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Exhausted after NFC 2013, but so very, very happy. Oh gods, I had a great time and got to meet many interesting and kind new people. And also friends I hadn't met in a long time!
Wearing my fursuit for real for the first time was an amazing experience, only somewhat less wonderful for being completely new at it and quite unsure of how to actually move around in it. Things usually worked out well though and all in all...
I had a wonderful time and I now have a lot more hope than I used to have.
Every time I have tried to return here I have come to day fifteen or eighteen and then I have not been able to keep it up any more. Perhaps this time; the month ending with my New Year?
So many things to burn. So many things to do. So many things to draw and write and think about and so many songs to sing!
Marrana singing for a room full of people. Marrana poking out her nose and venturing into a new world with new people, her ears flat to her head in fear.
Marrana returning home again triumphantly.
Still going through photos from NFC and resting. Soon I'll probably curl up and sleep for an hour or so again, but having a headache so I'm trying to rehydrate. Making exhausted plans, thinking about life, trying to figuring out how to help an abban make a partial fursuit and how to make a green tail which can also become a bunch of tentacles. (And then, how will they move and be useful?)
Life is slowly returning to normal. I'm alive and still Pao.
This is my third day writing here in a long time.
Many days left to go.
I seem to have forgotten how to write something every day. Or how to write in general. Today I have mainly been laying on the side in the sofa and felt exhausted and nauseous. My female went and bought pizza eventually, so at least I got food. Other than that, pretty much nothing except for watching LP's on Youtube and just resting.
And resting. And resting; hoping to be able to do something fun and useful soon.
There is still leftover pizza for tomorrow, so at least the food question is taken care of for another day.
Now rest, again.
Today I've been going through old things I've written and I found old letters and poems I never sent him, and some short rants and "stories" about killing him. And I remembered how I had felt back then. I could understand and feel the same things; get back into those patterns like singing the second verse of a song again when one is already at the tenth, but the thoughts felt strange and unfamiliar and in the end they just trickled off me like dew on Lady's Mantle leaves.
How much my life and I have changed through the years.
Couldn't sleep very well last night because of an utter lack of sleepingpills. Instead, there was much thinking and also quite a lot of pain and discomfort. The dreams I had when I got fragments of sleep were peculiar to say the least, but none of them were unpleasant.
The thoughts I had in between the fragmented sleep and dreams were perhaps more so, but probably just to other people. I suspect I have neglected that part for too long.
Still, I ate some rare, red meat today, just to be on the safe side.
Before I get too hungry again.
"Perhaps one day I will offer you meat, and I will not be offended if you ask me what kind of meat it is."
I was going to write something here, something I thought about when sorting through the computer things, but it deserves more than a hundred words. It probably even need more than a hundred words. It was about meat, though. About being a predator; about having sharp claws and responsibilities. About things I regret and things I feel guilty for and things I will never, ever regret.
Perhaps one day people will understand why I struggle so.
I'm not sure why, but I really want to hurt someone. I want to do terrible things to someone, involving chains and knives and sharpened knitting needles.
I poked a friend earlier, poked him with my claws to see what would happen. Perhaps I thought it would make things better, but it only made things worse. He tried to be boring but left too many openings so I had to curl up and try not to think about it.
I should sleep, but I'm not sure how. I don't trust myself, and I will probably only dream about hunting again.
Been listening to music all day and been tidying and sorting through boxes. Some sort of order is starting to emerge from the chaos. Perhaps one day I will be able to get the things I need easily without having to go through a lot of other things first.
My life feels a bit odd at the moment but there are pancakes and maple syrup. Spring is still here and hasn't been beaten back this time. There is returning life and dripping water.
My plants are in need of repotting and new soil. Maya needs more plants in her home.
Roleplaying still feels a bit like magic to me. As a storyteller, the idea of telling a story together with other people is a very appealing one; a story where the characters are not just based off one person's ideas and preconceptions (because, let's face it; no matter how objective and neutral one tries to be, one's self always bleeds through and influences any story one tries to tell), but the ideas and personalities of several different people.
It's very rewarding, but I never know what stories the others want to tell, and I can tell my own better alone.
