving anyone unless they made you unlove them. I was very unhappy with you for several years, but I fell in love with you too long ago and too hard to unlove you over any of those things. I'd never marry you, and I'm not Christian enough for you to consider marrying me for very long, but I wish you the best.

I don't know if I'm ever going to see you again. I'm terrified that I won't. I'm terrified that one of us will die without me having told you how much I regret saying those things to you, or, perhaps worse, that we'll both survive to a ripe old age, and your last memory of me will still be of me screaming obscenities at you for having dared to defy your homophobic conditioning with my fiancé...

I miss you. Of all the people I haven't kept in contact with, I think I miss you the most. The old CTY gang has an email list set up, and it generates a monthly reminder that most of us are still alive, and we can find each other... Jeannette fell out of touch too, but she and Justine are so busy with the baby, that's not surprising. I get a note from Mom every now and then with some news from them. I never knew so many of the high school gang to even begin to miss them. Amazing what you can miss out on.

Beth would say hi if I were writing you a birthday card. If I had your address. If I could pick you out from the hundreds of thousands of Jones.

May your God bless you, Scott Eugene Jones... wherever you are.

Holidays, vacation, school and stuff

We decided to spend this year together as a family. Usually Dave goes home from wherever he is to be with his family over the winter break, for the celebration of the lights, and then New Year's, and all the partying with the old friends, and Regan's mom likes to see her.

This year, however, we got a tree. Last year, we were studying and scattered and all over the place, but now that I've only got the ASU classes and the job, and not DeVry, I'm taking things much more slowly, and I had time to do Christmas properly. Regan's abandoned the holiday, and it was never Dave's to start with, but this is where I shine. Mama always had a tree, and baked, and then Dad would throw these parties... more of a celebration of the turning of the year, the longest night, rekindling of the light, than the birth of Christ... but as I'm pagan anyway, that's the aspect that appeals to me most.

It's rather silly in Arizona, to look at the darkest, longest night. The sun doesn't set until six. That's hardly a night. I can walk out on the balcony in a T-shirt and shorts. Well, sweats, if I want to stand out there, but I'm hardly in danger of frostbite.

A few of my friends from school came over. I've made a few. Dave had a crowd of his posse come and hang out. Programmers are nice, if a little rowdy once they get started gaming. Regan and I got together and got Dave that PS2 he'd been craving. Now he'll have no excuse about not buying us chick-flicks on DVD...

Regan and I have both been noticing that we've been looking at other women with babies and little kids when we're at the store or on the bus, looking at each other, and sighing. Someday, love, someday. We're not sure if her body's made for childbearing. Her periods aren't normal. Our gynecologist has been making those "Well, you'll never know for sure until you try, but there's always adoption" sounds. I have no evident problems.



Finals coming up. So what am I doing awake, anyway?

This year it waited. It usually springs on me at about the end of August/beginning of September, when the nights are getting chilly and you have to wear a jacket in the afternoon if you're not running around and keeping your body heat where it should be. The leaves were just turning, just barely starting, sprinkled gold in the birches, that morning.

Every year after that first one, I was fine. The next fall, I was too caught up in the engagement to think of anyone but the three of us. But the year after that, 1998, when I was up far too late by myself one evening at the beginning of fall, right when summer is starting to die, I felt him again.

You don't understand unless you've had it happen to you. I was awake that night in 1996, far too late. I don't remember what woke me up, but there he was, the feel of him, in the corner of my mind where he always was. We exchanged thoughts, and I hugged that silly teddy bear of his, the one he'd given me, the one with fangs stitched to it so it would be like Spock's pet sehlat. We would have loved to have talked all night, but he told me he had to go, and we disentangled our minds, and I went back to sleep.

His mother called at five the next morning, with the news. They found a note, and his clothes by the river. It would have been too much closure if they'd ever found his body. I know they will someday, like they did Joe Vogler's. Only this was suicide, not murder.

Zachary, I miss you. God. I wish you knew. I wish you hadn't. I'm not sure if I'll ever get over being mad.

The whole first year, I was numb. I can't tell you how close I got to dying myself, except I'd promised him not to, earlier. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't let myself, it hurt so bad. It started tearing at Regan and Dave, too: they'd finally found me, and then I went away from them. I was there, physically, but I wasn't there. I just stopped responding. I don't even remember much of that year, except I drew a lot, mostly plants and trees and flowers, and I got straight A's. I don't think I got anything below a 95%, even on homework.

They finally dragged me out of it. I almost lost Regan too. That snapped me back. And then we got engaged, and there was always something happening, so that year I completely put him out of my mind.

But the next fall, when it hit that time of year, and I was up that late at night, it hit me. And I was so angry with him. There was no one to stop me from screaming at him. There was no one to stop me from breaking down in the hysterical tears that I hadn't even cried at his memorial. Thank gods I had the common sense to hit the mirror with the bonky flashlight rather than my fist.

There's this empty place in my mind where he should be. I should be feeling the warmth of his live body, even when we're miles apart. I should be able to peer in and see whether he's asleep or awake, content or distraught. But I can't. He took that from me.

I go through this every year. Sometimes it's better, sometimes it's worse. Sometimes I think I hear him talking to me, and that's the worst of all. I imagine, without even trying, what he would be doing right now, if he were alive. I can't stop it. It just happens. He would be happy, and happy for me... I have a wonderful life.