In less than twenty days it will be my New Year. One of the things I celebrate at New Year is having survived winter, but... but even if spring is coming, it's still far from here. There is still snow everywhere, there are still no spring birds, there has still not been any opportunity to spring clean the balcony box. Sometimes the blackbirds sing, hesitantly, as if they too are unsure of whether it's the right time or not, then decide no and fall silent for days.
How am I to celebrate having survived the winter if it's still here?
I was so tired when I wrote this yesterday that I forgot to save what I wrote (I mistook preview for having saved the entry again; it happens occasionally!), but I remember writing about how my lair is now a lot tidier due to an heroic effort from my female and I and how happy this is making me feel. Also something about how tired I am and how I need to rest (which I have been doing now), how I had a guest over for tea and how I fed my snake, maybe?
Anyway, so sorry for messing up.
Today I have been resting. And resting. Nothing interesting has happened at all except for me getting pretty dehydrated up to the point of feeling dizzy and numb. That should be getting better now, but my eyes still feel a bit weird though.
I've barely eaten, but I should be all right. I'm feeling much better now, so tomorrow things should start moving again. Getting much better at resting when I have to, but it's hard. Still, it beats totally falling to bits due to stress and not functioning for weeks at a time!
Now, to actually /save/ this entry...
Today my female and I took a walk from where I live to the train station before mine. It takes about four minutes by train, and I'm not sure how long that is in km, but we didn't follow the tracks anyway so it doesn't really matter. We were out for about two hours, walking rather slowly. It was all very pleasant even if things got a bit cold at the end.
All in all it was a good day. It was not at all planned to go this way, but it was all natural at the time.
Today I made pizza. This is pretty much the biggest achievement for today, not that it's in any way a bad one. It was the first time I have made my own pizza and it was delicious. I'm sure you want to hear all the details about my new-found pizza prowess, but since I am a cruel person this is as much information you will get.
I took two walks today; they were short ones but it felt great. Perhaps daily walks are a great idea considering how I want to go on a pilgrimage and all next year...
Day sixteen and still writing. This makes me feel a bit hopeful. Today I have also made food (great!) but not taken my daily walk due to really unpredictable weather and no umbrella (bad, I guess, but not sure).
There's still snow everywhere, and the migratory birds which are usually here by now are more than a month late. Things are a bit strange at the moment, to say the least. Only two weeks left until New Year, and spring is sufficiently here. I don't have to worry.
But maybe it will be too cold/rainy to play the recorder.
Springtime rain cold as winter
spring summer rays and then rain
and then a cloudy cold
and then hesitant sun
and nothing stays
makes a consistent weather
cold cold cold
melting ice liquid snow
cold cold cold
a long way to go
a freezing wind
over fields of mud and dirt
and last year's flowers
yet more rain
before the sun
can dry and warm the earth
and let the water down
to the sleeping seeds
waiting thirsty roots
cold cold cold
melting ice liquid snow
cold cold cold
a long way to go
An abban was supposed to come here for tea today but he couldn't come. Tomorrow another friend is scheduled for tea; I hope that one shows up. Next week I will meet other people for tea out at cafés and visit my male. The last two rats are both still alive, but the male is getting terribly weak.
Wrote in my blog today. It feels somewhat exciting trying to resurrect that poor thing after almost killing it last year. I hope I can get this to work. I need some sort of buffer.
Other than that; nothing new, really.
Had to kill Ryddinjorn (last male rat) because of his age and illness. Not feeling very happy, but life is what it is. Now there's only a female rat left, and since she's also old and sick I may have to take her to the veterinary on Monday, or at least call one on Monday and ask for an appointment. After that, there will only be cockroaches and my snake, petwise.
This feels so strange.
For about thirteen or fourteen years I have had rats. What will life be without them? I'm about to find out very soon.
The ants have woken up now as well. I found three in my kitchen today, about the same time, and killed all of them. They were scouts, and hopefully them not returning will slow the invasion down somewhat. I called my father and he will have a look around for ant traps tomorrow.
I really, really don't want my home flooded with ants this year. I don't want to put my snake in a plastic box not to have the ants kill her. I don't want to have to repot all plants and sterilise all the soil.
I'm not pleased.
I have come further this month than the others; it's now the twenty-first and I'm feeling more and more hopeful that I might do this. That would feel great. I have also written another blog entry today, about not lying to children, and I have seen no ants in the kitchen which is pretty nice.