But he belongs in it. Belonged.

I loved him. He loved me.

I love him.

As long as I'm alive, at least that will never die.


Jessica e-mailed me. Beth's going to Seattle to get some specialists to look at her. I've got candles lit.

She's my teacher, for crying out loud. Last time we talked, she said that if I ever cooled down from my little honeymoon, and put my mind to my Work, I'd likely surpass her, that I was doing a good job of edging up on her now. She said that she reached her maturity, her peak of power, early on, and she's been holding steady since then. Maybe learning a little, developing more finesse, as no one ever really stops unless they choose to, but she says she's been keeping tabs on me, watching what I do, and the way I do it, and she says I'm getting really good.

It humbles me to hear her say that. I haven't really been trying. I've just been doing the day-to-day things I've always done: maintain the links with my loves, try to clean out the bottom of my mind, the usual. Plus I've been focused on Dave and Ree, and school, and all... what could I do if I tried at it?

I hope she gets better. She's going to be absolutely all right. She has to be. They're coming up with better and better stuff every day, now.
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    worried worried

Wedding Bells


We don't know when, exactly, the big day will be, but Regan and I are getting married. We'll probably time it for after Dave's out of college, so he won't have to use up precious vacation time for our honeymoon, then be expected to be back in school in a week or two (or, rarely, three) and with brain enough in his cranium to do actual programming.

We've decided that it will be Regan and me who will be going through the actual filing of paperwork for a formal marriage. Not sure if we're going to be able to do that or not with the ever-endearing W. in office by the time we want to, but hey, we can always summon the lawyers and write up civil contractual material equivalent to marriage. That's what we'll do for all three of us anyway, but we want to at least two of us be bound by formal marriage in the eyes of the state. Shake up a few of the old fogeys thinking about it.

We haven't decided anything about kids yet. Both Regan and I want them. There's no question about who the father's to be, but does she want to have hers first, do I want to have mine, do we both want to do this together, do we let nature take its course and then one of us go on the Pill, what? Ah well. Time to decide that after we've all gotten settled down.

Enough is enough

I'm dropping DeVry. It's just too much. I was fine with everything up until SQL, but that was just too much. I can't remember what to join where, and the and, not, or, in, whatever, is just not at all intuitive. It makes my head hurt. I just can't do this. azurelunatic says I should hang in there, that I can make it, but I just ... can't.

ASU's going to be starting up soon; I'll transfer over to there. Fifteen weeks a semester is just too short. That much work... Dave's thriving on it. He comes home glowing and buzzing; he's even cut down on the MUDding.
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I really should be asleep now

Up too late again. Oh well, it's vacation, and I've earned a good white night and worry.

I heard from Beth today. She's been in and out of the hospital. Circulation problems, and her eyes have been acting up. She says that they've developed some sort of automatic insulin device and they're testing it in the UK; that might help. I'm worried about her. Jessica is too, from what I gathered.

Sometimes I worry that Ree and I have been bonding too closely, too exclusively, shutting Dave out sometimes. You can't girltalk with a guy very well, though... not unless he's gay. Dave's always been mostly straight, unless we count those few little incidents.

Speaking of which, I still can't give blood. Pfui!
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    worried worried


azurelunatic is having me update this from my perspective, since I was the one who noticed most of it going on.

Apparently she's been trying to get into people's heads, lately, look out through their eyes, and she picked me, since I'm already in her head and she's already in mine. Happens, when someone writes you.

She was at work, and after getting interrupted on the contemplation, fight-club style, of "I am Darkside's overstressed prostate", she decided to poke around in my head instead.

It was bizarre to watch my apartment through new eyes. Evidently we live in the same apartment she did a little over a year ago, only we'd made it feel like home. Dave and Regan were a little, okay, more than a little creeped out by the idea of someone else living in my head. Regan's got an inkling of what's going on, though, and since I remember every moment of it, but just from a pushed-back perspective: like I was looking over the shoulder of the person in the driver's seat, Regan isn't freaking out too badly. She does want me to talk to Beth about it, though, because letting unknown entities into your head, let alone through your body, is not something you want to do.

She's a known entity, though. Perhaps I don't know her as well as I know myself, but then, that's about how well she knows me. I could discover all I wanted to about her should I choose to, and she with me. It's the same flame within that lights us both up, just different eyes to see it through.

I got to work her job for maybe half an hour. Yuck! I could never do that. People kept hanging up on me. I mean, just hanging up. Not saying anything, not cussing me out, just hanging up. They could tell I didn't belong there. I felt weird using her name.

I'm back now, in as "one piece" as I ever get. Regan tells me I was in and out for about half an hour, acting very dizzy. After it was all over, I just went to sleep for a couple hours and then woke up good as new and started banging away on my homework. Glad Dave has the LAN back up; it was starting to get annoying. Stupid cat-5. Well, okay, stupid vacuum cleaner.

(no subject)


Nice color green, there. I suppose that would refer to the green and growing parts of myself, the stems and leaves and thorns. I've had quite a few thorns, lately. Some are sharp and needed defenses of myself, but some get stuck in the hands of those I love.

I need to work on that.