Going to my male on Tuesday but will only stay for the night and be back on Wednesday. It may be a good time to use the taxi service thing to make sure I can actually get there.
Fed some crows and magpies today.
Been playing Portal 2 co-op with my female, which is very interesting. I should probably make dinner, or some kind of food, or at least tea, or at least something, kind of, perhaps.
I'm really tired and I have spent most of the day in pain. Not real, terrible, agonising pain, but a vague, all-my-joints-are-full-of-sand kind of pain that make all my movements terribly uncomfortable but not enough to fade off into a blur of just constant pain one can ignore.
I don't want to move. I will make tea and curl up.
Being broken but rather happy, but in pain, but rather happy anyway. But in pain, but it's still kind of all right when I'm brushing through my male's hair with his new brush and watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent and drinking cola and eating pancakes with whipped cream and strawberry jam.
Once upon a time I lived with him, for about six months, and at the end of that time we pretty much wanted to kill one another. Now we have been mates for almost seven years and we don't live together any more.
Yes. Soon seven.
Today I met someone from the BDSM community I'm a part of for tea. I talked about BDSM and asexuality and he was rather shy and didn't say very much at all. So I talked a bit more, showed him some drawings, talked a bit more about wanting to hurt people, about how people should be nice to one another, about soon running out of rats, about a masochistic abban of mine.
We have talked about meeting for tea someday for five or six years, so I felt I probably ought to. I forget that not everyone's as open, though.
Murrpau, sitting in her basement, talking silently to the bones of those she has killed. Murrpau in her new mask, her new clothes, wearing a grin more like her than her own's ever been.
Marrana, wandering her trails, walking back and forth, her indecisive pacing eating a hole in her heart. Marrana has no bones to talk to, just dry branches and dead heather waiting to catch fire.
Somewhere a song echoing, a word a step:
"Pretty boy, pretty meat, I will make you mine.
Pretty boy, pretty meat, mine, mine, mine!"
Marrana hesitating, pacing pacing pacing;
Murrpau singing on.
Wilson could not sleep with all the new and unfamiliar noises all around. He stood with his back to the fire, axe in one hand, spear in the other, and every hissing spark behind him made him jump.
How many nights now? Even the rabbits had horns in this place, the bees were as big as his hands. The shadows seemed alive, coalescing into faint many-legged creatures he could barely see.
And the hunger. The constant ache, the constant search; never finding enough food, but sometimes finding bones with eyes which looked at him, sticking out of the dirt.
Winter had come suddenly, in just a few days. The flowers were wilting, the ground freezing up. Digging carrots and rabbits up with her hooves got harder, as did spotting the white rabbits against the snow. Her fur protected her from the cold and she let her mane and tail grow long. Hopefully winter would be over soon.
Footprints in the snow, smoke coming towards her on the wind. Roasted rabbit meat, what a waste, but it meant there was other prey nearby. She sharpened her hooves on a boulder near the lake and she crept upwind between the trees.
for every drop of blood she swallowed she gained another shadow
until they were all around her like a viscous black liquid
seeping into her fur and covering everything she touched
suffocating the grass, moss, flowers where she walked
dripping into the water she drank and poisoning everything downstream
spilling into her eyes driving her blind and mad
blood is thicker than water
blood is salty like tears
blood is metal of iron
blood carries hate and fear and anger and fire and sickness and flowing uncertainties that drown and kill and is eventually spilled and drunk by the earth
Went to a café today, where I drank false-tea with cinnamon and drew. And drew some more. It was great fun and I may do that again tomorrow before it's time to celebrate my New Year. I have missed doing that, and sitting in cafés and writing, although when I do things like that I prefer sitting in underground cafés where I cannot see or even feel time passing. And then I am done, and I leave and suddenly it's night and there's this short moment when life spins around before it lands on its feet again.
I've been in a very strange head-place the last few days; stumbled upon many shadows wearing smiles and grins, they have met my gaze and it has reminded me of the grin I myself can wear.
Sometimes I want to become a madly grinning shadow-pao, but that's the wrong way to go. It feels like I will always be torn between wanting to be loving, kind occasional-fang word-pao and raging, mad murder-pao.
It's a new year now.
Also, I did it. The April batch is complete.
There is hope. We survived, and there is hope.
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